#like. you are a person and one day you WILL need to be weak.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝—𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You and Changbin have a deal that everytime the both of you want to get off some steam, you know who to call. The rules were simple. No strings attached. Only fucking. And damn, that was perfect...

Warnings: Mention of academic validation. Smut🔞 Friends with benefits (to lovers at the end), unprotected, rough sex, Bin's cock too big, size kink(?), praising, dirty talk, pet names (doll, baby, princess), name calling (slut. But only once), oral (f. receiving), fingering, overtsim(?), squirting, creampie, cum play(?).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: Academic validation is my best friend but also my worst enemy. With the stress I'm going through because of college, I felt like writing this. I'd like a rough fuck as a distraction ngl.

And this is probably the filthiest one shots I've written so far— LMFAO.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 3.5k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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You stared at your test paper as if it had personally insulted you, which it kinda did, the big red circle with a "C-" looking right back at you cruelly.

You had put weeks, as in WEEKS of hard work for this test only for you to get a grade that felt like a slap in the face.

The dull ache behind your eyes only intensified as you crumpled the test paper in your fist, a confirmation that no matter how much effort you put in, it never seemed to be enough.

Dragging your bag over your shoulder, you walked briskly out of the lecture hall, dodging classmates who threw each other pitying or triumphant glances. They didn��t get it. They couldn’t.

You had been running yourself ragged with late-night study sessions, caffeine-fueled breakdowns, and an endless loop of second-guessing. All of it for this.

Once you were back at your apartment, you tossed your bag onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. The air felt heavy, suffocating almost.

You needed release, a distraction—something, anything, to snap you out of the vortex of self-doubt threatening to pull you under.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the need for a distraction, your phone buzzed with a notification.

Bin: Wanna fuck?

You playfully scoffed at the screen. His message straightforward as always. You both had been friends for a very long time and you made a deal one night after being dared to kiss during a party, that if in need of blowing off some steam, you knew who to call.

The kiss had your knees weak that you initiated this idea to Changbin—as a joke—but he agreed to it without a second thought. And since that day, whenever either of you needed a quick distraction or are super horny, you were there for eachother.

What an awesome agreement right?

Me: Sure. my place or yours? Bin: Mine. Be here in 30? Me: See you soon.

~

Thirty minutes later, You arrived at his place wearing a hoodie and leggings, the picture of casual. You rang the bell and the moment Changbin opened the door, the tension in the air was palpable.

His eyes scanned you briefly, his lips curving into that familiar smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

Changbin opened the door wider to let you in, he was wearing a tank top and grey sweatpants. Closing the door, he sunk back into his large plush sofa, exhaling sharply.

"Bad day?" You asked curiously.

"Yeah. Accidentally deleted a file that contained a comeback track. Chan's not pissed but I'm disappointed." He said, cracking his knuckles.

You frowned, stepping inside and kicking off your sneakers. “Damn, Bin, that sucks. Did you try recovering it?”

He shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. “I did, but it’s gone for good."

You made your way over to him, plopping down beside him. "I'm sorry," you said softly, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"You're tense." He murmured looking at you, his voice low, soothing, recognizing the slight difference from your usual voice.

Your throat tightened as you wanted to shrug it off, to bury yourself in the comfort of this arrangement without delving into the emotions clawing at your chest. But Changbin wasn’t letting you hide tonight.

“Talk to me,�� he urged, his fingers falling ever so slightly on your waist.

“It’s just…” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, shame flooding your chest. “I’m so tired, Bin. I worked so hard, and I still couldn't get a good grade. It never feels like enough. It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t catch a break.”

His expression softened, his brow furrowing as he cupped your face gently, forcing you to look at him. “Hey,” he said softly, “A red ink on paper doesn't define who you are. Don't be so hard on yourself.”

You blinked up at him, stunned by the sincerity in his voice. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were here for distraction, for release, not to be seen so deeply. But Changbin had a way of disarming you without even trying.

You nodded wordlessly, and something in his gaze shifted. The heat was still there, smouldering just beneath the surface, but it was wrapped in a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“We both had a bad day today I guess,” you said, attempting to brush away the tingling sensation.

“True that,” Bin scoffed, turning away from you for a second.

“Wanna get that frustration out?” you asked, your tone shifting to something more suggestive.

Changbin’s smirk returned, this time sharper, darker. “You offering, princess?”

You leaned closer, your fingers trailing higher up his thigh. “Always.”

In a flash, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his lap. You gasped, straddling him as his hands gripped your hips firmly, his touch possessive. His dark eyes bore into yours, his frustration melting into something far more primal.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Let me return the favour.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and hungry. His hands slid under your hoodie, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes raking over your exposed skin. “You’re gorgeous.”

You barely had time to feel flustered before he claimed your lips again, his hands roaming your body, leaving trails of fire as he unclasped your bra, revealing your breasts to the cool air.

“Stand up,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. Normally you'd fight back, but today you obeyed, feeling your own arousal taking over so fast.

You really needed this distraction.

You stood before him as he tugged your leggings and underwear down in one motion, leaving you completely bare.

Changbin leaned back, his eyes darkening as he took you in. Already fucking you in his head as his gaze never left your pretty pussy.

"What a sight," he said, his voice rough like distant thunder. “Now, come here.”

You climbed back into his lap, your bare skin against his clothed body sending shivers through you. Before he even let you breathe, his mouth closed around your tipping nipple and sucked it, your head fell back gripping on his shoulders.

He played with your breasts, sucking and kneading them with his big hands, making your needy core grind against his clothed bulge. He released the bud with a pop, and pulled you down, crushing his mouth on yours again, slower this time.

“Feel that?” he growled against your lips. “That’s what you do to me.”

You whimpered, rolling your hips against him, the friction making you ache for more. “Bin, please…”

He chuckled darkly, his hands moving to cup your ass, guiding your movements. “What do you need, princess? Tell me.”

“Fuck me.” You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Changbin swifted you instantly, pressing your back against the sofa as he removed his tank top and slid off his pants. Your eyes trailed every detail of his muscular body, strong biceps and soft torso, the hint of dark hair going further down towards his…

Holy shit.

His huge cock jutted up, hard, leaking pre cum. And THICK. So thick, that it was impossible to take him without prep.

Changbin smirked at the look on your face as your gaze stayed glued to his shaft. His confidence was palpable, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he leaned down over you, caging you beneath his frame, making you swallow hard with anticipation.

His hands slid between your thighs, spreading you open, and a soft gasp escaped your lips when his fingers pressed against your slick heat. He chuckled darkly.

“Already so wet for me.”

“Changbin,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He positioned above you, aligning himself at your entrance. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your folds, and your body tensed. You bucked your hips upwards but Changbin wasn't gonna let you have him that fast.

He knew your body, how it strained to take his girth. And damn he's going to have dessert first. A sweet treat for the bad day right?

Instead of pushing himself inside your aching, needy pussy, he trailed downwards, making a path of hot, wet, open mouth kisses down your body, sucking on your breasts and leaving purplish red marks behind.

Your fingers went through his hair guiding him to give you more. When he reached your core, glistening and clenching around nothing, his warm breath fanned over your velvet folds, making you shiver.

"Relax for me, doll." Bin murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He placed a kitten kiss on your clit—gosh, always so respectful—his tongue swiped through your folds, slow and deliberate, as he pushed two fingers.

Your walls clenched him instantly, the sensation was overwhelming, making you arch your back. The heat of his mouth and the stretch of his fingers combining to ignite every nerve in your body.

“Fuck, Bin,” you gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily as his tongue circled your clit with precision.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. “That’s it,” he said, pulling back briefly to look up at you. His dark eyes were molten, his lips glistening with your slick juices.

“Let me hear you, baby. Don’t hold back.”

Your head fell back as his mouth latched onto you again, his fingers curling inside to hit that spot that made you cry out. His free hand slid up your body, gripping your waist firmly, keeping you anchored as you writhed beneath him. He was basically making out with your sloppy cunt.

So sweet and dripping so much just for him, Changbin's forehead beaded with sweat as he focused on your needy pearl, sucking and swirling and finger fucking you till you were whimpering.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging them as the pressure built inside you. “Changbin, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he cut you off, his voice commanding. His tongue ruthlessly circled and sucked on your clit that made you squirm and tear erratic moans out of your throat.

The coil in your stomach tightened further as his fingers sped up, his mouth relentless against your pulsing bud. The pleasure crested like a tidal wave, and when it crashed over you, it left you trembling and gasping his name.

Bin didn’t stop right away. His movements slowed to guide you through the aftershocks until your body went limp beneath him. He let you calm down after the high of your first orgasm, your pussy so wet, tight and perfect, he couldn't wait till it wrapped around him.

When his fingers left you, you whimpered at the loss, but the sight of him stroking his cock with your slick arousal, made your breath catch.

Bin smirked mischievously, his chin and lips glistening with your essence, your eyes glassy with need, both your minds fogged and consumed with lust.

“Think you’re ready for me now?” he asked, his voice rough with desire as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours. He slapped the angry tip of his cock against your nub, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You squirmed and nodded beneath him, biting your lip as the anticipation built.

"Will you let me stretch this tight pussy, doll?" he murmured, his tone dark and teasing, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your cheeks burned, but the desperation in your voice betrayed your need. "Please, Bin… I need you.”

“Yeah?” he taunted, his cock sliding through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. “You want me to fill you up? This little cunt can take all of me right?”

You whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet him. “I can. Please.”

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. “Such a greedy little thing,” he growled, positioning himself at your entrance. “Want me to wreck you till you can’t think straight, right doll?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “I need it, Bin. I need you.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, a wicked smile curling on his lips.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he began to push in. The stretch was intense, his thick velvet shaft sinking into you inch by inch, forcing your walls to adjust to his size.

“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his head falling forward as he buried himself deeper. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. Squeezing me like you were made for me.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you moaned. “You’re so big,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with both pleasure and the overwhelming sensation of fullness.

“Damn right I am,” he rasped, pausing to let you adjust before pulling out slightly and pressing back in, each movement slow and deliberate. “And I’m gonna make you feel every inch of me.”

His hips began to pick up a rhythm, the pace rough but controlled, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Look at you,” he groaned, his eyes locking on yours. “Such a good girl for me.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your back arching off the sofa.

He began to move a bit, you moaned softly, rolling your hips to test the way he felt inside you. The movement made him curse under his breath, his control slipping as his grip on you tightened.

“Patience, baby,” he growled, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in with deliberate force. The sudden fullness made you cry out, your nails digging into his biceps.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he said, his thrusts picking up pace. The way his length appeared and disappeared back inside you, the way you writhed beneath him, it made Bin feel like he was in heaven. Literally in heaven.

When the stretchy discomfort was replaced with intense pleasure, he began pounding into you in a bruising force that did feel like he was going to wreck you apart into two.

Your mouth fell open, breasts bouncing with each hard thrust, Bin struggling to keep his balance on the sofa as he hammered into you, making you climb higher and higher in the throes of pleasure.

“You deserve an A-plus for taking my cock so well, doll,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your ear, his hot breath making you shiver beneath him.

You moaned LOUDLY, your walls fluttering around him as you tried to adjust to the punishing rhythm he set. “Bin… you’re too much,” you choked out, your nails scraping down his back in desperation.

He chuckled darkly, slowing his thrusts just enough to pull almost all the way out, teasing you with the head of his cock before plunging back in with a force that made your breath hitch. “You can take it,” he said, his tone low and possessive.

“You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again.” He rasped harshly.

He leaned back slightly and pressed your legs against your chest, sinking deeper into you.

Your moan broke into a cry as he thrust deeper, his words a mix of praise and sinful promises. “Look at you,” he growled, his gaze locking on yours. “Letting me stretch this perfect little pussy like it’s mine.”

You couldn't form any words. The way he kept hitting all the spots, the way he kept calling you his, made you see stars.

The knot in your stomach was close to snapping and you needed release, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, groans and whimpers echoing off the walls of his living room.

“Bin, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he urged, his pace unrelenting.

His words were your undoing, and the orgasm tore through you like a storm. You writhed, body shaking uncontrollably, the thread snapping and you were unable to register the depth of your ecstasy as he pulled out, making you squirt, long and hard, shooting clear streams around him.

You made a huge mess between you two, back arching and squealing moans that drove Changbin out of his goddamn mind.

“Holy fuck," Changbin groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt the wetness that spasmed out of you coat his thighs and the sofa beneath you. His eyes darkened as he looked down at the mess you made.

“Didn’t know you could be this filthy,” his thumb brushing over your sensitive, swollen clit, making you jolt.

“Squirting all over me like a good little slut.”

The mixture of praise and degradation sent you reeling, your head falling back against the cushions as he rubbed your clit and pushed back in, picking up his pace, his cock sliding in and out of you with wet, obscene sounds.

His own release wasn't so far as he followed after you, the way your walls continued to clench around him, sent him spiralling. With a guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside you, his seed spilling into you in hot, thick spurts.

His dick throbbed uncontrollably and slowly pulled out, his cum pouring out of your hole and you squirted again. You were FILLED.

His chest heaved as he admired the sight before him, his substances sliding out of your cunt like golden nectar slipping from a comb.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. “Look at you, baby. Completely ruined.”

Your legs trembled as you tried to catch your breath, your body still buzzing (literally) from the aftershocks. His hands found your thighs, spreading you wider, exposing just how thoroughly he had claimed you.

He smirked, holding the base of his length, swiping the tip through the thick white mess painting your swollen pussy, pressing it back inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, your body arching into his touch.

“Don’t think you’re done yet, princess,” he murmured, his tone low and teasing. “I’m not letting any of this go to waste. Gotta make sure you keep every drop of me inside.”

“Too much,” you whimpered, but your body betrayed, hips rolling against him as he worked himself into you, pushing deeper. Sticky strings attaching from you to him as he fucked his cum back inside you.

“Too much?” he echoed with a dark chuckle. “You will take it, won't you?”

“Yeah, yeah…” You nodded gasping then your head lolled back, another moan escaping your lips when he leaned down, his mouth brushing against the swell of your breast, hand circling your puffy, cum filled pussy and your body trembling with overstimulation.

His voice softened, a hint of tenderness breaking through his rough words.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, baby. Beautifully wrecked, and,” he nipped your sensitive skin, “Professor Bin grades you an A-plus.”

A breathless laugh escaped your lips at his teasing, he knew how much you love getting the perfect grade, though it quickly turned into a soft gasp as Changbin pressed another kiss on your skin.

His warm breath fanned over you, sending shivers up your spine despite the heat radiating between your sweaty bodies.

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, the intimacy in his eyes almost overwhelming. For a moment, the rough edges of your deal blurred, replaced by something raw and more vulnerable.

He reached closer, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping the streaks of tears that had rolled down your face.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice low and earnest. The contrast to his earlier teasing tone made clenched your heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you placed your hand over his. "I'm okay. Just...a little overwhelmed. And stretched maybe," you admitted chuckling.

“I didn’t mean to push too hard, I'm sorry,” he murmured, brushing away a strand of hair from your face and leaning down brushing his lips against your temple. “I just got caught up in you. You’re…everything.”

His words sent a new kind of warmth through you, one that made you feel loved rather than overwhelmed. You smiled up at him, your hand slipping from his to cup his cheek. “I wanted it, Bin. All of it. I promise.”

Changbin leaned forward, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss that seemed to melt the tension from your body. "I’ve always got you, baby," he murmured against your mouth.

The words hung in the air, their meaning lingering even as he pulled back, going into the bathroom to be back with a warm cloth.

He gently wiped you, opposite from the man who wrecked you into oblivion a few moments before, his hands moving to guide your legs around his waist. He shifted, settling beside you on the sofa, pulling you into his arms as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The two of you lay there in silence for a while, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek grounding you. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine, soothing in a way that felt achingly intimate.

"Bin," you whispered after a long pause, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Yeah?" His voice was soft, his eyes searching yours.

"What...what are we doing?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as you voiced the question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind.

For a moment, he didn't answer, his gaze dropping to where his fingers rested against your skin. Then he let out a quiet sigh, his hand coming up to cup your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“But I think we both know that this is more than just…casual.”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice making your chest ache. "I think so too." you said slowly.

Changbin's lips curved into a small smile. "Then let’s figure it out," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "No more rules. It's just you and me now. Okay?”

Slight tears pricked your eyes, but this time they were tears of relief, of something that felt dangerously close to happiness.

"Okay," you murmured, a bright smile blooming on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, savouring his warmth, who hugged you back cherishing you in his embrace.

Rules are meant to be broken. And some lines are meant to be crossed.

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Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

[yeyinde]

I am binge reading your work and I love your Price characterisation so much! Can you please go into detail what you his childhood looked like and what led him to be this angry, stubborn man who is fixated on saving the world at all costs

this is basically a reinterpretation of opening Pandora's box but instead of releasing great evils, it's just me yapping non-stop about John Price whenever i get the opportunity. but i cut a lot out because it was getting too long, so this is a brief summary on what made John Price the way that he is;

re: abuse (physical, mental, emotional; of authoritative power).

Nepo-baby. Born into Military Royalty. The Price name has a lot of sway in the government. Probably lived in Hereford going up before moving to Liverpool at 18. Realistically, Price has no other career choices because I can't see Mr "threatens to hang superior officers" sitting in a cubical and expected to hit quotas without catching several charges for assault and battery when his temper gets the best of him. And it always does.

His homelife was bad (but absolutely nothing compared to Simon's). His dad was just a staunch disciplinarian groomed by the traditional values of 40s-60s England. The typical "father works to provide for his family all day and then comes home to quiet, respectable children neither seen nor heard with food already on the table waiting for him and a wife that only speaks when spoken to and only ever to agree with her husband (and a lil bit of female "orgasm"????? by god! they've brought witchcraft back to the land of her Majesty the Queen!)"

He has an angry, uncompromising father with a temper and a mother who says thinks like, "well if *you* didn't make him angry, then you wouldn't have gotten yourself a black eye."

His dad was very physically abusive to both of them. Price really tried to stick up for his mum, but that would just set his dad off even more. And afterwards, his mum would just side with his dad, anyway. But on the flipside, I think she expected Price to protect her. So when he didn't (because he's a literal child!!), she'd get angry. But she obviously can't lash out like her husband or even her child, so uses the only weapon she has to gain some semblance of control: manipulation.

Price takes pieces of both his parents. His father, the physical aggressor, and his mother, the manipulative victim. And she is a victim, very much so. But I also think she pits them against each other. Gets bored. Causes issues. But there's power in getting someone to do what you want, and that's how she takes hers.

Price catches on to her in his early teens, but that's still his mother. Even though they have a very rocky relationship, she's still the Victim in his head, even when she's whispering in his dad's ear about all the things she despises about her son. And then going to Price (after his dad does something about it - again: disciplinarian, control freak) and playing the pitiful mother subjected to her husband's tyranny and a sad, weak son who can't do a single thing to protect her when she needs him.

Price learns to manipulate from her. Emotional blackmail. Victim-complex. Gaslighting. Scapegoating. But the biggest takeaway is the way he shifts the victim-complex into heroism (esp with Gaz). They can't be the bad guys. It's a logical fallacy in his mind. They're the ones saving the world, and if the world wasn't so riddled with bad guys, with people who need projecting, then they wouldn't need to do what they do.

I think Price has a bit of animosity towards people he sees as weaker (re: his mum having to share the victimhood with her son). But this animosity can also rear as obsession. He's the only person who can save you/them/the world. And since you/they/the world can't save yourself, then you should just listen to him.

And if you don't. Well, that's going to be a pretty big problem.

Honestly on the fence about siblings. If he has any, it's probably an older sister and she's either the equivalent of Janice Soprano (minus any of the backbone and ambition) or Barbara, resigned to her life and utterly forgetful. but I kinda like the idea of him not having any siblings to weather the storm with, you know? Like, it's just him and a mother who victim blames and ignores, and he gets the brunt of his dad's anger.

He was an obnoxious kid to be around. Probably really tried to impress his dad by adopting all of his values; baby misogyny, bite-sized authoritarianism, military fiscalism/military–industrial complex, militarism, etc., before realising (earlyyyyy teens) that he hates his dad and everything he stands for (but I'm a SUCKER for letting Price suffer and I love cyclicity and generational trauma so naturally, as much as he tries to run from the ghost of his dad, it still lingers - just in different ways; the worst thing you could ever say to Price is, you're just like your father).

Turned into a moody teen in the 80s/90s. His anger is a hair trigger. Utterly uncontrollable. But by this time, he learned to hide it because his dad's way of idealing with trauma was to add more. Therapists are pseudoscience, so he taught Price that men just bury these things. And if you can't, then you should be put down like a dog.

The assessment of a man's character was entirely based on the military tests he passed. And with Price's anger, trauma, he probably shouldn't have passed the evaluations, but since his dad, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, were all military dogs, he learned how to beat it. He's also really good at manipulating people.

I think between 16-17 there was a real attempt to do something that wasn't the military and I haven't decided which one I like better but:

He gets a job (as a port worker or in a factory). The Price name has no sway here (and baby Price grew up surrounded by people who knew his family, who revered them for their service to the country, etc). If he wants to make it, it has to be by his own merit. The problem is, while he's a hard worker, his trauma (men who remind him of his father, women who are too much like his mother) causes an incredible rift between him and authority.

If his boss is a man just like his dad, then Price is a match in a tinderbox.

If he isn't, to Price (who has only just learned to hold his tongue), the idea of a nobody being in a position of power over him will also set him off.

Either way, he's doomed.

If he man is a beast that no one can stand up to, and gets away with things because he's the boss, then Price's temper would flare pretty quickly. Especially if he comes after Price. Bullies him. Belittles him. But the worst is the humiliation. He ends up beating his boss very badly, terrifying the men around him but in their fear, and how quickly they listen to him because of it, Price realises he likes it. That fear can be weaponized. Honed.

Or: same situation, but if you lean more towards Price looking out for the underdog rather than his own self-interest, then he sticks up for someone and beats his boss to protect them. Everyone's still afraid of him, but they revere him. They do what he asks. This version, he realises that respect can be weaponized.

(and if the man is not like his dad, then Price will antagonise him into action. He'd throw the first punch, and Price will retaliate. It would still go too far, but - Nepo baby, weaponized fear: the outcome would be the same.)

He gets taken into custody. The tell him his boss is not going to make it. But Price's dad exercises every ounce of power to get his son out of trouble (because this will look very bad on them), and Price leans several things which shape him as an adult: his name has a lot of power; rules and regulations and just policing won't stop bad people unless you take it into your own hands once and for all, and people listen to him and that either version of the above can be weaponized.

He'd probably take the military a bit more seriously but only because he's trying to get vengeance for himself (even if this is subconscious and he doesn't realise it). He leaves at 18. Joins. And climbs the ranks higher than his dad.

At first, there's a concerted effort to do good but something cracks. Builds. Eventually Price comes to the conclusion that he'll have to take a more hands-on approach and get them a little bloody if he wants real change.

I have a lot of thoughts of military-dog Price. But!! That's basically it.

Shaped by physical, mental, emotional abuse; leans into the poor rich kid trope slightly. It all manifests more when he climbs the ranks, gets freedom, and realises that only he can do what needs to be done.

[puff0o0]

Soft touches, gentle eyes, shining tears. Your throat felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around it tightly, soft enough not to cut skin, but harsh enough to feel the strangling pain. You tried hard not to cry, knowing that if you did, you would feel weak and sensitive. But it was as if he was doing everything in his power to stop that.

Your simon made sure you were happy all the time. He understood you had your moments where you needed a cry, and he made sure he was the anchor that held the ship down. But if it was preventable, he did his damn hardest to make sure it didn't affect you. If it meant harming someone else to protect your feelings? Then he was harming that person.

You gave him a feeling of life and happiness, a feeling that would ruin him forever if you were to disappear.

No one could ever replace the soft tears his heart cries out when he wakes up next to you in the morning and sees you still asleep.

No one could replace the view of the sunlight cascading over your features and giving it a warm glow that not even a painting could properly resemble

No one could ever replace how protective he felt when he saw just a tear fall from your cheek

His gentle, yet scarred hands brushed over yours before finally taking your cold hands into his, warming it with his hands. The hands that have killed many and harmed many, the hands that have made decisions that have harmed few but saved thousands, were holding yours as if the absence of their presence could make you go away. He held them gently yet firmly, making a soft feeling of warmth go through you despite your vulnerable state

You just wanted everything to go away, to be alone and for everyone to forget about you. However, there was that small part of you that craves to be seen and held, that wanted someone to finally act like they cared about you and listened to you. He didn't force you to talk about it, he didn't force you to stop crying. He wanted to be your rock, to be the one to break that overflowing glass bottle of emotions you forced to close. He wanted to help you realize that he would always be there for you, no matter how many hours or days he was away

"It's a'right, luv. I'm listenin', jus keep talkin' to me"

"You're safe, y'don't have to worry 'bout a thing"

"I love you so much, luv"

He let you wail into his chest while rubbing your back, mumbling sweet words that could have been etched in a sweet vanilla cream. Every word was as if it was carved and baked with you in mind, making you cry harder and harder as they were words you desperately needed

He would make sure his presence gives you the peace and kindness you deserve

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Oaths

My first Bruce Wayne fic! I kind of pictured this taking place in his early years as Batman. ~1k words

When Bruce Wayne watches his parents die at eight years old, he vows to never let someone die in front of him again. It's a useless vow, one he fails time and time again to keep.

Yet, he makes the same vow over and over. With every eye that loses its light in front of him, he swears to be better, stronger, faster, so he never fails anyone who needs ever again.

Bruce carries each loss on his shoulders. He repeats the list of names to himself in the quiet moments, in the darkness that lingers as he races from crime to crime.

Some names are strangers. Some are friends. But the heaviest ones to bear are always his family's.

If he had just been more, more than himself, more than just a man, maybe he'd be able to fall into a restful sleep for once. But Bruce Wayne is not more. He is a human among gods. A mortal surrounded by death and power and chaos.

So he throws himself into being better. Trains himself until his muscles and bones fail him. Throws every dime he's ever had into the newest technology.

His life would be nothing but an endless cycle of training, fighting, lavish parties, and lies, if not for you.

You. His childhood friend. The third musketeer to him and Harvey. The person who treats him like he never left Gotham.

You never ask questions. Never push him for more than he can give. Always seem to be willing to drop your plans in favor of him.

It's almost intoxicating, but he does his best to stuff his feelings down, to pretend that the sight of you dressed to the nines for one of his charity galas doesn't make his mouth go dry and his head spin.

(He doesn't think he can be blamed for not being a model playboy, philanthropist when you're occupying all his attention)

There's something about the way you smile, the way the room seems to focus on your very existence, that has him unable to cut you from his life. It's a weakness. One Batman cannot have. But it's one Bruce Wayne certainly does.

He skips meetings at Wayne Tower for you. (Not that he wanted to go anyway) He cuts back on what little sleep he gets just to see you for brunch.

He invites you as his guest to various events. (Sure, it's under the guise of publicity, driven by the fact that you're one of Gotham's shiniest stars, but you both know he prefers your company over anyone else)

What Bruce does not compromise on, though, is his nights. His days are for you, but his nights are for Gotham. He vows you will never be caught in the crossfire of his double life. This is the line, a barrier between him and The Bat. One he cannot and will not let you cross.

That barrier crumbles to dust when your name is listed among the hostages at your favorite club. His heart is his throat as he tears over Gothams rooftops, his focus entirely on getting to you.

It's not a vow on his lips, but a prayer. A prayer that you won't be a casualty in a territory war he caused by taking out Falcone just last week.

He feels stupid. Inexperienced. He knew the fallout would be difficult to manage, but never considered it would risk your life. He should have told you to stay home, should have given you a panic button, anything to keep you safe.

But he didn't. Didn't even have a plan for it. So, he has to save you. Has to make at least one vow true. Has to stop you from being a victim of his crusade.

He's efficient, when he cuts the power to the club, plunging it into darkness. He's brutal, more brutal than he's ever been when he takes out each hired hand like they're simple training dummies.

He breaks guns over heads, uses his untested, electrified batarangs. He drives himself to the limits to ensure every person's attention is entirely focused on him, and not the vulnerable hostages– on you.

He sends a message with each bone he breaks, each punch that knocks the air from their lungs, every kick that sends them flying into the wall.

It's a message they don't understand, but one that's clear as day to him, The Bat and Bruce Wayne are inexplicably linked, and at the center of it is you.

You. He nearly crashes at the sight of you, once the goons are left moaning and curled on the floor.

You're safe, a little worse for wear, hair mused, and clothes rumpled, but you're alive, and none of his scans pick up any major bleeding or life threats. He doesn't quite know what to do with the awed, mystified look in your eyes, but you're coherent, and that's what he cares about.

It's a bad idea, but Batman personally escorts the hostages (namely you) to the police and paramedics waiting outside. (And if he steps on a few fingers along the way, no one says a word about it)

He can't help himself, even as his better judgment tells him to leave, to take care of the other violence sure to be happening around the city. But it's you. His– his something.

He will not name it. He will not dare delude himself into more.

So he lingers in the shadows. Stays poised on the balls of his feet when you're finally allowed to leave the scene. He selfishly follows you every step of the way until you're safe in your own home. Only then does he let you out of his sight.

The line between Batman and Bruce Wayne only blurs more, when he shows up at your door in the morning with coffee and breakfast, claiming to have heard about the situation from the news.

He decides it hardly matters what is fact or not, because you hug him, express how grateful you are to see him.

The smile on your face makes him engrave another vow onto his soul, one he intends to keep. Bruce Wayne will cross lines to protect you. He will blur what is Batman and what is him to keep you safe. And you will never, ever know it.

[stillness-in-green]

Some thoughts on The Discourse about the last BNHA cover

(Note: This Discourse was on Twitter. I don’t know how much of this may have been said here on Tumblr, so consider this either my contribution or just me reporting back on drama from other fronts.)

So, I saw a lot of back and forth over there between people who didn’t like the cover and people who did, and I spent a little while mulling it over. It seemed to me that the people who didn’t like it had a good point, but one they were not articulating particularly well, possibly thanks to the character limit and possibly also because the people talking about it tended to phrase their objections in sarcastic, consciously exaggerated terms because that’s the language months and months of dealing with the truly insufferable Horikoshi Defense Squad on Twitter primed them to use.

So what is the point?  Basically this: In going for the lazy/easy callback in both the cover design and Dai (plate-hair kid)'s role in the final chapter more generally, Horikoshi landed on an "everything comes full circle" ending when what the story desperately needed was an indicator of change.

We didn't need to know that a kid with low self-confidence and nothing to speak of in the quirk department can still become a Pro Hero if he[1] wants to.  We already knew that because it's what the whole story of BNHA was about!  Deku passing the torch/paying it forward is nice if all you care about is Deku's personal arc, but it's sheer reductiveness if you care about literally anything else.  If there was going to be a kid getting Deku's encouragement and help at the end, if that's the ending Hori was absolutely set on, it shouldn't have been the Deku Redux kid; it shouldn't have been the weak kid who has already been metaphorically proven capable of becoming a Hero.

1: And of course it would be a boy.

It should have been the troubled kid, the one from the bad family situation, the one who isn't sure whether he even believes in this Hero thing.  It should have been the kid who, if nothing about Hero Society had changed, would’ve been rejected by the whole corrupt system—in so many words, the Tenko Redux kid.  That's the one who we saw could not become a Hero under the previous system.  That's who we needed to demonstrate the system's improvement.

Instead, all we get is Deku helping himself.  And it fits, I guess, because “himself” is the only sort of person Deku ever wanted to save anyway—remember that in the very first chapter, Deku tells All Might that he wants to be a Hero because he was never “saved” as a kid and so he thinks saving is the coolest thing ever.  Implicitly, then, Deku wanted to be the kind of Hero who could have saved the kid he was, and that tendency to reserve his compassion for people he can recognize himself in—the crying children and the Hero wannabes—is consistent throughout the series.  Dai, then, simply becomes the very last of these examples, the chance for Deku to tell his middle school self that he, too, can be a great Hero.

And that’s quite a choice, isn’t it?  Take a second to consider the implications there. The metaphorical parallel Deku helps is his middle school self, not his childhood self—there’s no evidence that Dai was bullied on the same level young Izuku was, and we sure didn’t see anyone telling him to jump off a roof.  So, who does save those children, then, in this grand, improved version of Hero Society?  Does anyone?

Well, not really. Not that we’re shown. Indeed, the child who was the closest analogue to young Izuku—a weak and seemingly quirkless boy who stuck his neck out for other rejected children, who still stubbornly wanted to be a Hero despite a parent's disapproval—was Tenko, and Deku pointedly did not save him.

To be clear, I don’t mean that just in the sense that Deku failed to save the adult Tenko became, but even in the emotional sense that the series clearly wants me to believe Deku succeeded at, the saving of the boy's heart? I don’t think Deku even managed that.  Sure, he might have protected the echo of that child from a few memories, might have held his hands for a few exchanges of dialogue, but then the boy transformed back into the form of the Villain he'd become and was swallowed down the spiritual maw of the man from whom society failed to save Tenko to begin with! And what was Deku doing as this happened? Absolutely nothing but yelling impotently as he got blown backward and out of the mindscape.

Imagine that Deku had found some way to cheer up Izumi Kouta only for Muscular to kill the kid thirty seconds later.  No one would be saying, “I think Deku still saved him—his heart, anyway,” if Deku got Kouta to smile and admit that Heroes were actually pretty cool only to do nothing but scream helplessly as he watched Muscular pulverize Kouta’s ribcage with one gentle squeeze.[2]

2: Mind you, this comparison is flawed!  Unlike AFO’s vestige, Muscular doesn’t turn up to kill a child as a direct result of Deku’s own actions. Also unlike the events of the final battle, Deku doesn't jump up and personally administer the killing blow to the still-screaming victim, either.

It just leaves me thinking about some of the stuff @codenamesazanka has said about how the narrative treats Shigaraki and Deku helping him: not as something Deku has a duty to do, not something Hero Society on the whole owes Shigaraki (and all the other metaphorical expy/future Shigarakis), but rather a bonus, a nice extra, a demonstration to shine up Deku's Hero cred because he's making efforts no one else would bother with and that no one would reasonably expect him to make. It's not Deku’s job to save the Tenkos or the young Izukus of the world; apparently that just falls to society at large.

So then, what was the point of making Tenko/Tomura such an extreme case of someone who started in a similar place to Deku?  Why make him, also, a weak kid who was told he couldn't be a Hero, if you're not going to have Deku save him in the way no one saved Deku himself?

From where I'm sitting, the answer is, "It seemed like a good idea to Horikoshi at the time, but proved to be poorly thought out."  But if Deku failing to save his own closest childhood analogue was where the story was going the whole time, then Shigaraki should never have been used to parallel Deku to begin with.  It's just a damned waste of Shigaraki as a character, an insult to everything he represented, to use him for ~the parallels~ throughout the entirety of the story except the very beginning and the very end.

Anyway, Pro Heroes are bullshit and the ending should have been them being radically reconceived from the ground up with input from all the people they failed to save.  But again, if you have to still have Heroes-qua-Heroes at the end, and you have to have some stupid thematic echo because you as an author think callbacks are the single most compelling storytelling tool of all time, then everything we got on Dai should have been for Scissors-kun instead, and here I am very much including Dai's scene before the first war. An unsettling scene of a strange child with his mouth sewn shut, stuck in a straitjacket in a dark room should have been the last thing we saw before launching into the day of the raids, an apparent element for the future in the same way that so many future Villains were first shown in the wake of Stain's arrest.

See, Shigaraki’s own destructiveness is what ultimately frees Scissors-kun from the basement, “saving” this rejected, abused child in a way no Hero ever managed or even knew to try, just as Shigaraki brought light and a strange sort of hope to the lives of so many others whom Heroes failed.  However, Shigaraki couldn't carry his ambitions through to the end. He was never able to meet the kid he indirectly saved, never able to offer that appallingly abused victim an avenue for his signature brand of rough justice. Heroes stopped him from doing so. So then, who will help Scissors-kun?

If we’re to believe that the story's protagonist has made a real difference, that Deku and his classmates have changed the world for the better, then we don't need to see them helping a kid who we already know is going to turn out fine because “he” aleady did. We need to see them help the people that previously only Villains would have helped, picking up the torch they struck from Shigaraki’s hands.

So sure, keep the scene with Granny Evil and Scissors-kun if you must, to show that it’s not only Heroes but also the broader Hero Society that’s changed. After that, though, show Deku stepping in.  Show him taking an interest in this kid as a way to keep his promises—to Shigaraki, that the rejection and obliviousness that he sought to destroy have indeed been destroyed and will remain so, and to Spinner, that Deku will remember Shigaraki for the rest of his life. 

When Deku is older and in a position to give advice to a kid who’s floundering and uncertain of what to do with his life because of what people around him say about him, make that character echo the characters the old system failed to save, not the character who the entire story proved would do just fine.

For god's sake, ditch Deku Redux.

Now, I know the obvious rejoinder here: We can’t use Deku’s story to say that BNHA already showed us that Dai would be fine because Dai has a quirk where Deku did not, therefore Deku’s path would not be open to Dai.  To this, I would reply that neither Deku nor Dai specify that Dai wants/is able to be a top Hero, merely that he be the kind of Hero people can admire—which the story has also already proven true!

Ojiro got into UA with nothing but one (1) extra limb.

Manual has a perfectly middling quirk that turned out to be absolutely crucial in two different wars because it was the right quirk at the right time.

Wash’s quirk makes strong bubbles. 

Like, this list is not short.  Manifest Plates might or might not make Dai Hero Billboard material, but one of the major points of the endgame was the sublime and noble value of helping when you can, in the way that you can.  So to reiterate, we didn’t need that to be proven again in the epilogue.

If anything, going the route of retreading the same story makes the epilogue much worse! Not only do we not get to see how this society is helping the people the old society most profoundly failed—victims who fall through the cracks and become Villains—but in seeing yet another a weak kid being mocked for his heroic aspirations, we find that we’ve barely moved a step beyond the exact same place we started.

That’s the message Horikoshi chose to go with, for both the closing chapters of the story and the story’s final volume cover.  Truly, as art that summarizes the story goes, it’s a masterful choice!  And that's the whole problem. The cover of Volume 42 is a perfect illustration of the self-absorbed, cynical, cyclical nature of BNHA's endgame. Little wonder, then, that it's hated by the same people who hated said endgame.

[moowmoon]

DOCTORS

— spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

— summary: she was with a cold, and he was her personal doctor.

— c/w: sickness, cold and fever

— w/c: 0.9k

— a/n: hello! how are you guys doing? i had fun writing his one and i kinda wish that spencer was here taking care of me lol! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts, my ask box is always open to talk/share things! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

The rain drummed softly against the windows, filling the apartment with a constant, comforting rhythm. Spencer entered the living room, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He saw her lying on the sofa, curled up under a blanket, her face slightly flushed with fever. A pile of crumpled tissues rested on the coffee table next to an empty mug.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asked, his voice low but full of concern. He knelt beside the sofa, studying the tired face in front of him.

"Terrible. But at least you're here." the reply came out hoarse but accompanied by a weak smile.

Spencer smiled back, gently pressing his hand to her forehead. "It's still warm, but better than this morning. I'll make some more tea."

Without waiting for an answer, he got up and disappeared through the kitchen door. From the sofa, she followed his movements with heavy eyes, feeling the heat of Spencer's concern as warm as the blanket.

He walked back into the room with measured steps, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. The mug of tea was spewing fine spirals of steam, and beside it lay some simple but inviting cookies. He stopped beside the sofa and watched her for a moment. She was partially covered, one hand loosely holding the blanket while the other rested on her chest, rising and falling in a rhythm that indicated persistent tiredness.

"I've brought you something." Spencer's voice was low, but full of tenderness.

She opened her eyes slowly and, although she didn't have the strength to move much, she managed to give a weak smile and get up slowly. Spencer put the tray on the side table, picked up the blanket, and carefully arranged it, pulling it up to her shoulders.

"You didn't have to…" the voice came out hoarse, but grateful.

"Of course I needed it." he leaned over and rested his palm lightly on her forehead. "The fever has started to come down. That's good." a small but sincere smile appeared on his lips before he picked up the mug and handed it to her. "Drink it slowly. It's still warm."

As she brought the mug to her lips, Spencer sat down next to her on the sofa, close enough for their shoulders to touch. He watched intently as if monitoring every little movement, and when she took a cautious sip, he spoke, his voice a reassuring whisper.

"Just rest. The paperwork can wait, and you don't have to worry about anything now. I'm here."

She stared at him, her eyes shining with something other than tiredness. A feeling of comfort and gratitude that only Spencer could offer at that moment.

After a few minutes, the room was plunged into a comfortable dimness, with only the soft light of a lamp filling the corners. Spencer was sitting on the sofa, a book open in his hands, his voice low and calm as he read.  Each word came out with an almost hypnotic cadence, projecting tranquil images into the room.

Still wrapped in the blanket, she leaned on his shoulder, adjusting her head so that she could hear the warm timbre of his voice more closely. She sighed, gradually relaxing as the tension left her body.

Without interrupting his reading, Spencer let one of his hands slide down her back, his fingers drawing slow, meticulous circles, a gesture that seemed as automatic as it was intentional.

"You know I could listen to this all day, right?" her voice sounded muffled against his shoulder, laden with tiredness but also a slight humor.

Spencer paused and smiled, closing the book for a moment. He watched her with quiet affection, his eyes filled with a fondness that needed no words to understand.

"And I'd read all day if it would help you get better faster."

She let out a low, husky laugh, her head sinking further into his shoulder. Sensing the movement, Spencer adjusted his arm to wrap around her completely, holding her firmly and gently.

"It's working," she murmured, almost falling asleep.

Spencer didn't reply, just resumed reading, continuing to trace those comforting little circles; the sound of his voice blending with the quiet rhythm of the pages being turned and the rain.

Her breathing became slow and rhythmic, signaling that sleep had finally overcome the discomfort of fever. Her head rested on Spencer's shoulder, her features, once marked by fatigue, now softened into an expression of peace.

He remained motionless for a few moments, listening to that calm, steady sound. Carefully, he adjusted the blanket once more, pulling it up to cover her shoulders and making sure she was warm.

Tilting his head slightly, he observed every detail of her sleeping face. The lips parted, the eyelashes casting delicate shadows against the still slightly flushed skin. There was something deeply comforting about that moment of stillness as if the whole world had been put on pause so that he could be there, exactly where he needed to be.

Spencer sighed softly, a sound of relief mixed with gratitude. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head before leaning back further on the sofa, the comforting weight against him bringing a sense of belonging.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, even though he knew the words wouldn't be heard. Even so, saying them out loud seemed important, almost like a promise.

As the rain continued its gentle rhythm against the windows, Spencer stood there, his arms tightly around the one he loved, treasuring that moment of peace.

[sweatyracoon]

Hey:) can you please do a part 2 of Tell me and make it smut

A/n: This is part two to a story I made a while ago, but can be read separately. Enjoy! Thanks anon for the ask! Feel free to suggest more.

Warnings: smut, obviously. Vampire Felix, biting, blood?, pinv, unprotected sex, dom felix, pet names, let me know if I missed anything

It had been nearly a month since you and Felix had the heart to heart, and things seemed to be going smoothly.

His features matured in ways you would have never thought.

He switched back to his natural blonde about a week ago, and you almost felt relief.

Although you didn't mind the black, you had noticed that it affected you in ways you shouldn't be by your best friend.

He was hot.

The black made him look mysterious and sexy. It nearly killed you to look at him, much less be near him.

Today was one of your mandatory hang nights, more specifically, a movie night.

You had found out that he no longer had the same needs as normal people. He doesn't sleep, but can force himself to for a short period of time.

He doesn't eat like he used to. He found that yes, he needs blood, but not often. And when he eats, he takes a few bites before feeling full. He can walk in the light, but it makes him a bit weak, like muscle aches.

It had been surprisingly easy to accommodate these new discoveries. And he had been so grateful to you for being so accepting.

He was sitting on the couch, his blonde hair peaking from above the head rest. You smiled as you walked around to join him, a bowl of popcorn in your hand.

"Ready?"

He grinned at you, his eyes shimmering from the blue light.

"Yep!" He barked, snuggling against you after you got comfortable.

You pressed play, watching the beginning with interest.

The movie was barely forty minutes in when you felt Felix tense against you. He felt colder than normal all of sudden, even under the blankets.

"Felix?" You turned to look at him, seeing that he was avoiding your gaze.

"Lix, what's wrong?" You went to reach for him, but he flinched, making you stop.

"Don't." His voice was deeper than usual, rough around the edges.

It almost sounded like a threat.

"Felix what's wrong? Remember, you promised you wouldn't shut me out," you whispered, unsure of what was wrong all of the sudden.

He sighed before drooping his shoulders, still not looking at you.

"I lied the other day. I-" His voice cracked. "I wasn't able to feed on Thursday."

Your eyes widened, your blood running cold. Wasn't that needed for him to stay sane or something? You weren't entirely sure what would happen if he didn't feed, and he wasn't either.

It was still entirely new.

"So what's wrong now? Are you hungry?" You asked, turning your whole body to him. He had your full attention, even if the movie was still playing.

"Yes, but that's not all," he gulped, looking at you finally.

You gasped, seeing the bright red hue in his eyes. They almost seemed to be pulsing, as if they glowed in the dark.

"I felt the blood going through your arm...when I was laying on you. It was weird." He frowned, wanting to look back to the tv.

Suddenly an idea popped in your head, thinking you might be able to help the poor guy out.

"Have you fed from a human?" You asked.

His eyes blew up. "Uh...Kinda? Bang Chan, he's like me, and he let me bite him. But other than that, just animals," He cleared his throat, his eyes getting brighter by the second.

"Do you want to feed from me? Do you know when to stop?" You tilt your head, watching him freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

"What? No! I don't want to hurt you,"

You blinked. You didn't think about that.

"It hurts?" You couldn't stop the words from leaving you. You cringed.

"Well, Chan said it felt really good when he bite people, but it doesn't have the same effect on him."

"Bite me then," you giggle, shoving your wrist to his face, making him recoil.

"I've never fed from a person. I can go out real quick so we can still have movie night-" he was stuttering at this point and you just wanted him to stop and breathe.

As you listened to him, you brought your nail you where your shoulder and neck meet, scratching just hard enough to break the skin.

Even though it didn't breach your skin yet, the sudden smell of the iron liquid reached Felix's nostrils, igniting something within him he didn't even know was there. His eyes darkened, and before he could stop himself, he was on you in seconds.

You let out a yelp of surprise, now on your back with Felix straddling your hips, locking you in place.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and you heard him breathe in deeply, wanting to burn your scent in his memory.

You heard his jaw clenching beside your chin, and you took a deep breath.

"It's okay, Felix. I want it," you breathed. You didn't know entirely what it is you wanted, but he got the idea, latching his teeth into your pulse point.

It hurt at first, the pierce through the skin, his sharp teeth cutting through the many layers of skin. But once he got deep enough, it turned into a cooling heat that then turned into a flame, one that burned hotter with each passing moment.

The shock ignited the pooling arousal in your abdomen, and you let out a moan into his ear.

He growled as he knawed at your neck, squirming above you. You could feel his hardening cock through his sweats, your mind reeling at the thought of him inside you.

He groaned, finally pulling away from your neck to look at you.

His eyes had gone back to their natural color, and his face was flushed. His breathing was heavy, and his lips stained red with your blood.

He looked like an angel.

"You okay?" He asked softly, bringing a hand to rest on your face.

You nodded, unable to speak all of the sudden.

Your gaze blurred, your mind fuzzy.

He seemed to have caught on, hearing the small whimpers emitting from your throat.

"Whats the matter, honey? Can't talk? Did it feel that good?" He cooed at you with a grin, rubbing circles on your cheek.

You sniffled, nodding in response, nuzzling into his touch.

"Can I, y/n? Can I touch you?" He whispered, staring into your eyes deeply.

His free hand rested on your waistband, gently messing with a stray thread.

"Please, lixie," you mutter, suddenly hotter.

You lifted your hip gently, the skin of your torso meeting his cold fingers. You sighed at the contact, tilting your head back slightly.

He watched in awe as he pushed his fingers under your clothing, his index and middle finger playing with your folds before flicking your clit. You groaned, your arms coming to grasp at any part of him that you can. Your left hand found purchase on his forearm, your grip tight. The other fisted the fabric of the couch, scratching roughly on your skin.

“More, lix. Please…” you breathed, loving the way he touched you.

He said nothing, but showed that he heard you by shoving two fingers deep within your sopping cunt, pushing at a fast pace. Though his hands looked small, they seemed to be finding your g-spot immediately, grinning as he abused that sacred spot,watching as you let out louder moans. He forced himself down to catch your lips in his, sucking the air out of you as he continued to finger you, curling his fingers every other thrust. He brought his other hand to rub roughly at your clothed nipples, feeling them harden under the fabric.

“Want me to fuck you, y/n? Just tell me the word and I’ll take care of you, love. Let me take care of you,” he all but begged, sounding fucked out before even undressing.

He loved the way you clenched around his fingers, pulling him in, not wanting him to leave. If Felix had it his way, he’d never let his fingers leave from you. And if you wanted it to be his cock instead, who was he to deny you?

“Yes! Please Felix!” You moaned, your stomach doing somersaults as it begged for release. You whined as h pulled his fingers from you rather quickly, and watched as he fumbled with his sweats. He rushed to pull them off, nearly falling from the couch in the process, making you giggle at him. It quickly died down once you saw him.

He sprung out of his pants, a loud thud emitting rom where his cock hit his stomach. You nearly let yourself drool at the sight of him.

No other guy has made you feel this way about his cock, but boy was Felix beautiful. What he lacked in length, he made up for in girth, almost looking like the stretch would be painful. But you’d take it. You needed it. Almost as much as he wanted it.

He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, bringing it up to bite, showing of his abs. You moaned just from the sight of them.

“You sure you want this? We can stop…” he mumbled with the tee between his teeth. His eyes shimmered in the dim lighting, looking as if he held stars in his eyes.

“Yes I’m sure, lix. I just have one question…” you smiled at him. “Could you…bite me again?”

His eyes widened at first, but he felt himself twitching at the thought. Your blood was certainly way better than that of an animal. Yours was more fresh and almost electric with the way your adrenaline spiked. It was almost like his own alcohol just walking around in the apartment. He was head over heels for your taste, plus his long term crush on you.

He relaxed before placing himself at your entrance.

“Of course, baby,” he pushed in slowly, watching your back arch off the sofa.

He quickly came down to latch onto your neck, sucking, hoping to ease the pain with the pleasure of the bite.

It seemed to calm you down, because shortly after that, with each draw he took from you, your moans became louder. He started to move, cursing himself suddenly. Drinking from you was enough to make him finish, but he didn’t want to finish before you. He pulled his mouth back, looking you in the eyes as he picked up the pace.

Once again, his lips were stained with your blood, the amount a lot more than previously, making droplets form, and threatened to fall with each thrust. He hit deeper, pushing harder against you causing slapping sounds to echo the room. You both grunted with one another as each of you closed in on your high.

You felt the knot forming in the pit of your stomach, watching as his eyes fluttered shut as he rammed into you as if he never would have sex again. He wanted to make it last. He found that he was struggling just to not cum from staring at you. He loved how helpless you looked right now.

You finally felt the knot snap, your high washing over you like a ton of bricks. You shivered as he continued, your walls clenching around him desperately, wanting to absorb his delicious cum.

One droplet of blood finally parted from his lips, landing onto your own. He watched as you stuck your tongue out to taste yourself, moaning at the flavor. The sight of you tasting your blood finally made him snap. His cum shot out in spurts inside you, riding out his high until he was shaking from overstimulation. He collapsed onto you for a few seconds before pulling out, making you whine. He grinned, pulling his shirt of all the way.

“One second,” he muttered, cleaning you both before pulling the blanket over you both once more. “How are you feeling? Did I take too much?” He nuzzled into you, trying to make sour you weren’t uncomfortable.

“No, I’m okay. I don’t feel any different,” you responded with a yawn. Your shoulder aches slightly, but you deemed it worth it.

“You might not feel that way later, though!” He whined, pawing at your hands.

You giggled as you saw the ending credits to the movie you were supposed to watch.

“Good thing I took the next two days off!”

[rose24207]

The heir‘s weakness

Summary: there is only one person who can crack Lando’s shell infront of his men

Genre: Mafia!Lando AU, fluff

TW: Mafia, mentions of guns (I think)

A/N: Not really happy with it :( English is not my first language. I hope you like it though! Requests are open and welcomed!

Masterlist

Lando Norris was known for many things—his calm demeanor, his sharp mind, and his ability to strike fear into anyone who crossed him. As the heir to one of the most powerful mafia families in Europe, he had everything under control. His men respected him, his enemies feared him, and anyone who dared to stand in his way learned quickly that it was better to stay out of his sight.

But there was one person who had completely undone him. One person who made him lose his composure every single time. And that person was you.

You hadn’t planned on becoming involved with a man like Lando. Hell, you didn’t even know who he was when you first met. You had just moved to the city to escape a mundane life and had ended up working at a little coffee shop near one of the wealthiest parts of town. It was a chance encounter, a quick conversation, and then Lando was gone. But he came back the next day, and the next. And the next. Eventually, he became a regular, ordering the same black coffee every time, and giving you the same charming smile that made your heart skip a beat.

At first, you thought he was just a guy with a lot of money and a bit of arrogance. But then, one day, when the cafe was dead quiet and you found yourselves alone, Lando had said something that made your blood run cold—“I’ll make sure you’re always taken care of, love. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

You had no idea what he meant at the time, but over the next few weeks, it became clear: Lando Norris wasn’t just some rich guy who liked his coffee. He was someone—someone dangerous.

His men were always around, in the shadows, looking at you with eyes that seemed to watch your every move. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away. There was something about Lando—the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel special, like you were the only one who mattered.

But what you didn’t know was that Lando was already obsessed with you. And no one, not even his loyal men, had any idea just how deep his feelings for you ran.

It all started on a cold Friday evening, when Lando invited you to one of his “business meetings,” which you quickly learned was his way of pulling you into his world. It was a private affair, held in one of his family’s most luxurious properties, and you couldn’t help but feel out of place in the sea of expensive suits and cold, calculating stares.

But when you entered the large room, filled with his men, Lando’s eyes locked onto yours. The corners of his lips twitched upward into that signature smile you’d come to know all too well.

“Ah, there she is,” he said loudly enough for the room to hear, his voice warm and inviting, though there was a darker undertone that sent a ripple through the group. “The most beautiful woman in the room, as always.”

The men, who were normally stoic and unwavering, exchanged confused glances, their eyes darting between you and Lando. They weren’t used to him acting so openly. His usual composed nature had always been something that earned their respect—and his control over his emotions was something they admired. But now… now they were seeing something entirely different.

You smiled awkwardly, but before you could respond, Lando was already making his way over to you, his tall frame cutting through the crowd effortlessly. He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours lightly, sending an unexpected jolt of warmth through your chest.

“You look stunning tonight,” he whispered, leaning in just close enough for only you to hear.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and for once, you weren’t sure how to handle his attention. There was something about the way he said it, something in his eyes that made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

As Lando led you to a table in the far corner, all eyes in the room remained on the two of you. His men were no fools; they watched every movement, taking in the way Lando spoke to you with an affection that was foreign to them. They were used to seeing him in complete control—calm, collected, and untouchable. But now, with you by his side, everything had shifted.

Lando took a seat, and without asking, pulled the chair next to him out for you. “Please, sit,” he said, his voice low and almost possessive.

You hesitated for only a moment before you sat down, trying to steady your nerves. But then, something caught your attention: the men.

They weren’t looking at Lando the way they usually did. Normally, when they spoke to him, it was with a level of respect and reverence. But now? Now, they looked confused, almost flabbergasted. Some of them glanced at each other, muttering under their breath, while others stood with their mouths slightly agape. It was as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Lando was never like this. No one made him blush. No one made him lose his cool in front of his own men. But you? You had completely undone him.

One of the men, a towering figure with a scar across his face, leaned in to whisper to the person next to him. “Is he actually blushing?”

The man he was speaking to, clearly just as taken aback, gave a small shrug. “I’ve never seen him like this before. She must really mean something to him.”

Lando heard the whispers but chose not to address them. He couldn’t bring himself to break eye contact with you. You were everything he wanted, everything he’d been silently watching from afar for so long. And now that you were in his world—his real world—nothing, no one, was going to tear you away from him.

The meeting carried on, but you could tell that it wasn’t the same for Lando. Every so often, he would glance your way, his gaze softening when he saw the way you fidgeted nervously in the chair, trying to fit in with a world you never asked for.

And then, in the middle of the meeting, something happened that no one could have anticipated.

Lando, completely uncharacteristically, reached out and gently placed his hand on yours. It wasn’t an act of power. It wasn’t to assert dominance over the room. No, this was something else entirely.

His hand rested on yours for just a moment, and you could see the way his fingers tightened around your skin, his lips curving into a subtle smile.

“You’re safe here,” he whispered to you, just loud enough for you to hear, but the men in the room were still looking on, stunned.

One of them, a grizzled veteran with years of experience, cleared his throat and muttered, “This is different.”

Lando’s men were beginning to understand: You weren’t just another fling. You were his. And that realization hit them all like a ton of bricks.

But for you, the evening had only just begun. You were still trying to process what was happening, still unsure of just how deeply you had gotten tangled in the web that was Lando’s world.

But there was one thing you did know: You were under his protection. And when it came to Lando Norris, that meant you were untouchable.

The men may have been shocked by the way he looked at you, but Lando’s feelings were crystal clear. He didn’t care what they thought. You had completely captivated him, and for the first time in his life, he was willing to let them see it.

And no one—no one—was going to take you away from him.

Thank you for reading!

[divinit3a]

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') 🔮 <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

[walnutcookie]

good day fellow rodger fan, i rlly love your art it gives me whimsy and joy. do you have any headcanons ab him and glisten, perhaps toodles as well? (family dynamics my beloved actually) if not either way i think your stuff is still so rad.

AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!! <333 WEEPS TEARS OF JOY.... i do have some headcanons hehehe... in no particular order/organization heres some of my thoughts on them:

- Rodger is a sleepwalker. Very Embarrassed by it.

- Toodles really enjoys drawing !!! She likes to draw with the other toons a lot (especially glisten, but he usually just watches her and then treats her art like the mona lisa so she feels good about herself)

- rodgers reaction to any sort of physical affection is really funny because he doesnt know how to react. He wants to keep his awesome and mysterious persona but also he doesnt want to be rude or anything. does he reciprocate? does he try to get away before it happens??? does he say something or does he keep quiet? Usually it just results in him freezing up and going stiff

- also adding onto above he tends to be paranoid about peoples intentions. bro gets a hug from goob and freezes and hes thinking "is this an attempt to console me does he think im mentally unwell or is he trying to find my weaknesses so he can kill me"

- in general rodger can be a very paranoid person and starts panicking at the slightest threat but hes pretty good at stopping to think and clearing his head. Logically he knows goob wouldnt kill him and doesnt know his secrets but it is a thought that pops up in his head for a brief moment

- toodles is always very quick to jump in and try to help whenever someone is upset. She wants to help people as best she can so ofc she would but the problem is that shes never sure what to say to cheer people up :'] she tries parroting some of the things rodger has told her when she was sad but also from her experience it never works so she tries to distract people instead most of the time. it makes her feel really guilty whenever she doenst try to help or if she fails to make them feel any better

- Toodles is very close with teagan!! teagan is like her fun uncle :] they take care of toodles sometimes if rodger is busy (or cough missing). Tea parties galore!!!!

- glisten is romo-repulsed i know this in my heart ok. [i know ive drawn him doing romantic things i cant explain the nuances to this in a cohesive way im just projecting ontohim as a romo repulsed person in a relationship]

- Glisten is definitely introverted but not in the "ohh hes shy and hates people" way hes just drained when he talks to people even if he likes talking to people. He needs to take breaks from socializing a lot to recharge his social battery especially since hes always so worried about what people think of him but he also dies if hes alone too long

- toodles is actually VERY fascinated with bugs if theres an ant or a beetle or a roach or something in the facility shes gonna beg to keep it and make a house for it so she can "give it a better life" (glisten will not scream or freak out but there WILL be visible discomfort on his face and he will avoid that bug like the plague)

- rodger smokes cigarettes . He knows which employee(s) carry them around and will snatch one from their pocket at the right moment when nobody is looking... he tries covering his tracks and flushing everything down the toilet and covering up the smell but ofc he gets found out when theres a clog LOL.

- There was also suspicion when toodles started pretend-smoking and saying she was doing the thing that rodger did but most everyone else just assumed it was toodles being a silly little kid

okie dokieee thats all ill do for now !!! Thank you so much for this ask GAUH im so happy people are interested in my hcs for them n stuff 🥹

[saxandviolins77]

I have a feeling most people don't actually care for Bonecrusher's character, so I made a little post talking about what I find interesting about him.

Enjoy 😙.

I know for a fact that Hook, Mixmaster, and Scavenger are the most popular out of the Constructicons and that's fine, but I feel most people don't really KNOW what makes Bonecrusher interesting as a character.

OK, I'll be fair here and say that most of his substantial character traits come from obscure stuff or are not developed, but his most obscure bio is used on his TFwiki description... so... Not that hidden.

Take his Sunbow writer's guide page, for instance. It establishes that he is destructive and brutish, but more importantly than that, his job is a performance to him, an art form if we can put it this way. That already paints a whole different picture of him. Yes, he is violent, but he's also a self-proclaimed artist.

Even in the cartoon, Bonecrusher doesn't act like a thug (I hate this word), as most people and IDW2019 portray him. He's surprisingly stoic (yeah, I didn't take it from nowhere). He's violent, sure, but he's also dedicated to the task at hand. Take G1's "The Autobot Run", an episode that feels like the writer was faithful to the guides. In said episode, while Long Haul is the one wanting to fight directly, Bonecrusher comes and admonishes him, talking about how the device they are building will "wreck those Autobots good," as he puts it. (Bonecrusher has sparingly appearances and lines in G1, but most of those lines are of him being violent or him just going about his work day.)

This for me is the cream of the crumb of Bonecrusher's canonical characterizations, directly from Transformers: The Ultimate Guide by Simon Furman himself. Aside from that, this book has some pretty innovative things for the Constructicons; the fact that this was written by the same person who wrote the Dreamwave bios makes it feel like a natural expansion of what's already established. Though, for whatever reason, Furman focuses a lot on the "survival of the fittest" part of Boner, like, I know... '86 Movie! But C'mon!

(The Dreamwave bio was omitted due to redundancy.)

Now, in my personal opinion, you can see a pretty interesting base for a character. A perfectionist who expresses his desire for perfection by violently destroying everything he considers flawed. A performance artist in his own right.

The only thing I outright reject from Canon is the fact that he has a 3 in intelligence and a meager 6 in skill. Well, color me fucking surprised! He must be a very shitty DEMOLITIONS SPECIALIST. I sound petty, but I simply feel he shouldn't be dumb as bricks ( I also don't need him to be Hook levels of smart.) Keep him a brute, but a competent brute who actually does his job well. (take this with a grain of salt; I have a very weak suspension of disbelief when it comes to jobs not being portrayed accurately.)

Either way, I just wanted to shine a light on what I like about the Boner guy. Have a fine day/evening/night. 🥱

[fairlyabookie]

Their Heart to You

Author's note: How they confess

Content: fluff

Leona finds courting a tedious process; he grew up watching his older brother courting a partner, getting married, and eventually, have a kid, whom he considered a handful. He had seen what love can bring first hand and often was asked about his love life by his brother. 

Most of the time, he hated these nosy questions, shouldering them off with a vague statement so they won’t be asked again. Leona told himself not to have his judgment be clouded by love - he had to make sure he had a clear and sound mind, enough to make adequate decisions and see to it that things get done. He casts his worries and other frivolous things to the side, focusing on nothing but himself and his academics for the time being. 

Admittedly, he didn’t think of you as a distraction per se; rather, he considered you as an equal, your strengths and weaknesses comprising your overall character. Sure, he entertained the thought of courting you, his thoughts meandering to your silhouette, your hubris around him, the poise you carried yourself; no doubt Leona found you entertaining. 

Love, a fickle thing, embodied itself in his time with you, listening to your words as you spoke to him with determined eyes; his honesty abundant, he was more than willing to give - though, executing his ‘love’ would be difficult. Matter of fact, he was clueless. 

As for courting you, he preferred to keep such sentiments and wait for the opportune moment to speak his peace. A watchful predator eyeing his prey, he waits until you’re by yourself to tell you, his charm, his authenticity. 

The Leech twin had a couple tricks up his sleeve when it came to wooing you: he won’t say that these notions would charm you, but rather, appeal to you on his interests and hopefully, have you show your interests to him as well. He greatly valued his friendship with you, often looking forward to seeing you as the day’s passing and wanting to speak to you on occasion.

He’d be subtle in his affections; often engaging in unprofessional behavior, as quoted from Azul and his own twin brother, to see you satisfied. Of course, he had to pull some strings to ensure you had a positive experience with him, after all, you’re the one toying with his heart. 

 To quote Azul, Jade would be a handful, as love captivated him like a spell. At times, the Dorm Leader would begrudgingly let Jade take the task so he can see you. Even at the sight of you, Azul knew not to impede Jade’s advances. In other words, Azul and Floyd would play Jade’s wingmen, regardless if they like it or not. 

Jade had his own ways of wooing, unorthodox methods an average one would say, where he’d plan on potential dates with just you and him and with no interruptions. He’d keep his cool, knowing very well that he can achieve his goal in conveying his feelings outright.  

If one can be honest, Jade had realized his feelings for a while; he yearned, he needed, he wanted to have your heart. Such feelings, he hoped, can come across you once the timing was right. He hated how heavy his heart weighed with such sentiments, yet alas, he hoped he played his cards well for this moment.

They say that the best way to steal one’s heart is through their stomach, and Trey took that personally. He knew everyone’s tastes, including yours. On that note, he’d make sure to bake your favorites when you had a bad day or when you had a craving. 

 The third year regarded you as a friend at first, but he found himself thinking about you when it came to baking, pouring his heart into this piece, gentle hands carving a delicacy that he and you can enjoy in private. 

Trey may not be good with his words, but he can think of something sweeter, something you’d like from his expertise. Sure, writing down his feelings would work, but he’d stick with his skills: baking. 

He’d spend hours doing trial and error with recipes, pouring in particular ingredients to see what would be the perfect taste for your pastry, careful not to ruin the surprise when he’d present this cake to you. His feelings towards you, initially a nuisance, came forth as a blessing as he spent more time working on this pastry and spending time with you. 

Love, as corny as it can be, seemingly made his works a tad bit sweeter. He can fathom the taste, a delicious warmth that enveloped him like a hug. Did he manage to achieve the perfect cake? He thinks to himself, satisfaction tugging at the corner of his lips. Trey couldn’t wait to have you taste it.

[lavenderclownwritesanddraws]

I Really Want to Stay at Your House (Jamil X V! Reader, Cyberpunk AU)

This fanfiction contains mild spoilers for character interactions in Cyberpunk 2077.

In Cyberpunk 2077, the main character is V. they're currently a mercenary trying to survive in the chaos of Night City.

If you' re wondering about Johnny—well, he’s the personality living rent-free in your cyberware implant. Johnny Silverhand was a legend in Night City, known as both a terrorist and a rockstar, and he died decades ago. Now, he exists as a digital ghost in your head. He can talk to you and even appear in your vision sometimes, which is… an experience, to say the least.

Over time, Johnny and V build an unlikely friendship, leaning on each other to make sense of all the chaos and sacrifices that come with life in Night City.

This fanfiction references the in-game event I Really Want to Stay at Your House and the moment when you let Johnny take control of your body for a day. Unsurprisingly, Johnny being Johnny, he goes overboard—drinking too much, hitting up a strip club, picking up a stripper, and then crashing your car. Yes, all while in your body.

Trust me, listening to I Really Want to Stay at Your House will hit differently after reading this.

I Really Want to Stay at Your House (Jamil X V! Reader, Cyberpunk AU, The Lovers Progression)

The door to V’s apartment slid shut with a dull thud, and she exhaled slowly as if releasing the weight of the entire city from her shoulders. Each step felt like wading through quicksand. The day—or rather, the day Johnny had taken from her—was a blur of flashing lights, noise, and pain. Her head pounded, and the sour taste of alcohol lingered on her tongue, making her grimace. She rubbed her temples, willing herself to focus.

Empty. The apartment was mercifully empty, or so she thought. Relief washed over her. The last thing she wanted was for her partner, Jamil, to see her like this—hungover, bruised, and barely standing. She kicked off her boots, the sound echoing in the stillness. Just a few steps more, and she could collapse into bed and forget this nightmare ever happened.

“Didn’t think you’d make it back in one piece.”

The voice, low and deceptively calm, sent a chill down her spine. V froze, her eyes darting to the dimly lit kitchen. There he was, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Jamil Viper. His dark eyes, always sharp and unreadable, watched her with an intensity that made her stomach churn. His hair, dark and slightly disheveled, framed his face, casting shadows that only made him look more imposing. The soft glow of his tech implants along his forearms pulsed rhythmically, like a predator’s heartbeat along the oversized jacket she had seen him wear so many times.

“Jamil…” V’s voice cracked, and she winced at how pathetic it sounded.

He pushed off the counter with a grace that belied the tension in his movements, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. His gaze swept over her, taking in every bruise, every unsteady breath. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, forcing a weak smile. “Really needed to hear that.”

He stopped a few feet away “Care to explain?” His tone was deceptively mild, but she knew better. Beneath it lay a storm waiting to be unleashed.

V ran a hand through her hair, wincing as the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through her head. “It’s… a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He tilted his head slightly “I’ve had plenty of time, actually. Watching your biometrics spike and crash in real-time tends to do that.”

Her heart sank. “You were tracking me?” She should have known better. The Top Netrunner for the Asim Corporation’s Counterintelligence Division didn’t just sit idle when his partner was out self-destructing.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t act so surprised. I had to know you weren’t dead.” His voice dropped, soft but deadly. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you spiraling into alcohol poisoning, adrenaline surges, and then flatlining in a crash. Care to enlighten me?”

He was close now, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. His dark hair fell around his face, framing eyes that burned with a mix of fury and hurt. She’d seen him angry before—sharp-tongued, sarcastic—but this was different. He was quiet and controlled, and that made it infinitely worse.

V took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I… let Johnny take control.”

Silence. The kind that felt like a knife pressed against her throat.

“Ah,” Jamil said finally, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “So, you handed your body over to that ghost in your system. To drink, to gamble, to crash your car. Am I missing anything, or is that the whole highlight reel?”

V stepped past him, moving towards the couch, needing to sit before her knees gave out. She dropped onto the cushions, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

Jamil followed, his footsteps slow but deliberate. He stopped in front of her, then leaned down, placing his hands on either side of her head. “Then how was it supposed to go, V?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and his breath brushed against her ear. “Tell me.” Each syllable turned into ice piercing through her.

She didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze head-on. “I thought he needed a break. I thought giving him one day would… help.”

Jamil’s jaw tightened, and he pushed off the couch, pacing. The controlled movements betrayed his simmering rage. “Help? Him?” He turned back, eyes blazing. “At what cost? You come back like this—hungover, bruised, and broken—and I’m supposed to accept that you did this for him?”

“It was a mistake,” she said, her voice firm. “One I won’t repeat.”

“Damn right, you won’t,” he snarled back, but there was no satisfaction in his tone. Slowly, he returned to the couch and sat, inches away from her, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” His eyes softened, the harsh lines of his face relaxing ever so slightly. “Every time you throw yourself into these situations, you drag me along for the ride. I can’t… I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

V nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And I’m sorry. I can’t undo what’s done, but I can promise it won’t happen again.”

Jamil leaned closer, his hands resting on the back of the couch, effectively caging her in. “Do you think I want your promises?” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. “I want you. Alive. Here. Not a shell.”

“I’m here now,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’m here, and I’m listening. I’m not running.”

He studied her for a long moment as if searching for a lie hidden in her words. Then, slowly, he leaned back, giving her space. “Good,” he said, his tone softer. “Because I’m tired, V. Tired of chasing after you, tired of feeling like I’m one step away from losing you.”

V reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining. “I know.” Her grip tightened. “I’m tired too. But I’m still here.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “Next time, you think about him, think about what you’re risking.” He glanced down at their joined hands. “Because I won’t let you go without a fight.”

—————————————————————

The kettle’s soft whistle broke the silence, a subtle contrast to the rain pattering against the windows of the dimly lit apartment. Jamil moved precisely, pouring the boiling water into a mug. The faint aroma of spiced tea filled the air, warm and calming, in sharp contrast to the tension between them. V sat on the couch, her head resting against her hand as exhaustion clung like a heavy cloak. She’d endured plenty of rough nights, but tonight felt different—heavier somehow.

Jamil approached her, the mug in one hand, a medkit in the other. His gaze, sharp and discerning, flickered over her face, taking in the bruises and shadows under her eyes. He handed her the tea, his voice low but firm. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

V took the mug with a quiet thanks, the warmth seeping into her fingers as she sipped. The tea burned her tongue slightly, but the spice and heat soothed her. She glanced at Jamil, who was already settling beside her, opening the medkit with practiced ease.

“Let me see your arm,” he said, not waiting for her to comply. His hands, steady and meticulous, worked to clean and dress the scrapes on her forearm. His movements betrayed no hesitation, but she could feel the weight of his focus—a quiet intensity that always made her chest tighten.

As his fingers brushed against her skin, she winced. “You don’t have to patch me up every time, you know.”

He didn’t look up. “Clearly, you can’t be trusted to do it yourself.”

“Ouch,” Johnny’s voice broke through, sarcastic as ever. His flickering hologram appeared in V’s peripheral vision, leaning nonchalantly against the edge of the coffee table. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a regular househusband here. Never thought I’d see the day.”

V sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Johnny, not now.”

“What? Just calling it like I see it,” he replied, smirking. “Guy’s got more patience than anyone I’ve ever met. Even if he does look like he’s plotting your funeral half the time.”

V shot him a glare, muttering, “Says the man who got us both into this mess.”

Jamil let out a soft sigh, his shoulders rising and falling with the movement. He’d long since learned that addressing the engram only prolonged the chaos. Instead, he fixed his gaze on V, his expression calm but with a hint of weariness.

“You’re talking to him again.” It wasn’t a question.

“Occupational hazard,” V muttered, taking another sip of tea. She glanced at Jamil, her eyes softening. “But he’s not the one here. You are.”

Jamil’s gaze flicked over her, and though his expression remained composed, the faintest trace of a smile ghosted across his lips. “Let’s get you to bed before your occupational hazards get the better of you again.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the soft, amber glow of a shaded lamp on the bedside table. The rain outside drummed gently against the windows, its rhythm a calming counterpoint to the ever-present hum of Night City’s neon chaos. The air was warm, tinged faintly with the herbal scent of Jamil’s tea from earlier. V stood by the wardrobe, shrugging out of her jacket and letting it fall onto the back of a chair. She glanced over at Jamil, who was already in the middle of changing.

He tugged off his oversized jacket first, hanging it with practiced precision over the arm of a chair. Beneath it, his tank top clung to his lean, muscular frame, revealing the taut lines of his shoulders and the faint definition of his arms. He moved with the same fluid grace that always caught her attention—every gesture measured and precise, betraying the discipline and control that defined him.

When he reached for the hem of his tank top, V couldn’t help but watch as he pulled it over his head, revealing smooth, dusky skin and the faint sheen of sweat from the day’s tension. The sharp contours of his back shifted as he stretched, and her eyes caught on the small, dark insertion port at the base of his cervical spine. The port gleamed faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast against the unmodified perfection of his skin.

He pulled on a clean black T-shirt, the fabric stretching briefly over his broad shoulders before settling into place. The outfit—a plain tee and loose joggers—was startlingly casual for someone who always seemed so put together, but it suited him. He looked comfortable, a rare sight that made her chest tighten.

Jamil glanced at her briefly, raising a brow. “Done staring?”

Caught, V smirked and turned away to finish changing. When she turned back, Jamil was already lying in bed, his back propped against the pillows, a datapad resting on his lap. His legs stretched out beneath the covers, his body relaxed as he scrolled through updates. The glow of the screencast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the elegant curve of his jaw and the faint hollows beneath his cheekbones.

The neon light from the city outside slipped through the curtains, fracturing into streaks of red and blue across his face. He looked almost otherworldly in the mix of colors, his sharp features softened by the cozy surroundings. V took a moment to study him—this rare, unguarded version of Jamil. His brow furrowed slightly as he read, his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration.

Something in her stirred. She crossed the room quietly, slipping into bed beside him. The mattress dipped under her weight, and he glanced at her, his expression softening as she settled against the pillows.

“Work updates?” she asked, nodding toward the datapad.

“Just catching up,” he replied, his tone as even as ever. “I returned early today to… make sure you came back. Now I’m behind.”

The faint rebuke in his voice made her wince, but she saw the flicker of relief in his eyes when he looked at her again. She wanted to say something—something light, something to dispel the lingering tension—but instead, she moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to his side.

Jamil froze for a moment, caught off guard, before setting the datapad aside. His hand rested lightly on her arm, his thumb brushing idly against her skin. “What’s this?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her words muffled against his shirt. “For scaring you. For making you worry.”

His hand stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle motion. “You say that now,” he said, his tone tinged with a faint bitterness. But there was no anger there—only a quiet, aching vulnerability. “Don’t make promises you cannot keep.”

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ll try harder. For you. For us.”

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin lightly on her hair. For a moment, the only sound was the rain outside and the faint hum of the city beyond the glass.

“Just… be careful. I don’t care how hard things get. Just come back.” he said after a long pause.

V tightened her hold on him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered. “I promise.”

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly against hers. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the glow of the city painting the walls around them in fractured light.

Eventually, Jamil shifted, pulling the covers up over both of them. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice a murmur. “Tomorrow will be better.”

“Get some rest, V,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. She nodded against him, letting her eyes close. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of Jamil’s breathing.

[moonstarsunsky]

In this short game, you will play as the widow of the Grand Duke of the Western region, a lonely and secluded woman, and one of the most sought-after singles in the entire kingdom. Despite this, you don't seem to really care about it, so will your opinion change over time, or will you continue to ignore society's pressure and shine as the luckiest woman in the city?

1. Customize your mc

2.Live as a grieving and fabulously wealthy widow.

3. Recall memories of the past.

4. Find your true love.

5. Meet people in high society.

☆ROs☆

Earl Sebastian Windrider:-

Appearance: A tall man with silky, long blonde hair that reaches below his shoulders. His skin is pale and smooth, resembling a porcelain doll, and he has sharp eyes like a cunning fox.

Description: The man embodies the cleverness of a fox and a playful nature; he is always on alert with quick wit and a mischievous smile. He possesses sharp intelligence and often manages to solve problems easily, able to handle difficult situations without feeling the pressure. His charm allows him to win others over, attracting people with his humor and charisma. He enjoys light-hearted teasing and is known for his cheerful approach to life, which often makes those around him feel at ease, though he has a serious and stern side at times.

Edward Blackthorn:-

Appearance: He is of average height with wavy brown hair and blue eyes like a clear sky. His skin has a lovely golden hue with slight freckles on his cheeks, and his eyes appear wide and full of life, like a playful puppy.

Description: The man possesses a contagious personality resembling that of a puppy, making him beloved by everyone he meets. His kindness radiates from him, greeting everyone with a warm smile and an enthusiastic demeanor. He is eager to build connections and bring joy to others' days. He values genuine friendship and often goes out of his way to help those in need, offering a sympathetic ear or a cheerful joke to lighten the mood.

----------------------------------------------------------

Hello everyone! I have always wanted to make this post, but I’m very shy. So, let me introduce myself as a start, I am just a college girl. You can call me Anya, as it is the closest name to my real name. I hope you are all doing well and safe, and that we can all be kind to one another.

Last note: English is not my first language, and I consider myself weak in it, so please excuse me if there are any spelling mistakes.

See you soon~♡

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

cry tears of puddles on ground here some incoherent snippets of what text partner about silco jinx father daughter dynamic that am going insane over rn hands n knees on ground begging sobbing n too busy do that to clean up or be coherent - n idk how much actual media analysis support by show evidence n how much it just me imagine things self insert wishful thinking - n there also may be from a few to many undescribed screenshots of season 1 because god have 100+ in camera roll

.

weak for father child esp found father child trope imperfect father but i will love you unconditionally i will try to be the best father can be for you even if i am irreparably messed up and so are you & imperfect child traumatized act out slowly losing grip with reality n will lash out will be rebellious ruin us all but you’ll be the best father i’ve ever had

(no diss on vanco tho)

him clumsily lift arm n hesitate n not know what to do not know if he should do not know how to do

subtle facial expression from “what’s going on what do i do” -> sadness (for powder n for his younger self) -> anger n determined n vengeful (for power n for his younger self) in span of seconds

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.”

“don’t cry. you’re perfect.” AS HIS LAST WORDS

“show them. we’ll show them all” his voice echo after his death as she shoot missile. n she did. she did!!!!! to have so many people growing up not believe in her think her useless say that to her face - n her figure out how to use gemstone BY SELF with no previous guide!!! with no upside tech with only what she can get there!! build bombs now even viktor n jace n those people say near impossible disassemble without explode in face. n entire time silco believe in her BELIEVE IN HER SUPPORT HER. WE’ll show them. WE. n THEY DID!!!! they did!!! together!!!! he’s dead by time she fire missile but they really did. the fact his voice echo with her as she do it, fact that animation flash to his body as she do it— also fact that. every step of way they did. she top most demanded by name person, most threatening person.

doctor scene “are you ready to lose her” “she can take it.” FATHER

believing in her bc she can because she HIS daughter n HIS daughter can take it n also believing in her because he needs to he needs her so she will take it she make it she HAS TO because he can’t lose her he can’t be without her

a father who did objectively HORRIBLE things. with SHITTY morals but also REALLY HOPEFUL (word choice) ones in twisted way.

be complicated character who is shitty for flooding undercity with drugs be drug lord but in same time doing that because he truly want zaun freedom - like think it important emphasize its. not HIM be ruler of zaun at least not directly phrased that way but fact that zaun freedom. like he very much could just directly say “one day zaun be free n am rule over” but he didn’t say second part. he not altruistic by any means but also!!!! he is???

all that complicated cruel will-do-anything-to-achieve-his-goal-beyond-himself villain-ness in direct contract with having the ONE SOFT SPOT of his daughter who FUCKS SHIT UP who is DIFFICULT who UNCONTROLLABLE UNPREDICTABLE n he loves her UNCONDITIONALLY he spoils her gives her so many lee way

the fact that someone so fucked up someone so actively make things difficult for him. can be loved

no am don’t have issues at all

also calling jinx difficult n fucked up n ruin things with all love in world not in derogatory way. because. it’s like. am fucked up. am difficult. am severely traumatized. am want burn whole world down for leaving me behind for betray me. in many people eye am more trouble me than am worth. n idea of. a father who love me just the way that am call me perfect. even if. [ ].

n to call someone like that. perfect

n to. mean it.

to genuinely see n treat her as perfect

even after she mistakenly shoot you killing you - to be constantly put in jeopardy by her fucked up ness to be harmed n killed by her fucked up ness. to see mistake as just that - mistake. n to forgive you for that no questions asked to love you unconditionally despite that or even because of that. for her mistake cost you your life n for your last word be tell her don’t cry, that she perfect.

down to willing give up his whole dream whole goal whole purpose he fought for all these fucking years - thing he gave his entire life towards.

because he refuse give her up he refuse leave her abandon her use her as pawn

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.” like genuinely truly believe he mean this he truly won’t take the deal with upside even if that mean zaun freedom because he refuse abandon jinx. he not just saying it to be manipulative or just saying be lying because he’s tied up with her have gun beside her he know she very much may fire

his “everyone betrayed you/us but i’ll never. am gave you everything” may be see as “you have no one but me” manipulative n maybe is but more importantly think that like. he genuinely believe that. like that his entire character origin. his entire motive.

the fact that she killed him n he don’t blame her one bit.

the fact the villain character clumsily learning how to take care of a child

he truly see her n treat her like her daughter not a pawn not a subject. more times than not instead of have her on leash as his subject he is leashed by her

to be so utterly broken n love someone

to be so utterly broken n be loved unconditionally by someone

two character who betrayed by entire world by people who once closest to them

n him swearing that he will never ever fucking do that to her. that they may not have other people they may have entire world against them but they have each other

n him FOLLOWING THAT down to his last breath

him not following that would have make his life n make more than his life so much easier

BUT HE REFUSE TO

also he didn’t betray her by lying to her that her sister is dead he genuinely believed her sister dead. leading to the funniest frame n line ever

“FROM THE DEAD???????”

[ewwww-what]

It will be the cry of an animal in pain.