#like they knew they had to address it but didn't know how so they did that and it was bad

[scorpioriesling]

Can you write an eris smut fic with prompt 27?

The Right Swipe

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Modern!Eris x reader

Warning(s): smut, 18+, mdni

Summary: You finally decided to swipe right -- and thank God you did. That's all I'll say for now.

SR’s Note: Two posts in one day?? Wow, I must really love you guys. (; This uses prompt #27 from my request masterlist! I hope you enjoy; I actually had so much fun writing this one, LOL.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You hummed as you flitted about your room, preparing for your date tonight. Finally, after swiping left on hundreds of guys did you swipe right on one of them. And boy, was he worthy of a right swipe.

Stopping before the mirror, you inspected your outfit. Sure, it was windy tonight in the city, but you felt that the mini skirt was a must. You were dining at quite the upscale eatery anyway, and you needed to make a good first impression.

The buzzing of your cell phone halted your oogling. You picked it up, seeing your best friend's face filling the screen.

"Hey!"

"Hey! What's up?" You asked, staring at the grainy screen concealing your friend's face.

"Nothing much -- I was just going to see if you left for your date yet." Nesta wiggled her eyebrows, and you chuckled.

"Not yet, I'm almost done getting ready though." Nesta grinned.

"Let me see the outfit!"

You obliged, turning the camera to show your outfit off in the mirror. She clapped in approval, nodding her head.

"Gorgeous, darling -- simply stunning," she complimented. You curtsied playfully, and turned the camera back around to show your face. "What time were you getting back? I can wait up if you want."

You shrugged.

"Honestly, I'm not sure yet -- we're eating near Times Square, so it's not too far from the apartment," you huffed, working to slip on your shoes.

"Hopefully not too early," Nesta mused, and you barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, let's hope not." You tugged on the other shoe, and straightened your blouse.

"I have your location too -- remember, you shared it with me?" Nesta said seriously. "So if anything happens-"

"I know, I know; if he ends up beign an axe murderer, you'll show up and decapitate his weiner. I remember," you giggled, thinking of the prior conversation the two of you shared. She chuckled, but her expression remained serious.

"I wasn't joking either -- but, I hope you have a good time. I know the guy will, you're looking hot!" She winked, and you waved a hand at her. "Call me if you need me, okay? i'm just across the bridge in Brooklyn you know, I can be there in an instant."

Given the typical New York traffic, you knew that wasn't true -- but you flashed her a knowing look anyway.

"I will, I will -- talk to you later?"

"I'll talk to you later."

She hung up, and you turned to the mirror once more. You'd spent so much time fussing over your blouse, picking at it and tucking it in -- but as one shoulder hung over the curve of your arm, you decided it looked best this way. In an act of hope that this date would be successful, you opted for your glitter strap Victoria's Secret bra; with the shoulder exposed, it shone just perfect.

Hopefully, he'd take the bait.

･ﾟ: *✧

Your ponytail swung lightly in the breeze as you walked the few blocks toward the restaurant. You'd been to Times Square a million times, sure -- but as far as spending time there, with money you didn't have? That was a no.

The address he gave you to meet at approached on your phone screen, and you glanced around for any sight of the red hair you'd seen in his photos. There weren't any.

Sighing, you looked closer at the restaurant. When you peered through the dim windows, your breath hitched in your throat.

You knew Butter was an exclusive bar and dining scene -- but you hadn't realized how exclusive. Inside, expensive drinks were poured over ice, the bottles the came from returning to a wine racked wall made of solid gold. Low, glittering lights lit the tables, and every guest in there looked to own no less than a million bucks.

Shit.

You pulled out your phone to text, but the door opened and a thin man in a suit greeted you. He ushered you inside, and despite your pounding heart -- you obliged.

"Good evening, miss." He greeted, and you immediately tucked your phone away, not wanting to seem impolite.

"Hello," you said wearily. The man grinned at your response.

"Are you dining alone this evening, or waiting for guests?"

Your palms felt clammy as you fumbled with your purse, working to shove your phone inside.

"I... uh..."

Your spine straightened as a warm hand slid against the small of your back, and your chin whipped in the direction in which it came from.

And oh... my... God. The white button down, rolled up at the sleeves. His hair was perfectly styled, the flaming red a contrast to the dim lighting in the room. The black dress pants, the black leather belt...

Your mouth watered at the sight.

"She's with me, Aaron," his whiskey smooth tone nearly sent a shiver down your spine. "Two for Vanserra."

Aaron, apparently, nodded and gestured to the long bar sitting before the golden wall.

"Always a pleasure, Eris -- please, enjoy a few beverages from the bar as we finish preparing your table."

Eris nodded, and your skin felt electric with every touch point he had on you. He guided you toward the bar, his hand not leaving your back. He only retrtacted it to pull out a barstool for you -- and you graced him with a soft smile.

"Thank you," you said quietly as he sat beside you.

He chuckled, leaning his forearms against the bar's edge. His amber eyes met yours sidelong, and your skin flushed.

"Anytime, darling."

You were grateful he looked toward the wall of alochol, because your cheeks rapidly flushed.

The bartender approached the two of you, giving Eris a knowing look before sliding his gaze to you. He continued polishing a glass as he adressed the two of you.

"Mr. Vanserra, always a pleasure," he said warmly. Eris nodded back at him.

"Of course Landon, of course," his warm tone made you feel... at ease. Landon glanced to you, and Eris looked between the two of you.

"This is my date this evening -- Miss Y/N Y/L/N," he introduced, and you gave Landon a smile.

"Nice to meet you," you said, and Landon nodded.

"The pleasure is all mine, miss -- what will you be having this evening?"

Your mind raced as you decided what to drink, but Eris answered with practiced grace.

"My usual, please," he said. Landon nodded and looked to you.

"And, for you?"

You contemplated, finally settling on what sounded most appealing.

"A dirty martini please -- extra olives?"

Landon winked at you, uttering a "you got it" before heading off in search of the ingredients. You took a calming breath before turning to Eris, catching him as he was already staring at you.

"So..." you said nervously, deciding on a good place to start. You started with the most basic of questions, trying to make the conversation easy. "What do you, uh, do for work?"

Eris's left brow rose a millimeter, a small smirk finding its way onto his lips. He was quiet a moment before he answered, his warm, silky tone washing over you once more.

"I'm the head of an accounting firm," he responded, his eyes gazing lazily into yours. "Started, oh, five years ago?" He tilts his head in thought. "Yeah, about five years."

You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

"And, you? What's brought you to the city?"

You chuckled, readjusting your position on the stool.

"How do you know I'm not from here?"

Your question must have caught him off cuard, because he let out a short huff of a laugh as his expression showed a knowing response.

You huffed, looking elsewhere before answering.

"I... I moved to the city last year, I uh... I got a job in fashion." You said the last part with less confidence, as usually when you told people you worked in fashion, you were not taken as seriously.

However, Eris seemed to lean forward in his seat.

"Tell me more about that."

･ﾟ: *✧

Three hours and just as many drinks later, you found yourself struggling to contain your laughter.

"Wait -- you're telling me you did all of that, in front of your entire family?" The tears pricked the back of your eyes you laughed so hard. Eris chuckled, leaning against the table as he nodded.

"I swear it! Literally the most embarassed I've ever felt," he laughed, his words coming out choppy. He'd had maybe one less whiskey than you did, but he still seemed to be enjoying himself.

The waiter made his way toward your corner table, carrying a small black booklet. When he approached the table, he set it down softly, looking between you and Eris.

"Greetings, again -- were you ready for the bill, or was there something else I could get for you?"

His question had you wiping the tears from your eyes, and sobering up rather quickly. You were conscious in ordering tonight, as the dining here was quite expensive; you didn't want to be embarassed if you couldn't cover your half of the bill.

"No, no we should be alright," Eris reigned in his chuckles, quickly and gracefully plucking the folded leather from the edge of the table. He effortlessly slid his card inside, and handed it back to the waiter. "You can charge 20% for the tip, too -- great service tonight."

The waiter nodded appreciatively, and your eyes widened as he walked off.

"Hey, I uh... I can cover at least my half," you offered, but Eris simply waved a hand.

"No worries -- I got it this time." He smiled, and in a rush of confidence, you blurted out the first thought that came to mind.

"Thank you, Eris... I'll get it next time."

A slow grin spread across his face at your words, and you found yourself blushing. He licked his lips in intrigue before the waiter approached once more, handing the receipt back to Eris.

"Thank you for dining with us this evening, and we hope you have a wonderful rest of your night."

Eris stood, shaking the waiters hand before moving to grip the back of your chair. He slid you out from under the table, and you scowled mentally at the way your heart fluttered. Nonetheless, his hand returned to your back as he led you from the restaurant.

Stepping out into the chilly night air, you blew out a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding. Eris sighed, looking up at the moon before fixing his gaze on you again. Neither of you spoke as moments passed between you, only the shared breaths and sounds of the city heard between you.

When you finally spoke, you both did at once.

"I don't want the night to end yet."

"I'm not ready to take you home."

You both laughed at the overlap, and you took a moment to process his words. I'm not ready to take you home yet.

Your heart fluttered once more.

"I... if you want to, we can, go for a walk?" You suggested. He smiled, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close enough that you could smell his expensive cologne.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea."

And with that, you were off. You turned corner after corner, no direction in mind or care that you were walking the city streets at nearly midnight. Eris was with you, and the way the conversation flowed so easily between the two of you... you felt safe.

The topic of conversation ranged so wide, there was no real way to limit what was on the table or off to discuss. At dinner, you'd gotten to know him a little better; his family, his job, what his friends were like -- his most embarassing moment. But out here, where the air was clearer and the options were limitless, you felt like you could talk with him for hours.

"So, what made you choose fashion?" He asked, his words only running together a little bit as the alcohol took more of an affect. You turned the corner, passing Macy's before you answered.

"Well, as a girl I loved the aesthetics, how you could do so many things with only raw materials; then, I took up designing, and got my degree in fashion technology." You explained. He looked to you in amusement, and you grinned. "Now, I'm here."

His eyes strayed from your face only for a moment, fixating on the glittery strap across your shoulder. He looked to you again, pausing in front of the Van Leeuwen's ice cream shop as he took your hand in his.

"My apartment is just around the corner," he said softly, gazing into your eyes with sincerity. Your heart throbbed; you didn't want him to go, not just yet. Despite his rich-boy first impression, you were quite enjoying every moment of the date with him.

"Oh," is all you could think to say. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth, as he inched closer to your face.

"I... usually, I don't bring anyone to my apartment. Only my family, my friends," he explained. "And, I definately don't want to give you the wrong impression... blow this whole thing up, I mean." he continues. You nod silently, your lips mere inches from eachother.

"It's been such a great night, but... I just don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet," he admits shyly, the rosiness on his cheeks so at odds with his outward appearance. You can't help but to grin, your hand brushing the exposed skin of his forearm from his rolled up sleeves.

Your gaze found his once more, as you whispered back.

"I don't want to go, either."

With that, his fingers closed around yours as his lips pressed against your own.

･ﾟ: *✧

You barely registered how many floors the elevator passed as Eris pressed you against the mirrored wall, his lips devouring your own with a certain sense of hunger. The soft dings during your ascent were lost as you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him back to you over, and over, and over again.

It was only a few minutes more before Eris pulled away, glancing toward the digital number and sighing. You couldn't help but giggle, taking in the 28 on the wall before the doors slid open and you followed him out. His hand held yours firmly as he led you down the hallway. Glancing around, you didn't notice any other entrances besides the one at the end; and your breaths quickened.

"What floor is this again?" You asked, out of breath. Eris quickly fished his keys from his pocket, flicking through them and shoving one into the door lock.

"Twenty eight," he said, just as breathless.

"And... how many floors are in this building?" You asked. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, turning to you with a devilish smirk.

"Twenty eight."

He strode in, tugging you right along with him. Your eyes widened at the expensive apartment, the vast marble countertops, the winding staircase, the rows upon rows of bookshelves...

"Eris," you breathed. He stepped behind you, locking the door and then wrapping his arms around your waist. "You... you're... this is the penthouse," you said, almost in realization.

Goosebumps spread across your skin as his soft lips met the column of your neck, kissing softly up to your ear.

"Mhmm," he purred, softly biting on the lobe. Your breath hitched as he spoke softly into your ear.

"That's not really what you want to ask me though, is it," he teased, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt. Your thighs squeezed together, the heat radiating off of him getting you hot.

"I..." you trailed off, almost too lost in the moment to think straight. "W-where... is your bed?"

He chuckled darkly behind you, kissing your neck once more before turning you around and lifting you into his arms. Your legs wound around his waist as he took a step toward the hallway, his hands squeezing your ass as he walked.

"Good girl."

･ﾟ: *✧

The mattress dipped as Eris set you atop it, smirking down at you as he made quick work of removing his shirt. You stared up at him, over the rippling muscles in his stomach, the veins cording his forearms. He was handsome, sure -- but like this, he was devastating.

"You seem to know a lot about fashion," he said, his tone low. His fingers slid beneath the gemstone band of your bra, rubbing over the strap in admiration. “But, do you realize that I can see your bra through that blouse?”

You giggled, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.

"Hmm, no, I guess I didn't," you played dumb. He shook his head slowly, his fingers tracing over the curve of your breasts and hooking under the waistband of your skirt. He pulled it over your thighs, your knees, and all the way off. He blew out a long breath as he shamelessly oogled you, admiring the matching panties you adorned.

"Tsk tsk tsk," he tutted, his thumb stroking over your clothed clit. "I guess you also didn't realize that bad girls, get punished."

Your walls fluttered at his words.

He sank to his knees before you, his head settling just between your legs. He hooked two fingers around the lace of your panties, bringing them to the side before brushing his forefinger over your folds. You sucked in a breath as you gazed down at him, his eyes searching yours for permission.

"The moment you want me to stop -- I'll stop."

You nod in understanding, and he leans in. His mouth brushes along the inside of your thigh, soft kisses peppering your thighs. His fingers rub against your clit, the mix of sensations pulling your insides into a knot.

"Mmm," you hummed, lying flat on the bed as his lips inched closer to your core. His tongue slid through your folds and you sighed, one of your hands reaching down to thread through his auburn locks. He continued licking and tasting every inch of your pussy, soft groans vibrating against it as he groaned in pleasure. Your core tightened, especially when he inserted two fingers into your throbing hole.

"Oh...Eris, oh-" You sucked in a breath, your walls clenching around his fingers as he pumped them in and out. His lips sucked and played with your clit, and you squirmed against the feeling of his mouth and fingers. Just as you felt the knot tying tighter in your stomach... he stopped.

He pulled his fingers from you, and moved to stand between your knees instead. Your brows knit in frustration, and he licked his lips as he gazed down at you.

"Be a good girl for me -- and I'll let you cum," he declared. You raised an eyebrow, inching back on the bed as he slid his belt from his hips.

"Fuck me good, Eris, and I'll do just that."

A low chuckle sounded in his chest as he leaned forward, gripping either side of your blouse and yanking. Buttons flew about, and you gasped in horror.

"Eris! That was-"

"I'll buy you another one," he growled, moving to hover over you. His fingers slid the glittery straps over your shoulders -- but he didn't fully take your bra off. Instead, he undid his pants and finally freed his aching cock; his huge. Cock.

"Take off your underwear." He demanded. You listened, sliding the lacy thing down your legs and lying flat on your back again. He smirked, rubbing his hand over his cock as he positioned it before your entrance.

"Hmm, she listens," he teases, and you bite your bottom lip.

"Beautiful, funny, interesting... and a good listener? What more could I wish for?"

You blush at his compliments, momentarily forgetting how close he was to driving his cock inside of you. It wasn't long though before the stretch happened, and you adjusted to his size as he continued sliding in.

"Oh.... Eris, oh God," you panted, every tantalizing inch more pleasureable. When he finally reached the hilt, he pulled out -- only to slide in once more.

You groaned in protest, wanting him to fuck you faster; instead, he took both wrists in one hand, holding them above your head.

"Hold still for me, baby."

He slid out, and shoved his cock back in. You squeaked at the sudden change of pace, reveling in the feeling coming from him fucking you hard. Your mouth fell open as you gazed up at him, his concentrated expression focused on yours as he drove his length in over, and over, and over.

"Eris," you breathed, your eyes rolling back in your head. He continued pounding into you, only slowing as your pussy clenched around him once more.

"No no no," you groaned, and he leaned in to kiss your lips at once. His cock slid from you, and his hand released your wrists. You ran your hands through his hair, your tongue slipping in only once before he stood again.

"Flip over for me," he said, his hand fisting his cock again as his eyes roamed the expanse of your body. You immediately slid onto your stomach, your hair fanning across your back as you lifted your hips. You heard his growl of approval behind you, and you spread your knees to better accomodate the new position.

His hands braced your hips instantly, his hard length pressing against your ass. You wiggled your hips against him -- only to soon be met with a spank against your right buttcheek.

You gasped, and Eris pressed the tip of his cock against your hole once more.

"Don't do that," he warned. "Or else I'll cum."

He drove his cock in, not wasting any time this round as he set a punishing pace. His right hand left your hip to wrap around the base of your ponytail, causing the arch in your back to accentuate as he rammed his cock in more forcefully.

"So gorgeous like this," he praised, his breaths ragged. Your ass bounced with every thrust of his cock, and though you couldn't see it, he was having a hard time prying his gaze away from the sight.

"Yes, yes, yes," every snap of his hips illicited a gasp from you, especially as he fucked into you at a new angle. He drew your back up to his chest, his arm wrapping around your ribs to grab at your breast.

"You wanna cum, baby?" He asked nicely. You huffed in response, the way his fingers pinched at your nipple through the lace of your bra. the friction caused you to shake, the sensations rolling through you while you struggled to keep your orgasm at bay.

"Please," you whispered. Eris groaned low beside your ear, his lips attaching to your neck once more before leaving a playful bite.

You cried out in pleasure, the tidal wave finally overflowing inside of you. Wet, clear cum dripped down your thighs as Eris drove his cock deep into your pussy a final time, feeling every clench your walls gave him. He released every ounce of cum deep within your throbbing core, his arms holding you close to him as the both of you chased out your highs together.

When he finally pulled out, you sighed, lying down on his silky sheets once more. He retrieved a washcloth, and delicately wiped you off before cleaning up himself and tossing it aside. Sliding his own underwear back on, he lied down beside you.

You turned your head, searching his returning gaze for an answer. He offered a small smile as he leaned in, brushing a stray hair from your forehead.

"I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready to let you go."

･ﾟ: *✧

[melodyreads]

Hamzah x (Manager) Reader: Part 3

description: While you and your date continue socializing at the party, the reader may have had a little too much to drink. Hamzah can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. Were you doing this to get a rise out of him? He decides to pull you aside for a “chat”. Will this talk lead the two of you back to the office, or the bedroom?

contains: drunk reader, arguing... smut! (y'all begged for it)

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! college work is starting to catch up to me and this corporate baddie gotta secure those internships you already knowwwww. but anyways... this is my first time attempting a smut fic, lmk how i did ;)

—

Hamzah is starting to feel something fester inside him.

Jealously?

Definitely. But It was deeper than that.

Seeing you walk around with this man that you barely knew was really starting to get on his nerves. But on the other hand, seeing you so unattainable in his eyes was really starting to turn him on.

Hamzah couldn’t stop watching you. His eyes tracked every movement, the way you laughed, the way you held yourself with such ease, the way the man you were talking to clearly tried to impress you. He could see the way your lips curled into a smile, how your body language was open and playful, and the sharp pang of jealousy gnawed at him.

But it wasn’t just jealousy. It was something deeper.

Something possessive.

You were really letting go tonight, you were drinking and laughing,

god, he loved your laugh.

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his pulse quicken as he tried to focus on the conversation in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to you. To the way your laughter cut through the noise of the party, how it seemed to make the world pause for a moment.

He didn't understand why you were acting like you didn't know him. Hell, he knew you better than anyone else in this room. But tonight… tonight, you were different.

You weren't his, but damn, the thought of someone else getting close to you-touching you-made his jaw clench.

Hamzah couldn't keep pretending like it didn’t bother him; continue standing off to the side as he watched you float around the room with that guy.

What are you gonna do about it?

There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone else have her.

His footsteps were determined as he walked toward you, the sudden urge to claim you overwhelming. The man you were talking to barely noticed Hamzah's approach, still too caught up in trying to impress you.

But Hamzah did.

He stepped right in, cutting into the conversation with a calm, yet forceful presence. His voice was low, deliberate, as he addressed the man. "You don’t mind if I steal her away for a second, do you?"

Hamzah’s hand found your arm, fingers curling around it a little more forcefully than necessary as he led you a few paces away from the crowd, away from Tucker.

You wobbled slightly, the alcohol making everything feel a little hazy. You had more than you should have—hell, you weren’t even sure what you were feeling anymore, but the way Hamzah’s touch lingered, the way he was looking at you, made your head spin. The world felt dizzy and disjointed as you tried to focus on him, blinking as if you were trying to clear the fog.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence settling heavily between you like a secret neither of you was brave enough to voice. But Hamzah’s eyes were hot on yours, almost possessive in the way they studied you. The alcohol coursing through you made it hard to keep your focus, but you could still feel the pull of his gaze. It was suffocating.

"What’s up with you?" Hamzah asked, his voice gravelly, but something darker in it, like a storm waiting to break.

You squinted at him, the words not fully making sense in your drunken state, but you still managed to raise an eyebrow. "What’s it to you?" you slurred, feeling bold, almost defiant, even though you knew you weren’t entirely in control of yourself.

Hamzah’s anger faded slightly, replaced with something more intense. "You win, I saw you with him," he said, his voice still low, but now there was a possessive edge that made your pulse quicken. "You’ve been talking to him all night. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?."

You tried to focus, but everything felt fuzzy. You weren't sure what to say, so you just shrugged, a little too dismissive for your own good. "I’m just having fun," you muttered, the words slipping out more freely than they should’ve. "What’s your problem?"

Hamzah closed the space between you with one fluid movement, his body heat radiating off of him, and for a moment, everything around you faded. The party noise, the laughter, the people—it was all background noise now, and it was just him.

He took another step closer, the intensity in his gaze growing. "You know what my problem is," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He wasn’t asking anymore. "I don’t like seeing you with him. Not when I know you don’t belong to him."

You blinked, his words making your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t fully explain. "I’m… not yours," you muttered, but your words didn’t hold the conviction you’d hoped for. You weren’t even sure if they made sense, but the alcohol in your system made it hard to remember why you were fighting so hard.

Hamzah smirked, his lips curling with a knowing edge. "You keep saying that," he whispered, his voice just for you, "but I know the truth. You want me here, don’t you?"

You tilted your head back, trying to process what he was saying. The words came out before you could stop them, the alcohol in your system stripping you of any filters. "Maybe I do," you murmured, your voice thick, half-confused, half-sure of something else, something you shouldn’t want.

Hamzah’s smile widened, but it wasn’t playful anymore. It was dangerous, possessive, and hungry. "I thought so," he said softly, his hand moving to rest just above your waist, pulling you even closer, as though daring you to back away.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind too clouded to make sense of anything. You could feel his warmth, the weight of his presence all around you, and suddenly, you weren’t sure what you were even resisting anymore.

Hamzah leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear, and his voice was a whisper you couldn’t escape. "Let’s see if you still feel that way tomorrow."

Hamzah barely made it a step past you before he felt the tug on his wrist—light, shaky, but firm enough to stop him. He turned, looking down at you, your fingers curled around his skin, holding on like you needed him to stay.

"Wait," you mumbled, your voice softer now, less sure. Your head felt heavy, the alcohol making everything blur together, but you knew one thing for certain—you didn’t want him to leave.

Hamzah exhaled, his jaw tightening as he turned fully toward you. "Y/n, you’re drunk," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was something else there, something hesitant.

You looked up at him, your eyes glassy, unfocused, but raw with something real. "I—" You swallowed hard, words tangling in your throat. "You—you're always there. Always looking. Always… pulling me back when I try to push you away."

Hamzah’s brows furrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he watched you struggle through your words.

"And I—" Your grip on his wrist weakened slightly. "I don't know what to do with that. With you." A shaky laugh left your lips, but it held no humor, just a quiet, painful sort of truth. "It drives me crazy, Hamzah. You drive me crazy."

Hamzah felt something twist deep in his chest, something dangerously close to unraveling.

Your fingers slipped from his wrist, your body swaying unsteadily, and before he could say anything, before he could even process what you had just admitted—you were collapsing.

"Y/n—" He caught you before you could hit the ground, his arms wrapping around you instinctively, holding you against him. His heart kicked up in his chest as he adjusted his grip, one hand supporting the back of your head while the other steadied your waist.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, scanning your face. Your lashes fluttered, your breaths shallow, but you were still there—just barely. The weight of you against him sent a rush of something through him, something fierce and protective.

For a moment, he just looked at you. The usual sharpness in your eyes was gone, replaced by something soft, vulnerable. Your lips were slightly parted, your breathing slow, and as he brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers barely grazing your skin, he realized something.

You were so pretty.

Not in the way he always told himself before—not in that passing, fleeting way he pretended didn’t affect him. But in a way that made his chest ache, in a way that made him want to hold onto you a little longer than he should.

He exhaled sharply, shaking himself out of it. "You really had to do this now, huh?" he murmured, his tone softer than he meant it to be.

Before he could even think about what to do next, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

"You need help?"

Hamzah looked up to see Tucker standing there, watching with mild concern.

Hamzah’s grip on you tightened slightly. "I got her," he said flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Tucker hesitated. "Are you sure? I don’t mind—"

"I said I got her." Hamzah’s tone was sharper this time, a silent warning in his eyes. "I know where she lives. I’ll take her home."

Tucker held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "Alright, man. Just making sure she’s good."

Hamzah didn’t bother responding. He adjusted his hold on you, lifting you just enough to steady you against him. The thought of anyone else taking care of you, of anyone else knowing the small, familiar details about you that he did, didn’t sit right with him.

This wasn’t just an obligation or responsibility from a random fling.

This was you.

And Hamzah wasn’t letting anyone else take you from him.

---

Hamzah pushed open the door to your apartment, his grip on you steady as he led you inside. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow from the streetlights outside casting long shadows across the walls. He knew this space well—too well. The countless times he'd been here, sitting on that couch, watching you pace around while you talked business, pretending he wasn’t watching you in a way he shouldn’t have been.

Now, you were barely standing, still leaning heavily against him as he guided you toward the couch. "Alright, you’re home," he muttered, carefully lowering you onto the cushions. His hands lingered just a second longer than necessary before he forced himself to step back. "Get some sleep, Y/n."

He turned toward the door, ready to leave before this got any more complicated.

But before he could take another step, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist—again.

Hamzah barely had time to process it before you moved, your body pressing up against his, backing him up until his spine met the cool surface of the wall. His breath caught as you looked up at him, your eyes heavy-lidded but burning with something unmistakable.

Then, without hesitation, you kissed him.

It was sudden, fierce, and desperate, your hands pressing against his chest as you tilted your head, molding your lips against his like you’d been waiting for this moment just as long as he had.

Hamzah’s hands instinctively came up to your waist, gripping you tightly, but after a beat, he forced himself to pull back, his breathing unsteady. "Y/n," he exhaled, his forehead resting against yours. "You’re not in the right head space for this."

Your response was immediate, unwavering. You looked him dead in the eyes, the fog of alcohol nowhere to be found in your sharp, deliberate gaze.

"I’ve never been more sober," you murmured.

Something inside Hamzah snapped.

With a low curse under his breath, he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you clean off the ground as your legs instinctively wrapped around him. Your lips met again in a clash of heat and urgency, his hands gripping you tightly as he carried you toward the bedroom.

The back of your knees hit the mattress as he laid you down, hovering over you as his mouth found yours again, deeper this time, hungrier. His hands roamed, exploring the curves he’d only dared to touch in his imagination.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together in a feverish rhythm. The friction between you sent shivers down your spine, the heat pooling low in your stomach as he ground against you, his breath heavy in your ear.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, his voice strained, his self-control hanging by a thread.

You pulled him down harder, your nails digging into his back. "Don’t you dare."

That was all he needed.

Hamzah groaned as he kissed you again, deep and consuming, his body moving against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm. The tension that had been building for months—years, maybe—was finally unraveling, neither of you willing to stop, neither of you willing to pretend anymore.

He trailed kisses down your jaw, his breath warm against your skin as he moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. His hands gripped your waist, holding you steady beneath him as he took his time, savoring every reaction you gave him.

"You're unreal," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with want.

You shivered as he continued downward, his lips ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach, his fingers digging into your hips as if grounding himself. The anticipation sent heat pooling in your core, every slow, deliberate touch making your breath hitch.

Tonight, there were no boundaries. No rules. No one to remind the two of you that Hamzah is currently kissing down the body of his manager and how widely inappropriate that is.

Hamzah knew this was dangerous. Knew this was the kind of mistake that couldn't be undone. But with the way you were looking at him—like he was the only thing you wanted—none of it seemed to matter.

His lips continued their slow descent, dragging over the soft skin of your stomach, lingering just long enough to make you shiver. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady beneath him, his breath warm against you.

Despite him starting to become self-aware of his current actions, as Hamzah looked up at you, drinking in the way your chest rose and fell, the heat in your gaze matching his own, he knew there was no stopping now.

---

a/n: I hope y'all liked this! I'm gonna keep edging y'all with this series lol. Part 4 coming soon <3333

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.08 Meddling

10 Years Ago

The next morning, I was feeling kinda guilty about the discussion Paul had with Danica. I hadn't talked to him about it yet, but I hoped my interference hadn't affected their friendship.

Once I heard him stirring in his room, I decided to ask him about it.

"Hey, you're up early," Paul said. He was right; it was quite unusual for me to be awake before him, but I couldn't sleep much.

"Yeah, maybe you're rubbing off of me." Typical of me to break the tension with a joke.

"Maybe my cleanliness will rub off on you, too," Paul teased.

"Doubtful. Trust me, my parents already tried that. You'd better get used to me leaving dishes in the sink."

As lighthearted as our conversation was, we both knew we were avoiding the elephant in the room. I decided it was best to just address it.

"So, I take it you overheard my conversation with Danica," I said.

"I heard some of it," Paul admitted. "Mostly you telling her to let me live my life."

"Yeah, I guess I'm not really that much better when it comes to meddling in your business."

"No," Paul replied firmly. "You didn't say anything I didn't already know. My conversation with Danica was a long time coming. You might've given me the push, but it was bound to happen eventually."

"I'm glad to hear that. How did it go?"

"It was awkward at first, but I told her things had to change if we're going to continue our friendship. She has to trust me to make my own decisions."

"That sounds fair. How'd she take it?"

"She seemed genuinely remorseful. She acknowledged she has some anxiety issues she needs to address. I told her I need some space for a while, and she agreed to that."

"Sounds like it went as well as it could have."

"Yeah, hopefully she sticks with our agreement. I'd hate to end our friendship after all these years, but I'm prepared to maintain my boundaries."

"Wow, look at you being all mature," I smirk.

"Well, one of has to be! And I don't think it's going to be you."

"I'd argue with that, but you're right."

I walked away from the conversation feeling pretty good about everything.

What I didn't realize was Paul was trying to get over me, and hearing me defend him against Danica didn't exactly help him move on.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

I Didn't Know How To Love You

Based on the speculation post by @bybobbysbeard (sorry!), I cooked up my own speculations... in a fic (T-rated, approximately 4 chapters, including hurt/comfort and, of course, a helicopter crash).

Read the first chapter below the cut or on AO3 :)

Hen and Karen serve macaroni and cheese for dinner that night. It’s a simple dish, but it’s homemade and one of Buck’s favorites; mouth full of cheese bliss, he doesn’t skimp on praise. It is a nice way to end a day's work: a family meal, some fun with the kids who’ve by now retreated to their rooms, a chat with his friends. Finally, Karen clears the table, casually mentioning a cake, and Hen fixes Buck with her gaze. Buck hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately, maybe he should’ve foreseen this conversation. It still comes unexpected.

“How are you, really?” Hen asks.

Maybe the last bite of food is still stuck in his throat, because the urge to swallow is overwhelming. Does she know he forces the corners of his mouth into a smile?

“Oh, you know. I’ve got it, right?”

Why does he phrase his answer as a question? Buck glances towards the kitchen, piercing the door with his gaze as if he could lure Karen out. It’s a setup of sorts, a trap, the Admiral Ackbar voice in his mind goes, but this time, it’s not funny.

Hen adjusts her glasses, though they actually fit perfectly, propping her arms on the table. 

“We never really talked about it, guess we all had other things on our minds. But we’re here for you, Buck. You know that, right?”

Buck exhales a kind of sigh, “Well, we’re good, I think. I was a little pissed about the things he said, but actually, we made up again.” 

“You… did?” Hen sounds somewhat confused, her gaze wanders back to the kitchen. Still no sign of Karen. 

“Yes. A-and he might come back, right? When he's sorted things out with Chris.”

It’s a faint hope. Chris didn’t seem to miss his life in L.A., so why should Eddie?

“Oh,” says Hen, with her voice and eyes oddly soft, “I'm not talking about Eddie.”

Buck furrows his brow, “You’re not?”

Hen takes a deep breath. Perhaps this is one of those conversations that require courage. A topic that has to be addressed at some point, even if it’s unpleasant. Buck has no idea how much.

“We never talked about Tommy. About… the break-up? I think we should’ve, Buck.”

The room is warm, cozy even, but cold creeps from his toes all the way up, draining all color from Buck’s face. Why now? It’s true, they’ve never really talked about Tommy. Everybody was somehow content with him, right? Eddie liked him, Bobby thought he was good for Buck, Hen and Karen scrutinized his motives. Everybody seemed convinced that he wouldn’t hurt Buck. Yet he did, and nobody ever mentioned it. So why now?

He must have said it out loud involuntarily. Hen leans back into her wife's hand, who has finally left the kitchen now and is standing behind her; she always leans on Karen when she’s pondering. Excellent timing, Buck thinks, as if she hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time. Because she knows when she has to be there, when she needs to give support. Tommy always knew that, too. 

“Because it's on your mind,” Karen remarks, placing the cake she was carefully balancing in her other hand on the table. Only the cake, no plates, no knife to cut it; just a pretext with lemon icing.

“Yeah,” Buck drawls, and somehow his voice could slice the pastry, “has been for four months.” Four months, thirteen days and twelve hours, but he doesn't say that. “In all that time, no one asked me how I was doing.”

“That's not true, Buck.”

“No kidding.” His hand crumples the napkin in front of him. “All I got were a few pats on the back.”

“We thought…”

“You thought it was my fault. That I'd screwed up again because I can't keep anyone. That Tommy was a trip to queer spaces for me, and maybe I’d just get over it.”

He’s talking nonsense now, he knows it, there’s no preventing the heat rising to his cheeks. But he’s still hurt, and now they’ve heard it. Hen and Karen exchange a look, then Hen says, ignoring his last words, “Look, anyone who doesn't realize what a great guy you are doesn't deserve you.”

“Well, you could have told me that. And besides... Tommy wasn't like that. He was great, and he always made me feel like... well, that I'm good too, you know?”

Buck’s voice is cracking now, not because his stress stuttering is setting in, but because of the pain that never really left him in the past months. Buck is no stranger to heartbreak, but he didn’t expect the initial shock to turn into a kind of dull resignation. 

Hen leans forward, reaching across the table for his hand. Her voice is full of compassion as she says, “What makes you think you're not?”

“C-cause he dumped me.”

Because that's the only conclusion, isn't it? He’s not been good enough. He’s not been able to live up to expectations, once again. 

“I'm sorry,” Hen says gently. “We should have talked to you a long time ago.”

“I warned him,” Karen grimly throws in. “I told him not to hurt you, and now look at you.”

Shooting her wife a glance, Hen shakes her head. 

“So, Tommy broke it off,” she says, “and I admit we never asked, and I’m sorry about that. But the why might be more important than you think, because you still haven’t gotten over it.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Hen and Karen exchange another glance before they allow themselves a soft giggle. It takes a lot of the tension lingering in their living room, and some of that inside of Buck. 

“That’s one of your cakes,” says Karen, pointing to the middle of the table. “Did you think I was suddenly fond of baking? Our freezer is full, as well as Bobby’s, from what I’ve heard. Maddie said she'd be glad if it was casseroles instead of pies, because then Chim and Jee would eat properly when she has the baby.”

Karen bites her lip, she looks as if she fears she's said too much, but Buck grins at the thought. The thought of Maddie's little family, of Jee soon being a big sister, is one of the things that still gets him out of bed every morning. Then he thinks about Hen's question, and he sighs.

“Why,” he slowly replies, “well. I'm not sure.”

“So how exactly did he break up with you? What did he say?”

Hen is clearly keen to get to the heart of the matter, forcing Buck to think about it again. Not that he hasn't done so constantly over the past four months. Well... actually, he hasn't. He's spent more than one weekend wallowing in self-pity, listening to sad love songs while running his finger over pictures of Tommy on his phone. Whenever he tried to understand what had actually happened, what Tommy had really said and why, guilt and grief would overwhelm him; at some point it was too much, and he started baking. Not just to avoid calling him, but to stop thinking altogether. Buck's mind is constantly doing somersaults, but when it gets stuck, he’ll spiral. He didn’t want that to happen, he needed to function, and he was tired of wondering why he was constantly being abandoned. That’s why he baked. Maybe a bit too excessively.

“You know about Abby, right?” he asks hesitantly.

Hen purses her lips, “Maddie... did mention something. That Abby used to date Tommy.”

“It was a bit more than that. But yes, back then, we found out together that Abby is a kind of common link for us.”

“Sounds like fate, when you think about it,” Karen interjects, and Buck lifts his head and smiles at her. 

“That's what I thought, too, after the initial shock.” 

“But... did he break up with you because of Abby?” Hen asks, a bit confused. 

“Maybe that was a reason, too,” says Buck, although he's not so sure about that. “Anyway, I... well, I asked him if we’d move in together.”

“Oh, Buck,” says Hen warmly, squeezing his hand. It's not “Oh, Buck, you idiot,” quite the opposite. Hen probably understands what that question meant to him back then. And maybe she also understands why Tommy leaving was so devastating afterwards. 

Buck stares at the table, thinking about how it would feel to disappear into the wood grain. It wouldn't be the first time that he had such thoughts. Buck loves life, no doubt about that, but the desire to disappear has always been there. Not necessarily to die, but to leave everything behind and start over. He’s done that a few times in his life, but always ended up back where he started. Like a hamster in its wheel, isn’t he?

“What happened then?” Hen interrupts his train of thought, and he casts her a grateful look.

Buck takes a deep breath; he actually didn't tell that part of the story yet, not even to Maddie. It seems so stupid now. Buck has finally had a brief but wonderful glimpse into a fulfilling relationship, something that all of his friends had – well, except for Eddie, but he’s not keen on thinking about Eddie right now. Somehow, it still never occurred Buck to ask them for advice, ask them how they overcame inevitable hurdles. Hen and Karen, Bobby and Athena, Maddie and Howie: they’ve had their issues, their fare share of life throwing spokes between their wheels. Again and again, they patched things up. Would it have made any difference if he’d tried? Confronting Tommy, letting him know that it was worth not giving up what they had? These are idle thoughts. 

“He said he was my first, not my last.”

“Huh?” Karen frowns, while Hen looks somewhat lost. “Wait, did he imply that you... because you came out as bi?”

Exasperated, Buck breathes one of his curls out of his forehead and replies, “Did I ever, really? H-he didn't directly say I’d need to try myself out or whatever. I’m not sure.” 

Karen raises a hand, “Wait, I don't quite follow. You are bi, right?”

Buck shrugs, “I guess? Does it matter?”

“It should,” Hen replies, frowning. “It’s not everyday that somebody suddenly changes their preferences in their 30s, Buck. That might be a huge deal, especially for you. Many of us always knew that we were... well, somehow different. Others have suppressed it, as probably has Tommy.” 

Hen's gaze is a bit wistful, and Buck can almost guess what she's thinking about. She knew Tommy long before him. Buck doesn't know if she was surprised when he finally came out, but she knows the man’s been putting on a probably exhausting façade for years. Perhaps the question is justified – does that also apply to Buck? Did he suppress something he always suspected, or did he just approach the whole matter too naively? 

“Maybe it's no wonder Tommy left since I know so little about myself,” he huffs, his fingers restlessly tracing the pattern on the tabletop. 

“Nonsense,” Hen replies unusually heatedly, causing her wife to raise a brow at her.  She raises her hands defensively, “I mean... why did you want to move in with Tommy, Buck?”

“Why be apart if we can be together,” he prompts, quoting himself from that night because the words are stuck in his mind since then. “I guess I was just feeling too comfortable. Too sure that this time it’s different.”

“But it was different,” Karen interjects, grinning at Hen. Then, suddenly slamming her palm on the table, she adds, “You were a topic at this very table, Buck. Many a night. He seems so happy, Karen, oh, and yeah, you said he was way more self-confident.”

“Buck’s always been self-confident. I believe I said he’s more self-aware.”

“I'm right here,” says Buck dryly. “A-and flattered, too.”

“Just don't get used to it.” Hen grins. “What I was trying to say... you wanted to be with him because you liked him. Because you were a good match. Maybe even too good. I think Tommy broke up with you because he was afraid.”

“What would Tommy have to be afraid of?” Buck protests. 

Even now he defends him. Tommy is the coolest guy he’s ever known, courageous and… Don’t think about him now. But how couldn’t he? He told everyone that Tommy’d dumped him, he never said “he left me” or “he broke up with me”. The sudden break-up, after half a year of not even once fighting, not even once being at odds, was like hitting a wall at full speed. He always says dumped because it felt exactly like that: he’d been carelessly discarded. Like rubbish, dirty and stained. But are his feelings Tommy’s fault?

“Buck,” Hen says urgently, reaching for his hand again, seeking his gaze as if he’d once again lost himself in his spiral of thoughts. “Don’t you see it? You have a lot in common. Tommy is afraid of being abandoned. Sometimes it's easier to just leave.”

That hits him like a bucket of ice-cold water. No, like a tsunami wave. Buck knows what it feels like to almost drown. If you actually drown, you don't stand a chance anymore, you just sink down. But when you still feel your lungs filling with water, when you can still wave your arms around, desperately fighting against the tide... that's much worse. Did he ever ask? Really ask? Tommy had only given him a glimpse of his past, but he’d already grasped that much when Josh tried to explain it – times were different, everything was more difficult. It’s one of those things you’ll never fully comprehend if you haven’t experienced it, true, but still. Buck thought that he’d understood. 

But had he? They’ve talked many a night, but… maybe it was just Buck talking, when he should have listened. What did he know about Tommy, then? Except that he had a difficult relationship with his father, that he almost married Abby and felt like a coward when he left her. But apart from that? Apart from the little things, trifles like how Tommy liked his coffee, his favorite character in Star Wars, what turned him on. He knew almost nothing about his past, some bits and pieces of his time under Gerrard, how he met Hen and Howie, these kind of stories. For a long time, that had been enough, because when they found each other, they’d both been busy exploring what made them tick.  Was it possible that Tommy – decorated hero, the man who knew a guy, Mr. Fake Mouth Static – was actually afraid?

Was it possible that he had felt so much for Buck, and not so little? Convincing himself that Tommy was tired of him had been easy. But what if Tommy had thought that Buck had grown tired of him? Why had they never talked about it? Buck felt anger well up inside of him, and only part of it was reserved for himself this time. He could have called. Instead of bubbling him, Tommy should have just sent that fucking message. Maybe that was kind of cowardly after all, while Buck had always thought he just wasn't worth it. But hadn't he also been cowardly? He had just baked instead of asking. Idiots, both of them, he can somehow read it in Hen’s and Karen’s faces. 

“Is that lemon cake?”

Hen and Karen turn around at the same time. Denny has this typical teenage frown on his face, as if to ask why are you eating this without me?

“Why aren't you in bed?”

Karen's stern motherly voice doesn't catch on, Denny rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a toddler. It's only half past nine.”

He's still staring at the cake, and Buck remarks, “Uh, it's actually lemon zest pie. And since I baked it, help yourself.”

“Leave some for Mara,” Hen calls after her son as he disappeared into the kitchen. 

“That's my cue,” Buck says, standing up. For a second, he clutches the table hoping Hen and Karen won’t notice, seized by a dizziness that has nothing to do with his blood pressure.  

“You sure?”

“I am. You two have given me a lot to think about.”

[bright-side20]

"Who knows if she actually found Narben? Even if it would not obey her, she’d have been a fool to throw it away."

Hofas

"Trust me: I tried it on an Asteri and it didn't do anything." At least, not before Nesta had interfered.

If he was shocked by her confession, he didn't let on. "Did you order them to work?"

We know for a fact that made weapons, including the Starsword and Truth-Teller, need to be commanded by the right people (Starborn or Cauldron-made) for their magic to work. That’s why I’m sure that when Elain killed the KoH, she activated Truth-Teller’s magic.

“It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Even if you go back to the moment when Azriel gave Elain the dagger, you'll see that he was explaining its magical ability. Striking true is exactly what Elain did. Also I think the choice of the word serve hints that the dagger would obey Elain when the time came.

“I—I don’t know how to use it—”

She did

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

Elain was very angry, and she wanted to protect her sister, she wanted to kill the KoH. As SJM’s favorite phrase says 'It’s like calls to like.' The TT simply responded to her will, winnowed her with its shadows since it canonically flows with shadows, and struck true.

Also I will stick to my theory, which is that both Elain and Azriel knew about the vision of Cassian and Nesta dying because, for a fact Az was present when she had the vision and told Cassian that he would die. After that he revealed that she’s a seer. So I do think that he gave her the dagger to kill the king, and she knew that. He believed she could do so, because again if you go back to the scene

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

He didn’t trust her with it just to carry it around, he expected her to use it. And in the end? She did. And it served her well, just as he believed. I think that her returning the dagger by pressing it into his hand, just like he did, and walking away was her mission completed.

I think this scene was very important, and it will definitely be addressed with much more significance in Elain’s book. It makes sense when you look at the sequence of events. We now have a background on the history of TT and to whom it belonged. Like hello Elain used the twin of the Starsword. Also for me, that was the first unofficial spying collaboration between her and Azriel.

[ranneondeeznuts]

Imagine a Yandere! Idol who sings every song based on you.

𖹭 You met Ivys when you two were 8. It was the cliché childhood bff trope.

𖹭You guys were stuck to the hip since his mom was your mom's boss and they were actually pretty good friends. You two hung out a lot. Well, often because you were forced to as Ivys was quite clingy, and when meeting up, he'll kind of force you by his side. You were used to it anyway.

𖹭Growing up, Ivys was like, your only friend, Well, true friend, actually. He was a handsome young fella and you were just… Well. You. He was popular and talented. And you were just a little fly around him (Well, according to your classmates)

𖹭Whenever Ivys was absent, the others will put down their masks and start insulting you, claiming that Ivys would just throw you away when he'll get bored of you.

𖹭It got so bad, that you started getting uncomfortable around him, trying to push away the haunting words of those stupid bullies.

𖹭But, no matter what you did, he won't budge. He's in every corner, no matter where you go and it's sort of creepy. But, you think he's just being nice, right? I mean, if he avoided you, you'd probably still try to catch up to him, right?

𖹭Thankfully, when you're with him, no one will disturb you, He liked everything that you like and you didn't really hide anything from him. You gave him your interests, and one of them was to be an idol (Just pretend guys)

𖹭You were saddened when during fourth year high school, he left because his family had a new country to continue his business. But, it was how life went. So, you needed to move on.

𖹭You expected the bullying to continue, but it stopped. Even after he moved out.

𖹭Ivys loves you. He always did. Even after he moved away (He punched the glass of his mirror and wall when he found out he was moving away)

𖹭He was considered the perfect boy. Handsome, talented, and smart. But, of course, not everyone is perfect.

𖹭He always knew about the bullying. He always knew about your insecurities. He always knew your interests. And those were idols.

𖹭He silently thanks the bullies because he could comfort you and wrap you to his side tightly. Sure, you were being quite stubborn because you feared the bullies, but don't worry, sweety. He'll chase them out. (He doesn't need to cuz a single glare will let them run away)

𖹭He knows your likes, dislikes, hobbies, and every little thing you do! Like, chewing on your pen to focus, squeezing your pillows to make them more comfy, and swaying around when you get bored. Oh, so so cute!

𖹭And he knows your current fixation on idols. Its so cute when you chatter about them, saying how they're so handsome, have pretty voices, and nice dance moves (Hm? No, he's definitely not planning for their demise)

𖹭So, when he moved away, he immediately sought your attention. Even if you aren't together. So, he's following his dream. Technically, no, but it's what you want! To be an idol.

𖹭Imagine a few years later, you're staying at your cheap apartment, eating some lame-ass ramen noodles. It was your average Saturday until the show you were watching had an ad. You sighed and tried to click the skip button. But your hand froze when it flashed a familiar name.

"Ivys Yveonne!"

𖹭You almost choked into your noodles. "What the fuck." she stared at the screen. He looked handsome as always. But way more handsome now. Then, it showed his concert address and ticket cost. It was happening in your town! And the ticket was only 300 dollars!

𖹭You wanted to see him again. Not in an obsessive way, but in an "I miss you" kind of way. It's been 8 years now and this was a good opportunity.

𖹭Little did you know that he planned all of this.

𖹭Ivys was shaking in excitement. He planned all of this. He easily got into the agency, got famous, and ordered some agents to track where you were. He literally didn't have to wait because, after a week, you were located.

𖹭He immediately scheduled a concert in a week (By blackmailing his managers) and already made the list of  all the songs he was gonna sing. (Love songs)

𖹭Nah, it isn't particularly love songs. You know those Japanese songs that sound innocent and have a catchy beat but in reality, it's about suicide and cannibalism? Yeah. But in his case, its about him wanting to sleep with you, keep you in his basement, marrying you (Forcefully)

𖹭Imagine his excitement when he sees you in the crowd. His non-existent is basically wagging in a hundred miles an hour. And when you ask his managers if he did good, they will all say the same thing. He sang like it was the end of the world.

𖹭You had a free VIP seat (Somehow), and you were amazed. He was majestic even. The lights shining his white hair and his yellow eyes looked like golden jewels. His movements were swift yet smooth, like a river.

𖹭You were cheering your heart out, supporting your friend, but you were afraid he already forgot about you. Well, he probably already did. You were just your average overworked business girl, stuck in an office with paper work.

𖹭He was looking at you. He noticed you the moment you entered. Of course, he had to keep his eyes to the crowd, knowing he'll get a scolding if he doesn't.

𖹭When the concert was over, you wanted to go up to him and hug him, but of course, you can't, too afraid to get rejected and let the body guards get you.

𖹭But, when you were just about to go to the exit, you were blocked by large bodyguards, "Please come with us," they said. Without waiting for your answer, they immediately took a hold of you and dragged you to the back stage, despite your protests.

𖹭You were scared for your life. Were you about to die?! Did you do something?! But, you were seated on a chair, as the bodyguards went back to guarding the entrances.

𖹭You looked around, frightened. Just as you were about to ask and probably scream, a pair of familiar yellow eyes was in your sight, the same white fluffy hair that you have missed so dearly.

"Hello, love." 𖹭

[vidocqsociety]

just finished watching the series finale of “the marvelous mrs. maisel” and it didn’t really feel like it ended it just sort of stopped but i guess since it’s an amy sherman-palladino production i have an ill-advised mini-series to look forward to in about a decade

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[churipu]

"SHUT UP, MAMA." 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. fem! reader, husband! au, i made names for your children but feel free to disregard it

note. i remembered this tiktok trend, just figured i should write about how the jjk men would react to their child doing this.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo had a day off. it's rare for a jujutsu sorcerer like him — being the strongest, he's an asset to the jujutsu world. so him being in a day off is like a miracle to both you and your seven year old son, who might i say, is an exact carbon copy of your husband.

"honey, you need to put your toys away. it's almost dinner time," you said from the kitchen, gojo by your side, ready to help you with anything.

"let me take that," he sings out, grabbing two plates from your grasp — you chuckled, letting him take the white colored ceramic disk, "looks good, baby."

as you and gojo walked out of the kitchen, placing the plates on top of the dining table. gojo pulled out your seat for you. habits die hard, the male has always pulled your seat out for you since the very first date.

your son. marise gojo. a boisterous little boy, absolutely loves to play with his rocket toys, and somehow believes he's a little astronaut. there he sat in front of the TV, playing with his toys, an astronaut helmet covering his small head.

"buddy," gojo calls out to the boy, "it's dinner time, clean up your toys. mama made some good food."

when gojo's call didn't work, you tried doing it next, "marise, your food's going to get cold, honey."

the young boy didn't make any visible movements, but you heard him yell out with his high pitched voice, "shut up, mama!"

gojo looks at you briefly. i mean — as a father, he couldn't believe his own son said that. to his mother. gojo wasn't one to get mad, in fact, marise is a total daddy's boy. but he felt angry, frustrated, annoyed, all at once.

he wasted no time leaping up from his seat, approaching the young boy. his smile no longer visible; gojo was unhappy. the male used one of his hands to take off marise's astronaut helmet, tossing it aside before grabbing the young boy by his small waist.

marise didn't complain, and he still has no idea of what his father is about to do. so he just sat still in gojo's embrace — until gojo puts him down beside you, "say sorry."

marise's bright blue eyes stared up at gojo in confusion, "say sorry to mama, marise."

it wasn't "baby" or "buddy" like gojo used to address him by, and marise wasn't stupid. he knew he did something wrong, but he just didn't get what or why his father is telling him to apologize to you.

"sorry mama . . ." marise's soft voice resounds.

"do you know what you did wrong?" gojo questions sternly.

marise shook his head, his eyes watering at gojo's tone of voice, "no papa . . ."

gojo sighs, he squats down and gazes into his son's eyes, "you should never say 'shut up' to mama or papa, okay? not to anyone, 'ts not polite. don't ever do that again, now say sorry to mama for saying that."

marise nods his head and turns to look at you, his eyes watering — it's not everyday that you get to see papa gojo get angry, "'m sorry mama, i will never do that again," the young boy finally cried, letting his tears fall out of his doe eyes.

you can't help but to smile at the young boy, pulling him onto your lap to cradle him, "don't do that again, baby. 'ts not polite," your fingers grazed his chubby cheeks, wiping his tears away, "and if mama or papa tells you to stop playing and eat, what do you do?"

marise sniffled, "stop playing and eat."

"good boy," you kissed his little forehead, "go give papa a kiss."

and that marise did, gojo immediately picking the boy into his arms with a big smile, "give papa two kisses, buddy."

sure, gojo is a fun parent. but he knows how to teach his children boundaries — what to do and what not to do. he's scary when he's angry.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

megumi is the child that made you and toji think you both should have another child — fukuo is the child that made you and toji stop wanting more children. not saying that fukuo is a bad kid, but the boy is relentless.

with a pretty large age difference between megumi and fukuo with six years, sometimes megumi had to teach fukuo some manners, telling the younger boy what's right and wrong. when fukuo misbehaves, it's megumi and you to the rescue — while toji would usually chuckle it off since, well, he's a little minus on the manners part as well. but you're working on that.

toji said so himself, he wouldn't mind fukuo misbehaving on some things. but the male did set some boundaries up for both of his boys and how they should act well towards you (and him).

today, megumi is twelve and fukuo is six. both of your boys look alike, "mama, 'm gonna be staying late at school because we have a play coming, 'm gonna help my classmate decorate the stage," megumi tells you as he puts on his shoes.

"alright, baby. have a good day at school, i love you," you pressed a kiss on megumi's head, waving him goodbye.

as megumi disappears behind the front door, you walk back inside the house, "toji, wake fukuo up, please. 'm getting his breakfast ready," toji who had his eyes on the television curtly nodded, sluggishly walking towards the boy's room.

"hey, champ." toji approaches the boy, who was sleeping soundly, "your mother's made some good food f' you. if you're not gonna eat it, i'll steal your portion."

fukuo squirmed a bit, but his eyes were still shut tightly, "fukuo," toji gently shook the boy, poking his cheek.

like anyone, fukuo didn't like his sleep disturbed, "papa, stop . . ." he mumbled out, shifting his small body so his little back was facing toji, "five more minutes."

toji sighs, "five more minutes."

he then went out of the room, "he asked for five more minutes," he informs you — sitting back down on the couch.

"five more minutes," was not an unfamiliar statement to you, especially coming from fukuo who had always managed to, of course, butcher the concept of time right after. it was either an hour, or more.

so you waited five minutes, and when the young boy didn't emerge from his bedroom, you found yourself walking towards it, "fukuo? baby, come on, mama made you breakfast . . ." you turn on the light, which made fukuo subconsciously twitch.

"fukuo, come on, papa will eat your breakfast . . ." you shook the boy gently.

"shut up, mama."

you blinked in surprise, but only managed out an exasperated sigh at the boy's sudden outburst, until all of a sudden toji appears beside you — his hand wet, and he slides his palm across the boy's face with a serious look on his face.

"wake up, fukuo. i won't tell you this again," toji mutters out, "three."

oh, god. the countdown was every kid's nightmare, "two," including fukuo's — shown by how the young boy immediately sat up on his bed, "apologize to your mother."

fukuo furrowed his brows, "why?"

"you don't tell her to shut up. apologize." you were just there silently, a little shocked at how toji had become so serious when he's usually so laid-back with the boys, "say sorry and eat your breakfast."

fukuo swallows his saliva nervously and scoots over to you, "'m sorry for telling you to shut up mama, i promise i won't do that again . . ." he whispers, throwing his short arms around your neck — burying his face into the crook of your neck.

you pulled him close, carrying the young boy in your arms, "'ts okay baby, no more telling people to shut up, okay? 's not nice, it'll hurt people's feelings."

"okay mama . . . 'm sorry for hurting your feelings," fukuo pulls back slightly, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek before facing toji, "'m sorry for hurting mama's feelings, papa."

toji placed his palm over the boy's face, covering it entirely, a sheepish smirk plastered on his lips, "go brush y'r teeth and eat your breakfast, mama made some pancakes."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami is such a girl dad. ever since he found out that both of you were going to have a baby girl, he's delighted. just knowing that he'd have a mini version of the both of you made his stomach churn in happiness.

hoshi. nanami hoshi is her name. it was a very peaceful six years of raising her — but they said there will be a devil baby phase, and here she was. whining, throwing tantrums over things she didn't get. it was honestly tiring, but you knew this was a risk of raising a child.

"hoshi, baby, please stand up." you cooed down at the girl who was lying down on the ground. in the middle of a mall, "mama and papa will buy that toy for you next time, i promise."

nanami was by your side, holding onto the baby stroller. his eyes were unreadable, you don't know what he had in mind, but the look he peered at your daughter was plainly and eerily terrifying.

yes, there are moments where he spoils hoshi with what she wants. toys, food, drinks, you name it. but there are times where he declines because he didn't want her to grow up too spoiled, "i wan' that toy, mama!"

you inhaled sharply, trying to slide your hand underneath her armpits to pick her up, but hoshi refused by kicking your hands away. her little kicks barely scratched you — but the people looking at your small family as they passed by definitely got a little kick to you.

"baby, people are looking at you . . ." you whispered.

"i don't care, shut up, mama!"

that was the last straw for nanami who had been silent. he grabbed your arm and tugged you up gently, nodding at you as if telling you to leave this one to him.

you backed away slightly, taking a hold of the stroller nanami had let go a few seconds prior as he squats down. forcefully but gently slipping his hands underneath hoshi's armpits, carrying her into his arms.

"mama said we will buy that toy for you next time, okay?" he sternly said, eyeing his little girl who was now silent as she gazed into his eyes, "and you never. never tell mama to shut up, do you understand?"

hoshi nods her head slowly, lips quivering at her father's sudden lecture, nanami's eyes visibly softened and he rocked her in his arms, "papa's not angry at you, hoshi. but papa wants you to know that telling mama to shut up is not polite, okay?"

again hoshi nods her head.

"go and say that you're sorry to mama," he pecked her chubby cheeks before letting her down onto the ground.

hoshi's little legs ran towards you, hugging your leg, "'m so sorry mama," she muffles into your leg, "i don't want the toy anymore, mama. 'm sorry for being a bad girl."

you squat down, nuzzling your nose to her, "you're not a bad girl, baby . . . mama and papa will buy you that next time, okay? we promise."

"okay, mama. i love you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[mylonelylife135]

My Pathetic Family

The first.

.

.

.

You didn't remember much of your father as a baby.

You didn't hear so much of his voice. See his smile. Feel his hands guiding you towards him as you had taken your first steps.

No.

It was Alfred.

It was Alfred's voice you first heard, Alfred's kind face you saw when you first opened your eyes, Alfred's hands that were held out towards you as you stumbled towards him and falling into his warm embrace.

Your first words were addressing Alfred as 'Da!'

The only good one in this god forsaken family that you didn't want to hurt, his love was unconditional.

Bruce? his love was... You didn't know. You've seen his figure around in his room when he sometimes left it open. You sometimes heard his voice when he was he and Alfred would talk very loudly the room would feel suffocating, even for someone as young as yourself at the time.

After those conversations, you would see Bruce even less.

You didn't remember his face. You don't think you've ever seen it.

All you knew was that he probably looked somewhat like you. You didn't look much like Alfred, no matter how much you tried to find similarities in both your appearances.

You didn't understand the why Bruce was gone so often. it didn't matter if you were playing with toys in your bedroom, learning the letters of the alphabet with Alfred, reading beginners books about ants with Alfred and he would praise you on how you're such a quick learner, or walks to the park to play on the swings- Bruce was never there.

Only Alfred.

You were starting to wonder why Bruce was even here, he didn't even do anything.

That was until one day when Alfred woke you up, made you a bath despite your complaints, put you in a cute purple dress and brushed your hair to look nice. He didn't usually do this unless it was a special occasion. It wasn't your birthday, though.

"Al, why am I dwe-dress all pw-pretty?" You asked, your eyes staring up at the butler as he knelt down to your height to put a small bow hairclip in your hair.

"You are going to be meeting someone special today, (____). I have a feeling that you both will both have lots of fun together as you get older."

You weren't sure what Alfred was talking about until you were led to the living room. A spacious room with two large red couches, a fluffy carpet, a nice wooden table and TV... You didn't really come in this room often, other than when Alfred cleaned it and you sprayed surface cleaner on everything you could see to help.

This time, however, it was not so empty.

It was Bruce, his hand in a kid's that was maybe seven or eight years older than you. "(____), this is Richard. He will be living with us from now on. Think of him as your new older brother." Brother?

Three year old you was dumbfounded, your eyes looking up and seeing Bruce's deep blue ones. His chiseled features and raven hair-

Why did you have to look the same?

Your silent staring might have made Bruce uncomfortable, as he coughed and continued, "I know this is sudden but I hope that you both will adjust well to eachother."

Your grip on Alfred's pants tightened, glancing upwards to meet your new older brother's gaze.

The same eyes as Bruce, same hair almost the exact same features.

He looked like him, too.

"Hi."

"H-Hey..."

It seemed like your new brother was nervous, shy, withdrawn. Sad.

It reminded you of a kid who was getting pushed around at the park by older kids.

It stuck with you how no one helped the kid.

Did he need helping, too?

"I will have a bedroom set up for you, Master Dick. In the meantime, you and (____) can get to know eachother." Alfred said, your grip slipping away as Alfred would walk off, Bruce going with him as the door shut and you and Dick were standing there in the living room.

Your eyes looked towards the door, wanting to call out to Alfred and say both didn't have snacks-

There was tea and cookies on the table.

"Do you want to pw-play?"

"Uh, no, not really."

"Ok."

"..."

You were used to being told no. Alfred couldn't be around all the time and did have duties, like to Bruce.

It wasn't that bad playing by yourself alone, sometimes it was fun.

"...Are you my sibling? a real one?"

"No, I'm not." Richard crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes staring down at you with a flicker of annoyance.

You remember seeing an adult do that when scolding a dog.

Was he angry?

"You aren't?" You tilted your head, your voice full of confusion. You could see his face get all wrinkly.

"Then why did Daddy bw-bring you home?" You were taught by Alfred that it was good to be curious, to learn more about your surroundings and people to make friends since you were struggling or something.

"You don't need to know that." His posture was rigid.

"Why?" What was so wrong with asking? you wanted to know more about your new sibling.

"Because I don't want to talk about it." His hands clenched.

"Why?" No means no, but Alfred did say to get to know eachother-

"BECAUSE I SAID SO! Maybe you should learn to mind your own business." Richard yelled, his voice full of agitation and anger before storming off and out of the living room and slamming the door loudly.

Your hands were clenched to your shirt as you watched him leave, eyes wide.

You didn't understand why he got so mad. You wanted to get along with him.

You didn't know what was more pathetic, the fact that Richard got pissed off by a three year old or that you once wanted to have a close relationship.

You watched the door with slightly shaky breaths and teary eyes before going to sit down on the couch, reaching your small arms over and grabbing a cookie to munch on it.

You didn't really like your new sibling. He seemed angry and mean.

You didn't think that Alfred was right.

This wasn't going to be fun.

.

.

.

Relationship Status!

Bruce Wayne (Your father): 5/100 -You don't know your daddy well, it's weird calling him daddy.

-You only do so because Alfred said that you weren't his dad, it was Bruce.

-It feels weird staring at your daddy. You didn't really like that you looked similar.

Alfred Pennyworth: 80/100 -You wish he was your dad instead.

-You like clinging to him all the time since you're homeschooled.

(NEW character!) Richard Grayson: -5/100

-He's kind of mean.

-Why did he yell at you?

-What was so special about him?

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[bellanothadidloa]

I've been receiving a lot of inquiries since sharing my success story, and while I'm not planning to start a blog, I do want to address some common questions here.

Did I manifest everything from the void?

Yes, everything I listed was indeed manifested when I entered the void, as outlined in my story. I've had some successes with various experiments before, but none reached the level of my most recent attempt.

What was the most crucial factor in achieving the final breakthrough?

I wish there was a straightforward answer, but it probably boils down to the realization that no matter how much I complained or cried, I was determined not to give up. I would read success stories and find myself in tears because they mirrored the life I aspired to have. I wanted to shift realities, be wealthy, happy, and beautiful—it might sound vain, but that's what I desired. I longed to feel free, unbound by any world, and to pursue my own path. Who wouldn't want that? At some point, I asked myself, would I still be trying to shift at 30, while struggling with dietary issues caused by gut praxis disorder? If the answer was yes, what did that mean? It meant I wasn't going to give up. So, I kept trying different things, knowing that eventually, something would work. Inner work is essential, but I believe it's inevitable. The longest journey I've seen took seven years. Do I want that for myself? Absolutely not, but what if it happens? The very acceptance of that possibility means you're not giving up, so what does it matter?

What method did you use?

As I've mentioned, I've tried every method. The final one that worked was the morphic field. I don't really care whether it was the morphic fields or something else that clicked within me. As I mentioned earlier, I realized I was sad, but I knew I wasn't going to give up, so I let myself be sad. Who cares? Let me be angry; I'm still not giving up. So, why fight those feelings? I cared and was disappointed and scared, but I just decided to trust in the fields because, in the end, it didn't matter whether they worked or not. I wasn't giving up.

How do you feel now that you've achieved your dream life?

I've managed to transform my life and self-concept, and along with being incredibly happy, I feel a mix of sadness for everything I endured and pride for how I pushed myself before succeeding. Initially, I thought it would be hypocritical to say I love myself after I changed everything about myself, looks and life, but I realized this is my life, and I'm still the same person, just with desires that now align with my reality. Why would I want to be unhappy in a life that makes no sense to be sad in? I don't believe anyone deserves or doesn't deserve anything. Do what you want, pursue inner work if you wish, or just manifest your desires. Personally, I didn't feel the need to do the inner work after manifesting my dream life, but I know some people do, and that's beautiful too. Life is just beautiful.

How to mend your relationship with the void?

The only advice I can offer from my experience is to acknowledge that you're not giving up on it. It reminds me of toxic relationships where despite infidelity, they say, "I know where home is." Unlike those misguided people, the void genuinely serves its purpose and supports you. It already knows its home is with you, whether you realize it or not, and that's all that matters.

How did you exit the void state ?

Exiting the void was a simple experience for me. I simply took a deep, calming breath and set a clear intention to leave. The sensation that followed was like tunnel vision, where everything around me seemed to narrow and focus. This was followed by a profound sense of detachment from any sense of self, almost like becoming weightless or losing a sense of individual identity. When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself in a completely new room, confirming that I had successfully transitioned out of the void and back to reality with everything on my life

Did everything you wanted come true?

Oh, absolutely—and then some! I ended up getting things I didn't even know I wanted. The way I look now is even better than my Pinterest boards ever dreamed of. Like, I had this idea for how I wanted my room to look, trying to mash together different vibes and aesthetics, and it turned out way better than I could have pictured. I was stuck between wanting a curvy figure and that sleek Bella Hadid look, but somehow I got the best of both worlds, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

I wasn’t even thinking about changing my eye color, but it happened, and I absolutely love it. I thought I'd revise old friends, but instead, I found new, amazing people who fit into my life perfectly. Now that I’ve got a better sense of self, I see this is exactly what I really wanted deep down. Everything just fell into place so perfectly, and it feels like I've finally got a handle on what I truly wanted all along.

Can you manifest things for other people?

Well, yeah, but it’s kind of like it's really just about yourself in a way. I mean, there have been times when I managed to manifest things for my brother, but oddly enough, I struggled to do the same for myself. It's weird, right? I don't fully understand how manifestation works in every detail. I just kind of go with the flow and assume it works the way I want it to. If I can pull off all these manifestations, then why not just trust that I can manifest whatever I want, however I want it? That's the mindset I've adopted, and it seems to work for me.

What's it like being a master shifter?

It's like waking up and remembering who you truly are, and almost laughing at all the suffering you experienced. When you think about it, you might have lowkey created that suffering yourself, which is kind of sadistic, but instead of holding onto any negative emotions about the journey, I just appreciate my life more. It’s a mix of joy and bliss. I still remember my old life, sure, but somehow, this new reality feels just right. It's like destiny exists, and I’ve finally found mine.

This concludes everything for me, and I’ve decided I won't be continuing my blog any longer. I've shared a lot of helpful insights in the past, but I won't be actively posting from now on. Thank you all for the love and support. I’ve reached a point where I no longer have a reason to continue here, and soon, you won't either. Goodbye and take care!

[blackbirdsblackberries]

What about reader x yandere bat family (platonic) but reader gave up on the family super fast like damian joined the family attacked the reader with the sword reader got hurt next time damian tried it he got throwen into a wall by reader with reader saying that is it I am leaving this shit family and sure jason might be bat mans greatest failure am I (reader) bruce waynes greatest failure!!!

Ahhh! I love this, I would honestly do the same as well! Like you neglect me then don't discipline your newest addition when he attacks me??

It has been six months since you left the manor, what did they expect? Honestly you were only waiting until you turned legal age to move out. Though you wouldn't lie and say you were still clinging onto the hope that they'll love you.

You've left your angst behind, what good is hating someone who doesn't remember you exist? You've made peace with it, you know you're loved by friends and the people who truly matter.

Saying that, it is befuddling when you hear a knock on the door at two in the morning and it's Red Hood there with take-out from Batburger. You aren't surprised or concerned they found your address, they're world's greatest detectives for a reason after all. If anything you're confused as to why one of them pays a visit.

Red Hood had taken your silence upon opening the door as a welcome and limps slightly into your apartment and collapses on the worn down couch. All while you stand at the open door, flabbergasted. Whether it's at the nerve of him to invite himself in or at the fact he's hear, injured, in costume and has take-away like it's an average night you can't decide.

You settle with both.

You hear him grunt and you quickly close the door and walk over to him, eyes narrowed. He looks at you, judgmentally. His helmet thrown into a corner of the room and a burger in his hands. Some of the sauce drips onto the couch and he swipes it up with his hand.

"You look like shit." Is all he says and you have to refrain yourself from punching him. If anything he looks like shit! You just woke up!

"What are you doing here." You ask, you weren't going to get into a petty argument over a comment from a stranger you once knew.

"Takin' ya back to the manor, duh." He says as if it was obvious and he takes another bite of his burger. You blank, what does he mean by that? Is he serious? Does he actually believe you want to go? Maybe he has amnesia and thought you two got along and you didn't blow up at the family and slap Tim? Either way you can't let him continue thinking like that.

"No. The fuck is wrong with you? Why would I go to a stranger's place?" The last part causes Jason to snap his head to you, his eyes narrowing.

"Strangers? We're you're family." You scoff at that, how much head trauma does he have? "Absolutely not. Do you not remember the whole blow up I had a couple months ago?"

"Mistakes happen."

... What? Mistakes happen? It wasn't a mistake! It doesn't matter how he meant it. Neglecting someone for most of their life isn't a mistake. That person then blowing up and leaving because they were mistreated isn't a mistake.

"Excuse me? Mistakes happen? Fucking get out of my apartment!" Okay, you lied earlier, you're still in your teenage angst phase - though it's definitely justified.

Jason sighs as if he's talking to a toddler who wanted a toy they couldn't have.

"Don't be so emotional. Your blow up earned our respect and we want you back. We let you play pretend for a couple months and now you need to get out of fantasy land and return home to your family."

Your jaw drops, what else could it do? You just heard the most insane thing come out of a stoic man's mouth. He was completely serious. Delusional. Utterly delusional.

"You prick! I don't think you understand. You guys fucked up and I don't want anything to do with your family- hey! Listen to me you zombie!" Jason was back to eating his burger, ignoring you. He throws a wrapped burger at you and you fumble with it.

You bite the inside of your cheek, he's more of a child then anyone you know! You throw the burger back down onto the table and glare at Jason.

"You don't get it. Of course you don't. Batman failed you, someone who you had a "co-workers" type relationship. You are Batman's biggest failure. But Bruce, he failed me. I am his biggest failure. I was forgotten about, looked down upon, left out, I suffered. And you know what's amazing? You were able to get revenge and end up loved but me, I couldn't get revenge, I'm not a villain of any kind! You say you and the family respect me so act like it and leave me be. I want nothing to do with any of you guys. Get out of my apartment and never return-"

Before you could finish Jason stands up and heads to the bathroom and takes a medkit out. You narrow your eyes, your fists clenched into balls and frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

"Heard ya loud and clear so don't throw a tantrum! Just found it dumb how you think that." He states as he walks back to the couch and opens the medkit. "Now, care to tend to your older brother's wounds?"

You want to scream, cry, curse and stab this man in the face a million times. Instead you walk over and grab out disinfectant, you hate that you're doing this but you won't let him get an infection from his wounds.

You start to tend to his wounds and he speaks up again. "I get it. I do. We fucked up and it affected your childhood, we all had it rough and you didn't deserve that. But, give us a chance, you're a Wayne by blood, you won't be able to stay away from Gotham so why not live nicely in the manor? You could finally have what you wanted, you could finally have a family."

"Three big brothers, two younger brothers, an older sister, a dad! Don't you want to be loved by us? Don't you want our protection? We went through your diaries, we read every word. How you wished you could go to one of our rooms when you have a nightmare, how you wish for movie nights, how you want to be able to call us your family. Let us show you we had a change of heart, that we do want that with you now - that we always did but couldn't see it. Let us be your closest group-"

You slap him. What else was there to do? Tears pour down your cheeks.

"I thought I told Alfred to get rid of them..." You mutter. You never planned for them to read your diaries, to know your wants.

You hear Jason sigh before the sound of him pressing a button on his communicator, it's the last thing before your vision fades to black. He wishes he didn't have to resort to using the sticky device he stuck to your shirt when he threw the burger but it was clear you weren't listening.

Waking up with a pounding headache and no memories of last night is usually something that happens when people get wasted but you don't drink - you're underaged.

You groan as you open your eyes and take in your surroundings. It's a fancy bedroom - too fancy, too big. There's a picture hung up of the Wayne family with a picture of you taped to it to make it seem like you were in the picture.

You immediately panic and sit up, the bed is too big, the lights are too bright, the whole room is too much. You stand up and make your way to the door and put your ear against it for noise. You hear footsteps approaching and run back to bed and pretend to still be asleep.

The door opens and you hear a deep chuckle - Bruce's chuckle. He stalks over to the bed and gently runs a hand through your hair.

"Honey, I know you're awake. Don't be afraid, Dad's here now..." He coos. You open your eyes and move away from him, he frowns and sighs slightly. "I'm sorry, I know we should have gotten you back home sooner you just looked like you were having so much fun..."

He was acting like you living on your own was just a play-pretend? That you genuinely did it for fun? What is his problem?!

"Let me go! I swear to god Bruce, if you don't let me go I'll claw your eyes out!" You yell, Bruce tuts and shakes his head. "It's Dad to you. Now stop throwing a tantrum and come along, brunch is ready - you slept through breakfast."

With that he pulls you up from the bed and gently rests his hand between your shoulder blades and leads you downstairs to the dining room where everyone is; The head of the table reserved from Bruce, on the left it goes Dick, Tim, Cass and on the right it goes Jason, Duke, Damian, other end of the table.

You're led by Bruce and sit at the end of the table next to Damian who doesn't look at you and Cass who stares at you intently.

The stares from the others makes you want to vomit. Dick looks at you with pure adoration like he's looking at a defenseless puppy, Jason looks at you like how you'd look at a cute video of an animal, Tim looks at you calculatingly and Duke looks at you with a faint smile, his eyes a mix of emotions you don't want to decipher.

When Damian finally looks up it isn't with an irritated look, it's one of protectiveness, possessiveness and something akin to anger and guilt mixed together.

Clearly you've somehow imbedded yourself into their hearts, or atleast a version of you they created in their heads imbedded itself into their hearts and they weren't going to let you go any time soon.

[eraserbread]

satoru gojo is a pervert.

he knows it, you know it, and suguru definitely knows. in fact, they feed off of their perversions and fantasies but have become much more modest in their early forties.

what gojo loves seeing the most, is the pictures suguru sends him throughout the day. he'll be in the middle of a lecture, laughing alone to some joke he made that his students didn't appreciate when a string of texts light up his phone.

now, satoru doesn't give a fuck. he opens them every single time, just clearing his throat and stepping to the side so he can glance at whatever his husband deemed appropriate enough to send in the middle of work.

this time, it's a string of pictures of you.

you with suguru's fingers in your mouth, kneeling at his desk as he has an at-home meeting. you didn't have classes today, and geto only had one meeting, so of course you had to be under his skin all day. if only he would leave the meeting and touch you, you wouldn't have to bruise your knees on his wooden office floor. but, you'd gag yourself on his fingers any day. you love his salty aftertaste.

from: sugu geto how am i ever supposed to get work done? come collect your horny girl

gojo gives the text thread a little sideways glance, apologizes for the interruption and slides back in his chair to text his husband back.

to: sugu geto so fucking hot. tell her to pull her shirt up so I can see the goods blue nails look so good on you my baby ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) so hot when she's drooling on them

it takes you and suguru two minutes to respond with a picture of his hand up your shirt, stretching the collar as his wrist peeks through. he’s holding you in a gentle choke, loving the way his hand swallows the entirety of your neck.

gojo knows he's being teased right now, it's why he ignores the image and stands back up, going on about chemistry science bullshit.

though he's going on and on about chemical makeups, he can't shake the image of you and geto from his mind. suguru knew what he was doing when he pressed send. thank god this lecture only had eight minutes left — gojo couldn’t confront his students with a flushed face.

to: sugu geto don’t piss me off … take it off! pleaseeeeeeee you can't see me currently, but I'm giving you the puppy eyes.

"alright." satoru tucks his phone at his side, leaning back in his black leather chair to finally do his job and address his pupils. most of them have already taken to talking amongst themselves, knowing the tendencies of their professor. "I'm done talking your head off and there's..." he checks his watch, "five minutes left. head out or stay, do you."

scattrered 'okays' and goodbye's render satoru's job finished. the first thing he does is shrug off to his cell, long fingers shaking as he slides up on the screen, ready to curse geto out for not giving him what he wanted. no -- needed.

to: sugu geto you think you're so fucking lucky right now just wait till i get my hands on you.

gojo is a fuming cloud of angst as he types feverishly into his phone. his light eyebrows are knitted together, legs crossed to try and push down his growing erection. it'd be impossible to stand and leave in the state he's in, and campus is crawling with colleagues and students right now. he'd have to get a hold of himself.

he's about to cuss his husband out further when a single attachment pops up in their message thread. the image is dark, but fucking unmistakable.

suguru has you over his lap, buried three fingers inside of you. he's got you hooked like a live catch, body bending and bowing to try and control the deafening ache. satoru could only imagine what you two were getting up to, right now, and the thought turns his hard-on into a boner.

little did satoru know, suguru has you at home screaming his name -- begging for mercy and three orgasms deep. it'll be a nice surprise to come home to if he could control himself enough to stand up and get there.

all he has to do is control himself...

read u and suguru's pov

older married!satosugu part 1, 2, 3, 4

<3

[copperbadge]

So, I got tagged in a post, and I wrote a bit of a novel in a reblog in drafts, and then I realized that probably it wasn't for the best to post up All That Nonsense when the OP was just making a funny post about Wikipedia's fundraising. And it is a funny post! So I'll link here to the post and where I was tagged but I decided to put my thoughts here. Please take this as a hint to be respectful of OP and the person who tagged me both :)

I will say my initial reaction to seeing Wikipedia selling merch AND asking to be in your will was "Well, they're trying something." It's just such a weird topic to bring up, it's hard to be graceful about it, so I think what they were doing was probably the best you can do.

And the response did make a lot of the points I'd make about making a will and such. In fact, FreeWill is what I made my will with and we recommend them to our donors.

There was a study that came out a decade ago or more, so my numbers probably aren't accurate, but the statistic that knocked me back was that most donors who leave surprise large bequests (gifts to charity in their will) give an average of $17 a year during their lives. So there's likely a reason that Wikipedia is targeting users and not huge donors.

It's an ongoing issue that most people also don't document their bequests. By all means, leave money to charity in your will, they will be happy to have it, but they will be even happier to know ahead of time.

Perfect example, THIS WEEK we got a check for six figures from a woman's estate. It was an eyebrow-raising amount of money for us. My boss, who handles both "eyebrow raising money" and "gifts from dead people", immediately went to look her up in our database.

Which she is not in. We had no idea this woman existed. Never gave to us before.

Had we known she was leaving us this money, my boss would have made sure she understood how grateful we were and like, bought her lunch a couple of times a year, and when she did pass we would have known who to reach out to in order to offer our support.

Instead, he came to me and said, "I have a name and an address," and I set to work to find out why she gave and who we could thank. I found her obit, but she didn't die of anything related to our work. Using information from the obit, I confirmed none of her family were in our database either. I looked up her second husband, mentioned in the obit, and his obit said he died of lung disease, which told me that this gift is because she lost her husband.

This helps because I knew from her obit that they had a blended family; they didn't have any kids together but they each had kids when they married, all of whom are now like, my age. So we want to thank her kids but we want to make sure her stepkids, who lost their dad, get a specific kind of outreach as well. I told my boss their names and he said one of the husband's kids was listed as the executor of the will, but there was nothing (surname-wise) to indicate they were related. I found contact information for that person, and my boss was able to reach out to her. She didn't realize we didn't know about the bequest, and now she and her siblings are talking to us about their dad and their own health while her stepsiblings, whose mother left us this very generous gift, are getting condolences and thanks and getting to say how she will be thanked in our documentation.

And I mean, that's why my job exists, to fill in those blanks. We just...would really like to have told her thank-you while she was alive.

SO! The moral of the story is: please consider leaving money to charity in your will if you can, use FreeWill to make your will (they will also help you document your gift) and let the charity know you're leaving them an estate gift. Not only will you maybe get cool swag but especially if it's a concern close to your heart, you'll get to build your relationship with the charity.

[malfoyscoffee]

call me theo ౨ৎ theodore nott

pairing theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader about fluff, angst | 1.7k words | exes to lovers warnings mentions of time skip, use of y/n, and a dumb theo

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

That marked the end of your two-year relationship with Theodore. As he said his final word, you turned away, walking down the winding steps of the Astronomy Tower, holding back the emotions until you returned to your dormitory.

The night blurred into a haze of tears, finding comfort in Pansy’s shoulder as both of you nestled on the dorm floor. Hours passed in a cocoon of sadness before Blaise, Mattheo, Lorenzo, and even Draco appeared with snacks and muggle movies, trying to lift your spirits.

Wrapped up in your distress, you didn't think to ask how they found out about your breakup. Unbeknownst to you, amidst his own pain, Theodore asked his friends to comfort you instead of him.

Three weeks had gone by since the breakup. As promised, you and Theodore went back to being friends, just like before, merely two friends within the same tight-knit circle. But beneath the surface of friendliness, your friends noticed the underlying tension between you and Theodore, silently wishing for a reunion.

It was a random morning in the Great Hall when you announced to your friends that you would be occupied before dinner to take on the extra credit assignment for Herbology. Your friends looked at you strangely, the assignment was unnecessary for someone with such high marks, but inside you wanted a distraction from everything. 

Back in the common room, the attention shifted to Theodore, the elephant in the room finally about to be addressed. 

“So, what led to the breakup?” Blaise relaxed in his chair while Theodore sighed, looking at the ceiling. 

“She didn’t say why, but she mentioned that you initiated the breakup,” Draco said casually, trying to hide his interest in the situation.

“I told her she deserved better.”

Silence.

Suddenly, Lorenzo burst into laughter.

“Salazar, Enzo,” Pansy stood, disregarding Lorenzo's reaction. “So, let me get this straight,” she pointed her finger at Theodore, “You're saying the reason the group has been down is because you decided she deserved someone better?”

Mattheo set aside his cigarette, “Didn’t expect you to be so naive, mate.”

Blaise nodded, “Thinking that's an explanation. Y/n adores you, where will you find a girl better than her?”

Theodore’s face paled, “She’ll find someone better and eventually leave me. I couldn’t handle that.”

Draco stayed composed, “So you ended it first. Well done, Theo.”

Theodore buried his face in his hands, letting out an exasperated groan. “You all know she has a promising future after graduation. Why should she stay with me and be held back?”

“Did you talk to her about this, or did your insecurities make the call?” Lorenzo’s words made Theodore freeze, lost in thought.

Pansy packed up, checking the time. “Dinner’s soon. Let’s go.”

The boys followed Pansy, leaving Theodore alone, contemplating if his decision was right for your relationship.

"I got the job!"

Strolling around Hogsmeade with Blaise and Pansy, you stumbled upon a new place—a wizarding coffee shop. Your liking for muggle coffeehouses sparked your curiosity, pushing you to ask about potential employment.

Excitement bubbled as you shared the news with your friends in the Great Hall.

“We’ve got a place to visit now.” Lorenzo grinned, aware it might bring some joy after a while.

Pansy nudged Draco, "Let’s study there. OWLS are coming up and some muggle coffee might help."

Draco glanced at Theodore, who sat in silence, unsure of what to say. “That sounds like a plan. I could use some muggle coffee.”

They all knew Draco was convincing Theodore to join.

"When do you start?" Mattheo asked between sips of hot chocolate.

You remembered your upcoming schedule, “Next week, Wednesdays and Saturdays? Once I’m trained, next Saturday, I’ll treat you all to some amazing muggle coffee."

The group agreed, planning to meet at your workplace next Saturday.

“Five cups of regular iced coffee, please.” You operated the muggle machine, engrossed in fulfilling the order.

“Oh, hey, Theodore. Are the others here?” You looked around, causing Theodore’s shoulders to slump slightly.

“They're at the big corner table. Enzo insisted the natural sunlight would help with studying…”

A soft chuckle escaped, “You can go back, I’ll bring the drinks over when ready.” Theodore nodded, returning to the café’s corner.

Blaise grabbed the first cup but stopped when Pansy teased him. “Don’t hog! Share!”

“How does it taste?” you asked, turning to your friends.

“Y/n, muggle coffee is amazing.” Mattheo praised, soon followed by Blaise signaling he finished his drink.

“I should tell my father about this place,” Draco chimed in, and before you knew it, all the cups were empty.

“I should get back to work, see you at dinner.”

“What time do you finish?” Theodore's sudden interest surprised everyone.

“Y/n?”

"I'm done around six," You said while feeling a bit overwhelmed inside.

Theodore nodded, indicating your return to work.

Numerous customers kept you busy. Though you didn’t need money, the experience was enriching.

While your friends left at five, Theodore stayed. He moved to a quiet spot facing the counter where you worked.

Ignoring his shift, you focused on the new customers who walked in.

“Y/n, it's six, you can leave,” your boss said, offering a pastry.

“Thanks,” grabbing your coat, you started to leave the kitchen.

“Are you done?” Theodore was poised by the counter, waiting for your response.

“Theodore, did you wait?”

Signaling to walk together, he said, “I had a few assignments that I wanted to finish early so I stayed longer.” His nervous fidgeting gave away his lie, his habit you remembered from your past relationship. 

You hummed, touched by his waiting. 

“I might visit often. I didn't mention earlier, but the coffee’s great.”

Walking back to Hogwarts, feelings for Theodore surfaced since the breakup.

How could you move on when he acted this way?

For two months, Theodore kept his promise, visiting the café every Wednesday and Saturday, bringing schoolwork, and leaving with you.

You felt the emotions returning but you were scared to get hurt. After all, he initiated the breakup, right?

Your friends noticed Theodore’s absence on your workdays, understanding where Theodore was without verbal explanation. 

“One large iced coffee, please.” You prepared a cup, “And your name?”

“Theo.”

“Oh,” You looked up at Theodore. “One large iced coffee for Theodore.” You repeated his order and placed the cup down. 

“Why don’t you call me Theo anymore?” His disappointment was evident.

Meeting his gaze, you explained, “Because we’re just friends.”

Theodore observed the cup, then you.

“You know what, I think I forgot something at my dorm. I’m going to go.” His tone was sharper than he meant, leaving the café abruptly.

“Now you're the clueless one. Salazar, why do I have two of them?” Lorenzo dramatized, earning an eye roll from you.

Theodore disappeared after the café meeting. Unaware of his whereabouts, your friends gathered in the common room, waiting for his return.

“I mean, Y/n, Enzo's right,” Pansy said, sipping the muggle coffee you brewed for the group.

“He ended things months ago. I don’t see why you're all on his side.” Frowning, you didn’t grasp their empathy toward Theodore.

“Y/n, listen,” Blaise interrupted, “Regardless of who initiated the breakup, Theodore has come to your café twice a week for months, just to spend time with you.”

Draco echoed Blaise’s sentiments. “OWLS were done a month ago, yet he still visits. Give Theo credit for trying.”

You sighed, “I care for him, but I don’t want to be hurt again. He should just tell me. His actions are misleading if he doesn’t want to reconcile.”

Lost in thought, the warmth of the common room enveloped you, the crackling fire providing a soothing ambiance.

As evening approached, your thoughts circled Theodore’s sudden exit from the café, leaving you unsettled, your mind in disarray.

Unnoticed, the common room door creaked open. Theodore entered, visibly anxious. His eyes met yours, a blend of hesitation and resolve painting his expression.

The room fell silent as Theodore approached you, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Without a word, you got up and led him out of the common room.

The two of you reached the Blake Lake, facing each other, as the tension filled the air. Theodore struggled with his thoughts, torn between holding back and speaking up.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he started, a hint of regret in his tone. “I didn’t mean to leave abruptly. I've been struggling, Y/n.”

“Struggling? With what, Theodore?”

Gathering his thoughts, he spoke earnestly. “With everything between us. The breakup wasn't about not caring about you. I was scared.”

“Scared?” Your voice softened, understanding blooming within.

Theodore nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared that you would realize I was holding you back and leave me. So I thought if I let you go, you would be better off.”

Your heart ached, his honesty striking a chord with your own doubts. “But, Theodore, you never gave me a chance to choose. You made that decision for me.”

“I know, and I regret it every day.” Remorse filled his words, and his vulnerability was evident. “I visited the café because I wanted to be near you. But I understand if it’s been confusing for you.”

Silence hung, emotions swirling like a storm.

“I never stopped loving you,” you whispered, emotions stirring within.

He met your gaze, “I don't want to lose you again, Y/n. I want us to start over, I'll do everything to make things right.”

“Let's take it slow, Theodore. Start over and let's see where it takes us.”

A soft smile appeared on his face, relief in his eyes. “I promise, I'll do everything.”

"I've missed this," Theodore confessed softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions.

You gently squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Me too. I think we both needed this time to figure things out."

Theodore stopped walking, turning to face you with resolve. "I want us to try again, to be together, properly this time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through you at his words. You looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity that reassured you more than any words could. "I want that too, Theodore. Let's give us another chance."

With that shared agreement, a sense of relief and joy washed over both of you. Walking hand in hand, Theodore smiled for the first time in months.

“Now, will you call me Theo?”