#it does not refer to any current-day situation

[match-your-steps]

don't try to make this darker than it is

[sabertoothwalrus]

tips for getting people to like your ocs

*disclaimer: this is based on what’s worked for me, aka an artist that likes to make comics/storyboards. so this advice is directed at people who do that

you can do things like this:

Which is fun! Character sheets like this are great, especially for personal reference! But frankly, I don’t think most people engage with this (at least I personally don’t). You could have the coolest character in the world, but it will be harder for most people to feel invested when they’re presented so neutrally like this.

My main piece of advice is: get better at writing.

That might sound harsh when said like that, but let me explain what I mean! (Not trying to imply you’re bad at writing either!)

What I tend to do is just throw characters into situations with as little handholding as I can. Give enough context that readers can follow along, but don’t feel like they’re being explained to.

what can you learn about the characters through their designs alone? (age, personality, economic status, occupation, etc)

what can you learn about the characters’ relationship though their interactions alone? (are they close? familial? romantic? is there hostility? are they tense/relaxed?)

what are the characters currently doing? what were they doing previously (how long have they been talking)? what are they going to do next? can you convey this without dialogue?

how do they feel about what they are doing? are they content? focused? over/understimulated? would they rather be doing something else?

where are they? does it matter? would establishing a setting in at least one panel clarify the scene? is there anything in the enviroment that could tell some of the story?

what time of day is it? what time of year is it? what is the weather like?

Now, with all this in mind, I'm going to give you another example. I'm going to use completely brand new characters for the sake of the experiment, so you won't have any bias (aka I can’t use Protagonist from above, since you already know all about him).

Did this get more of an emotional response from you than the first example? Why do you think so? Who are these characters? How do they know each other? What else can you infer about them? What happened? Who is "she"?

Now, you don't have to actually answer all those questions. But think about them! You can tell people a whole lot about your characters without ever showing them a list of their likes and dislikes.

Obviously, comics aren't the only way to get people invested in your original characters! But regardless, easily digestible formats will grab people's attention faster than huge blocks of text, and comics are a lot less work than doing wholeass storyboards.

Now go and share your ocs with the world!!!

[504py]

A day in a life with Ivan. [ONESHOT]

Warnings below the cut 。。。

⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.

hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!

thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏

also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.

MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.

Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.

The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.

It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.

Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.

You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.

Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.

Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.

"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.

"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."

The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.

The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.

As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.

He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.

You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.

"Is it bad?"

"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

And that was that.

You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.

Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.

Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.

"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"

"Yeah. I like this one."

"A little somber, isn't it?"

"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."

Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.

"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.

He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."

"What will you be wearing?"

"What I usually do."

You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."

"What about you?" He asks.

"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."

Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.

"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.

"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."

"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."

He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."

"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."

A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.

"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.

You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.

"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.

All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.

"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?

"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.

"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"

Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.

His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.

"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"

"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.

It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.

Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.

Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.

"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"

He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.

"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.

With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.

Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.

"Only for a few minutes."

You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?

That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.

You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.

Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.

And that's when you hear it.

Soft footsteps.

You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.

Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.

The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.

Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.

"I-I'm sorry. Please."

And he smiles.

Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.

You don't understand why he's giggling right now.

He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.

"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.

As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.

Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.

"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.

"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.

"What did you do?"

"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."

Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.

"It will be okay. I love you."

You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.

"I love– I love you too."

He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.

"This does not mean I forgive you, though."

Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.

He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"

You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."

"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.

Disgust registers for only a second.

Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.

After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.

"You will not bite me this time?"

Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.

Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.

Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.

Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.

Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.

While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.

Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.

Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.

Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.

The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–

Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.

He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?

Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.

And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.

"Bed– B-Bedroom."

A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.

You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.

Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.

The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.

That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...

Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.

Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 15

content warning: more angst, mentions of food, mentions of underage drinking and recreational drug use, some suggestive convos but nothing too crazy

word count: 6.4k (@slushycoookie thee wife, thee beta 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

“Does it show anything different?”

“Will you give me a second?”

GymRat!Miguel who was currently sitting at his desk, bouncing his leg while he waited for Tempest to tell him something good.

“It’s honestly looking like the same thing from last night. And the week before. And the week before that,” she deadpans through the phone.

Miguel turned and pressed his lips to his palm.

His call list was a constant cycle between his friends back home and Gabriel, but mostly Tempest, who has taken the role of checking for any updates from you online.

So far, all he’s gotten out of this was pain. You’ve completely removed anything that involved him from your pages. No anniversary pics, no highlights, no emojis in your bio to refer to him. From how Tempest put it, this was a huge deal.

“Look,” Miguel slumped as he geared himself up to listen to the same speech she’d been repeating. “I know you don’t want to hear this- don’t make that face! - but I think it’s time to give up or try something new.”

“It’s been forever.”

“If your definition of forever is a little over two weeks, then sure!”

“I just thought that,” he paused, mulling over the words in his head.

“That she would bend at your will? You’re cute, but not that cute.”

“No, that’s not- Temp,” Miguel whined. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

She snorted, “Uh huh. Which is why we’re stalking her page like weirdos.”

“If the roles were flipped, I would be doing the same for you. I have done the same for you.”

“Touché.”

Miguel remembered Tempest spiraling over girls she thought was the one, the two of them huddled up over the phone watching as they all moved onto the next.

He sat beside her and reminded himself never to get this way. He perked up like a flower soaking up the sun every time there was an inch of hope, which truly rivaled how Tempest acted.

“I was just thinking that today would be different. Maybe she would think about me today.”

The thought sits in the air, Tempest’s face shifting to one of sad understanding.

“Not trying to feed your delusions, but maybe she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.”

Miguel looked at the screen, a tiny bit optimistic.

“But in all fairness, I wouldn’t want anyone on my page who I thought committed one of the most cruel offenses. I would want to forget everything. You have to see this from her side too.”

Tempest was right, a common state when it came to their friendship. It didn’t stop that ugly rust of selfishness that crowded his heart.

He feels like he’s crying out for you, and you don’t care. A year of being together meant nothing to you.

Saying that out loud was insane, though. It didn’t align with how hurt you looked.

So, he’s been internally fighting the feeling, going from understanding to upset and back again.

“Have you talked to Xina at all?”

“She’s only keeping our conversations about school. And acting like nothing happened.”

“She’s probably embarrassed,” Tempest said. “She got caught this time and doesn’t know what to do.”

“Apologizing could be a start.”

“And that requires admitting she was wrong in the first place, so if you get that, let me know so I can mark the day. I’ll even make a t-shirt.”

The sigh that left Miguel was strong enough to irritate Tempest’s speakers.

He wanted to talk to her about the situation again, but it was like talking with a brick wall. It reminded him of when he snapped at her for constantly hitting him when they were younger. Looking back, they were just kids, and she probably didn’t mean anything by it. The red tint and angry pout on her face as she slid him her chocolate milk as an apology stuck with him.

“Why do you want an apology anyway? Or, why do you expect one?”

Miguel wasn’t sure himself. Xina was his childhood best friend, someone with whom he spent a lot of time and shared secrets. There were sweet memories and joyful moments.

It sucks to see her act so different.

“I think,” Miguel paused, looking off through his dorm window. “I think that-”

“Oh my god, she just posted.”

Miguel almost dropped his phone while he switched back to the messages app.

“What is it? What is it?”

“It is,” she dragged out her i’s. The sound of Tempest screenshotting and tapping away at her phone was like rapid fire. “An event, I think?”

“What event? You aren’t sending the pictures fast enough.”

“I already pressed send! Not my fault I don’t have high-speed internet.”

“Tell your cousin to stop fucking hogging it.”

“Shut up and watch the screen.”

His eyes dart across the screen as he waits for the screenshare to load.

Your account comes up, still intact. Miguel takes in everything like he did back when he first met you.

There were new posts about the sculptures you made in class and food from a new café. There’s also a glimpse of you smiling, and he feels like he’s ready to erupt.

Tempest refreshed your page again.

“This is so against girl code.”

“You haven’t even talked with her before.”

“How would you know?”

“Temp.”

“Right, sorry.”

She taps your story, and a flyer comes up.

“A Halloween-themed festival night?” Miguel says as the story disappears.

“Sounds fun!”

“I’m going to go. Put the story back up again.”

Tempest side-eyed him as best as she could, “Uh, maybe let’s not.”

“Why can’t I? I’m a member of the student body.”

“Do you usually go to these things?”

“No,” Miguel slowed his words. “But I could now? Maybe she won’t even be there.”

“And if she is? Wouldn’t it seem like you’re stalking her?”

He thinks about the many times he’s lingered around the art building, walked by your favorite spot on campus, and stared at corners of the library that you loved to see if you would be there.

“No?”

“Doubtful.”

“I just need to see her in person.”

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t stop thinking about whether or not you’ll be at the festival.

If he doesn’t see you, he’ll be disappointed, but the panic clawing at his throat won’t shift to his mind.

If he does see you, he’ll be like a fish out of water. Floundering, lost, and begging his lungs to gain its necessities.

He just hopes that going is the right decision.

GymRat!Miguel who goes to his robotics club meetup the next day.

There’s no competition coming up, but the department wanted to revise a moving metal skeleton for Halloween weekend.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Margo. I feel like it, too.”

She pulled his cheek out and made baby noises out of sympathy before Miguel swatted them away.

“Still no luck with your ex? Or is that joint giving you trouble?” she snickered at his sloppy attempt at connecting moving parts.

“Uh, no and yes.”

Aaron peeked up from his station and looked over like a beaver.

“I-it’s not because of what I said, right?”

Margo made a line with her mouth as if to say 'get a load of this guy'.

“No, Aaron,” Miguel mumbled.

“Yeah, Aaron, stop being nosy and get back to work,” Margo joked.

He snapped his welder’s mask back down like a dork and returned to sawing something, sparks flying past him.

Margo looks down at Miguel’s work.

“Well, I hope you can get her back soon because you need to work on your anatomy. Those bones don’t go together at all.”

He looks to a femur and a humerus connected with the sheer will of his clouded mind.

He missed when you attached sticky notes to his body for practice. The prize for getting the different parts of his body correct being kisses. You would laugh at his mistake but give a peck on the lips anyway. His arms were one of your favorite places to put your star-shaped stickers on, too.

“I didn’t mean for you to get even sadder,” Margo snapped him out of the memory.

“It’s fine. My fault.”

Margo shifted her weight as she started to take apart his mistake, “It’ll get better, Miguel. I’m sure of it.”

GymRat!Miguel who sits across from Tyler at one of the uppity restaurants in town. The lights are dim, as if the people eating here are all hiding from something.

“How’s school?” Tyler asked, clothes still managing to glow despite the one warm lamp above the table. He thanks the waitress for refilling his water glass. “Made any new friends? Connections?”

The age-old awkward feeling of trying to concisely describe his growing adult life was at the top of his mind.

“It’s going well,” was always the easiest answer. Simple and open-ended.

Of course, Tyler took this as a sign to delve further.

“Your mother told me you’re taking up game programming this semester. Do you like the feel of that class?”

An ice cube floated to the top of Miguel’s glass.

“I was enjoying it at first, now I’m sort of ready for it to end.”

Tyler cleared his throat, hand covering the frown on his face.

“Ah, well, some people just like the end result, I suppose,” he refolds a napkin, the reflection from his watch panning across the tablecloth. “What about your girlfriend? How is she? Perhaps, you have some new pieces of her’s to show me. My colleagues love the one in the entryway.”

The waiter placed a filet mignon in front of Miguel and bluefin tuna across from him. Tyler moved to tuck the same napkin into his crisp button down.

“I’m not sure.”

Tyler pauses as a slice of fish dangles from his fork.

Miguel is still cutting into the meat unnecessarily, knife scrapping against the plate.

“Son, this cut of meat is like butter,” Tyler said, taking the knife from him and putting it back on its napkin.

A twitch at the corner of his lips almost aligned with Tyler’s. The man racked his brain for the memories of his first son coming home with a similar expression.

He chewed and swallowed his fish stacked with cucumbers and cilantro.

“As you know, I am not the best when it comes to relationships. Nancy and I have had quite the uphill battle. However, I believe I am well-versed in the field of compromise. Should I reach out to her for you?”

It was a long shot, and by the growing shadows on his son’s face, Tyler suspected that his suggestion was a poor one.

“What will that do? Other than show her that I can’t handle my own problems.”

“Surely, you two can work it out. She was lovely, truly,” Tyler frets, afraid he’s made Miguel even more upset.

He just starts to eat, mind elsewhere.

Tyler wondered if he should have ordered some wine.

“When you found out Nancy cheated on you, what did you do?”

Lemon juice from his dish hit his throat right as he swallowed, a hand banging on his chest as he coughed.

“I, uh,” two gulps of water were taken from the glass Miguel handed him. “Well. The fruit of that labor is in front of me.”

“Obviously,” Miguel’s shoulders dropped and Tyler grimaced again. Curse his silly statements. “I meant, how did you feel? What were your initial thoughts?”

“I remember being angry. Here laid the mother of my only child with a much younger and, honestly, less fortunate man. I thought I was foolish to think that my genuine love or money could keep someone.”

Miguel pushed around an asparagus on his plate, “So there was a betrayal. A pain you couldn’t describe.”

“Exactly. For me, that came afterwards. I’m a prideful man. If one thing does not satisfy me, I simply find something that does.”

“And that thing just happened to be my mother?”

“Ah, if you put it like that, it’s far too harsh,” Tyler fixes a cuff. “Your mother provided me a place of warmth, solitude, and love for a short time. It’s something I’ll never forget. I regret the hurt Nancy and I inflicted on each other, but I don’t regret you.”

Tyler watches and waits for a response. His son shifts in his seat and rolls his neck, eyes never leaving his plate.

“Has she,” Tyler tilts his head, “hurt you this way?”

“No, but I broke her trust.”

“You cheated?”

“Never. But we have a lot to work on.”

Tyler might order some bourbon tonight to drink in place of his son and the mopey demeanor.

“I’m all ears whenever you need me. But if there is as much love between you two as I saw earlier this year, then you’re sure to gain in back. That doesn’t go away.”

Miguel takes a deep breath and Tyler believes that some of the shadows on his face disappear.

The meal continued, and the people around them continued their quiet chatter.

“Could you do me a favor?” Miguel asks as they both clean their plates.

Tyler lights up, “Anything.”

“Don’t tell my mom about this?”

Tyler thinks back to the unpleasant things Conchata had to say about her son’s girlfriend and quietly agrees that it’s for the best of she’s out of the loop.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks up to the festival wearing one of the shirts you gave him for his birthday.

It was an impulsive decision because now that he’s here, he’s wondering if seeing it on him will upset you.

The festival is partially outside and inside, a mix of games, concessions, and small rides for students to enjoy.

He walked under the pumpkin and bat-shaped balloons, and fake smoke from a cauldron moved past him.

It smelled like sour candy apples, and marshmallows. Booths were all around the campus grass. He walked past them slowly, not interested but searching for something.

The turnout was nice for a night when he figured people would be out partying. There were a lot of students walking in and out.

A game caught his eye as he neared the entrance to the student center. It’s a Shoot Out booth with the ducks replaced with black cats and the gun switched to tiny ghost bean bags to match the theme. There’s a giant white bunny with an X for lips, a blue dress, and a bow on its ear.

It’s so you that he couldn’t resist.

The student volunteer told him he had three chances this round to knock out twenty cats for the bunny.

“Everyone’s been gunning for it, but this game is pretty hard!”

Miguel nodded in understanding.

If he focused enough, the bunny could be his.

On his first try, he knocked out thirteen cats, much to the volunteer’s surprise.

“Woah! You’re pretty good! Did you wanna grab anything from this tier?”

There was student association merch and a shirt with the college logo.

Miguel rolled his sleeves up, “No, I’m going to try for the plushie again.”

The second time, he knocked down the last cat with just a few seconds left on the timer.

The girl running the booth smiled with her eyebrows nearly merging to the top of her head in shock.

“I-I guess that means you win the bunny!”

She handed it to him with a lull of awe.

He muttered a quiet thanks and turned towards the doors with fake spiderwebs dangling off them.

There was music, a sign to go to a haunted hallway, and even more tables with food.

He wonders if you would have gotten scared walking through scary attractions with him. You would probably hold his hand as tight as he’s holding the belly of this rabbit.

Scanning the room, he doesn’t catch a glimpse of you anywhere.

Looking down at the little white face in his hands, he started to think he wasted the hour or so he’d been here.

Walking to the table of free cookies, he took a frosted Frankenstein in his hand and bit a bolt off.

He felt like a lost kid as he floated from table to table to stall.

Maybe he should give up. You were probably promoting this event for Jess.

GymRat!Miguel who was finishing off his fifth mummy-in-a-blanket when he saw you leaving the haunted hallway.

The first thing he noticed is the long, blue cardigan falling off your shoulders. The end of it is trailing after you as you run out.

There’s a grin on your face and an air in your steps, something he missed seeing.

The next thing he noticed was that you weren’t wearing your necklace anymore.

Then a hand pulled it up on your shoulders and slid back down your arm.

A guy is standing next to you and laughing as if you’ll give him money for doing so.

He’s tall. He looks like he could be built, too.

It’s like a slap in the face, worse than when you pushed him away.

Looking down, Miguel saw your hand in his, clinging tight. You smile at the guy and reach up to get something out of his hair.

Miguel thinks that there was nothing wrong with his hair. There was nothing to smile about either.

The guy’s hands touch you in places where Miguel has embraced. His fingers were covering the same neck he’d put his head in. His thumbs ran over the apples of your cheeks, the same ones that used to crowd his lips.

You lean into the guy’s chest and say something that he can’t hear.

His stomach makes an angry lurch and he feels that orange being shift to a green one. It’s clawing at him, pulling at his mind.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to cling to some random guy. You weren’t supposed to be with someone else.

Miguel turns when he leans down towards you, chest burning. What he didn’t see was not true to him. What he didn’t know was not reality.

GymRat!Miguel stormed out of the building, and images of you happy with someone else faded onto the inside of his eyelids.

The material of his sweater was scratching against his skin as he made his way back to the festival entrance.

Everything was too much. The people were too loud, the lamps were too bright, and the music playing over the speakers sucked.

His nose started to twitch and he wondered why did festival food have so much damn sugar.

Someone nearly hits the ground as he pushes past them, a confused noise hitting the air, but he doesn’t feel inclined to stop.

GymRat!Miguel who almost breaks free from what feels like a harmful joke when Xina spots him.

“Hey!” She ran over to him, leaves crunching against her boots. She’s wearing the varsity jacket he bought her years ago. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I,” he stopped when he thought he heard your laugh somewhere deep in the festival. “I’m not feeling too good. Think I’m gonna go back to my dorm.”

“Oh, do you have a fever? The weather did drop out of nowhere,” her hand lifted, fingers twitching like she wanted to see for herself.

She hesitates, scared he’ll blow away.

When her fingers press into his neck, he just wants to cry. It felt like when she caught him crying under the trees on the playground or when he’d show up at his grandma’s house with a chubby face full of tears.

He covers her hand for a second, just one, then pushes it away.

If he talks about it, he’ll break into pieces.

“Here,” he shoved the bunny into her hands. The dress is wrinkled, and the bow is a bit lopsided.

Xina’s eyes grow as sees it. The smile on her lips is familiar, “Thank you. I love it.”

Her mouth opens as if she wants to say more, but Miguel starts first.

“Glad you like it. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, ok. Get back safe, Hare-Hare.”

He heads towards his building empty-handed.

GymRat!Miguel who is in denial.

He’s moved past his brain making up you being at the Halloween festival and was now choosing to believe that it was a friend.

The tiny Gabriel on his shoulder was telling him that you had moved on. You had a new boyfriend, so he needed to move on as well—or stop moping about you.

He was choosing to ignore him for now.

It’s been another week since he saw you. Thanksgiving was on its way and he hasn’t been focused in a single class.

At a time when he really needed Tempest to update him, she told him to step back and recenter himself. Something about him not being level-headed.

He didn’t care.

The point of no return was truly here as he stood in front of the elevator in the art building.

A bag of food was sweating in his palm, and the two drinks were seeping into his hoodie, but he would regret it forever if he didn’t try talking to you again before the semester was over.

He’s doing something he told himself he wouldn’t do, but he couldn’t help that he still knew your schedule by heart. Taking a chance on you sticking around for studio hours was all that he had.

GymRat!Miguel who got to the right floor and was happy to see a student leaving the room.

The lights in the hallway were still on and music came from down the hall.

Miguel walked down, peering in every door, leaving once he couldn’t see you or when the people inside gave him weird looks.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the last studio in the hallway with quiet steps.

Your canvas is almost bigger than you, the top of it covering you as you moved your brush across it.

You had headphones on, star molds stuck on the sides of them.

Miguel sat the food down on the table, moving like a stealthy agent.

Your sleeves were rolled up to your elbows, yet paint was still on them despite your efforts. You looked tired, but god, you were still overwhelmingly gorgeous to him.

He stepped closer. Slowly, step by step, coming into your peripheral.

“Why are you here?”

Miguel paused mid-walk, face like a puppy who got caught.

He should have thought this through more.

“I wanted to see you,” he holds his hands before him. It’s not making him any smaller, but it brings a slight comfort. “Brought some food.”

“’M not hungry.”

An apology is his first instinct, but the sound of your stomach growling speaks for him.

You refuse to look at him, face warm.

“It’s your favorite. Come eat, please.”

Taking off your headphones, you sighed.

“Fine.”

GymRat!Miguel who has to pinch himself to stop staring at you.

You weren’t just tired, you were exhausted. Your eyes drooped as you bit into your fries, and your movements were sluggish.

You didn’t ask for his extra sauce like you usually did. You didn’t even try to steal his fries.

“How have you been?” he asks instead of digging himself further into the sad hole of his heart.

Your eyes flick at him over your glasses and back to your food.

“Really, Miguel?”

“Y-yes? I’m always wondering how you are.”

“Then you should know how I’ve been already, then.”

Miguel faltered.

“You’re not very subtle, you know? I could see you pacing back and forth around campus.”

“Oh,” he slurped his drink nervously.

“And I saw you at the festival, too.”

He almost punctured the styrofoam in his hand.

“So, you’ve been fine is what you’re telling me. I’m gla-” he choked on the words. “I see you’ve…met someone.”

“He was just a friend. You could have said ‘hi’ then, if you really wanted to speak with me.”

“Didn’t look like a friend,” left Miguel’s mouth before he could stop it.

You hummed, eyebrows raised, and a click sound from your teeth. “Oh, but now do you see how that feels?” You started to untie your apron.

“I didn’t mean for that to come out in that way. I came here to just talk.”

“About what? How you didn’t actually cheat on me? How you didn’t mean for any of this to happen? How you’re sorry you got caught?”

He bit his tongue.

That was almost what he wanted to say.

“About us,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I still love you, and it’s killing me not to be with you. This is as plain and simple as I can say it. I’ll say it over and over and over again until you hear me.”

“Miguel,” your voice puffed out, weary and broken, “you cheated on me with your best friend and now you’re here trying to spin this and pull me back. I-I have dignity. As much as I want to pretend like what’s been happening this semester is meaningless, I can’t.”

“And I’m telling you that I would never do that you. Not in a million years, not in this lifetime, would I ever purposely hurt you in that way. Baby, please. Listen to me!”

“I see the way you are with her,” your words fall after his. “I remember the texts. There is something there. I don’t know if I can compete with that and I’m not trying to. So, if you want to be with her, then do that, but leave me out of it.”

Miguel is quick to grab your hands as you try to turn away, “Fine. There is something there.”

You try to yank yourself from him again, the pain from October 13th filling you again, but his hands are faster this time.

“There’s a girl who used to threaten to beat me up if I didn’t defend myself against bullies. There’s a girl who used to trade collectible cards with me in secret because her parents didn’t allow her to obsess over junk, and the girls at school thought it was lame. There’s a trust built long over a decade that has been broken. I do care about her, as I would do with any friend, but you have to understand that I care about you, too.”

“Then why didn’t you show that?” you whispered, tears leaving your eyes. “It felt humiliating, Miguel. That night, I felt disgusting. Like you were just throwing me away. I kept thinking that you lied to me about everything, that you were indulging in something that you never really wanted.”

Miguel reached to hold your face, thumbs sliding your tears away, heart breaking.

“Lo siento, amor. Hm?” he wanted to take your pain away and place it onto himself if it meant that you didn’t talk like this. “It’s not true. What we have created is not some trial run. I love you so deeply, that I was going insane. Knowing that you thought otherwise is painful to hear. The buildup to that night is a misunderstanding. You have to know that.”

You take a breath, “How could I know?”

Miguel stared at your face and thought the same.

He’s been yelling trust, trust, trust and when he thinks back to your few interactions with Xina, it clicks that you truly had no foundation to trust.

“If I had just been better, you would have known.”

Like you said, Xina had walked all over him.

“So what now?” you asked, and pull your sweater over your fingers.

Miguel blinked, “I was hoping to start over? Restart?”

“I can’t,” you said immediately and Miguel tensed. “You entering my life has given me far more ups than downs, but when those downs come, they can be brutal.”

“So, you don’t want me to be your boyfriend, again?”

You shake your head and he felt like it was his turn to cry.

“I want action. Show me that something like this won’t happen again. We can sit here and tell each other promises until we’re blue in the face, but what do those promises mean if one person or thing can ruin it.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll do anything.”

You brush his hair back and wrap his arms around your waist to settle in this feeling. Your thumbs traveled from his hairline to curves of his ears down to his jaw. They rub circles into his skin, slow and rhythmic.

“Have you talked with Xina? Has she confessed to what you’re telling me she has done?”

He shakes his head softly, afraid to break the scene.

You laugh, small and quiet, then unwrap his arms from around you. You go back to your canvas and start to scrape at the glass of the taboret. Miguel was so in a trance, that almost didn’t notice the switch.

“I’m going to talk with her,” Miguel stated across the room.

You wave a hand in the air, unmoved.

He followed you as you go to the mineral spirits bucket to soak your brushes.

“Baby-“

“As far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t talk to me until whatever you two have going on is fixed. Don’t know who 'baby' is.”

You walk to the sink and turn the water on. Miguel was right behind you and grabbing the dish soap before you can.

“And I will talk to her,” Miguel sayid. You reach for the soap and he holds it out of your reach, petulant. “Baby.”

You give him an irritated look and pinch his neck. He makes a hurt noise and gives you the jug.

“Action. Miguel.”

GymRat!Miguel who waited until you’ve packed everything up.

He didn’t mean for this to turn into him teasing you, but he couldn’t help it. He was getting his fill while he still could.

“At least let me walk you back to your dorm,” Miguel sayid, picking up the wet paper towels you’ve been throwing at him.

“No, thanks. I have a date. I don’t need you changing up my energy.”

Miguel’s smile dropped.

“You do?”

“His name starts with an R, ends with an E. He’s super sweet. Sturdy.”

Reese? Reggie? Raye? Ronnie?

“I see,” Miguel’s heart plummets. “Your friend wasn’t just that.”

“Mm-hm. We’re still testing the waters, but I don’t think he’ll disappoint me.”

Miguel didn’t know what to say. He was nothing but bold, though.

“Who’s to say that…guy won’t hurt you?”

Who’s to say that he would treat you better than Miguel?

You pull the straps of your back over your shoulders and Miguel wants to hold it for you.

A snicker leaves you, “Because he’s made of plastic and is designed of pleasure.”

“Oh.”

“Bye. Enjoy your Thanksgiving.”

Miguel stood and watched you go, wondering if this was progress.

GymRat!Miguel whose bedroom was filled with the chatter of his friends once more.

Friendsgiving was always fun.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that Lyla is a terrible teammate.

“You’ve got be doing this on purpose,” Miguel groaned as Lyla’s Yoshi pumps the pedal incorrectly.

“I don’t know what you’s talking about!” Her giggles float across the room as saw Miguel get more and more frustrated.

Winston and Tempest were laser-focused, their Monty Mole and Peach following a stead 1-2 rhythm to get their cart across the track.

“Lyla!” Miguel yells as her Yoshi stumbles back. “You’re selling me. You want me to lose.”

The mini-game ends with Tempest and Winston high-fiving each other and Miguel yelling at Bowser to pick his head up.

GymRat!Miguel who laughed as he watched Winston reenact his band director, nearly breaking his neck.

“I’ve never seen a bald man somersault on grass until that day.”

GymRat!Miguel who, full off of food and peach cobbler that Tempest made, stared at the bag of gummies that she placed in the middle of their huddle.

“We can just try this tonight. We’re safe with each other,” Tempest whispered.

“You guys are horrible role models,” Miguel said.

“I don’t know. That blue one is speaking to me. It reminds me of Scooby Doo,” Winston mumbled.

Lyla motioned across one, “Maybe we can cut it in half.”

“That defeats the purpose though. These barely have anything in them,” Tempest complained.

“Says you,” Miguel quipped. “You just called me about a cherry bong the other night.”

“Ok, but wasn’t it cute?”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly jumped out his skin when his door slams open.

Everyone except him shoves their gummy in their mouth with lightening speed. Miguel just holds his awkwardly as he turns to see him mom standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, ma?” he says. He chose to ignore Winston who is over exaggerating, lips smacking.

“Mijo! I have a surprise for you guys!”

GymRat!Miguel who sat awkwardly on his rug, running his wrapped gummy in his palm.

Lyla was practically in Tempest’s lap, tapping at her phone. Tempest is looking around their circle expectantly.

Winston started tapping a fast beat on his arm.

Miguel is looking everywhere except in front of him where Xina was sitting with her chin tucked into her knees.

“It’s good to see you again,” Winston said, forever the peacemaker.

Xina relaxed a bit, “You guys, too. I’ve missed this.”

Miguel saw Tempest softening up a bit at Xina’s words.

“When is stuff gonna hit?” Lyla barks out to which Tempest elbows her.

Xina cleared her throat, “Actually can we talk, Miguel?”

“Yeah, shoot.”

Xina looked around them, “Alone?”

GymRat!Miguel who was standing across from Xina in the office-turned-bedroom that his parents barely used.

“Did my mom invite you?” Miguel asked.

“Actually, Tempest did.”

Miguel raises his eyebrows and nods. He didn’t expect that but he’s not mad at it.

Xina was antsy, arms hiding themselves in the sleeves folded across her body. Miguel stayed quiet.

“So, things between us haven’t been exactly smooth sailing lately.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Miguel looked down at the shark slippers you bought him last year.

“And I have some things that I want to explain to you.”

Miguel raised his eyes expectantly. Xina was mirroring his posture, but her face looked uncomfortable, conflicted.

Her eyes flicker over his before she covered her face and huffs, “这太难了.” (This is so hard.)

“What’s hard?” Miguel asks, pulling together the few times Xina taught him anything. He sat down, hoping it would relax her more.

Her hands drop as she blinks at the ceiling, “Everything. When it comes to you, everything just gets overwhelming.”

“As in?”

She looked at him in disbelief, “As in I’m doing silly shit, again.”

A pause in her words comes as they hear laughter from down the hall.

“Last year was so surreal. I did everything right. My mailbox was full of acceptance letters. My mom finally genuinely smiled at me for the first time in what felt like years. I moved so far away from my parents that I felt like that string that kept me attached to them had broken. I had fun. I went to my first party and got so drunk that when I woke up, I was on the porch of a frat. I made friends who could relate to me more than anyone else. I made acquaintances who could have never gotten into that school without their parents painting the campus with money. Still, I worked my ass off and got kicked out because one of them hid drugs under my seat.”

Miguel’s breath hitched, but Xina continued.

“It was my word against kids whose parents could have the school shut down within minutes. My dad was so angry at me that he pretended like I wasn’t in his home. And my mom just,” her leg started to bounce. “She helped me pack up some things and sent me to go live with my aunt for the summer. It wasn’t until she dropped me off at the airport that whispered to me that she loved me. That she was proud of me. That it was ok to make mistakes.”

“I cried like a baby for half of the flight. And it wasn’t until I got to customs that I realized that I should have called you. You always knew what to tell me no matter what the situation was and I just disappeared. Everything came back tenfold and I missed you so much. So when I saw you again, it was like I fell back into my old habits. I thought ‘I’m finally going to do it!’ but would chicken out and relieve that stress. I was kind of hoping that my tipsy self would have more confidence.”

“Because a drunk tongue speaks a sober mind?” Miguel hummed.

Xina finally laughed, “Are you 40 or something? Yeah. Exactly.”

Miguel blinked and looked up at her, “So tell me what your sober mind wants to say, Xina.”

Xina’s eyes lowered, “That I. I feel like I lose myself when I’m around you. It’s why I acted the way I did. It’s why I overstepped.”

His heart picked up as he registered her words.

“I like you so much, Miguel. More than I can bear. More than I’d like to admit. More than a friend.”

dividers by: @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Please don't be mad at me. 😵‍💫 Also please watch your tone in the comments. 🤠 Be very mindful, very demure.

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[eamour]

the bridge of events.

something that most of us eventually do or have done is try to "fix" a certain situation in our physical worlds. we have encountered something very unlikable and therefore want to "un-manifest" it by thinking of a way to do so. however, that's not your job. moreover, that's not your GOAL.

definition.

the "bridge of events" refers to the lined up situations you will have to experience or go through in order to reach the physical fulfillment of your desire. it's an unpredictable process that describes how, when and where you will receive your desire in the outer world, basically the "bridge" that's between your current and your desired reality.

disregard the bridge.

can you decide the way in which your heart's desires are going to come to fruition? most definitely, you can. but you don't have to. see, you don't have to come up with a detailed solution on how an unfavourable situation is going to change to a favourable one. you don't have to mess around with logical possibilities and realistic outcomes. actually, you don't even need to be bothered by it. you do not need to worry at all.

concentrate on the destination.

you only need to be concerned about WHAT you want, nothing and no one else. you need to focus on what's at the end of the line and fixate your mind on it. nail your thoughts on the version of yourself who HAS and IS what you wish to have or be already, and don't care about the obstacles in your reality. don't "reason" your way into obtaining your desire. go to the end and make sure to stay in alignment with that version of yours. dwell on that version. be it, be the end, not the bridge. do not wait or wonder. enjoy your desire. experience it in the mind. within an infinite range of realities, your desired one already EXISTS!

renounce all circumstances.

if you witness something that brings you off track or just generally throws you off your path, what are you going to do?

exactly, you are going to dismiss it. it's entirely up to you if you use a different term to deal with the outer world — such as ignore, renounce, abandon, neglect, reject, refuse — as long as you do not accept it as true.

whatever happens physically is none of your concern, none of your interest and not worth your time, energy and attention. do not let it get in your way. do not let it affect or influence your new, freshly established assumptions. because the undesirable reality that's currently being displayed isn't the reality you want to begin with. the reality you are manifesting ISN'T the one you are experiencing right now! it has nothing to do with you. you are not obligated to accept or associate yourself with it. it holds no truthfulness, no rightness, no correctness and definitely no realness. and remember: it does not serve as a form of validation either!

do not interfere with the physical. do not intervene. do not take action. withhold from any acts that do not take place in the mind. leave the world as it is, as the old reality doesn't reflect your new one anymore.

consequently, feel the way you would feel and then let go of it. you want to distance yourself from the story that's no longer yours. you no longer identify with that version of self anymore.

"the display of the old story and its circumstances isn't an invitation to return back to it."

persist in imagination.

let it come to pass. let it unfold in your reality. simply persist in your newly chosen reality. select your desired reality every day and don't stop. accept it as true, as correct and as real. your imagination is your confirmation. your imaginative acts are your source of validation. so have faith and trust yourself.

the thing is, if you continuously persist in your desired outcome, you are going to walk the bridge one way or another. your desire is going to announce itself and you will acknowledge it — there is no way around it! it WILL show up, and you WILL notice it. you HAVE to. that's the law!

with love, ella.

[sundrop-writes]

My Bleeding Heart

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary:

When Draco finds out that you are pregnant, he can't bring himself to be happy about the news because he doesn't want to bring a child into this wartorn world just to be another pawn in the Dark Lord's games. So, then and there, he makes a very important decision to risk everything in order to protect you and his future child.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage. Angst (with a Fluffy Ending). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 3,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader is pregnant in this fic; this is set during Deathly Hallows and there are a lot of themes from that era - death, blood purity ideals, general violence, murder, mentions of Draco being tasked with killing Dumbledore; Draco and the reader live in an environment where they fear for their lives because they don't believe in Death Eater values completely and fear being killed for it; Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage meant to carry on blood purity - but they have fallen in love in the marriage; the reader is a pureblood, but I have not mentioned her being related to any canon characters, so her appearance/race is not defined; general emotional angst - Draco fears for his own life, your life, and the fate of your unborn child if they are born into pureblood society; in the first half, there is some arguing/tension between Draco and the reader (but it's mostly due to the emotional tension of their situation); mentions of Dumbledore's death; non detailed mentions of sex (that's how we got the baby, duh) (sadly no smut); passing mention of abortion/pregnancy termination (they both want the child but fear for the child's safety in this environment); semi-graphic mentions of consensually inflicted injuries - Draco gets the reader to cut off the skin with his Dark Mark on it so that he can't be tracked or summoned with it; these warnings make it seem like a really dark fic but the ending is really fluffy I promise; toward the end, the reader and Draco have a toddler who refers to them as 'Mummy' and 'Daddy', and I think that is about it.

Author's Notes: The prompt of 'character finds out you are pregnant' was originally from the fluff prompts list, but because this is Draco, I couldn't help but to throw some angst in here. Because I imagine that if Draco was still living with his parents and surrounded by Death Eaters and the blood purity ideals, he would be very hesitant to want a child of his own because he wouldn't want a child to be tainted by all of it the way that he had been. Because at a certain point, the pride he felt turned sour. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy because this does get fluffy toward the end.

...

Terror. 

That was the very first thing Draco could tangibly say that he was feeling. 

The last two years of his life had been a sickening rollercoaster of utter chaos, and quite frankly, he had become numb to it all. He had to force himself to be numb, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived. And currently, survival was his only feasible goal. But this - this news touching his ears was one thing that woke up his senses from that numbness and sent him rocketing into the harshness of reality. This made him feel again, in the worst ways. Suddenly he was nauseous, shaking, blood rocketing against his ear drums, creating a harsh thumping in seconds. 

He wished that he had heard you wrong. 

“Are - are you sure?” He stuttered out, feeling his hands becoming exceptionally clammy as he clutched them around nothing, his feet unsteady on the ground. 

You saw him becoming remarkably pale for someone who was already so papery toned on a normal day, and you worried that he was going to faint. You worried that his harsh reaction meant that he hated the idea of you being pregnant - that he was angry with you. Of course, you realised that the fault wasn’t all on you, that was just nature. But part of you thought that he put the onus on you to take care of birth control, using potions or spells, because he had been worried about so many other things since the start of your relationship. 

Up until now, you weren’t sure if you wanted what they wanted. You weren’t naive enough to look beyond the reason you had married Draco in the first place. You were there to produce the next pureblood heir with him. Originally, you had thought it was romantic, in a sense. But when you had met Draco’s family, the people he was surrounded with, the people who called themselves Death Eaters - you realised that it most certainly wasn’t an ideal environment to bring a child into. 

Killing at the drop of a hat, torturing, murdering the innocent - those weren’t ideals that you wanted your child to be brought up on. 

“Draco, sit down, please,” You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to usher him toward one of the expensive chairs sitting in the corner of his room. 

You had stolen him away for a rare moment of privacy between meetings and Death Eaters traipsing around the house. These days, his parents always demanded that the two of you make good on appearances because you were supposed to be the sweet young couple, the future of the pureblood line. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered the question much more harshly, the words hissed through his lips like pure venom as he desperately waited for you to confirm it. 

He let himself be guided by you and collapsed down into the chair, sitting with his head in his hands, ruffling up his usually neat, slicked-back hair with rough, stressful fingers through it. 

Your stomach twisted with your own unique stress as you watched him. You hadn’t seen him so distraught since his first failed attempt on the mission he had been given last year. 

“I’m sure.” You said. “I went to the apothecary and got one of the test potions-” 

“A store bought test potion?” Draco hissed. 

He gave you the harshest glare that you had ever seen from him, which was saying something considering the looks of pure disdain he had given you upon first meeting. His jaw was set so tightly that it looked as though his molars were going to crush in on themselves at any moment. 

Your posture shrunk back, desperately trying to hide from his invasive stare. You wished that you could have burrowed under the floorboards at that point. 

You knew that it was fear and panic about the situation at large, all the death you had been surrounded with compounding onto him. But you hated that he was inadvertently taking it out on you. 

After a moment of you not speaking, Draco continued. 

“I should have made it myself, if you had just told me-” 

“Yes, and nobody would have become suspicious if you were mulling around, gathering the ingredients for a pregnancy test potion.” You snapped back. 

Draco’s face grew even more sickly at this, and you knew that you were both silently on the same page - nobody else in the house could know that you were pregnant. If they even suspected it, then it was over. 

He heaved a sigh, gathering all of his thoughts before he chose one to bring to open air. 

“Were you seen?” He asked, still tearing into you indignantly, talking to you as though you were stupid. 

“No.” You told him, entirely certain. “I wore a large cloak with a hood, it was dark. Nobody recognized me.” 

He gave you a distinct frown that said he was unsure of the truth in your words, and you rushed to trample over his potential sarcastic remark with your own. 

“I suppose they don’t recognize me when I’m not on your arm, anyway.” 

You scoffed out the last part, talking about this fact with distaste even though in actuality it was something you loved. You felt safe when you were with Draco. You couldn’t imagine facing the scowling faces without his arm around you. 

But you knew that’s all you were in this society - Draco’s wife. That’s all you had been labelled as since you had been shipped over from America by your godmother. 

You were the last of your noble pureblood family’s line. Your parents had been killed by Aurors in the name of Voldemort’s cause during the first war. After their deaths, you had been sent to live with your godmother in America, never truly understanding how your parents were killed or why.

The whole reason you had met Draco in the first place - an arranged marriage. Something that would have honoured your parents, apparently. 

The Malfoys had been looking for a pureblood match around Draco’s age, and they had once known your parents, and thought of you as a good prestigious pureblood girl to marry their son. It didn’t take them long to find you, even though you didn’t mingle in pureblood society like they did. (Something they found to be a big shame and a horror upon your parents’ memory.) 

Your godmother sold you out for a ‘dowry’ of two thousand Galleons, and from there, your life became a living hell. 

Strangely enough, Draco had been the one anchor keeping you alive in it. 

Most would say that it was because he was kind by comparison, but truly - he was easy to fall in love with when he was compassionate, sweet, loving in the smallest ways that made you feel safe during some of the most hectic times of your life. 

Draco had never intended to get attached to you. 

But like anything in his life - pining for the crumbs of his father’s approval, digging under all the proprietary for a single genuine gesture of affection from his mother - Draco’s heart kept beating as much as he tried to turn it off. He convinced himself that he was solid stone, but apparently, you were the pickaxe that made him crumble to pieces. After meeting him, you burrowed through the layers of snide coldness and dark humour that he used in an effort to put you off and you found that still beating heart. That soft thing that he hated so much about himself. 

You dug that heart out of his chest, and - despite his best efforts to fight you off, you nursed that heart back to health. And you gave him the closest thing he had experienced to ‘love’ in years. 

On the day the two of you got married, when Dumbledore’s dead body was barely cold, Draco said his vows to you with nothing but honesty in his heart. And that night, he made love to you with intense passion, held you in his arms as though you might slip away if he didn’t grip onto you tight enough. And only after you had fallen asleep in his arms, was when he allowed himself to cry. Because he knew that they now had one more way to make him hurt if they wanted to. They could kill him, they could stop the breath in his lungs, but he would die a million deaths through you being hurt in the smallest of ways before that happened. 

And now - with this utterly horrifying revelation, they had new ways to hurt him. He should have died a lone man. He should have let them kill him instead of agreeing to any of this in the first place. He shouldn’t have learned to love - he shouldn’t have grown these new limbs that they could cut off savagely and tear apart in front of him. 

“I got another one.” You announced when the room had grown too quiet, silent tears streaming down Draco’s face as he sat in intense contemplation. “Another test potion. An extra. I figured you’d want to see it with your own eyes.” 

Even though the two of you had only met two short years ago - you knew him too well. You knew that he would want visual confirmation before his own eyes. 

“Get it. Please.” He said, trying his best not to let his throat drown in these tears. He wouldn’t be reduced to sobbing. 

You went to your cloak, which was hung on a hook in an opposite corner of the room, and grabbed the potion vial out of your pocket. Your shoes clacking against the floor made a terribly hollow soundtrack to the whole thing as you ripped off the small tag that was tied to the neck of the potion bottle and handed it to Draco. He read the instructions on it while you uncorked the potion. 

It was simple: you put some sample of your DNA in the bottle - a hair, a small bit of blood, something like that. And then if the potion changed colours to glow white, it meant that you were pregnant. If it made no change from its original, soupy grey colour - then you weren’t pregnant. 

He watched, holding his breath as you plucked a single hair from your head and then dropped it into the now open top of the bottle. When the hair made contact with the liquid, it bubbled slightly as it dissolved. Then - after only a moment, the bottle began to shake roughly in your hand as it changed colour, and surely enough - it glowed brightly white. 

You were definitely pregnant. 

Draco’s nausea increased. And then - in a moment, he felt a fierce sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was as though he had been slapped sharply across the face, woken up from the blind numbness he had been feeling. He knew at that moment that he needed to take action. He couldn’t simply stand by and let things happen around him anymore. He could simply sit around hoping for safety, hoping for some miracle to save the two of you. 

“Happy?” You scoffed. 

You took Draco’s lack of words as a negative - a sign that he was certainly unhappy with the news. 

Not that you were entirely thrilled under the present circumstances - you were scared, stressed, and hating it because you had always wanted children, but not like this. 

You placed the potion down on the nearest table and stormed off to the bathroom attached to Draco’s bedroom. He chased you, catching the door before you could slam it closed and lock it. 

You conceded to his movements quickly and simply turned to face the sink, unable to look at him right now. You turned it on, splashing cold water on your face, trying your best not to freak out because clearly he was already playing that role. He walked up behind you, gently pressing his body into yours. Even under these circumstances, you found his presence so comforting. You found his body behind you to be nothing but a wall of safety, and you couldn’t help but to lean back into him, your eyes still tightly closed. 

Draco reached around you and gently pressed his hand into your stomach - you held back tears of your own now. Clearly, you were both thinking the same thing. Thinking of the unborn child that you both needed to protect. You placed your hand over his, seeking comfort in his touch as he flattened a palm across your stomach. 

It was a world shattering revelation to know that his child was resting under his hand. 

“No one can find out about this.” He muttered quietly into your neck. 

It was something Draco dreaded - them finding out about your pregnancy. 

This is what they had been waiting for. This was the reason for the marriage in the first place. This was the pureblood heir - this was their chess piece. 

Draco wouldn’t let his child become another pawn in their games. 

“It’s still early.” You choked out quietly. “There are other potions. We could-” You choked on your own words, unable to even speak it aloud. 

Draco dug his fingers into the fabric of your shirt protectively, quite insulted at the insinuation. 

“No.” He replied, his voice rough with anger. “Unless the idea of being pregnant with my child is so utterly horrible to you-” 

“It’s not that!” 

You screeched, forcefully turning in his arms, wanting to face him. He kept one hand on your hip, and moved the other up to gently grasp your cheek, thumbing away your tears as they gathered. It was that gentleness that always got you. His natural instinct to comfort you.You leaned into his touches as you continued. 

“I want this baby more than anything. I - I’m just terrified they’ll see that as a weakness.” 

You knew it was the truth. Especially when Draco’s sullen face confirmed it. In this circle, loving anything or anyone was a weakness that could be exploited. 

Draco leaned in and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting the single, solitary moment of peace wash over you. 

“I’ll protect you.” He declared, his voice whisper-quiet, but nearly broken with the intensity of his words. “Both of you.” He added this on as he brushed his palm over your stomach once again. 

Again, you laid your hand over his, uttering quiet assurances of love toward your unborn child. 

“Draco, how-?” 

He didn’t let you finish the question. 

“We’ll leave. We’re leaving. Tonight.” He declared firmly. 

It was something you had suggested before - to protests from Draco, many scathing comments poking holes in your plans. His parents would be killed if he left. At this point, he had to surrender to the idea that they could take care of themselves - that they had made their bed and they had to lie in it. But now that he had the Dark Mark, they would be able to find him, wherever he went. But he would find some harsh way around that. 

Now that he had so much more at stake, he couldn’t care if his parents died because of his actions. He had so much more that he had to protect. 

“I’ll cut off my bloody arm if I have to.” Draco mumbled quietly, and then turned sharply from the bathroom, leaving to pack. 

… 

“Daddy, Mummy’s not being fair! She won’t let me play with the jellyfish!” 

“Draco, can you please explain to your daughter that jellyfish are dangerous and she can’t play with them?” You replied, trying your best to haul your toddler away from the rough rocks at the water’s edge where the creature had washed up. 

“Love, why don’t you come and play with your toys over here?” Draco posed, trying to draw her attention toward something else. She was much like himself as a child - determined, stubborn, and wouldn’t do anything unless she believed it was her own idea first. “Come and show Daddy how to build a sand castle, hmm?” 

She seemed to perk up at this. She was clever, and over-eager to show off her skills. More than eager to show her father how to do something properly if she felt that he wasn’t doing it right. This happened with everything from the way he spread marmalade on his toast to the way he tied his shoes - something she had just learned how to do that she was eager to show off her expertise in.

As she tore out of your arms and trudged across the beach to scoop some sand into her bucket, Draco had to be thankful as he watched you follow slowly behind. Purely thankful of the fact that the biggest danger your daughter had to worry about was something like a stray jellyfish washed up on shore. 

Three years after escaping a life of servitude toward the Dark Lord in England, you and Draco enjoyed a quiet life with your daughter Aster in France. 

You sat down beside Draco with a huff, picking up the book you had previously been reading. You flashed him a grateful smile as he listened to Aster’s detailed instructions about how they should build their castle. He gave you a wide grin in return, and you felt your insides tingle. His smile used to be something as rare as a Basilisk, but now he wore it proudly and more often - he wore his happiness without restraint. 

With the short-sleeved, light linen shirt that he had on for the beach, the scar on his forearm was fully visible. It reminded you of the brave choices he had made on that night three years ago. 

You had convinced Draco not to cut off his arm completely, but the two of you knew that the Dark Mark needed to go. Otherwise, the two of you could never run far enough, you would have nowhere to hide. So now he sported a large scar where you had held him down and cut the skin off with a sharp knife. That night, his parents had found his room empty, save for the flap cut-off skin in the middle of his bloody bedroom floor. Luckily, you had a talent for healing spells and Draco had been able to knick a few good potions from his family’s cupboards before the two of you left. 

On the outside, it was jagged and ugly. But when he looked at it, it reminded him of nothing but freedom - of the love you had committed to him that day, to your unborn daughter. 

With a couple thousand Galleons in gold taken from his parents’ stash, the two of you started a new life. You were untraceable and happy. And though there was intense relief when you read in the papers that Potter had succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord and that meant the war was over - the two of you didn’t have any plans to go back to England anytime soon. 

Not when your new life was this good. 

“-and see, you need to dig down until you find the sand that’s wet, that makes a good castle-” Aster drawled on, piercing her toy shovel into the ground frantically as she spoke. 

Draco nodded, giving her a smile as he followed her instructions. “Yes, yes. I see. Very smart girl.” 

He had gotten the two of you away from that life, and not for a moment had your daughter ever known the kind of pain or fear that you had. 

“Daddy’s learning a lot today, isn’t he?” You remarked, giving Draco a sly grin. 

“Good thing I’ve got this smart girl here to teach me,” He said, leaning over and giving Aster a kiss on the forehead. 

That was another thing that made you fall even deeper in love with him - the droves of affection he gave to his daughter. Now that he wasn’t being watched so closely, now that he wasn’t expected to be the picture perfect son, he could love her exactly how he wanted to. He didn’t have to worry about propriety or appearing weak. 

Aster giggled at this, and Draco blew raspberries on her cheek before kissing her again. She then rallied Draco up to go to the shoreline for a bucket of water. As you watched them walk hand in hand, you felt your heart ache from how overwhelmingly full of love you were. 

Somehow, you found yourself endlessly thankful for the rocky road of fate that had brought you here.

[allur1ngs]

✮ see no evil, hear no evil ✮

TW: unedited, smut (dom & top!bada, sub & bottom!reader, teasing, strap usage–r!receiving, reader tries to ride bada’s strap for a bit before bada takes control, bada is very cocky in this one…idk mafia bada is just always so cocky to me during sex, bada’s strap is referred to as a cock/dick, exhibitionism, bada doesn’t receive again, sorry…, erm… dumbification, hyo hears you and bada fucking two times, she will never rest…), italicized words with quotes around them in this fic indicate a thought, and in a long block of text indicate a flash back, the picture in the middle purely for aesthetics/a visual aid and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!! this is entirely canon divergent and not a part of the mafia au timeline!!!!!!!!!!! if you want to read the canon version of this scenario, read this

SUMMARY: hyo will always be a dedicated bodyguard. she takes pride in the fact that she is able to stay by your side each day, and protect you. the only downside? she has to exercise immense amounts of self-restraint when she stands outside your bedroom or office door, and hears bada fucking you.

WC: 5.6k

A/N: an anon asked it so we did it!! a collab w my wife @bebeyue, make sure to read her continuation of this by clicking the three ellipsis at the end of this fic (this is a threat)!!!! this is the only time i’m cosigning on any form of hyo content–i make exceptions for aeri–so enjoy this one piece!! (ps. pls do not send any requests for hyo–i’m only writing for bada!!) but besides that, again, this is a “behind the scenes” of this drabble, but uses this fic as an opening, pls enjoy!!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada or team bebe’s actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

Kim Hyo is a diligent bodyguard, and no one can deny that fact. Although Bada may at times nitpick at things she does, she can’t dismiss Hyo’s commitment to her job as your bodyguard. Through thick and thin, she’s been there, watching over you. Early mornings and late nights, her presence is never far.

Take, for instance, the current situation unfolding between you, Bada, and Hyo.

"I'm starting to think you really do want us to get caught." Bada’s voice comes from inside her office, and leaks into the hallway. Coincidently, you’d accidentally left the door open when you entered to hand your faincée her glasses. Now that accident left you in a rather compromising position.

Hyo stands outside Bada’s office, her back against the wall as your fiancée eats you out and toys with you. She’s not exactly sure what is specifically happening inside but from the sounds of moans, you’re enjoying what Bada is doing to you.

"I-I don't." You answer your fiancée’s prior statement, a hint of shame creeping into your voice.

"There you go again," Bada says, tapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth in displeasure. 

Hyo hears a shuffling sound and then another moan rings out from the office, this time the sound is significantly louder–she lets out a sharp breath and clutches her hands tightly together in front of her, struggling to keep up her professionalism. 

"Do you enjoy lying to me?" Bada continues.

Trying to distract herself, Hyo forces herself to think of something else. “What are we having for dinner tonight–” She begins a thought, but it’s interrupted by the sound of Bada’s stern voice speaking up again.

"Should I make you cum like this? Make you fucking cum all over your panties as punishment?"

“No.” You squeak, "Please--"

“The Boss is being very stern this time.” Hyo finally manages to collect herself enough to think a clear, coherent thought. “The last time this happened–” Her thought is interrupted by another that invades her mind. 

“Be honest, you like that type of stuff–” Tatter’s amused voice echoes in your bodyguard’s mind, her entire body going rigid.

“Fuck.” She mentally curses, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses. “It’s not like that–” Despite what fibs Hyo may try to convince herself of, the mind never lies. It is the truest and most honest representation of thought.

So it’s natural that Hyo thinks of the night prior to this most recent excursion between you and Bada, when you’d engaged in such activities.

The day had begun normally, much like today had, until certain events led your bodyguard to a cruel fate.

3 days earlier

Standing on the steps of the Lee mansion, you beckon over your wife. “Come here,” you say, voice brimming with excitement.

Bada, who’d just spoken to Hyo, and asked her to bring around her Porsche 918 Spyder, turns to look up at you standing on the second step of the stairs toward the open driveway. “Coming.” She says, dismissing Hyo as she ascends the steps in your direction. When she reaches the step you’re standing on, positions herself behind you and starts to trail kisses up and down your neck. “Have I told you that you look beautiful? I love this dress…”

“You’ve only told me five times already.” You laugh while reaching into the pockets of your dress–a feature that you reverently appreciate–to pull out your phone. “But thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She mumbles into your skin, dragging her nose up and down while continuing to press heated, wet kisses on the crook of your neck.

“Bada, I want to take a picture.” You huff, trying to focus on opening the camera app on your phone.

“Take one then, I’m not stopping you.” She replies, never slowing down her sweet assault on your neck. 

“I can’t when you’re kissing me.” You argue back lightheartedly.

“Just angle the phone so I’m not in frame–”

Not convinced, you gently shy away from Bada’s lips. “I’ll let you give me kisses after I’ve taken the picture. Just two seconds, alright?”

“Fine.” Your fiancée pouts as she wraps her right arm under your boobs, unintentionally making them pop.

You barely notice as you lean back into her chest and hold up your phone, closing your eyes and smiling for the picture. But Bada does. She sees the way the skin of your tits shine in the low light, and how the picture looks incredibly intimate, like it’s something not meant to be seen by foreign eyes. She leans in, completely entranced by the photo, and your reflection–

The moment slips away like a gentle whisper in the breeze as you slowly open your eyes and your smile widens at the picture. You don’t comment on the nature of the photo, only saying, “It’s so cute, I have to post it on Instagram!” Which you quickly do, all the while Bada remains silent, moving her head back into the crook of your neck.

The kisses she’d given you prior, although passionate, are nothing compared to the heat with which she charges the kisses she places on your skin now. She uses just the tip of her tongue and drags it across your neck, which makes you freeze, and a puff of air leave your lips.

“Maybe we should stay in.” She whispers between kisses.

“Bada, you made reservations.” You mumble, bringing your hand up to the side of her head, clutching onto strands of her long, black and white striped hair. At the same time, Hyo pulls up in the Porsche. She parks it right in front of you both, then turns to face you, but when she catches sight of the intimate moment you two are sharing, she instantly faces forward and clears her throat. She tries to make it seem like she’s not listening to what either of you are saying, but your close proximity makes it almost impossible. 

“Fuck the reservations,” Bada says into your skin, winding her other arm around your midsection–again making your tits pop out. “It’s been a while since we had sex.”

“Bada, Hyo is here with the car.” You whisper, using weak force to pull on Bada’s hair in an attempt to pull her off of your neck.

You succeed, but your fiancée is displeased. “So?”

“So,” you give Bada an astonished glance, “she can hear and see us–”

“She’s not even looking our way.” Bada points at Hyo, who’s scrolling through her photo albums, trying to busy herself. “She’s on her phone–” Your fiancée suddenly frowns, pressing you closer to her chest. “Hyo, why are you looking at your phone?”

Your bodyguard instantly sits up and snaps her head in Bada’s direction, looking like she’s about to break out in a cold sweat. “Sorry Boss, I was just…uh–”

“Oh stop picking on her.” You gently swat at your fiancée’s arm and break away from her hold, quickly grabbing her hand and practically dragging her forward. “Let’s just go and eat dinner like we’d planned–”

Although you’re not able to see, Bada sends Hyo a look that screams, “You ruined my plans,” as you force her into the car.

Hyo gulps, moving to face forward and placing her hands on the wheel of the car.

Yeah, she’s in for it.

The rest of the night surprisingly goes without a hitch after that. After leaving the Lee mansion, Hyo had proceeded to drive you two to the La Yeon, an upscale restaurant that serves traditional Korean cuisine, and only caters forty guests at a time. Bada had reserved a private room for you both to dine, so naturally Hyos stood outside as watch, only hearing small noises from your lively chatter.

But the real hell began on the car ride back to the Lee mansion. 

The three of you had been sitting in a peaceful silence when you suddenly spoke up, curiosity striking you, "Just how much did you have to pay for the private room we ate in?"

Bada nonchalantly shrugs, "Not much."

"Somehow, I doubt that," you banter. 

Bada shifts her gaze from staring straight ahead to glance at you. "Well, it wasn't much for me."

"Ah, that makes more sense," you nod, releasing a small laugh. "But you know, you don't have to take me to fancy restaurants. I'd be happy to spend time with you, no matter where we do it."

Your fiancée shakes her head, "I don't take you out of obligation. I do so because I love you. I want you to experience establishments that are worthy of your presence."

Turning your attention to Bada, you gaze at her through the barely-lit car. Her eyes reflect deep sincerity, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Bada... I'm just a woman—"

"You're not just a woman," she interrupts, her eyes stern yet holding glints of love behind the firmness. "You are my woman. My fiancée. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn't treat you?"

Bada's passionate gaze makes you turn away, your hand ghosting over your mouth as you grow bashful. "You can't just say things like that," you whisper, your voice meek and soft.

"Why? Does hearing how much I love you make you nervous?" Bada laughs, amused by your reaction.

"I just..." you trail off, struggling to find words to express your feelings. "I love you." Those three words are the only way to convey the warmth coursing through your body.

Bada smiles softly, grabbing your hand which you’d positioned in your lap. "I love you more."

You intertwine your fingers with hers, observing the way she affectionately runs her thumb over the gem on your engagement ring. "But you know," you suddenly add, prompting your wife to look up from your joined hands to meet your gaze. "you could have mentioned we were going to a Michelin-star restaurant. I felt a bit underdressed..." Your eyes shift down to the silky white dress you're wearing. While undeniably elegant, its somewhat scandalous design features thin straps supporting a teardrop-shaped neckline that accentuates your boobs, which gracefully twists into the bodice and tapers into the gown's lower hem.

"Underdressed?" Bada says incredulously. "You look absolutely beautiful–"

"All the other women were wearing name brands and elegant dresses–" you protest, but are cut off.

"What does it matter what they were wearing?" Bada furrows her eyebrows, genuinely confused by your words. “You could walk into this restaurant in your pajamas, and you’d still outshine every single one of those women.”

You let out a sharp breath, smiling shyly. “There you go again. I think you enjoy making me flustered.”

“If you’ve just barely realized that, I clearly have not been doing my job.” Bada laughs, gently squeezing your hand, which still remains in her grasp. “By the way, I thought I had thoroughly expressed how much I love the way you look, earlier.”

A fire lights in your stomach as you glance at her. “Well…”

“I really am not doing my job, am I?” Bada uses her unoccupied hand to gently touch the side of your face, and leans in. “I’ll just have to show you how beautiful you look in this dress.”

That last sentence sealed Hyo’s fate. She continued to drive as you let out small giggles, and Bada whispered things in your ear. What exactly she said, Hyo doesn’t want to imagine.

Upon arrival at the Lee mansion, you and Bada are a mess of scandalous whispers, and chuckles as you both ascend up the steps, your bodyguard lagging behind to park the car. But it seems you two are far too excited to keep your hands off each other, because when Hyo walks toward the Lee mansion steps after returning the Porsche to the garage, you’re both nowhere to be found. Your bodyguard rushes up the steps, mumbling curse words under her breath as she opens the door and races up the mansion’s winding staircase, heading toward the only place you must be, your shared bedroom. 

When she makes it there, she instantly walks to the right side of the door, her back up against the wall. She lets out a small sigh of relief, glad that Bada was too busy to tell her off for lagging behind. 

But then she hears it, a small sound, simple and tiny, innocent. 

“Bada!” You squeal, while a creaking sound barely reaches Hyo’s ears. It sounds like you’d been thrown onto the bed.

Inside the bedroom, Bada moves to hover above you, planting either of her arms beside your head. She smirks down at you, her eyes sweeping over every sliver of your skin that’s available to her prying eyes. She leans in to rub her nose against yours cutely, watching how you crinkle yours and smile out of instinct. “You’re fucking adorable.” Bada breathes, then places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you.” You whisper when she pulls away.

“I love you more.” She whispers back, moving her hand to grab at one of the straps of your dress. She thumbs at the silk until she slowly begins to move the strap down your shoulder, the movement so light a shiver runs up your spine as you watch her. When she fully slips down the strap of the dress, your bare tit is exposed to the cold air, which makes your nipple pebbling because of the sudden temperature difference. “No bra?” Bada presses her thumb against your nipple, starting to trace delicate, mithodical circles to the sensitive bud.

“The fabric is thicker than it looks–” You breathe, but the words die on your lips as your fiancée moves to drag the other strap of your dress down. Now both of your tits are exposed to Bada’s hungry eyes.

“I really love this dress.” She grabs either side of your boobs, pushing them together to oggle the way your flesh meets to make a tantilizing image. The soft skin of your tits glows in the light, and the way your nipples continue to pebble because of the cold has Bada captivated.

“I think you should take it off me.” You say coquettishly. 

Bada stares at you for a moment with an excused expression before she releases your tits and sits up. “Actually, I had different plans for you.” She steps away from the bed, making her way to the dresser beside it before opening the bottom drawer. You turn your head to the side to watch with a confused expression, but what she pulls out from the drawer makes you smile.

Bada takes out a bottle of lube and her long, black strap, glancing at you from the corner of her eyes to see you carefully studying her every move with excitement in your eyes. “Looking forward to it, are we?” She remarks.

“Should I not be?” You flip over onto your stomach, placing your head in the palm of your hand as Bada begins to take off her dress pants and shirt. Like always, she only has her boxers and her bra on while she puts on her strap.

“Do you need help?” You pipe up.

Bada looks up and smiles. “If you’re offering.”

You quickly get off the bed and kneel down in front of your fiancée, helping her manuver through the harness and secure it onto her pelvis. When you’ve finished, you don’t stand up, instead, you look at Bada as you lean forward to press a kiss on the head of her cock, running your tounge along the silicone.

Bada lets a small hiss at your actions, her hand coming down to gently rest on your head. “C’mon.” She pats your head, signalling you to get up.

You do so without a single protest falling from your lips, but you take the bottle of lube out of Bada’s hand, pop it open and slowly place a glob of the sticky substance into the palm of your hand. Before your finacée can say anything, you lean in and place a passionate, all-tongue kiss as you rub up and down in cock, twisting your wrist like you’re really trying to give her a hand job.

Bada groans into your lips, grabbing the sides of your face and deepening the kiss until you’re just swapping saliva messily, small strings of it clinging to each other’s lips, connecting you two together. “Sit on the bed.” She whispers inbetween your clash of mouths.

You pause, then take a step back from your fiancée, your lips parted as you let out staggering breaths. Backing up until you feel the edge of the bed gently collide with your legs you sit down like you were told to.

Bada is quick to follow after you, but to your surprise, she doesn’t push your back onto the bed; instead, she climbs on and reclines against the bedframe with her back cradled by pillows. Her position makes her cock stand tall on her pelvis, the large head slightly drooping downwards when she slaps her thighs. “Sit on it.” She tells you, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion but crawl towards her anyway, taking off your panties before placing your thighs on either side of her hips and sitting down just shy of her cock. “I thought you said you were going to show me how beautiful I look in this dress.” You lightheartidly banter. Truthfully, you don’t care who does the work, all you want is to have Bada’s dick inside you, tearing you apart. But, then again, if she was going to tease you, you might as well do it back once or twice.

“What, you can’t fuck yourself on my cock?” She laughs, stretching her arm out to place it on your right thigh.

“I can.” You huff, feeling embarrassment start to burn in the pit of your stomach. 

“I don’t know.” Bada imitates a thinking face. “You’re kind of a pillow princess if I’m being honest.”

“Wha–” You stutter, your mouth dropping open. “I’ve eaten you out before.”

“And who was still in charge then?” Bada argues, her amusement growing every passing second.

“Well–”

“Listen to me.” Your fiancée suddenly cuts you off, leaning forward so that her face is only inches away from yours–her cock slaps against her stomach, the action going unnoticed by her, but not by you. “Fuck yourself on my dick, and if you do well, I’ll take over and finish you off.” She takes her left hand and places it on your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your cheek. She takes note of how your skin feels unnaturally warm. “Does that sound good, baby?”

Your eyes, which had gone wide out of pure shock stare back at her like lustrous gems. You slowly begin to nod, forcing yourself to close your mouth and swallow. Bada nods with you, then moves to rest against the headboard again, her back hitting the pillows. 

Although the tone she’d taken on was domineering, she still holds one hands out for you to take, so she can help you up onto her cock, while the other bunches up your long dress so it’s not in the way. You, of course, take her hand and with her added strength, lift yourself up until the tip of her cock just barely slaps against your pussy lips. You let out a shaky breath at the small surge of stimulation, but focus on inching your hips downward. Slowly, the tip of Bada’s strap fills up your pussy, every inch making you breathe harder and your hips stutter. The slight confidence you’d felt just a moment before instantly fades away as you close your eyes and stop moving.

“It’s only the tip, I should be able to take more,” you think, but truthfully even just the tip of Bada’s long and thick strap would be hard for anyone to take.

“Don’t do it all at once.” Bada’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, making you open your eyes and look at her. “It’s big. You’ll hurt yourself.” She says tenderly. “Just take it slow.”

You listen to your fiancée, carefully and meticulously sinking onto her cock, taking small breaks in between every inch until you’re finally able to sit in her lap, every inch of her monsterously big cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” You pant, leaning forward to catch your staggering breath and to give your pussy a time to adjust.

Bada watches you with a fond smile on her lips, she leans in to press a small kiss on your cheek–which just so happens to angle her cock further into you, making you gasp. “You took it all, I’m so proud of you.” She whispers sweetly, the soft side she only has for you peeking through her dominant demenour.

“I–” You say through heavy breaths. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright, just breathe.” Bada grabs hands grab at the sides of your face, trying to ground you. “In and out honey, in and out.”

You try to take in a deep breath but it catches in your throat. Still, with Bada’s guidance, you slowly begin to calm your breathing until it settles into small puffs.

“There.” She mumbles. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You nod, shaking your head. “Just…it’s been a while–”

“I know it has, which is why you need to take it slow baby.” Bada’s eyes flash with a small glint of worry. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not, just took a little longer to adjust.” You place your hand over Bada’s, now wearing a confident expression. “I can do it.”

Your fiancée gives you a hesitant look but slowly leans back, allowing you to take the reigns. You start off slow, moving up just an inch before sitting back down. Then the next time you go up you go a bit further, so on until you’re able to take out half of Bada’s strap before slamming back down on her lap.

You also start to pick up your pace, angling your hips forward so her cock drags against your walls deliciously. You let out small, breathy moans with each rise and fall of your hips, still trying to get more out of her strap. But it feels like you can’t. Every time you think you can take out more you feel your legs weaken and have to slam yourself down on her lap before you awkwardly fall.

All the while Bada watches you, carefully zeroing in on the base of her cock, which is only wet with a minimal amount of your slick. She catches every moment you struggle on top of her, trying so hard not laugh at how cute your frustrated face is. “Do you need help?” She asks after she notices you lose your rhythm and slam onto her lap with a small annoyed curse.

“No.” You say stubbornly. Trying to prove her wrong, you use all your strength to lift up from her cock and this time manage to get another inch out before you have to quickly go down again. This time the sensation is deeply pleasurable so you let out a louder moan, but in your attempt to savor the feeling you once again lose your rhythm.

“So, you still don’t want my help?” Bada tilts her head to the side, just barely able to stop herself from chuckling at the glare you give her. But this time, you don’t answer her, instead, you just pant on her lap, looking like a defiled angel in your silky white dress that’s clutched between Bada’s hand, the straps having fallen so far down your body that some of your stomach is revealed, the other covered by the tight bodice. “All you have to do is say yes, and I’ll keep my promise from before.”

Truthfully, beyond feeling bad for your current inability to pleasure yourself, Bada just really wants to fuck you. The dress you’re half wearing is still doing things to your fiancée, the contrast of the pure white against your skin, which is stained with sin and sweat makes her desire to slam her cock into you reach incalcuable heights.

Looking at your fiancée, you bite your bottom lip in thought. There are two ways you could go about this. You could keep trying to ride Bada and probably only give yourself half the pleasure she can, or you can say yes and let her fuck you like she said she would.

…The answer is obvious.

“Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Without a single second to spare, Bada lets go of your dress and grabs ahold of your hips, flipping your positions with such quick speed that it leaves you dizzy and giggling. 

Bada runs her hands up and down your figure for a moment, leaning down to place a kiss on one of your tits before placing one on the other.

“Put one of the pillows between your head and the headboard.” She tells you, pointing at a lone pillow beside you.

Confusion flows through you but you do what she asks anyway, propping the pillow on it’s side so it cradles the top of your head.

Bada gives you a smile, then takes both of your hands into hers. She coils her long fingers between yours and stretches her arms out so that your arms are held above your head. “I’ll show you how good my cock can feel.” She whispers into your ear, the words just barely leaving her lips before she takes out the entirety of her strap out of you and slams it back in.

The sudden fast and strong movement makes the headboard slam against the wall, and your head slides up, wich would have painfully hit the metal if it weren’t for the pillow Bada told you to put behind your head.

Your fiancée’s deep and fast stroke makes you let out a moan, your mouth falling open.

“Yeah,” Bada mumbles proudly. “Bet that felt so good after all that fooling around you did before.”

Outside of your shared bedroom, Hyo stands frozen in her spot, the sound of the slamming accoumpanied by your loud moan making her gulp. She hadn’t been able to hear a thing before this, which is why the sudden rancourous noise startled her, almost making her jump.

“It’s fine,” She tells herself. “They’re just…having fun, that’s all.”

But again, another loud slam followed soon after by your pleasure-filled cry leaks out of the bedroom, the sound echoing cruelly in Hyo’s ear.

“Fuck…” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Inside the bedroom, you don’t have the capacity to worry about about the fact that anyone in a five foot radius would probably hear you moaning and screaming like a whore, because your fiancée is fucking you within an inch of your life.

Like you’re a ragdoll, Bada takes you by the hips and angels them so that one is up in the air and the other lays on the bed, her cock slamming in and out of you at an insane speed. She’s moving so fast that your slick–which had tripled from what you produced when you were fucking yourself–is squirting onto her boxers and creaming at the base of her cock. It looks like a ring of sweet whipped cream against her thick black strap.

“I need to get this room sound-proofed.” Bada manges to say between heavy breaths. “You’re screaming like a fucking pornstar, baby.”

You’re unable to say anything, the only thing falling from your lips is moan after moan, which is somehow not overshadowed by the thundering sound of the headboard banging against the wall.

“Aw, have I fucked all the thoughts out of you?” Bada drives her cock into you in a deep stroke, hitting that sweet spot in you that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck!” You close your eyes, mind turning to mush as your fiancée quickly takes her strap out, the ridging on the silicone catching against your hot and gummy walls, giving you profound pleasure.

Another rush of slick follows the exit of Bada’s dick, strings of it clinging from your pussy to the black strap, connecting you both. It would be poetic if what you were engaging in wasn’t pure, unadulterated sin. Immoral is the way that your lover slams every inch of her cock into you, sweat and your essance falling onto the sheets, leaving a stain as a testament to your depraved doings.

Bada reaches over to take the silk of your dress into her hands again, flipping all of it upward so that she can properly see her dick splitting you apart, rubbing your walls and hitting the front of your clit perfectly.

“Not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, is there?”

Proving her absolutely correct, you don’t respond.

“That’s okay baby, you don’t have to think. You just have to lay there, looking pretty in this dress while I slam my cock into you.” The way Bada cooes into the hot air of your bedroom makes your eyes almost roll back into your head. She knows just what to say, and when to say it. “Keep moaning like that, it’s fucking hot.” She adds, her own cunt pulsing beneath the fabric of her boxers. The way she’s pounding her strap in and out of you so forcefully makes the base of it rub against her cunt harshly, the slight pain and pleasure mixing together to make the coil in her stomach slightly tighten.

Like the obedient slut you are for your fiancée, you let out one loud, scream of, “I’m close!”

That only serves to reinvigorate Bada, who quickly takes your leg which is up in the air and sets it on her shoulder, allowing her to push her entire pelvis into you with a fast and intense stroke, which again hits your g-spot.

That’s what finally makes the tight coil in your stomach burst, a long stream of cum gushing from your pussy as Bada continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Of course, you can’t help yourself. Every loud curse and moan that falls from your lips settles into the air of the bedroom before floating through the crack between the door and the wall, the sound reverberating in the hallway of the Lee mansion.

Hyo, who had been counting to one thousand in her mind with her eyes screwed shut and her head down, realeases a long breath. She shakily breathes in and out, applauding herself for her immense self-restraint.

“It’s over.” She thinks, the voice of her internal dialouge fostering a relieved tone. “That was a long one. Sounded like she was getting strapped–”

Hyo surprises herself with her last thought. She suddenly straightens her back, shaking her head a bit.

“Stop–stop thinking about it.” She mentally scolds herself. Her cheeks are red, but under the dim lighting it’s impossible to see, and the wide, ashamed look in her eyes is hidden by her sunglasses. “That’s your boss and her future wife in there, it’s not–it’s not right.”

It isn’t.

But her wandering thoughts would be the least of Hyo’s worries, because while she counted to one thousand moments prior, a certain blonde Bebe girl had spotted her standing outside your and Bada’s shared bedroom, all the while your loud moans and slamming sounds filled the air.

“If I’d have known she was there I would have told her to keep quiet about it.” Hyo grumbles. “Now all the girls think I’m into that type of stuff–”

“Ouch!” The sound of your hurt whine cuts Hyo’s thoughts off.

She freezes in her spot, but out of pure instinct, and briefly forgetting what was going on beyond the doorway to Bada’s office, she reaches for the holster of her gun, and swings around to look inside the office.

And what she sees changes everything…

[ramp-it-up]

Sugar, Cubed II:

Simple Sugar

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. You're forced to be roommates with Steve again. But you can establish boundaries. It'll be simple, right?

Word Count: 3K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; mention of Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, Tony is a shit boss, massive debt. forced proximity. Tattoo talk, Steve apologizes, accidental, then purposeful voyeurism, reference to porn and sex toys, masturbation, talk of impotence, raw p in v, rough sex, dirty talk, lots of cum, eventual polyandry. Basically, you are doomed. Porn with plot.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part two to Sugar, Cubed. The next part is soon come! I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

After three days of calling in sick, you were summoned for a sit down with Mr. Stark. 

This was not a, ”have a drink while Black Sabbath plays and you admire Tony’s t-shirt as he rambles” type of chat. This was, a “let’s review the terms of your contract in the boardroom with suits” type of meeting.

Tony’s eyes admired you in your silk blouse and pencil skirt as you arrived, then watched you pointedly at you as you reviewed the numbers on the page.

Half a million for your bachelor’s and masters degree at NYU. Almost as much for housing. Not to mention the penalty for breaking your contract early. Even if you were paid a pretty penny and you had a ton of savings, you’d still be digging yourself out of a hole for the rest of your life if you quit.

Tony Stark owned your ass.

But you were on the verge of not caring.

“I know, you are over your current working situation, Sugar. But I still believe in you. I believe in the team of BuckySugarSteve.”

You gave him a confused look.

“Still trying to find a hashtag, look that doesn’t matter. It’s come to my attention that a certain plucky Bucky took things a little too far the other night. I’m sorry you had to deal with that on my watch.”

Tony looked sincere. But you eyed him warily.

“Thinking back on what you said last week, I now agree that you need a break. So I’m sending you to the Tokyo lab. But only for a limited time.”

“How long?”

Tony stood and turned his back on you, looking out over the Hudson.

“Depends on the progress made on the project there.” 

You stared at his back and his jet black hair and chewed your lip. You wanted out from the tension between the three of you. But there had to be a catch.

“What does the work entail?”

Tony turned back around with a smirk and explained the research and answered a few more questions from you. It seemed right in your skill set. Tony sat back down and crossed his ankle over his leg while he templed his fingers. He stared at you over the conference table.

“So what do you say Sugar?”

“I’m in.”

—--

You should have asked more questions.

Rage boiled inside you as you put up the partition on your business class seat and you typed away angrily on your phone. You shouldn’t have been surprised that your seatmate was Steve Rogers, but you were.

You just cursed as he greeted you and pulled out your phone as the flight attendant gave you the stink eye. Steve arrived just at the doors were closing. And there was no escape.

You wanted to throw your phone after you saw Tony’s response.

“I said you needed a break from Barnes, not Rogers. Suck it up and enjoy your time in Japan. Check out the expense account and your digs in Asakusa. You have to share, because space is at a premium in Tokyo, but you’ll survive.”

You didn’t bother to click the links that Tony sent. The living arrangements were sure to be top notch and the money was probably going to be great, but living with and working next to Steve was not what you were looking forward to. 

You popped a sleeping pill and tried to sleep most of the 14 hour flight. After managing to get some rest, you were not as rude to Steve when you had to put down your partition. Luckily, he didn’t try to speak to you and you deboarded the plane and got your luggage and to your driver without incident.

When you got to your place, you were impressed, but anxious. 

The place was modern and well placed within walking distance of the trains, but Tony was right. Your apartment in New York was twice the size of this place, and it was only you. 

You went to investigate the sleeping situation. There were two small bedrooms and they were right next to each other. Only one had an en-suite.

You were chewing your lip, deep in thought when Steve interrupted reverie. His voice was hoarse from half a day of not being used.

“It’s close quarters, but I will make it so you don’t even know I’m here.”

You turned around to see Steve standing in the doorway of the room you’d silently called dibs on.

He looked like a kid, in his rumpled t-shirt and hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. You almost felt something.

But not quite.

“Look, Sugar. I’m sorry. I really am. What happened in the elevator was… Bucky’s got a lot going on–”

He stopped once he noticed that you had stiffened up at Bucky’s name.

“Don’t make excuses for him. If you want to apologize, take responsibility for what you’ve done. Or not done. On. Your. Own.”

You sat on the ground and opened up your suitcase. Steve watched you as you started to unpack, thoughtful.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t punch him in the mouth to shut the jerk up.”

You just shook your head, refusing to smile, even though you thought about it.

“And I am so very sorry for lying to you. No matter what the reason. I should not have done that.”

You looked up at him and you could see Steve’s adam’s apple bob in his throat multiple times. His nervous tell. But you continued to look him in the eye.

“You were right to react the way you did. And you’re right to want to be as far away from u- me as you want to be. I’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to me and it was entirely my fault.”

You had to break eye contact then. You didn’t want to cave. You turned the sweater you were folding over and over in your hands. You could hear Steve take a deep breath.

“I just want–”

He cleared his throat again.

“Shit, I want a lot of things, Sugar, but I hope we can be cordial, friends even? We used to be friends. We're in a new city, a new country, a new continent. We can have a lot of fun together.”

You looked back up at him.

“Like we used to?”

“A lot has happened since ‘we used to,’ Steven.”

His shoulders slumped.

“Well, I will stay out of your way.”

He turned around to get out of your space and you felt a pang of some kind of emotion that you did not want to name.

“Hey.”

Steve stopped and turned around, his face guarded.

“I’ve been on a plane for an entire day, and I just want breakfast even though it’s 4pm here. I think I’m hangry. Let me think about it.” That smile. Oh, if you still had a heart, he might do something to it.

“I think I saw some eggs and American breakfast fixins in the fridge. I’ll make you an omelet.”

Steve knew you were a slut for breakfast. Among other things.

—--

After eating and chatting, you conceded that you did want a shopping partner; you planned to hit up all the thrift stores and you wanted someone to take day trips with on the weekend. You decided on a truce. It may have been food induced, but you thought that you could set good boundaries with Steve, so you lay down some ground rules.

Steve agreed to everything you said.

After trying to stay up as long as you could, you were ready to turn in for the night. You had a couple of days before you needed to report to the lab, so you and Steve decided to explore your neighborhood and maybe do some touristy things, since Tokyo Tower and the Asahi brewery were right outside your window.

And then it happened. 

You were minding your own business after your shower, in your thin cotton tank and sleep shorts, going to the kitchen to fill your water bottle. Suddenly, the hallway door opened and you ran into Steve coming out of the bathroom, naked except for a towel slung low on his waist and beads of water running down the planes of his extremely well made torso.

He almost ran into you.

“Oh, shit Sugar, I’m sorry….”

You’d stopped short and were staring at his left pectoral. There was new ink on the golden boy’s body. 

And you couldn’t believe it.

Among the beads of water diving down his body to disappear under the towel, because why wouldn’t they, there was a chemical formula. And you couldn’t believe which one it was.

“How long have you had that?”

You were staring, and your hand reached out to touch it, but you pulled back before you made contact. You looked up into his eyes and then back down at the tattoo because you didn’t want to drown in his eyes like you used to. 

But it seemed kind of inevitable now.

Sometime in the six months that you’d been broken up, Steve had gotten the compound for simple sugar tattooed on his body, (CH2O)x

“Sugar–”

“How long?”

You whispered it. And then dove into the blue depths of his eyes again.

“Two weeks after we broke up.”

His voice was impossibly deep, and threatened to reach places that you wanted to be unreachable. But you didn’t ask why.

“What was the thought process behind that decision, Steve?”

You didn’t ask why. But you needed to know the reason.

“Because it’s pretty simple, Sugar. You just wanted honesty. And if I had been honest, maybe we’d still be together. So I got this tattoo to remind myself that this is all I have left of the girl I loved the most. So maybe when I fall in love again, I won’t be such an idiot.”

“Wow.”

You reached out again and touched the tattoo. It had been right over his heart, without you knowing, for the better part of half a year.

Steve’s eyes stuttered closed and he drew in a sharp breath when you touched him.

“Sugar. You gotta know how…

You shook your head, blown away and rocked by what he said. Mostly the “when I fall in love again” part. You don’t know why that phrase echoed around your head.

“I’ve got to tell it all. Sugar, I thought in the back of my head that if you knew Bucky was hurt, that you’d go back to him.”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to sympathize with this grown ass man who lied to you so hard about someone you both loved, but you understood.

“So I lied, partly because he asked me to. But mostly because I was trying to keep you to myself.”

You sagged against the wall, still touching him, fingers grazing the mark that he’d made on his body for you. Steve followed you, not wanting the contact to end, and stood before you in the narrow hallway, naked except for a towel. He was closer than you’d allowed him to be in a while.

Finally, you looked up at him.

“You’re right, It is simple. I just wanted honesty. I wouldn’t have abandoned you for Bucky, Steve.”

Steve moved impossibly closer as his eyes flicked down your body. You remembered he had it memorized. Your chemistry was amazing. Not just the formula tattooed on his skin, but the draw of you to him, and him to you. You weren’t over that.

But you wanted to be.

One of Steve’s hands was on his towel, and the other was above your head. You were looking up at him and he down at you, and it was the perfect moment to kiss. But he didn’t make another move. You looked down and noticed that his towel had changed shape.

“Sugar…”

You looked him in the eyes again. It was all up to you.Your breathing was erratic and your panties were damp. Reaching up, you put your hands up on his pecs again. 

This time to push him back. 

“I think we need some rest.”

Steve backed up, toward his bedroom.

“Right. We need…”

Your need was mighty. But you weren’t giving in. You took a deep breath.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Sugar.”

—-

You breathed a sigh of relief at your narrow escape and went in the kitchen to drink water and cool down. You mindlessly scrolled your phone for a few minutes and decided that you were calm enough to go to sleep. You glanced at Steve’s door as you opened yours, and you just had to stop.

His door was cracked just enough so you could see Steve sprawled on his bed, towel still on, still tented, and he was scrolling on his phone. He looked delicious, from the tattoo on his pec to his tiny tan nipples to his amazing abs and the trail of hair pointing to the large cock that you had memorized, and which was standing at attention under his towel. 

He looked good enough to eat. And you had plenty of times. But those days were over.

You bit your lip as he rubbed his erection over the towel, and moved closer as he groaned a little bit.

Was he looking at porn?

You totally understood his frustration after what happened, and he was in the privacy of his own room, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You felt guilty but you continued to watch him touch himself. 

And as you wanted to touch yourself.

You stared at his open door as suddenly, the towel came off, and he was naked, and stunningly aroused, his face pure lust.

Steve Roger’s cock was gorgeous. 

Your memories were nothing like the reality of him, thick and curved against his abs. He gripped the shaft, stroking it. Your hands found one of your nipples in the now-dark hallway, imagining kneeling for him.

You dreamed of his cock in your mouth and could practically feel yourself swirling tongue over his head and worshiping him as he told you what to do. The sensation him deep in your throat and letting him use it took over you.

You pinched your nipple tighter as he casually jerked himself off. You felt dirty, thinking how he’d feel knowing that you were watching him like this. 

Would he be mad?

Or…

Stifling a whimper, you slid a hand into your shorts, smearing your wetness over your clit to trace fast, tight circles there. You hadn’t had anyone but electronic lovers and plastic since you broke up with Steve. And here he was, giving you a show. 

You needed to see it. You wanted to see Steve cum, erupt, spill over his large, veiny hand, cream all over those abs. You moaned slightly as you imagined sucking it off those places.

His hand blurred on his shaft. Your clit hardened as you remembered his thick dick penetrating you, him fucking you well, calling you beautiful…

“Christ, Sugar, make me so hard. Take me so well. Cum with me Sweetheart…”

You were almost there and suddenly, Steve stopped. He got up, let go of his dick, walked to the light switch, give yon a look, and then plunged the room into darkness. 

Then he closed the door.

You practically jumped into your room, pacing, shocked and excited, thoughts in a jumble.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your shorts.

It was a text from Steve.

“If you want more, just open my door. It’s unlocked. You can have anything you want. I want you. What do you want, Sugar?”

You are propelled into the hallway, to his door, hesitating only a moment. You’re just going to talk to him. Apologize. Tell him you would never do it again. 

You were in his room now and the Tokyo moon cast shadows over his sleek torso. He was covered by the comforter, but you knew he was still hard.

“I always loved you in just tank tops. Those nipples are just begging to be sucked.” 

His deep baritone made you launch yourself toward him. Steve caught you in his arms, both of you bouncing on the bed from the impact.

“What it’s gonna be, Sugar? What do you want?”

You are taking his hands and molding them to your breasts, throwing the covers off and straddling his thighs. You pulled your shorts and panties to the side so you could feel the slide and ridge of his cock catch on your clit as you slipped over him.

It felt electric.

“I want you Steve. Fuck it all. I want you.”

You’ve lost your mind. You’re creaming on his dick as his big, strong arms held you steady and you humped him like a mad woman. 

“Fuck, it’s been so fucking difficult being hard as a rock all day working next to you in the lab, you ignoring me, and then not being able to get it up for anyone else…”

You were irrationally angry.

“Mine.”

You grabbed Steve’s cock and moved your thighs, lifting up and pushing his fat head into your cunt. You glared at him as you slowly sunk down on him, his thick shaft slowly opening you up.

It hurt so good. 

Your head lolled back on your neck as Steve pulled your tank top down and started brutally sucking your nipples. 

“Fuck yeah, it’s yours. Fit me like a fucking glove.”

Steve held you down for a few seconds as he pushed up into you as if he was going to lock on on his cock, then he lifted you up by your waist and started pounding you from beneath.

He stared up at you in the moonlight and you could feel his cock jump inside you.

“Didn’t matter what I did, who it was. Couldn’t fuck anyone else. Had to come home and pull up pictures of you.”

Steve was moving you now, just like a fleshlight, thumb at your clit.

“I’m about to fucking bust, and you better fucking cum around my cock before I do. Been too godamn long, Sugar.”

You moaned erotically at the thought of Steve impotent with everyone else but you.

He groaned in response and squeezed your nipple brutally. You quaked with your orgasm and Steve erupted mid pump, his spend spurting out as he moved in and out of you. 

“Fuuuuu-uuuck!” 

You collapsed backward on the bed as Steve continued to pump, impossibly still hard even after he came. You reached down into the copious wetness and circled your clit, wanting to prolong the sensation, and Steve groaned/laughed as you convulsed around him again.

You were a tangle of limbs, fluid, sweat and wet cloth as you came down.

Steve pulled you up, you got out of his bed and walked back to your bedroom, turning on the shower.

As you climbed into your bed, Steve was already there, re-showered himself. You fell asleep in Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan, tracing his tattoo, and wondering if it really was that  simple, Sugar.

——

Did you like it? Let me know!

Next part soon. 😮‍💨

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 1

Request: I cant help myself another kinktober ask: shanks x mihawk x afab reader. overstimulation, bondage, vibrators

Requested By: @motherofbirbs

WARNINGS: smut, overstimulation, MxM, MxFxM, anal sex, bondage, sex toys, degradation, name calling, masturbation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 A deep whine escaped you as you struggled against your restraints. Eyes locked onto your partners making out shamelessly in front of you. Mihawk was reclined against the headboard in your shared bed, his legs spread to accommodate Shanks who was reclining against him. You felt helpless as Mihawk worked on opening up the redhead, while Shanks cupped his face to pull him into a deeper kiss. You felt tears of frustration prick at your eyes. While you could always close your eyes or look away something inside of you made you want to watch. You still felt antsy from the orgasm your partners had stolen from you, when you were teetering on the edge of your peak. While you knew you were technically in the wrong, it didn’t make your current situation any easier to deal with.

It had been a long day in the city where the Red Force was currently docked. You had accompanied your partners into the island to aid in almost an entire restock of all goods from soap to flour to booze. That was until you started to get a headache. Both your partners agreed it’d be best for you to get out of the sun and lay down back in your shared cabin. That’s when you committed a maneuver you’d perfected over your time as Mihawk and Shanks lover. While Shanks was pulling you in for a goodbye kiss you rested your palm on his left side slipping the keys to your sex toy drawer from his belt. You had already planned to pretend you found them on the floor of your cabin and leave them with his things inside your shared quarters. You didn’t do it often, but when you knew you’d need an assist to cum and both your partners were going to be busy you’d succumbed to stealing the keys.

You objectively knew you’d be punished, but you also knew that when nothing else worked to get rid of a headache cumming almost always does the trick. If it were just Mihawk you had to worry about you would have flat-out asked for the keys, but you had to be a bit sneakier when it came to the redhead. Shanks had a few hard stops when it came to sex, but one of his biggest was when anything other than him and Mihawk made you cum. That included not only sex toys, which he referred to as ‘the replacements’, but also you. Since the start of your relationship, you were only allowed to make yourself cum if one of your loves were present and gave permission, or if there were extenuating circumstances. Masturbation was the highest on the list of things to earn you a punishment. Outside of the punishment, there was also the unwanted side effect of how it affected Shanks. He’d start out pissed and domineering, before edging into a pout post punishment. Which while it doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world it was hard to get him out of that mood.

The last time he’d caught you masturbating he looked angry in the moment, before dissolving into what only could be described as a kicked puppy. Shanks was proud of many of the skills he had garnered over the years, but one he prided himself on was always making you cum. When you used toys or touched yourself, he took it as a personal affront to his character and abilities. After being caught you had to not only be punished but also help build up his mood. You had only done this a handful of times and only when you were desperate, like today. You just wanted to be able to nip this headache in the bud and get on with your day. You knew your partners would be too busy to help and off the ship for at least a couple more hours; at least you thought that’d be the case.

You were close, so close. You were spread out on your shared bed, half-dressed, rocking against the thrusts of your favorite vibrating dildo. Your eyes were shut as you focused on the pleasure the toy was giving you. You shamelessly moaned your lover’s names the closer you got to your orgasm. That’s when the door to your cabin was suddenly flung open, your partners mistaking your pleasure-filled moans, for groans of pain. They both stood there for a moment before taking in the situation at hand. Unsurprisingly Mihawk reacted first, quickly closing the door. You and Shanks held each other’s gazes for a moment. You were frozen in fear still stuffed full of the dildo, his eyes sharpening as he took in the situation in a look, you’d only been on the receiving end of a few times. He was pissed.

He marched forward and yanked the toy from its place deep inside you, causing you to let out a stuttered moan. He tossed it aside on the bed away from you, before grabbing onto your ankle and pulling you down to the foot of the bed. You sat panting as your partners silently communicated through a shared look. Mihawk turned to lock the door as Shanks gripped your chin and guided you onto your feet, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, causing Shanks to let out a dry laugh.

“Oh baby, you will be.” He responded, a dark look in his eye. He settled you down in his desk chair, now naked, and bounding your hands behind your back with his belt in a rushed job. He pulled a whimper from you as he did one final tug to make sure they were snug, but not too tight. He moved quickly as Mihawk stood over you, crossed arms, gazing down at you disappointedly.

“You couldn’t have waited a half hour?” he asked looking down his nose at you.

“N-no,” you whined, thighs rubbing together chasing any form of friction.

“Baby,” Shanks interrupted, pushing your knees apart, before crouching down to your level, “Color?’

“Green,” you panted.

“And your safe word?” he prompted, pressing a vibrator on, teasing it between your lower lips. Your eyes widened, it wasn’t just a normal vibrator, no he chose the one with the remote control.

“Love?” he said pulling you back into reality.

“Marines,” you answered, eyes locked on the bullet-shaped vibrator, covered in different designs of ridges. You moaned as he roughly shoved it inside of you, before he stood up to his full height, towering over you.

“You’ve been a bad girl today. Since you want to use your toys so badly that’s all you’ll be given today. I expect even a slut like you to listen and follow each of my commands; is that clear?” he asked clicking the vibrator on a lower setting. Just high enough to keep you wet, but not enough to make you cum.

“Yes,” you nodded,

“Good,” he responded, tugging Mihawk down for a kiss as the two started to tear off each other’s clothing, before falling into bed.

Which left you here, fully restrained watching as Mihawk jerked Shanks off at a firm, but steady pace. Before he hooked the redhead’s thigh outside of his own, giving you a clear view of all the action. Mihawk then clicked open the cap of some lube, before spreading a decent about on his fingers and Shanks asshole. Shanks melted against Mihawk as he breached into his heat with one hand while the other continued to jerk Shanks off. You rubbed your thighs together desperately; you could feel your slick wetting the wooden seat of the chair.

A surprised gasp escaped you when the vibrator clicked up to its highest setting. A shiver rocked through you as the sex toy pulsed, vibrated, and shook deep within you. You threw your head back as the coil inside of you tightened so fast it was almost painful.

“Love,” Shanks called out, snapping what little of your attention you could spare to opening your eyes and taking him in. By the sound of his voice, he was just as close to cumming as you were.

“Fuck, please,” you begged as your legs began to preemptively shake.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered, you tried your hardest mind already foggy from pleasure.

“Cum,” he ordered, your eyes never leaving his as you hit your peak. You writhed against the chair with what little movement you had. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you came down from your high. You panted, eyes still glued to his, the vibe slowing, but not completely turned off.

“Fuck,” you moaned, finally catching your breath, “Thank you, captain,” you said, well-trained by your more dominant partners.  

“You're welcome baby,” he panted, whining as Mihawk slipped his fingers out of him. Your eyes were hooded from lust, as you watched Mihawk slowly fuck up into Shanks as he adjusted. While there were many ways to describe how Shanks looked from day to day, emotion to emotion only one word came into your head seeing him like this: pretty. From the blush staining his cheeks that matched the irritated head of his cock, to his hardened nipple to his tousled hair. He was just so pretty.

Too enraptured by your partners to even think of the low vibrations still buzzing inside of you. You allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security that you’d be stuck tied to the chair as your loves had their way with each other and then the punishment would be over; you were so wrong. A gasp punched through you as the vibration level jumped up to maximum once again. The stimulation borders on uncomfortable as your body is thrown into another peak. This time you lock eyes with Mihawk, a self-assured smirk plastered on his face as you saw he had one hand on Shank’s hip and the other gripping the remote. You barely have any time to process the situation before your body is once again shaking, slick now pooling in the seat of your chair.

You panted, with your head bowed as you tried your hardest to catch your breath. Only looking up when you heard Shanks moan in the tell-tale signs he was about to cum. This time he locked eyes with you, shaking in Mihawk’s arms as he came spurting cum all over his stomach and Mihawk’s hand.

“T-thank you, Sir,” you stuttered out reminded of Shanks’ orgasm that your lack of gratitude would only lead to more punishments. Mihawk acknowledged it with a small nod, before he threw Shanks on his stomach onto the bed, pushing the redhead’s shoulders down before he reentered him from his raised backside. Despite the almost painful second orgasm you couldn’t help yourself but rub your thighs together at Shanks’ fucked out face. Shanks shared a soft look with you, moments before you were jerked painfully against the chair unable to run away from the stimulation of the vibrator still lodged deep inside you.

Shanks let out a broken moan, just as wrecked as you were as Mihawk hit his prostate over and over again, with pinpoint accuracy. Your mind went blank as an equally pleasurable and painful orgasm ripped through you. You don’t register anything for a moment, only coming back down into your body as you feel Mihawk gently rubbing your wrist with ointment where the friction of the belt has been too much. He slowly spread your legs before tilting your head up to gain what little attention you had left.

“Love, I’m going to remove the vibrator now. Is that okay?” you nodded. He slowly took you step-by-step, letting you know his movements and be able to consent to each one. You let out a broken moan as he finally breached your pussy and felt around for the toy. As softly and slowly he as he could he pulled the toy out of your overstimulated cunt. He gently picked you up and tucked you into bed where you cuddled up with Shanks. Only having to wait a moment before your other love slipped in bed behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

A/N: Okay I did better than I thought I would as far as holding back as much as I can to not overwrite. I'm trying to keep each one-shot as similar length-wise as possible to be fair to all those who requested. This was only 7 pgs and a little over 2,000 words. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed ^_^.

[weirdsht]

Platitude (Cliché pt. 2) - LoTCF & Venion Stan! Reader

notes: I didn't plan on making a pt. 2 but the idea has been haunting me even in my sleep. If you haven't read pt. 1 I recommend you do. Most of the context in this fic will be seen there.

tags: Reader will be referred to as Venion, Raon focused, mention of torture, mention of vomit, hints of eating disorder, angst (not really I think), hurt/comfort(?), hopeful ending

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist Cliché (pt. 1)

He is great and mighty.

The dragon believes– knows that he is great and mighty.

He has known it since his he hatched from his egg. Knows that his kind is the greatest existence to ever grace this world.

Despite all those things, he can’t show just how great and mighty he is. 

And it’s all because of these stupid chains that shackle him down. Chains that restrict his movement. Chokers that rendered him unable to speak and use magic.

It doesn’t make him any less great though. He’ll be even more great and mighty once he can use magic but he is plenty great and mighty now.

That’s what he tells himself every day. What he tells to comfort himself as this atrocious noble named Venion Stan tortures him. What gets him by day by day without giving up. Without succumbing to the pain.

Words that he whispers to himself might be words of comfort, but it is not unfounded. Even at merely 3 years old. Even without magic. He is still a majestic existence. 

For he still has his wits. 

Hence why he noticed that Venion Stan is unwilling in the things he does. At first, the black dragon thought someone else was ordering him and he had no choice but to follow. Perhaps someone like the Marquiss, his father.

“Sto– ugh!”

“Did you say anything, young master?”

“No. Something just got stuck in my throat.”

That was the moment the dragon decided to look at it from a different perspective. 

He was sure Venion Stan was about to say “stop”, but was unable to because an unknown force was physically stopping him.

After that day he decided to observe the noble’s actions. 

Slowly but surely he connected the dots. Saw the signs of unwillingness in his eyes. Noticed how he would deliberately twist his words to sound evil because something would stop him if he didn’t. Felt the way Venion would secretly care for him. 

Witnessed how his eyes died a little more every visit.

The baby dragon is the one being tortured. However, he can’t help but feel pity for his torturer. Venion Stan’s mental anguish is deep. So deep that those green eyes of his almost look black from how soulless they are.

Both of them are unwilling victims in this situation. 

Once the dragon realised this fact, his heart could let go of some of his hate a little. It’s not fully gone. It can never be fully gone until he gets his revenge. Because how dare lowly humans capture and torture someone great and mighty like him?

However…

He is not irrational. He knows how to give credit where it is due. 

And in this situation that credit mostly belongs to whoever is controlling Venion Stan’s body. That and he once overheard that a secret organization is responsible for capturing him.

The black dragon believes that they must be the ones to pay the price of his wrath. 

Which was why he has decided to look kindly upon Venion. 

Over the course of the year, they have spent together, the cell the black dragon lives in has become more comfortable. Pillows and other soft objects are placed everywhere. Warm lighting replaced the white, cold ones. His chains are not as heavy and even have soft fur in them. Sometimes, he can even eat delicious and filling meals.

His living conditions are great. Well, great for a prisoner at least.

The same thing can’t be said for his torturer.

Venion Stan looks like he's the one being tortured. And honestly, the dragon also thinks so. He has gotten skinnier. The bags under his eyes have gotten deeper, as well as the despair in his eyes.

His not even eating anymore. At first, the black dragon thought that it was just an excuse to give him the food.

“Young master, I’m sorry to interfere but you did not eat dinner. You also barely ate during breakfast. This lowly servant of yours urges you to eat more.”

Oh…

It wasn’t just an excuse to give him the food.

The black dragon had at least hope that Venion Stan was eating his fill. He needed it, with all the vomiting he does. It’s bad for him to not eat anything…

Bleurgh!

Speaking of vomiting. Another thing the dragon had noticed was how there seemed to be blood in his vomit nowadays. He hypothesises that it has something to do with the young noble pushing the unknown restrictions to make him more comfortable.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Young master! Are you okay!? I’ll go call for a healer!“

“No need. This is just from the heat outside.”

The black dragon observes as blood drips down from Venion’s nose. It happened almost immediately after he ordered his men to lessen their business in the back alleys.

Blood must be the payment whenever a restriction is violated. However, Venion Stan doesn’t seem to be aware of it. It looks like he truly thinks it’s just from the heat.

Luckily it doesn’t happen again.

The blood in his vomit was still there, but he didn’t have a nosebleed after that incident.

Not that the dragon cares of course. He just thinks that it will be a pity if Venion drops dead before he can get his revenge.

Venion Stan must stay alive until he can get his revenge.

“I promise after tonight everything will get better…”

The fool whispered in his ear one random night. He was merely resting his eyes but Venion must’ve thought he was asleep and begun whispering a bunch of nonsense in his ear.

But he lets it be.

He doesn’t know why, but his instincts are telling him to pretend to sleep and see what Venion will do.

It was silent for a few moments, but then he suddenly felt a soft hand stroking his head. The hand was skinny. Boney even. It wasn’t the ideal head pat. Nonetheless, the black dragon felt an odd sense of comfort as Venion stroked his head.

Plop

Plop

He felt two lone tears wet his horns. Tears that are full of suffering. The tears of someone who is carrying a different shackles than what the dragon does.

After that, like a dream, Venion Stan goes out of the cave.

When he opened his eyes again he could see servants removing the decorations that adored his cell. Turning it back to how it used to be; cold and uncomfortable.

For a moment the dragon thought Venion Stan was abandoning him.

The thought alone makes him feel a sense of dread. But he doesn’t know why. For surely, it can’t be because he has learned how to care for that cold-hearted bastard.

‘But he isn’t really cold-hearted…’

He pushes his thoughts away as this mysterious red-haired man carries him out of the cave. Showed him what the night sky looked like for the first time.

The mysterious man sets him free. He doesn’t try to keep him. Tells him to live his lie how he wants to.

And that’s exactly what he does.

He felt a sense of attachment to the man named Cale. So he follows him around. Hunts food for them to eat.

But that’s not the only thing he has been doing.

One night, for just one night a few days after his escape. He doesn’t follow Cale Henituse.

Instead, he follows Venion Stan.

It was easy to track him down. Both men are going to the capital after all. It merely took minutes for the toddler to find out where he was.

Honestly, he has no good reason why he would visit his torturer. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was to ensure he didn’t drop dead before he got his revenge.

Nonetheless, the dragon visits Venion to see the terrible state he is in.

Terrible doesn’t justify the state Venion is in.

As the black dragon peeks at the windows he can see the blonde sitting straight in his bed. With nothing but a singular candle to accompany him in his large, and lavish room.

Venison Stan looks horrific. There’s nothing behind his green eyes. No emotions whatsoever. His eyes were green but they looked like black holes.

He looks like those creepy things On has told stories about. The ones possessed by ghosts and don’t know who they are anymore.

Yeah, that was it. 

Venison Stan looked like someone who has lost his sense of self.

He looks like a puppet waiting desperately for his strings to be cut off.

“One more year… Just one more year and everything will end… I have laid out everything. Have done everything I could.”

Venison Stan started muttering to himself.

“But why? Why must I suffer like this? Was I that bad in my past life?”

His voice was emotionless, yet the dragon could hear his despair loud and clear.

“I think I lived decently… I did, right? Maybe I thought it wrong? Maybe I was atrocious… Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I’m meant to not be able to have free will. Maybe the gods thought that giving me free will is a bad idea…”

Venion did not spill a single tear. But the dragon could tell he was weeping.

Unable to hear anymore, he flew back to where Cale and the others were.

That night he feels his heart become as heavy as the choker that used to chain him down.

“...It’s okay. I said it’s okay”

The black dragon mumbled to himself as Venion Stan walks by.

He may feel a sense of kinship with the noble but it does not erase the trauma he has experienced. Even if he knows it was traumatizing for Venion too.

But just like he couldn’t stop his shaking limbs when Venion approached them with that vicious look he had. He also can’t stop himself from checking how the blonde is doing.

‘He still eats so little… His dizzy, he grits his teeth like that whenever he feels dizzy from not eating enough.’

The emotions other people had mistaken for anger... only the black dragon could decipher what they truly mean.

Maybe time really brings a sense of familiarity.

But he keeps his mouth shut. Doesn’t tell anyone, not even Cale, of Venion’s real state.

Because he doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care.

He doesn’t care but he still checked on Venion during the terrorist attack. Makes sure that he is alive and in one piece. 

He doesn’t care but still thinks about him every night. Thinks about those mutterings he heard that night.

He doesn’t care but he hopes and prays that Venion has not dropped dead yet. Hopes that his eating as well as Raon is doing.

He doesn’t care, it’s all just part of his revenge. He must get the perfect revenge.

But the sweet, young dragon could only lie to himself for so long.

“Human…”

Raon spoke the night before they were supposed to kidnap Venion Stan.

“There’s something I haven’t told you about that bastard.”

Cale opens his ears as Raon spills everything. Listens to every word coming out of the toddler's mouth. 

And after all that Cale asks him.

“What do you want to do now?”

If he doesn’t want to proceed Cale wont force him. That’s what he likes the most about his human. Cale respects every decision he makes. Attentively listens to everything he has to say.

“I still want to kidnap him. But… I don’t want to torture him. He has already been tortured enough.”

Raon buries his head on Cale’s chest. He stops his tears from flowing.

“Human, his still suffering. Even after my chains got removed, his shackles remained.”

“Okay, we’ll do what you want.”

Cale doesn’t fully comprehend what he means but he respects his decisions. Raon knows that Cale doesn’t understand.

“You’ll understand what I mean once you see his eyes.”

That was the only thing he said to his human. He wanted Venion’s gaze to tell the rest of the tale.

Venison Stan did not disappoint.

He delivered exactly what Raon wanted to show everyone.

Showed everyone just how much melancholy his eyes held.

In fact, there’s so much anguish hidden behind those eyes of his that even Raon was shocked.

If Raon thought Venion’s state was terrible a year ago, he has no words to describe him now.

The man looks dead. No, he looks like his desperately waiting for death.

And it brings a sick feeling to Raon’s stomach.

“Do you have any questions left for him?”

Cale asks after the blonde man faints from coughing blood. He says no, his curiosity has been quenched. The answers he provided and the clear repercussions of his restriction satisfied Raon.

“Human ask him for Venion’s servant! The granny that wears her hair in a bun! She knows just how little that punk eats!”

“Tell him about how he can’t control his words and actions! Tell him about how doesn’t want to do most of the things his doing!”

“Human what sentence did Venion Stan get? Is he okay? You told them to not send him to prison right? You told them he didn’t have a choice right?”

“Human, are you busy? Can you call Taylor and ask him how Venion is doing?”

“Are we going anywhere this week? If not can we go visit the Stan territory?”

“Maybe if I bring him apple pies he’ll eat more?”

Raon doesn’t even know what his doing. He doesn’t realise just how much he is looking after his supposed torturer.

However, no one calls him out on it. They just indulge the child and let him do whatever he wants.

“Venion is inside that room young master. You can try to speak to him but it’s unlikely that he’ll respond… Are you sure you want to go in alone?”

Taylor Stan asks one more time and Cale just nodded in affirmation.

“If you need any assistance a servant will be waiting here.”

With that Taylor leaves leaving Cale to enter Venion’s room alone. Well, he and Raon but Taylor doesn’t know about the dragon’s existence.

“He also looked like this when I visited him that one night.”

As soon as the door closed, Raon turned off his invisibility and flew over to the bed where Venion was sitting up.

“But that time he looked more alive. He looked like he was looking forward to something. Turns out he was looking forward to his death but that it was still a better look than what he has right now.”

Cale clicks his tongue but Raon ignores him. Instead, he directed his words to Venion.

“That night, before the human got me out of that cave. I’m sure you remember it. Did you know that I heard what you told me that night?”

Raon feels like Venion is listening to him.

“You told me that after that night everything will get better. And it did, after that night everything did get better for me.”

The toddler placed his paw on top of Venion’s still hand.

“But what about you? Why did nothing get better for you after that night? Even now you’re still being tortured. You’re shackles are still holding you down even after you broke mine.”

Raon raised his shaking paws to hug the man. From the side, Cale merely observes, ready to step in when needed.

“Consider this as payment for patting my head that night.”

The black dragon feels a lone tear grace his head. He doesn’t say anything about it. He didn’t even raise his head to look at Venion.

They stayed like that for at least 2 minutes. At some point, Venion’s arms had also embraced Raon. His hold was weak and lifeless. Like when you force a teddy bear to encircle his arms around you. 

But it’s the best he can do right now, and Raon will take it.

“We have to go, but before we go I’ll leave you one of my apple pies.”

Raon places a lone apple pie on the nightstand.

“Beacrox made it! He makes delicious food! Maybe if you eat something that tastes good you’ll eat more! Next visit I’ll try to save some of the Crown Prince’s cookies for you to try!”

With that, Raon waved his hand goodbye after promising to visit again.

A few days after that meeting, Cale receives an update from Taylor Stan saying that his brother is eating a bit more now. He excitedly tells Cale how he's been eating the desserts Raon sends.

Cale smiles at the thought of Raon’s happy face once he hears how Venion Stan is slowly recovering.

And indeed Raon was elated at the news. He immediately urges Cale to go visit Venion again.

He may not be fond of the guy, but Cale smiles a little as his kid frantically packs a bunch of things to bring to the Stan territory.

[chaifootsteps]

I cannot STAND the idea that good intentions equates to capability, and that ESPECIALLY applies to parenting. I loathe how the Helluva fandom treats Stolas as a good father BECAUSE of his good intentions alone, not because of his actual capability to meet the expectations of a father. So, if you’ll permit me, I’ve decided that I’m gonna be reeeeeeal obnoxious for the next few asks by breaking down all provided CANON evidence in the Helluva Boss series on Stolas as a father to Octavia in the episodes where it is directly relevant. Also, as much as this is being driven by spite, I will genuinely try to be fair, and feel free to call me out on any missed moments or unfair assessments for each episode mentioned!

So, to begin, how is Stolas as a father to Octavia in Loo Loo Land?

Things he does right: 

In the past, he goes to Octavia when she cries out for her parents in the middle of the night.

He asks her what’s wrong directly, and validates her fear by directly calling her bad dream a nightmare. 

He does not bring attention to how late it is or that she woke him up, and takes the time to slowly calm her down again.

He reassures her that he will be present in her life, and sings her a comforting lullaby.

He tucks her back into bed and only leaves after he sees she has clearly fallen back asleep. 

In the present, he recognizes Via’s awake and asks her how she slept.

He tries to engage in her interests by asking what music she’s listening to.

He realizes parental arguments might be stressful and tries to remove Via from that situation.

He tries to spend alone time with his daughter at a place she used to really enjoy.

He recognizes that people of their status could be at risk and takes into account their physical wellbeing.

He tries to encourage Via to engage with her environment positively at Loo Loo Land.

He does not discuss the stressful home situation while they are walking around the park.

He goes after her when she runs off upset.

When he finds her, he removes his goofy hat to show he is taking the situation seriously, and opens conversation with a gentle tone and consideration of her being upset instead of anger/fear that she ran off.

He apologizes for taking her somewhere she didn’t want to go and apologizes for how complicated everything has been and how he hasn’t been listening to her. 

He apologizes for not being able to properly convey the complicated adult situations happening around her. 

He makes it clear that he will not abandon her and hugs her. 

He initiates their departure and validates that Loo Loo Land is not an appropriate place for her to be at her age or in her current emotional state.

He carries her out of the park while she is in a clearly emotionally vulnerable state and still needs his parental validation and support.

He focuses entirely on her as they are leaving the park instead of on the others or the actively burning attractions, which includes him proactively protecting the two of them from an attacker himself.

He tries to end the day positively by specifically asking her what she would like to do next and agrees to her suggestion.

He thanks her for her positive words and patience with him. Things he does wrong:

In the past, he does not reassure Via that her mother also cares about her and will be present in her life like him. Admittedly, Via’s use of “you” when explaining her bad dream COULD refer to Stolas specifically, but it could just as well refer to the plural “you” of both her parents, which could be supported by the fact she called out to both her parents after her nightmare. 

In the present, he did not pay any attention as her parent to the type of breakfast she prepared for herself when considering that she is still a minor, which seemed to consist of a cup of coffee and some fistfuls of cereal straight from the box. Ideally, he could have encouraged her to use a bowl and have some milk and water, or he could have offered to get those for her to alleviate any possible implication of him judging her meal. She is almost eighteen, so he should be trying to encourage her in little ways to be more proactive in how she feeds herself.

When she makes it clear that she heard him and Stella scream arguing and implies it negatively impacts her, he does not apologize for the fact she had to hear that or try to assure her that the situation is manageable as a parent. I cannot emphasize enough how damaging it is to children to experience loud, angry confrontations between their parents, and the fact she is more personally inconvenienced instead of scared/confused implies that she has witnessed many negative interactions between her parents.

When he tries to engage in her interests by asking about her music, he doesn’t try to elevate tensions by redirecting the conversation when her response leaves him feeling guilty. It might have been better for him to try and make the conversation less tense by asking her what genre it is or what other songs “Fuck You Dad” has made that she likes.

He lies about their day at Loo Loo Land being just the two of them by inviting IMP and flirting with Blitz throughout their time there.

He disregards Via’s extremely negative response to his suggestion that they go to Loo Loo Land.

He refers to staying at the house as a very negative situation. This is the house Via is supposed to feel at home in.

He makes EXTREMELY age, situation, and relationship inappropriate comments in front of his daughter while calling Blitz. I, similarly, cannot emphasize enough how disgusting his remarks around and about his daughter were, and that judgement would apply whether OR NOT she was a minor. 

He actively brings along an affair partner to his day at the park with Via and frequently flirts with him in front of her. 

He never denies or argues against Via’s observations of his and Blitz’s apparent sexual relationship including when she implies she does not enjoy knowing that they have a sexual relationship together. Remember, unhappy as he may be, he is still a married man who has brought along his affair partner while the daughter he had with the wife he is cheating on was with him.

Instead of asking about her negative view of Loo Loo Land or trying to encourage her to see the positive, he laughs off the awkwardness and changes the topic, pulling her away from the scene.

In the scene where we see Blitz’s bodyguard shenanigans, there is no visual or audio cue that Stolas is trying to have conversation with Via as they walk around the park.

When he is being surrounded by attackers, he does not attempt to warn Via or consider how she might feel about seeing that situation. After Blitz saves him, he doesn’t check on whether she was scared for upset by seeing that happen.

(Heads up, but any heavy bias in this next statement is because this is one of my most-hated scenes in the episode) While chasing after her into the Lucifer building, he willingly stops and POSTPONES FOLLOWING HIS EMOTIONALLY DISTRAUGHT DAUGHTER out of annoyance and confusion that Blitz has not personally dealt with the extremely minor inconvenience that is the latest attacker. After Millie saves him, he further delays going after his daughter by spending time asking Millie and Moxxie where Blitz is.

When Via explains her specific reasons as to why she didn’t enjoy coming to Loo Loo Land (her parents fighting and watching him flirt with his affair partner), he does not address each of the specific issues she brings up or apologize for his role in each of those specific issues.

By opening his attempted explanation of his and Stella’s marriage situation with “You need to understand-“, this insinuates that Via would be expected to be less bothered by the fighting and flirting if she knew that him and Stella were in an unhappy marriage, which can come across as invalidating the child’s negative feelings.

When Via expresses fear over him leaving her, he does not try and ask her why that was a worry of her’s and THEN reaffirm why she wouldn’t need to worry about it in the first place. And that’s it for Stolas as a father in Loo Loo Land! Feel free to tell me your thoughts and if you’d like to read my breakdowns of his good and bad from the other episodes!

Good breakdown! And keep in mind, this is probably the pinnacle of his parenting. It's all downhill from there.

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Heyyy bestie🥰 hope you’re well, I was wondering if u could do an Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader! Maybe where you and Emily are friends and she had a crush on jj, and when jj kisses will (🥲) she’s upset and goes to try and distract herself with a one night stand with reader, and Emily explains she wants it to be purely casual, but towards the end they end up falling in love? Idk if that makes sense or is stupid ahah! Ily 🫶 😘

Eclipse

Note : This is my first ever request so I hope it fulfills what you had in mind <3

Emily Prentiss x reader!

Summary : The sun and the moon. Only able to meet in a phenomenon. An eclipse.

Tw : Mentions of suggestive content, 'unrequited' love, hurt with comfort

Word Count : 1k

You smiled softly as you comforted a Emily. The two of you had just met Will.. JJ's boyfriend.

You had known for a while about Emily's infatuation with JJ.

You gave her the utmost empathy you could. You understood what it felt like to like someone who so clearly liked someone back. It was only silent comforting as the rest of the team was still there with them at the bar. Surprisingly, no one else knew about Emily's little.. Well, very large crush on JJ. They were profilers but couldn't sense a relationship in the team even if it was right in front of them. So much for being good profilers.

But that also played in your favour. That meant no one had noticed your crush. Your crush on the woman you were currently comforting. It wasn't the most ideal situation you wanted to be in. But honestly, as long as you were with Emily you didn't mind.

As the night neared, you offered to drive Emily back to her house. She gladly accepted and as you drove her back, she spoke about wanting a distraction. You hadn't really been listening, being more focused on the road than on Emily. You had simply hummed and agreed to do whatever she wanted.

And as she hungrily presses her lips against yours, you truly realized what she meant by a distraction. Well, fuck.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It had been a couple of days after Emily's.. Distraction.. And you had been awkwardly avoiding her. She had already told you she wanted it to be casual. And you respected that, even if it wasn't what you wanted. But as you had said before, any time with Emily was time well spent.

It had happened again and again. Now, you were avoiding her. You couldn't handle a full conversation with her knowing that you liked her and she only wanted it to be casual. It was breaking you from the inside.

You had sometimes referred to yourself as the moon. You wanted Emily, the sun, but the sun always cared for the earth more. JJ. But the moon never stopped loving the sun. Not even when every last star went dim. Because, maybe, there would be a chance where the sun would notice the moon.

A phenomenon.

An eclipse.

But an eclipse was rare. Which is why it's a phenomenon. And those who see are blessed, they deserve to see it. And you don't. You are not blessed. You do not deserve it.

You don't deserve Emily. Emily deserves JJ. And so you will do anything to make her happy. Even if it means destroying yourself.

And you so just so. A little piece of you is destroyed with each kiss. Each casual kiss. But you keep going. You keep going for Emily.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Hey, Y/N?"

You look up with a hum as Emily calls your name.

"Yeah?"

"Can.. Can I talk to you?"

You frown as you try to think about anything you've done. Has she figured out about your feelings? No. You've been careful. Does she want to break whatever little fling you've got on? Hopefully not.

You just nod and give her a tight lipped smile as you stand up.

"Course."

You follow her into the empty break room. You stand by the wall as she shuts the door.

"I want to talk to you about something."

You nod. Wanting to hear more.

"Yeah? You can tell me anything, Em." You spoke, hoping that your voice was as casual as you wanted it to be.

"I know I said I wanted what we had to be casual.. But I.."

You attempted to put the pieces together in your head as she spoke but you just couldn't, what did she want? It didn't sound like a break up kinda thing per say. But you were still slightly pessimistic on what it could be. But you were cut out of the daze when Emily just blurted out what she was hinting.

"I like you!"

You froze. What? How? You voiced these thoughts.

"Huh? What? How? Why?"

You could see a panicked look on her face as she turned around.

"Oh. It's nothing. Sorry, you can just forget about it."

She was about to walk out of the room when you grabbed her wrist.

"Wait! No! I mean, I like you too. But.. Why me? What happened with JJ?"

She looked up surprised.

"JJ? I don't- I don't like JJ anymore. I thought you figured that out when I stopped talking about her?"

You thought back. That made a lot of sense. For the past few months, JJ has been nowhere in your conversations. You had just assumed it was because JJ was a touchy subject. But you repeated your other question.

"Why me?"

"Why you?"

She echoed. As if it was the most absurd thing to ask.

"Because you're you. You're so pretty. And.. You care so much."

You didn't listen to her rambles as you tried to gather your thoughts. Emily likes you. She.. Likes you. She likes.. You?

You smiled. Well, it was more of a Cheshire Cat grin. You pulled her out of her rambles with a kiss. It was different than the other times. It was soft, full of gentle passion rather than hunger. It was.. Amazing to say the least. And as you pulled back, her eyes spoke the words she couldn't make out. She felt the same as you.

All those piece you had thought were destroyed. The pieces of your heart you had given to Emily. She had given back. You smiled softly. Maybe the moon did get the sun.

A phenomenon.

And it happened to you. And you didn't feel as if anyone else deserved it. Because truthfully. No one else did.

You then thought. If this was how phenomenons were, then you knew why they were so rare. Why people would die to see one. You would certainly die for this if you had know this was how it was like. 

The moon and the sun together.

A phenomenon.

An eclipse.

[xclowniex]

So if that terror attack on Lebanon is justified for the death of those 12 Druze children (which I'm sure you wouldn't be as heartbroken about them if they were killed by the IDF instead), what should the IDF punishment be for killing thousands of Palestinians children and how many Israeli civilians are you willing to let die in order to get to those Israeli terrorists? Assuming you think Israelis should even be punished for killing children (or that the word terrorists can be used to describe someone that isn't Muslim)

I wasn't going to answer this as I know it's obviously in bad faith but I'll bite

Stop putting your US centric views onto me. Here in New Zealand, we considering March 15th a terror attack. If you don't know what happened that day, a white supremist opened fire on two mosques in Christchurch. The white supremist who did it? He is a terrorist. I consider him a terrorist. All the media here considers him a terrorist. He is a terrorist.

New Zealand has designated a few white supremist groups and individuals as terrorists

Do you know who else is on this list?

Hezbollah.

Do you know who is not on this list? The IDF. You can check for yourself too

To quote the Terrorism Suppression Act 2002, which is ya know, laws surrounding terrorism, the IDF currently is exempt from it.

"However, an act does not fall within subsection (2) if it occurs in a situation of armed conflict and is, at the time and in the place that it occurs, in accordance with rules of international law applicable to the conflict."

(Sub section two refers to civilians being harmed or killed)

Fun fact about war crimes! Individuals get arrested for them and designated as war criminals, not everyone who is apart of the military. Bibi can be arrested for war crimes. Any individual IDF member who did the war crime can be arrested for war crimes. Whatever the Israeli version of John Smith is, who has never committed a war crime during his service, cannot be arrested for a war crime, and therefore cannot be labeled a terrorist.

But wouldn't Hamas and hezbollah be excempt from being a terrorist group as they're in an armed conflict? They've both committed terrorist acts outside of armed conflicts, ergo, terrorist organizations.

Also, you can read the act I was quoting if you want

https://www.legislation.govt.nz/act/public/2002/0034/latest/DLM152702.html?search=ts_act%40bill%40regulation%40deemedreg_terrorism+suppression+act_resel_25_a&p=1

So, now that we have established that the IDF has not committed a terror attack as they're currently in armed conflict with Hezbollah, the rest of what you said falls apart, but to address it.

1. I would be equally as sad if the IDF killed 12 druze children

2. I think that any IDF members who have committed war crimes + bibi should be arrested for war crimes as I've stated so many times

3. If I lived in an ideal world, all hezbollah members would simply be arrested and there would be no loss of life. But we don't live in an ideal world. Hezbollah won't allow themselves to be arrested. Hezbollah also remains an active threat. If IDF members who have committed war crimes + Bibi refuse to be arrested and are still an active threat to people (key word active threat), yeah killing them would be best. Considering the exploding pagers had a mortality rate of 0.3%, and not all of that were civilians, I would expect a mortality rate of less than 0.3% of civilians near the individual war criminal to be killed.

Oh whats that? Not the answer you expected yeah I thought so. How about instead of frothing at the mouth trying to find a gotcha you can use to dehumanize me, you actually A) read up on laws* and definitions and B) read through my blog first because I've said many times that individuals who have committed war crimes should be arrested

*I know that NZ law may differ from laws elsewhere but they're pretty similar in the US, Canada and the UK

[donutsupremacy]

Genshin men reacting to F!S/O accidentally burning her hands

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Summary:

"HCs of Genshin men reacting to their Pyro wielding!F!S/O burning her hands on accident while cooking"

Warnings / Spoilers:

Written during 4.2

Playable characters only

Reader has a Pyro vision, but the weapon choice is irrelevant

Reader is not traveller

Reader is their [S/O]

Female reader (I used as less pronouns as I could and still refer to as [S/O])

Short HCs

Sorted by region and in alphabetical order

Includes all currently playable male characters as of 4.2

Sweet petnames uwu

Ahhh so fluffy uwu

100% SFW because n o.

100% Ooc

Reader is aware of the archon's true identities

A/N: This is a requested fic— Not much specifics mentioned, so I decided to let loose a little.

Most of these HCs are rather generic and calm, I hope you don't mind, [Requester]. I see most of the genshin men we've encountered are actually mostly calm and polite gentlemen in game— yes, even Itto, but he's still Itto lol

I'll do Mondstadt, Liyue and half of Inazuma first, the rest will be done in a seperate post

P.S. yes i know there's a lot of spelling mistakes. and yes my poems, pick-up lines and jokes are utter shit, i am not a Kazuha/Venti kin :>

[Part 2 | Inazuma, Sumeru and Fontaine men]

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A hiss erupts from your throat as you quickly withdrew your hand from the fire.

Your singed hands trembled, examining the dark spots that had littered across your palms and even your knuckles and fingers. You clicked your tongue, regretting the decisions to cook without your gloves. If only they weren't torn from that expedition two days ago... you should really get new ones.

You hear the door open... "[Name]?"

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Mondstadt

Albedo

Immediately notices your hands getting burnt, nothing escapes the alchemist's observation skills. Plus, he knows how people react when accidentally burnt themseleves. His team works with chemical substances that require boiling and heating, after all. (And it's always Timaeus getting hurt while he's busy daydreaming about Ying'er while on the job lol)

"Here, allow me to have a look." Albedo murmured calmly, his gloved hand taking hold of yours, careful to not touch any areas that may have been made sensitive from the fire.

"It isn't favorable using your Pyro vision without your glove." He sighed, telling you to stay put as he wastes no time to treat the burn on your hand.

Albedo gently wiped your burned hand dry with a damp cloth, giving you a reassuring kiss on your forehead whenever he accidentally pressed too hard on a sensitive area.

Later, he applies a type of natural ointment that would supposedly heal your burn and hands you some medicine to take that would soothe the pain whenever it stings randomly.

He has you sitting on top of the counter, helping you finish cooking whatever you were trying to make while following your instructions— totally not a reason to spend more time for you. Nope. Haha. Totally not at all :>

"There we go... is this what you were trying to create perviously? *Chuckles* My dear crystalfly, next time... you can just simply ask for my help, you know I would always set my duties aside to aid you— no matter the situation."

Bennett

As expected; The first thing this poor boi does is blame his luck :(

He was practically on his knees, apologising frantically— he would rather get struck by a bolt of thunder from the Shogun herself than to accidentally inflict pain on his [S/O] who had stayed by his side despite his misfortune.

He's too afraid of possibly harming you more, even by a tiny little sting. Of course, he'll get you anything you asked for; A damp cloth, bandages, anything.

So he stands as far from you as he could, but still kept you in his eyesight, watching you patch yourself up as you calmly reassure him while he continued apologising. Poor boi.

At first, he was planning to go on an random expedition, so that you wouldn't end up getting hurt again because you were both under the same roof. But when you told him he can stay, wanting him to accompany you even risking your safety, he melted.

"You... Y-You do?... Ah, [S/O] are you... sure?... I-I really don't want to... Wha— H-Hey! Was that flour you just threw at my face?... Hahahaha! Oh, is that how you wanna play? It is on!"

Diluc

Prolly too busy in his office doing his work, but when Adelinde came in to his office, saying u got burnt, he dropped his work and ran straight to u.

The first thing he did was sigh in relief when he saw the burn mark was less severe than he thought

At first, Adelinde insisted to treat your wounds, but Diluc was just as insistent to take care of your wounds himself, only brushing her off and requesting for her to just bring some medical equipment before leaving the two of you alone.

Once she was gone, he lightly reprimands you for not using your glove. When you explained that you had accidentally torn it, he immediately took out both of his gloves and slipped it onto your hands, regardless of size he refuses to let you take them off if you wanted to cook.

He stays in the kitchen, watching over you and accompanying you as you cooked. If he sees you still struggling to cook because of the gloves size, he'll leave the easier tasks to you, while he takes over the more difficult tasks you couldn't. Not that he thinks you're incompetent— it's because he doesn't want to see you getting hurt again. Because seeing you in any form of pain hurts him more than it hurts you.

"Hm? No, there's no need to get the maids involved— we can finish this, quickly and smoothly. My work can wait. No more excuses, i'm finishing this recipe with you— I don't take 'no's or 'but's. Now, pass me the lid, love."

Kaeya

He'd probably chuckle at the sound of ur hiss first and at the pouty look on ur face, it's cute lol. But he'll help u soon after.

"Cooking using your Pyro vision without your glove isn't an ideal situation you would want to find yourself in, princess." Kaeya purred as he wraps your hand in a damp towel, carressing your cheek to soothe you with his free hand.

He decides that you should take a quick break— an excuse to cuddle you as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and forces you to sit on his lap as he rests on the couch.

Kaeya peppers you with butterfly kisses all over your face as he keeps one arm wrapped around your waist while holding your hand that you burnt.

He uses a small amount of his Cryo abilites, lightly cooling down your injury— Even placing a kiss on your knuckle, which caused your skin to tingle and numb the pain greatly. Did this sneaky bastard use his Cryo vision to enhance that kiss?

"*Chuckles*, I know that face, princess... are you suspecting me of being up to something again? I'm just as pure and innocent... Although— mayhaps I am a little guilty for abusing my vision slightly. I'm not justifying my reasons, but to be fair; I only abuse it for you. What can I say? I love making you melt~"

Mika

Mika has experience treating burn injuries for his peers while going on that long expedition with Grand Master Varka, so the first thing he does when he sees u hurt is...; p a n i k.

You're the one calming him down as he tries to treat your burn— smooth and effecient, as expected for someone like Mika.

Save for the little frantic 'sorry's he squeaks out when he accidentally tightens the gauze a little too hard or brushes his fingers against a more sensitive area.

Once he was done, he offers to take over the cooking, wanting you to take a break. He's persistent when it comes to pampering you, Mika doesn't want to risk you getting burned— again. (Doormat Mika is persistent to u only when it's for ur own good uwu)

Even when he's done, he doesn't make you lift a finger— he even feeds you. You always baby him, now it's his turn to baby you. Blowing on the food if it's too hot, pouring a drink for you, wiping away the crumbs or stains on the corner of your lips. Everything.

"A-Ah! No, no— let me get that for you... There's no need to worry, I really don't mind. Here, let me pour your another cup... Would you like it cold? Or hot? Ah— w-wait, don't use your vision to light up the stove again!... Please just let me use a match instead... I want you to relax..."

Razor

I think he'd try to lick ur burn or kiss it immediately lol

Probably doesn't actually know how to treat a burn properly, so he'll likely just gently kiss around the burnt area, making sure to avoid the sensitive patches

He gives you cuddles— lot of kisses, even has his Lupicals allow you to pet their soft fur. Anything to cheer you up.

He'd likely get you some meat to eat instead. But if you're a vegan/vegeterian, he'll go straight out to hunting your favorite berries in Mondstadt and bring back a whole potato sack of it

While you're resting, he sneaks off to see purple teacher lady and requests that she teaches him basic first aid training. It's just in case, but it hurts him that he doesn't know how to take care of your pain— so may Barbatos bless his soul because he's determined to learn anything complicated to ensure your safety <3

"Wait... no— n-no touch... it's too sharp. I don't want you to... risk hurting yourself. Again... Hm? No worry? But... seeing [S/O] almost hurt herself... not happy. Promise to me... you won't accidentally... hurt yourself again? You... mean too much to me...

Venti

I feel like he would drink those alcohol bottles that are specifically meant for numbing and disinfecting wounds. Yeah he def would. Canon.

He uses Anemo to lightly blow and cool down your burn, numbing the pain for you enough that a light kiss wouldn't sting. But he forbids you to continue cooking until your hand fully recovers.

After treating you to lunch (You paid), he sets you down on your couch, making you lay your head on his lap as he holds your burnt hand while carressing your head with his free hand.

If it still hurts or numb, he'll get a damp cloth and gently wrap your hand in it. To distract you from the uncomfortable feeling, he sings you various romantic and cute songs, even making short poetry (That he thought of immediately while staring at your pretty face)

"A cry of pain, shrieks of agony— Voices that conquer even the rumbles of thunder, and it's stories of tragedy— Flames that burn, brighter than light— But also inflicts harm that causes fright— Save your tears, my lucky windblume... Let your one and only make that sweet smile of yours bloom~"

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Liyue

Baizhu

Infinite/10 treatment. Get a doctor as ur [S/O] ladies

After Changsheng chides you for your carelessness— Baizhu shushes the snake and comes over to examine your wound, he doesn't take long to reassure you that it's not too severe.

Health comes first as he always says— so he carefully treats your burn, chooses the most effective medicine that wouldn't risk a single side effect.

He's got it all for you; Ointment that soothes burns, herbs that relieves pain and even butterfly kisses all over your face that never fails to put a smile on your face— kissing away any tears if the pain stung you gravely.

Once he's done with treating your wound, he has you sitting down and takes over your cooking— even making a remedy that can help alleviate numbness. He even spoon-fed you your own meal.

"Ah, you have a bit of a something at the corner of your lips. Let me get that for you, dear. *Smooch*... Hm? Your face is red! Have you been affected by a fever? Let's see... warm, bright red cheeks, eyes avoiding mine and the corner of your luscious lips trembling... I see now... *Chuckles* Maybe it was my kiss that got you like this~

Chongyun

Poor bby got overwhelmed with panik when he heard ur yelp and ran over to see u near f i r e

Luckily for you, he has that popsicle stash of his to cool and numb your burn, even giving you one to munch on. It was to cheer you up... but it doesn't really have flavour.

Once your wound has numbed, he tries to finish your for you— but the need to make it a perfect dish for you overwhelms him and he almost burns himself as well.

Still determined to cheer you up, he'll later treat you to lunch, bringing you to Wanmin restaurant and let you order your favorites. He'll treat it as a date.

You'll meet Xiangling there, cooing when she saw the two of you on a date. Luckily for Chongyun, he still has his popsicle before Xiangling's cooing could overwhelm him.

If you ordered something hot and spicy, he obviously can't share with you. But is willing to take a small tiny bite or sip for you, he'll even feed you if you'd like. If it's something cold, he'll definitely enjoy sharing the dish with you, letting you eat more of it if it's your favorite.

"Are you satisfied with today's date?... I hope I didn't look forced or nervous like last time. It's not that I don't enjoy our dates, my love... Oh, y-you seem to have caught on. Was I bad at hiding it?... I don't need to make everything perfect for you?... Ah, th-that's a little hard to adapt to, you can't blame me for always wanting everything to be flawless when you're quite perfect yourself, no?... *Shy chuckle*"

Xiao

U don't even need to call him— he hears u yelp, he goes "You called?" "AAAAA—"

Immediately reprimands you for thinking this was a good idea, even adding that it was pointless to cook when all mortal food tastes flavourless. But to make you feel a little better, he (quietly) compliments that your cooking at least has some flavour in them compared to the dishes other chefs made.

He's insistent on making you rest, claiming that you'll only burn yourself again, or worse, set your house into flames. You didn't even sucessfully light up the stove!

While you're busy treating your wounds, he vanishes without another word— secretly, he visited Yanxiao in Wangshu Inn, who agreed to make the dish you were making, only because he didn't want to upset the Adeptus and that he knew how much you meant to the Vigilant Yaksha.

It didn't take long for him to return, and if he caught you trying to light up the stove again without your gloves, he'll drag you away from your kitchen— Locking the door to it if he has to and quite literally carrying you over his shoulder like a potato sack, not a single peep of complain regarding your weight. He's strong for a reason.

He places you down on your couch and then offers you the dish, but was caught off guard when you said you wanted to share it with him. At first, he wanted to decline, saying that it won't have any taste... but that resilience of his crumbles immediately at a single 'please?' from you.

So there he sat with you, only taking a few small bites just to please you... and to see that cheeky little smile on your face. He doesn't peep a complain, only enjoying your quiet company and vice versa. Although he secretly cringes at the bland taste of the food, he finds it tolerable around you. He hopes you didn't catch his cheeks tinted a bright shade of red.

"...Another bite? If you insist... Hm? No, I don't have any comments or suggestions to this dish— it doesn't concern me... I-I'm not upset at you, it's just... I don't have a reason to eat mortal food, let alone enjoy it. This was honestly a waste of time... Oddly enough, I do find eating anything with you... quite sweet. Stop looking at me like that, i'm making this an exception just once... Can you feed me another bite...?"

Xingqiu

*Proceeds to splash the fire out with his vision*

You feel a pair of arms wrap firmly around you before you hear the voice of your boyfriend whispering sweet nothings into your ear, soothing you as he plants gentle butterfly kisses on your cheek.

He treats your injury like normal, having you rant about what happened to your glove while he quietly and patiently listens, just letting you speak to take your mind off the burn injury that he was healing.

Once he's done, he'll just have you rest your head on his lap, saying he'll ask Xiangling to cook for you later. As he does this, he'll read your favorite story, whether it be a fairytale, a history novel or even one of my oneshots. He uses a more gentle and calm voice, carressing your head every now and then.

However, as soon as he sees you fall asleep half way through thanks to his lullaby-esque voice, he sneakily plants a kiss on your lips... and proceeds to write a short story about you the next day; Of a young warrior who got defeated by a stove and was later cared for by their partner who happens to be their enemy. He loves writing private short stories for just the two of you, mostly made to tease you.

"How do you find the story, my liege?... Hm? Why does the main sound exactly like you? Haha~... What a curious question you have there in that pretty little head of yours. Riddle me this; How do you think the main character's love interest treated them? It's quite romantic, no? I'd say i've improved my writing with this story!... Well, maybe I exaggerated with the part where you fought a stove and lost~"

Zhongli

*Sends meteor towards the stove*

Does the same thing as the other; treat your injury with love and care, wrapping you around his arms as he carresses your back with gentle strokes, just overall enjoying eachother's presence.

At first, he suggests going to Xinyue Kiosk... until he was reminded that Childe was still healing in Fontaine after receiving a letter from him saying he got thrown into jail and fought a whale. Plus, Hu Tao is off to who knows where? Doing Archons knows what? He sure doesn't know.

Instead, he brings you to one of the Adepti's abode. Though, it's incredibly tedious as the journey itself is long (You're travelling up a mountain, duh). Halfway through, regardless of whether or not you're tired, he has you wrapping around your arms loosely around his neck, chest pressed against his back with his arms hooked beneath your legs— giving you a piggy back ride. Doesn't complain at all, he loves being this close to you.

There, he meets Cloud Retainer, who welcomes you to her abode (And chides you for your small injury like the mother she is), allowing Zhongli to use her 'Supreme Cuisine Machine' to make Bamboo shoot soup for you and it thankfully doesn't take long.

Cloud Retainer allows the two of you to have your little date on Mt. Aocang in peace, secretly watching over the two of you as Zhongli feeds you, with a fond smile and eyes that held affection towards you, the both of you enjoying eachother's company and the view on top of Mt. Aocang.

"Careful, it's hot... How does it taste? It is no trouble at all, [S/O]— this view is worth the journey, if it means I get to share it with someone I hold dear to my heart. Be it minutes or centuries, I cerish each moment with you, this one especially. Now, would you like another spoon?"

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Inazuma

Arataki Itto

*Proceeds to use sand on your injury* "...They said sand can put out fire! And that's what hurt you, didn't it???????"

Definitely doesn't know how to treat your wounds, but he does get Shinobu to help tend to your burn injury. Meanwhile, she not only lightly reprimands you for your recklessness... she full-on scolds Itto for not looking after you.

He pouts and whines, saying he was busy collecting lavender melons for you to cook with— although, he does feel really terrible for not being able to help. Who knows what would've happened if he had left for a little while longer?; You might've accidentally chopped a limb off, maybe even unintentionally cause a wildfire, or worse; accidentally putting his beetles in the soup!

To make it up to you, he... tries to sing for you. At least, he tries to 'up his game'. He gathers up his gang and Shinobu, makes them pamper you (Shinobu just has a nice conversation with you while the other three does Archons knows what), and that was when he does a very dramatic grand entrance as he starts to bellow out in the worst voice you've ever heard.

After shattering your eardrums, he shoos away the rest as he just wants some cuddling with you now. Singing takes a toll on him surprisingly enough. So now, there you sat on your couch, Itto's beefy arms wrapped around you as he tells you a story about a group of 'bandits' he encountered while collecting lavender melons for you.

"So there I was; Arataki 'The Unstoppable Force' Itto, surrounded by a group of bandits wanting to steal my hard earned stash of lavender melons! The nerve of these newbies, trying to steal my stuff meant for my 'One and Oni' señorita— I stood there, my weapon in hand and ready to make them wish they should've chose to play TCG with me instead of an all-out brawl!... Eh? What? You're saying those were just kids with mask because of their height and voices that I described?... You're not telling this to Shinobu, riiiiiight?"

Gorou

Very calmly puts out the fire... while sending barrages of 'ARE YOU OKAY?' towards u

He's a general, he knows the basics of treating small injuries like this... but his hands are noticably shaky, afraid of inflicting even the smallest sting on you by accident.

Whenever you winced just the slightest bit, the way your nose scrunched up at the most uncomfortable touch, your brows furrowed and eyes narrowing a little, he stammers out apologies after apologies.

Once he finishes treating your wound, his ears flattened against the back of his skull, tail curled up as his shoulders drooped, mumbling that he should've taken more of those first aid training so he could ensure your safety. He's already lost too much on the battlefield, he doesn't want you to get hurt... even if it's just a small burn.

Ironic; You're supposed to be the one needing comfort, but you're the one comforting him instead, letting him lay on your [lap/chest] as you ran your fingers through his soft brown lockes, effectively calming him down by scratching the back of his ears and massaging his scalp with your fingers. Though, petting his soft and perfectly-groomed tail was enough to soothe your worries.

The two of you just simple laid there on your couch, his tail lightly wagging side to side as he curled up into you— he can feel vulnerable around you.

"Yes, my love... it feels so... so much better like this. Don't worry— i'm on break at the moment... Although, I might have to return to my post soon for my duties... Uhm... b-but i'm sure my peers can cover for me a little longer... I really need this..."

Kamisato Ayato

Boba

First thing he does is wrap his arms arouns your waist, pulling you into a gentle hug, you face resting against his chest as his gloved hands carressed the back of your head, cooing and lightly teasing you for being impulsive while cooking.

Has Thoma patch you up since he's more qualified and careful for that. Ayato has you sitting on his lap, cuddling you with that calm puppy-like smile of his while Thoma is the one scolding you for burning yourself on accident.

But after that, he brings you out on yet another date; Strolling around Inazuma City and by the beach, then bringing you Uyuu restaurant for lunch— letting you order your favorites. He even buys a drink and asks for 2 straws, wanting to share it with you (and so see your flushed cheeks when the two of you were drinking, noses nearly touching)

This is for those who like reading any type of books; After filling your bellies, he takes you (a little begrudgingly, but he loves you) to Yae Publishing House and lets you buy another book for your collection. And when he finds you reading a romance novel, he rests his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as he teases your flustered reaction— saying there's no better love story than your story with him.

"Were you satisfied with today's date? Ah, perfect... I see my method with making you forget that little injury of yours worked. A win-win for the both of us; you get to forget about your embarrassing moment and get to have your favorites— and I... deserve this for all my hard work; *Smooch*~"

[doberbutts]

about your TME/Imane Khelif post, i believe i can provide some answers (im not transfem myself but im very interested in transfeminism)

first of all, no oppressed/oppressor binary is going to be perfect. POC/white is a useful distinction, but last summer a white man was killed after being mistaken for being arab. a straight man may be harassed for hugging his male friend and being seen as gay, etc. TME/TMA are useful terms to describe the way transmisogyny operates in society, even though like all oppressions, things can occasionally get muddled IRL. it doesn't make those terms useless or incorrect. to go back to the harassed straight man example, that man would certainly be a VICTIM of homophobia, but that doesn't make him gay, or mean that he doesn't have any heterosexual privilege at all.

(you said imane khelif may be sent to jail IF she's ruled not to be enough of a woman. horrifying prospect of course, but that IF is doing a lot! a trans woman would not have that IF!)

just wanted to provide that perspective since you asked very genuinely and thoughtfully. have a nice day

I appreciate the good faith response!!! This is exactly the sort of discussion I was looking for.

I am mostly on board - I have discussed at length how these social categories are muddy at best and do not operate on strict lines, and that people in general are impossible to place into neatly sorted boxes. Similar to your first example, I reference frequently a past love of mine who was white but often mistaken for mixed asian (usually chinese/white) due to his monolids, facial structure, and facial hair pattern. Despite being a white guy, he had numerous encounters with racists that ended quite violently for him, and as a result was probably one of the most sensitive white guys I've ever dated regarding race.

Being mistaken for being chinese, while not actually being chinese himself, is not at all the same as actually being chinese. I certainly agree. However, I think it is wrong to say that sinophobia does not affect him or that he is exempt from sinophobia because he has the ability to say "hey wait a second I'm not chinese I'm white". Mostly because any time he tried to do that, it didn't work, and he still got beaten up anyway.

And I also don't think it means he has no white privilege at all- certainly, we experienced it as a couple in real time because while he could be mistaken as a man of color, I absolutely am one without question. And, furthermore, I'm visibly black, not just "of color", which makes people really double down on the racism. Case in point, any time I parked my car in the visitor spot next to his apartment door, the landlord would run out of their office to chase me away stating the spot was only for approved visitors. Even though she saw me entering and exiting his residence in her pursuit to make me move my car. The town he lived in is less than 2% black, and these were luxury apartments that did not have a single black person in the building he specifically lived in. He could live there, but I couldn't even visit without being harassed.

Similarly, as I said in my post, I can see the logic of stating that there is privilege there even though Khelif is in a difficult situation currently, because yes, she can provide a birth certificate and a blood test and a genital check and be cleared of all accusations. I just think that being forced to submit to embarrassing and invasive testing, as well as being forced to provide personal documents, and having the world weigh in on the judgement of your gender, is not really a good literal get-out-of-jail-free card. It is certainly a leg up that she has the ability to do so. I do not think it is right that she should have to- but then I don't see the problem with trans women competing alongside cis women. I think it's stupid that sports are divided by gender and not by weight/height/proficiency.

And I think that forcing specifically women of color who oddly enough seem to be the vast majority of these cases (esp black women and esp esp black intersex women who didn't even know they were intersex before but w/e) to prove that they're woman enough to be qualified as women is racial violence with interphobia and transphobia as the weapon. Intersectionality and all that.

[boochanz]

i’m making another post about @mohammedsh88 and his current situation because honestly i’m desperate to get him to his goal and i’m not sure what i can do besides appeal to you guys.

prefacing this by saying that this fundraiser has been verified. i’ve spoken to mohammed personally and he’s in an extremely difficult spot, yet he still finds the time to check on me and to thank me for doing the bare minimum of caring about his situation.

winter is arriving and his wife has a baby on the way. her pregnancy is high risk and she’s at risk for premature labor. his long term goal to eventually escape and rebuild his life is £120,000. his short term goal to prepare for the baby and survive the winter is £5000. he has only raised £800 so far.

this is absolutely a dire situation. the prices of basic necessities in gaza have increased significantly over the past year. mohammed is currently in need of money to prepare for the arrival of the baby (diapers, clothes, formula, etc), and to buy supplies to reinforce their tent against wind and rain, and to just survive day by day and have food for his family to eat, yall. for reference of how drastically prices have increased:

this is quite literally an emergency situation. if you can afford to donate, please do so. i know mohammed isn’t the only person in need of help and it’s a horrible choice to have to make but i am asking you from the bottom of my heart to give what you can, even if it’s the smallest amount. mohammed is such a kind person with such a loving heart. even with almost nothing, while living in a tent, he managed to give he managed to make a cake for his son’s birthday this year and throw him a party. no kid should have to celebrate their birthday in a tent. no father parent have to watch their child do so. they absolutely need this money to escape when the option to do so becomes available again, and to survive until it does.

i am still doing custom gifsets from any media for any donation made to his gfm. i’ll make a post here or rb the old one at some point but for now you can dm me here or shoot me an ask if you donate and would like to claim yours. thank you for taking the time to read this.