#look was it good writing? not the way they handled it

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

HELP ME PLEASE

Your quinn is literally my favorite!!!!!!!!!!! Can you write him and reader!girlfriend on the phone after the stars game? Your sweet/sad quinn is the best!!!!!!!!!

Oh, you're WAY TO KIND TO ME...! 🥹🥹 Let's see what I can do!

All you had texted was, "I love you."

Incoming Call: Quinny

Quinn's broken voice in that post-game interview had killed you. The way he had looked down before answering about how he was feeling, his thoughts on Millsy's trade, and how he was handling the noise of the dressing room as the team's captain -- it was obvious how much it all was affecting him. Unfortunately, you were twenty-two-hundred miles away, and you felt powerless to help him in any form.

"Hey, baby," you said upon answering the call.

Quinn's voice was low, and it was obvious he was beyond exhausted, body and mind, "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course." Your stomach tightened like you were about to receive some bad news. You hadn't heard him sound this way before and given how the day had gone, you knew it wasn't going to be a butterfly-inducing conversation.

"Let me get somewhere a little quieter. I need to hear your voice."

To you, he sounded desperate -- like he was at his breaking point. While you waited for him to walk to wherever he needed to be, you couldn't help but worry about him -- about what had caused him pain during the game, how losing JT and the others was weighing on him, and the stress of the upcoming tournament that was just four games away. You couldn't get the sad look of his face out of your mind. When was the last time he had actually had a good day, that he was happy without nagging stresses?

"Hey Mike, I'm gonna step out for a few minutes," Quinn said, obviously not talking to you. You couldn't hear the other man's reply but it must have been favourable as Quinn would finally start his conversation with you just a few seconds afterwards.

He sighed heavily, "I wish you were here. I-- I feel like everything is out of control and I don't know what to do."

The sound of wind was intertwined with his words. You wondered if he had stepped outside the arena to talk to you, somewhere to speak without listening ears.

"I wish I was there, too," you confessed, a pain growing in your heart. "You're trying to carry too much, baby."

"I have no choice, though."

You knew where he was coming from. The title of Captain meant you wore several hats, and sometimes more than one at a time. You knew he had all of them on at once. This season hadn't been easy, and something had you believing it wasn't going to get any better.

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he breathed out, feeling guilty for calling you when he was feeling like he was. "I'm sorry to put this on you. I just don't know what to do. Everyone is looking to me for answers and insight, but I don't have any. I don't know how to fix the team, I'm carrying as much as I can every night. I'm asked about what's going on behind closed doors and the temperature of the room and I'm over it. It's like the media just wants to keep stirring the pot instead of letting us just work it out. Now I'm being asked about if the team rebuilds what that means for my future in Vancouver. I-- I just-- I can't-- handle everything right now." Your heart was breaking hearing him on the brink of tears. His voice was cracking and shaky. "I need you."

"I wish I was there, sweetheart. I'd do anything I could to help you."

"I love you," his voice at a whisper.

"I love you, too, Quinn."

The first whimper made you cover your mouth to keep yourself from doing the same. Quinn rarely cried, at least not when you were around. To hear him finally drop that ultra-reserved demeanour of his was crushing.

"Oh honey, you'll be okay," you tried to reassure him, but they were words without certainty, you knew that. "You're doing the best you can, and you need to realise that you need to put yourself first sometimes. You're pushing yourself too much. It's not on you to solely fix the team, Quinn, though I know you're trying. I've never seen you this way before, and I'm scared it's going to break you."

He was silent on the other end, aside from his muffled cries. You didn't need him to say anything, though hearing his voice would have made you feel better, which made you remember what he had said to you earlier: "I need to hear your voice."

Maybe he just needed you to talk to him.

"One day at a time, baby, please. Be happy where you are, and what you have. You're doing all you can, and I need you to know that it's okay to struggle, but it's also okay to be content with how things are. You know there are things out of your control, and you just have to let them work themselves out sometimes. You'll drive yourself crazy trying to put bandaids on everything. I don't want to lose you down that rabbit hole." You'd pause before adding one more thing, "I just want you to be okay."

Quietly you'd sit there and wait for a sign from him, or whatever it might be. A long moment of silence would follow your words, making you pull the phone away from your ear to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

"I miss you," he choked out, breaking the painful silence between the two of you.

"I miss you more, Quinn. I wish you were here."

"Me, too," he said, sharply inhaling, like he was trying to push those emotions back down and get over it. "Thank you for picking up everything -- the call, the pieces...me. I'd be so lost without you."

You'd shake your head, "You never have to thank me, baby. I just want to help you."

"I appreciate that," he sniffled. "I just wish I knew where to start."

"With yourself, Quinn," you said bluntly. "How are you feeling? I saw you take the stick to the head early."

It took him a few seconds to respond but you didn't mind, "I don't know, honestly. Between my hand and whatever is wrong with my leg, everything hurts. I'm tired. I'm drained. I wish I was home with you."

Everything he said carried so much weight and his emotions were so painfully honestly.

That was just Quinn.

He always spoke from his heart; wearing his heart on his sleeve every waking moment of his life. However this had a different air about it -- a nakedness. He was free to share his deepest fears with you, those raw feelings were bleeding from him with no hindrance. You appreciated that he felt so comfortable to open up like he was, and the fact that he was away from you, as well. Quinn didn't give the hint that he shared stuff like this with the guys on the team -- not like he did with you. You were different. He loved you -- you occupied a special piece of his heart like no on else did. That meant something special to him.

"You'll be home soon, baby. Just a little longer, okay?"

Through Quinn's end of line, someone was calling out to him, "C'mon Quinn-- the boy's are packing up, let's go."

You frowned hearing the empty orders, but you knew Quinn would have to end the call with you and head to the airport. There was always a sense of urgency after their games, especially the away ones.

"Yeah-- I'll be right there," he muttered, his voice dropping off at the end while he pretended to have himself together. "I'll call you when we get back to Vancouver."

"Be careful."

"I will," he paused. "Thanks, babe. For all that you do for me."

"Happy to help, Quinny. I love you."

For the first time, you heard his little giggle, "I love you, too."

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even litteler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[nozo-muu]

Hello Zero, Could you do a hot David Corenswet scene? the new Superman Something like him feeling jealous of the male reader.By the way, I would like to know if you write for DC too

Thank you so much for the ask! To be honest, I'm not the biggest DC watcher/reader so this might be ooc, but I tried my best. Also, I don't really write for DC since, again, I'm kinda out of the loop, but you can always ask!

YOU'VE CONVINCED ME, SUPERMAN

Pairing: Top!Superman/Clark Kent X Bottom!male reader

CW: Sex, Jealousy, Oral (reader giving), Ass eating (reader receiving), creampie?

Author's note: I don't know how to feel about this...

Metropolis was sunny as always. The sun beamed through the windows of the redaction office. Clark was working on a news article about a mysterious figure spotted multiple times over the last few weeks whenever chaos struck the city. 

He knew who that was, a vigilante he had “worked” with a couple of times to fight off some bad guys. He had to admit, he was talented, his energy manipulation magic was impressive. And the way he fought hand to hand… Gosh, it was a sight for sore eyes. 

“Breaking news!” He turned to watch the TV they had in the office. “An attack has been perpetrated on the intersection between Rowan and Mains Street. The attacker has already destroyed multiple police units.” 

Upon hearing that, Clark made his way towards the stairs that led to the rooftop. He needed to do something. Once he got undressed, revealing his suit, he leaped off the edge of the building and flew towards the place of the incident. 

The area was surrounded by police cars, trying to contain the danger, which honestly wasn't going to accomplish much. 

He flew down, landing on his feet. There wasn't that much mayhem… some upside-down cars, cracks on the ground, and some nearby stores with shattered windows. 

There was a figure though, a big silhouette, almost animal-like. It had shards of some kind of crystal all over its back.

“I would be careful if I was you” 

He looked around, seeing you levitating off to the side. 

“The bastard's got some strength. And those shards… Kryptonite maybe? I wouldn’t touch them if I were you.” You say, approaching the broad man beside you.

“Kryptonite? How is that possible?” 

“Beats me.” You shrugged. “As long as you don't attack his back, we should be good.”

He nodded understandingly, preparing his attack while you immobilized that thing with your magic. You could have gotten rid of the threat on your own perfectly, but you wanted to see him. He was so fine, it was like skipping dessert if you didn't look him up and down after a fight. 

The threat now being eliminated, you walked over to the police cars where a head of police approached you two. 

“That thing shouldn't cause any problems anymore. I've gotten rid of its body. There shouldn't be any more issues, officer.” 

Clark stood silent behind you.

“Thank you, thank you. I don't know what we would have done without you.” 

“You probably could have handled it too, I'm sure of that.” You replied smiling. 

There you were again, making small talk with some random guy. He didn't know why, but he hated it when you did that, always having flirty remarks and comments, and smiling at strangers. 

Some passers-by were shouting your names, and of course, you went and took pictures with them, smiling and being friendly. 

He hated it. 

Once everyone had started to dissipate, you went back to his side. He was silent…

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nothing, I just need to go get my clothes.”

“I'll come with you. We can go watch the sunset later or something.”

He grunted. He didn't want that, he wanted to fuck you then and there. To show you you were not about to go around flirting with everyone. You weren't together or anything, but he wanted you to be only his. 

When you landed on the rooftop of the building, he took his clothes and made his way towards a broom closet where he had been putting his discarded clothes to go pick up at a later date. 

That's when an idea crossed his mind. He quickly took your wrist and locked you both inside the broom closet. 

“What are you -” you get cut off by his lips on yours. He was a surprisingly good kisser. 

“Let me fuck you.”

“What?”

“Let me claim you.” He keeps kissing your neck. 

You moan at the sensation, and seeing that you're not pushing him away, he takes that as a yes.

He starts getting rid of his and your clothes, leaving you as naked as the day you were born in that dark room. 

He starts planting kisses all over your torso and neck, leaving some marks here and there to show that you are his. 

He slightly pushes your shoulders down, enticing you to get on your knees. 

You oblige and kneel in front of him, instinctively taking his member into your mouth. You started licking around the tip, slowly making your way down the shaft. The sensation made him tremble and groan…

You kept sucking his cock until you felt him push you away slightly. It was now all wet and ready, but your hole still needed some prep.

“Turn around for me.” 

You did as he asked, now facing the door separating you from the outside world. Clark got on his knees and spread your cheeks apart. He spat on your hole, slowly massaging the liquid around your entrance. He approached his face and started eating you out. Once he felt you were ready to take him, he got up, embracing you from behind and whispering in your ear.

“Can I fuck you now?” 

“Yes.”

He kissed you one final time before lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly pushed in, making sure to not hurt you. You moan at the feeling of it stretching your hole. He paused for a little so you could get used to the feeling of it.   

“Can I move?”

“Mmhmm” You nod, not being able to form a coherent sentence. 

He started moving slowly, but then sped up, remembering all those fuckers you had flirted with. In a way, fucking you was a win against those nobodies who thought they had a chance with you. 

The pace was perfect, rough but gentle enough to not hurt you. He kept hitting your spot, your cock leaking from the pleasure. For an alien, he sure knew how to fuck a man’s ass well. 

He then pulled away a little, turning you around.

“I want you to face me.”

You nodded, and he took you in his strong arms, pressing you against his muscular torso. You straddled him while being suspended in the air, his member lining up with your hole. He inserted it again, this time hitting deeper because of the position. He started kissing you while you bounced on him. 

He took your cock in his hand, and using the precum he rubbed your tip, before starting to stroke you while fucking you. 

“Clark…” You moaned in his ear.

“I’m also getting close, pretty boy.”

You kept that position until you both hit your climax. You came first, your cum coating his hand and your abs. 

“Can I cum inside?” He asked sultrily. 

You hummed, still kissing his neck and leaving the occasional bite mark from pleasure on his neck and collarbone. 

That’s when you felt it, the warm liquid filling your hole. He pulled out his thick member and rested you on a table as he kissed your forehead. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah. You fuck like a pornstar…Damn.” 

He chuckled softly at the compliment. 

“That means you’ll only flirt with me from now on then? “

“Fine, you've convinced me, Superman.” 

He smiled. He officially had you for himself now. And if you ever started your little games again, he’d jealous fuck you again and again until you understood. 

[limethefirst]

Hi! How are you? I was looking for people writing movie shadow after I saw the movie and hoped I could submit a request for you? Can we maybe have shadow with a reader who is a alien hedgehog like him found after him? Shadow when he met the reader takes her in as his own and helps to in a way raise them. After the accident they both were put under statis and met up again in the base 50 years later after he and she had escaped?

Remember Me

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x Hedgehog!reader (platonic)

warnings: spoilers

summary: Shadow takes it upon himself to look out for you even after being frozen for 50 years

a/n: slowly getting back into the writing groove yes!! if i wrote things for other fandoms would you guys burn me at the stake or not❤️

Shadow was used to feeling alone, being the only alien hedgehog constantly surrounded by scientists who saw him as some type of experiment was draining. Of course he had Maria and for her he was forever grateful but she didn't understand how he felt, no one really could. Until you came along, another alien hedgehog that arrived the same way he did, and was now viewed just like he was.

By all means, Shadow, was not considered approachable. He was only ever willingly around Maria and Gerald, and even Gerald was often pushing it, but when you showed up it was hard to catch him alone. He was basically your caretaker, a task he gave himself after seeing how nervous you felt around everyone and how you weren't exactly sure how to regulate the powers you also had.

You sat next to Shadow as Maria put on a new movie she'd found, 'Godzilla', it was called. You didn't like it, it was about an alien, an evil one who destroyed a place on earth called Japan. It made you feel slightly, self conscious? Even though you yourself wouldn't do that or ever thought of committing violent acts against people. Shadow seemingly noticing your discomfort nudged you, drawing your attention away from the self deprivation you were feeling. He looked down at you, giving you a gruff nod, almost like he could read your mind.

His gaze never left your eyes, silently communicating. It was easy to tell what he wanted to say, 'You're not a freaky monster alien who will go and tear up Japan.' Or something along those lines.. the latter was funnier though. Maria glanced over at you two, noticing the subtle communication but also the slight sadness you both had inn your eyes. Although he didn't show it as much, Shadow felt slightly the same upon seeing the movie.

He knew that feeling all to well, he'd seen it, in the eyes of the scientists, guards, everyone who worked here. They thought he was dangerous, and he hated it. Which was why he was determined to make sure you didn't feel the same, because he wasn't sure if he could handle knowing that you also felt like you were a danger, something that was a weapon.

The nights dragged on, and he made sure to keep an eye on you, silently at least. He will never openly show how much he cares. He just will care, and that's good enough for him, although Maria could tell he cared.

Then that night came, where Maria was gone, and so were you. They'd taken Maria from him and grabbed you, pulling you away from him. God, he couldn't stand it, the tears that fell as you screamed for him. He would've tried to do something if it weren't for the fact he was in shock, he'd witnessed one of his closeted friends die in front of him and now he had to watch as they dragged you away, putting you in a small cage as your small hands tried to reach out to him.

Finally there was silence, it was restless, a restless silence that he had to endure for 50 years. Until he was woken up, and all that consumed him was rage. While on the other side of the containment chambers, you'd also woken up, but instead of feeling anger coursing through you, it was fear. You looked around the barren room, the alarms were sounding, and everything was flashing red, suddenly a loud thud broke your nervous train of thought.

You're eyes widened slightly as something punched down the wall, you stepped out of the tube that held you, the liquid used to keep you asleep was drained, leaving your quills wet. The dust slowly began to clear revealing a figure you longed to see since that dreadful night.

"Shadow?.." You're voice slightly trembled as you spoke that name, trying to see him through the red flashing room. Shadow looked at you, his gaze was unwavering but it slightly softened seeing that you were still alive, and unharmed.

He let out a small sigh, his shoulders untensing at your voice, "Let's go," it was rough but his eyes betrayed him. He was grateful, happy to see that you, at least, had survived. He wasn't going to let what happened to Maria happen to you, he swore on that, nothing would harm you.

[ch-4-eri]

heyy! i was wondering if you would write sub!abby cumming from just sucking on her nipples🫢

english is not my first language so i am very sorry if i spelt anything wrong

Sorry I haven’t been writing much, had this in my drafts for weeks here you go 💋

You and Abby had a good ol’ plan to spend the night just watching tv before bed, and you complied the first ten minutes and that’s before you start getting all touchy feely with her, and as usual, Abby allowed your hands to wander down her body.

She often sat bra less and no underwear as your hands were successfully roaming around freely, which made her clit throb, Abby knew she can’t handle you touching her and how fast you turn her on.

With her shirt discarded and the tv completely ignored, your mouth was wrapped around her nipple as she was squirming and writhing underneath you, “mmmh fuck baby that feels so good.” She chuckled breathlessly, her clit still waiting for attention from you of any kind.

You noticed how extra needy she was tonight, barely saying anything with her eyes closed and her mouth hung open. Her rough hand placed on your hip as the other was gripping your hair into a loose hold, unable to register much but the way her pussy ached for you, how much she needs you.

“You’re so sensitive it’s adorable.” You giggled into her, toying with her other nipple as Abby’s hips jerk into your own, she was so close, she knew her orgasm was right there and she rarely came without you even touching her, the throbbing was unbearable, she could scream out, grab you and toss you on the couch and ride your thigh until she couldn’t walk the next morning but it’s almost like she couldn’t move.

The knot in her lower belly tightened, she could feel her clit grow its own heartbeat all while your tongue and lips toyed with her nipples, biting and squeezing her tits.

“Fuck baby— ah!” Abby moans, her hips squirming as she feels the orgasm lick up her spine. She was panting, her body feverishly shaking, the blood pumping in her veins, her poor clit still throbbing as you raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just—“ you say, completely shocked you got her to this state, just sucking on her now swollen reddish nipples made her cum without your hands even doing anything to get her to. Abby was flushing in embarrassment and ecstasy, nodding as she looked into your eyes.

“Couldn’t take it anymore…” she pants, “I still need you baby, goddamn it.” She whined, taking your hand and guided it between her legs, desperately needing friction against her poor poor clit.

As your palm was flattened out against her crotch, she was riding your hand as you felt how wet she was from the thin material of her shorts from the lack of underwear, your hand remained there, allowing Abby to use it to get herself off for the second time that night.

“Please…. More.” She whispered. Grabbing your hip and holds your hand into her. She was aggressive with the way she was asking, more like demanding.

“Fuck.. touch me..” she spat, growling into your neck, grabbing your hips and pushing you down onto the couch, straddling your knee as it was slotted between her beefy thighs, letting her hips rut into it as you just watched how desperate she looked, her face red and the sweat glowing over her shoulders and her forehead, her face shoved into your neck as she pinned your shoulder against the couch and she was riding your thigh, her clit finally getting the attention it craved.

“Holy shit baby you’re so desperate.” You giggled breathlessly as you guided her hips onto your knee that was soaked with her juices, your knee shoved between her legs and she was too wet to notice how uncomfortable it could be, her hot breath fanned into your neck as she was getting off the second time, unaware she was using you for it but oh how much you loved it.

“You good there?” You mock her, holding her hips and guiding her. “Shut up..” she mewled, moaning your name as she came the second time, feeling her cum drip down your thigh. “You messy girl.” You laugh, kissing her face repeatedly.

“I hate you..” she murmured. “You worked me up so much…”

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (1/???)

Here I aaam! Remembering that the posts will be every Saturday.

So, enjoy it!

*I'm a little drunk rigth now, so, I'm sorry if you find mistakes*

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: A serie of events makes you fall into the good graces of two older women.

Hey! I've a masterlist

Fascination

You wake up to the first rays of sunlight slipping through the gaps in the curtains. Your bedroom is small, just 23 square meters, but it’s the only space in the world you can truly call your own. A study desk pushed against the wall, shelves crammed with books and notebooks filled to the last page, and plants scattered in every corner—ferns, succulents, and a small cactus that stubbornly clings to life even when you forget to water it.

After stretching, you get up and head straight to the window, where your plants greet the day. You talk to them in a soft tone as you mist them, almost as if expecting a reply. “You look beautiful today. I promise I won’t forget you again.”

Lucky, your overly talkative black cat, meows at your feet. He wants nothing but your attention, and you oblige, stroking his head with a tired smile. “Good morning, Lucky. Seems like you’ve got a lot to say, huh?” He meows back, and you laugh.

In the comfortable silence of the morning, your mind drifts, as it often does, to the past. You grew up in the suburbs, in a small house that was always full. Your father did his best to raise you and your five older siblings, but there was a gap that was never filled: your mother. She left when you were just a child, and though no one in the family spoke openly about it, her absence was a constant shadow in your life.

You remember the nights when your older siblings would laugh and argue in the living room, while you, the youngest, hid in a corner with a book or a notebook. Writing was your escape, your way of creating a world where you had control, where mothers didn’t leave and bad things always had a solution.

She left when you were little, leaving behind you, your five older siblings, and a father who never knew how to handle her absence. You remember the nights when the silence of the house was broken by questions no one dared to ask. Why did she leave? Was it us? Was it me?

No matter how hard he tried, your father couldn’t fill the void she left behind. He worked all day, came home exhausted, and did his best to keep the house running, but affection and kind words were never his strong suit.

“You’re strong. You don’t need to cry over this,” he’d say every time tears threatened to spill. Gradually, you learned to swallow your tears and convince yourself that you needed to be strong, even when everything inside you wanted to collapse.

Her absence shaped much of who you are today, though not in a way you like to admit. It’s hard to look in the mirror and not feel... inadequate. You wonder if she left because you weren’t good enough, because you weren’t good enough.

These thoughts are like shadows that appear at the most unexpected times, especially when you try to open up to someone. Intimacy is terrifying. You fear that if people truly know you, they’ll abandon you, just like she did.

In school, this made you shy and reserved. You always felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, unable to fit in. Your siblings tried to shield you from the worst, but they had their own battles to fight.

You were the youngest, the “baby” of the house, and yet you never had the chance to be treated as such. While they laughed and argued, you hid in your room, writing stories that transported you to worlds where mothers didn’t abandon their daughters.

This absence also gave you a fierce determination. You promised yourself that if no one was there to take care of you, then you would take care of yourself. You studied late into the night, devouring books on screenwriting and filmmaking from the public library.

When the college acceptance letter arrived, it felt like the world had paused for a moment. You’d made it. The first in your family to set foot on a university campus. Despite the pride, the insecurity is always there, lurking. The fear of not being good enough, of failing, of being discarded. You work hard because you feel you have something to prove, even if no one asked you to.

The sound of the bell above the door announces another day of work at the small café. You walk in, adjusting your apron with a resigned sigh. The air smells comforting, like fresh coffee, but the weight of the shift ahead is always present. You do everything there: serve tables, clean counters, even organize the stock. Your boss is an unpleasant man, known for his sexist jokes and invasive behavior. But you need the money, so you swallow your anger and keep going.

América, your coworker, is the opposite of you. Rebellious and fearless, she confronts the boss without hesitation, even knowing it could cost her the job. You make an unlikely team, but somehow it works.

As you wipe down the counter, you hear the sharp click of heels echoing through the café. The sound has a weight to it, cutting through the usual hum of the room. A barely perceptible pause spreads through the space, as if the air itself had been suspended for a second. It’s not just curiosity—it’s reverence.

Your gaze lifts almost instinctively, and it’s impossible not to notice the woman who just walked in. Tall, with perfectly styled dark hair and a black blazer that looks tailor-made, she exudes power. But it’s more than that. There’s something in the way her eyes sweep the room—a sharp coldness, as if she could dissect everyone there with just a glance. And people notice her. Some whisper her name, others try not to stare too long.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem intimidated. But when her eyes finally land on you, it’s as if the world around you has disappeared. She doesn’t look away, and the intensity of that moment makes your stomach churn. For a split second, it feels like she knows exactly who you are—all your fears, insecurities, and dreams laid bare before her.

Summoning what little courage you have left, you adjust your apron and force a smile you’ve practiced hundreds of times. “Good morning, what can I get for you today?” Your voice sounds calm, but your heart is racing.

The woman continues to stare at you, silent. Her dark eyes analyze every detail: the slightly worn apron, your hands gripping the notepad too tightly, even the stray strand of hair that escaped your bun. It’s unsettling, as if she’s assessing every tiny aspect of your existence.

“A caramel latte... and a black coffee. No sugar. To go.” Her voice finally breaks the silence. It’s low, gravelly, like distant thunder, and carries a strange familiarity—as if she’s used to being obeyed without question.

You nod, trying to stay professional. But as you prepare the orders, you feel her eyes on you, watching every move. The weight of her gaze is almost unbearable, like a test you didn’t know you were being forced to take. Your hands start to tremble, and an anxious heat spreads through your body. The feeling of being judged grows.

When you turn to hand over the drinks, the tension in your muscles is so tight that your hands falter. Before you realize it, the hot coffee cup slips, spilling the brown liquid all over the woman’s immaculate white blouse. The sound of the cup hitting the counter is muffled by the low, controlled sound of frustration that escapes her lips—not a scream, but a deep, restrained noise.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your voice trembling. Grabbing napkins in a panic, you lean in to clean up the mess but freeze when you see the stain spreading across the expensive fabric.

The murmur in the café grows louder. Someone lets out an audible sigh, while another mutters something about “the mighty Rio” being treated so carelessly. The name hangs in the air, and only then does it fully hit you.

You knew she seemed powerful, but you hadn’t realized you were standing in front of Rio Vidal—one of the world’s most renowned visual artists. Like her wife, Agatha Harkness, she’s an icon. Together, they’re one of the few openly gay couples to dominate and be celebrated by the industry. Her fame precedes her, and now you’ve just spilled coffee on her.

The woman doesn’t say anything immediately, but her eyes—once analytical—now seem to pierce through you. There’s something terrifyingly calm about the way she looks at you, as if she’s deciding how much of a reaction you’re worth.

Before you can stammer out more apologies, your boss’s voice cuts through the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he shouts, his anger exploding. “How can you be so clumsy? A client of this caliber, and you do this?! I should fire you right now!”

The embarrassment spreads through you like the coffee on her blouse. Your eyes well up as you try to explain, but the words won’t come. All you can do is look at the woman, hoping she’ll say something—anything.

She, however, doesn’t even glance at your boss. Her eyes remain fixed on you, as if he doesn’t exist. Finally, she breaks the silence with a low, sharp voice: “That really isn’t necessary.”

Your boss stammers, surprised. “But, ma’am, she—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Her gaze silences him, and for the first time, you see a man who thrives on authority shrink back.

You try to catch your breath, your face burning with shame. With a thread of courage, you murmur, “Please, come with me. I—I can fix this.” Your voice falters, but there’s something in your insistence that makes her tilt her head slightly, as if weighing your determination before nodding.

In the restroom, the silence between you is heavy but not empty. You grab the spare blouse you always carry and try to gather your thoughts, but when you turn around, the air seems to leave your lungs.

The woman unbuttons her blazer with precise movements, and when she removes the stained shirt, she reveals a black silk blouse so delicate that the light highlights the curves of her collarbone and the edges of her lace bra.

Your gaze involuntarily drifts to her shoulder, where the skin reddened by the coffee looks almost fragile. The sight is intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for, and your face burns.

“I... I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have...” you begin, but your voice falters. Your mind is torn between the embarrassment of the accident and the hypnotic presence of her, which seems to fill the small space of the restroom.

“Do you always get this nervous?” Her question is unexpected, her voice low and laden with something you can’t decipher. It’s almost a challenge, a test, and her gaze remains fixed on you, as if expecting more than a simple answer.

“I... I don’t know. Maybe?” You look away, shrinking slightly as you hand her the clean blouse. It’s cheap fabric but carries the faint scent of your homemade perfume. When her fingers brush against yours as she takes it, a shiver runs down your skin, quick and unexpected.

She puts on the blouse slowly, unhurried, and her words follow like an echo: “You shouldn’t apologize so much. Especially when you don’t know what for.” The statement is intriguing, almost disconcerting. Your heart races, as if you’ve just stumbled upon something you don’t fully understand.

Before she leaves, you blurt out, the words tumbling out in one breath: “Please... let me wash your blouse. I want... I need to make it up to you.”

She pauses at the door and turns, her eyes locking onto yours once more. There’s something different now, a genuine interest, almost calculated.

Without a word, she pulls a black card from her pocket, elegant and scented with a faint woody aroma. “When it’s ready, come to this address.” Her voice is low but layered with meaning you can’t interpret.

She leaves before you can respond, her posture impeccable and her steps controlled, as if every movement were rehearsed. You’re left alone in the restroom, holding the card that feels heavier than it should.

Rio Vidal.

The name echoes in your mind. A short, strong name, as enigmatic as she is. And for some reason you can’t explain, you feel like you’ve just opened a door to something that will change your life in ways even the worst coffee spills couldn’t predict.

A few minutes later, you gather enough courage to leave the restroom. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, as if trying to remind you of the disaster that just happened.

You find your boss standing near the counter, wearing the same disdainful look that always makes your skin crawl. But something is different today. He doesn’t explode into shouts as you expected.

“Rio Vidal. The Rio Vidal—” He crosses his arms and sighs, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say, “—said it was fine. And she was very clear that you shouldn’t be punished.”

You blink, confused. The black card in your hand feels heavier now. Why would she do that? Was it pity? Some kind of veiled charity because of your desperation? Or... something more?

The woody scent of the card wafts up to you, a tangible reminder of the woman who, even with coffee spilled on her expensive blouse, had remained impassive and enigmatic.

“Get back to work before I change my mind,” your boss grumbles, but his tone has lost its usual edge. You don’t argue, just tuck the card into your pocket, still feeling every embossed letter like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

[...]

You practically run to the university. Your legs ache, but it doesn’t matter because today is important. When you finally reach the worn-down building that houses the film department, you can barely catch your breath. The room is packed with anxious students, and excited whispers fill the air.

“You’re almost late!” Darcy whispers, pushing a notebook aside to make room for you. Her eyes are wide, nervous. “Agatha Harkness is already here.”

Her name makes your heart race, in a completely different way from the panic you felt before.

Agatha Harkness.

The legend. The queen. The woman who made actors cry on set and screenwriters question if they were good enough to write even a single line of dialogue. She was a monster… but undeniably a genius. Everything that came from her hands was masterful, and you secretly harbored an absurd admiration for her.

Peter, sitting in front of you, whispers to Darcy, “Do you think she’s going to rip someone’s heart out today? She did that the last time she visited a university…”

Darcy, next to him, makes a face. “On the first day?”

“Without a doubt,” Peter replies, shrugging.

Before you can respond, the door swings open. The sound of her heels is the first thing that fills the sudden silence. And then she enters.

Agatha is everything you imagined and more. Tall, dressed in an impeccable purple suit that seems to radiate authority, with a smile that borders on cruel and eyes that scan the room as if evaluating every soul present. Her presence is a punch to the stomach, yet at the same time, something in you feels magnetized by her. It’s impossible to look away.

She wastes no time with warm introductions. Instead, she tosses a stack of papers onto the desk and begins speaking. Her voice is deep, firm, and filled with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

“Writing is an act of courage. And from what I’ve heard, many of you have been content with mediocrity.”

The students exchange nervous glances. Darcy practically sinks into her chair beside you. You, on the other hand, feel your heart race even more. There’s something hypnotic about the way she speaks, as if every word is carefully sharpened to cut.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” Agatha steps up to the blackboard and writes something with an elegant pen. “Write a scene. Any scene. But make it something worth reading. Because if I think you’re wasting my time…” She lifts her gaze, and the silence that follows is more threatening than any word. “—your nonexistent careers won’t even start.”

Agatha picks up the first stack of papers and starts reading in silence, her eyes moving rapidly from side to side. The room is absolutely silent, so quiet that the sound of students breathing feels deafening.

After a few seconds, she lets out an almost exasperated sigh and lifts a paper, holding it up as if it were evidence of a terrible crime.

“Who wrote this?”

A girl in the back of the room timidly raises her hand, almost regretting existing.

Agatha narrows her eyes at the paper, then at the girl. “Is this a love story?”

The girl shakes her head, mumbling something about the plot being deeper than it seemed.

“No. It’s not.” Agatha cuts in, her voice as cold as steel. “This is a cheap fanfic disguised as a script. Characters with no substance, dialogues recycled from a teen drama. Where is the humanity? Where is the real conflict? This isn’t writing. This is a murder of art.”

The girl seems to shrink into her seat.

Agatha tosses the paper onto the desk and picks up the next one. This time, she doesn’t read for long before looking up. “Who thinks it’s acceptable to start a scene with ‘Once upon a time’ in an academic assignment? Are you trying to sell an idea or put a child to sleep?”

A boy in the front row tries to justify his choice, but Agatha raises a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not here to hear excuses. I’m here to see talent. And so far, I’ve seen nothing worth my time.”

The silence in the room is palpable. You see Darcy whisper something to Peter, probably something like “Yeah, definitely heartless,” but you can’t focus. Your own script is in your hands, and the weight of the paper feels like lead.

Finally, your turn comes. With trembling hands, you hand the sheet to Agatha Harkness, feeling as if you’re handing over a piece of yourself. She takes the paper with an almost deliberate calm, and for a moment, you’re sure she’s going to toss it onto the “failures” pile without even looking.

But then, something in the title seems to catch her attention. Her eyes, previously indifferent, narrow slightly, and she begins to read.

Seconds turn into eternities as you watch her. The room around you fades away; all you can hear is the sound of your own heart pounding against your ribs. Your mind drifts back, inevitably, to the moment you wrote those words—the weight of the story, the piece of your soul you decided to share.

Agatha turns the page. Once, then again. Her silence is like a knife. You don’t know if this is good or bad.

When she finally finishes, she places the paper on the desk. Unlike the others, she doesn’t discard it immediately, but she also doesn’t show approval. Her eyes lock onto you, assessing, and there’s something new in her expression: a trace of curiosity.

“Interesting.” Her tone is neutral, but there’s something hidden in it—a hint of intrigue, perhaps? She leans forward slightly, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to tell a personal story?”

Your face burns instantly, and you feel the weight of all the eyes around you. Still, you find the strength to nod in confirmation, even as shame nearly swallows you whole.

“Hmm.” Agatha raises an eyebrow, pressing her lips into a thoughtful line. “You have no technique. No structure. The writing is messy, almost amateurish.”

Her words cut deep, and you bite your lip hard to keep the bile from rising in your throat.

“But…” She pauses, looking at the paper with unsettling intensity. “You have—” then, she focuses on you, and seeing those ocean-blue eyes so close makes your body tremble. “—something.”

Her choice of words is as vague as it is provocative, and you feel the weight of that “something” hanging in the air between you. She narrows her eyes, as if trying to figure out exactly what it was in the text that caught her—or in you.

“Stay after the bell rings.”

Her voice is final, like a sentence, but there’s no hostility. She dismisses you with a slight wave of her hand, and you feel a mixture of relief and anxiety as you return to your seat.

While the others hand in their scripts, you remain restless, trying to decipher Agatha’s expression and the reason behind her words. What in your text could have caught her attention? The room around you is filled with muffled murmurs, but in your mind, it’s as if you’re trapped in a storm.

As soon as the bell rings, only three people remain in the room besides you. The silence is dense, heavy with expectation, as Agatha moves with the same deliberate calm as before.

Of course, she already knows exactly what she’s doing. This special, hand-picked mentorship was clearly a strategy to appear more "kind" to the public, even though, so far, there had been nothing friendly about her approach.

You watch as she begins the individual feedbacks, calling Darcy first. The girl in front of you seems to be caught between hope and terror but agrees to step forward. As Agatha starts speaking to her, you try to distract yourself, but you can’t stop your eyes from wandering back to the director.

She is... magnetic. Even as she crushes Darcy’s creative dreams with precise, cutting words, there’s something about her that simply demands attention. And then it happens.

For a moment—or perhaps for all eternity—her blue eyes meet yours.

Your throat goes dry instantly. It’s impossible to interpret what’s in that gaze, but it hits you hard. Curiosity? Judgment? Or something else? You try to look away, but it’s as if you’re trapped. She stares at you for only a few seconds before returning to her conversation with Darcy, as if nothing had happened. But you know it did.

Your heart pounds so loudly it feels like it echoes in the empty room. Nervousness is consuming you, but there’s something else, a sensation you weren’t expecting. A tightness in your stomach.

Desire? Nervousness? Anxiety?

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath and organize your thoughts, but it only makes things worse. It feels like she has pulled a piece of the air around you away with just that look.

Time moves slowly. Agatha finishes Darcy’s feedback, moving on to the next student. And then, when your turn finally comes, you don’t know if you’re ready—or if you ever would be.

She calls your name firmly, and you stand up. Your legs feel weak as you walk toward her, carrying the weight of her expectation and your own desire to impress her.

“So,” she begins, crossing her arms, her sharp gaze settling on you. “Let’s talk about what you wrote.”

As soon as you sit before her, Agatha picks up your sheet of paper, holding it carefully, as if she were carrying something precious—or something dangerous. She doesn’t say anything right away, just fixes her eyes on the text for a few seconds before beginning to read again, this time out loud:

"One day, I had a dream about my mother. She was married to the man she truly loved, and without children. There, I had never seen her so happy."

Her voice is deep, but it carries a softness you didn’t expect. It’s as if she’s savoring each word, analyzing every nuance.

When she finishes, Agatha places the paper on the table with a controlled gesture and looks directly at you. The silence that follows seems to last an eternity.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that gaze, as if she could see every secret you tried to hide.

“Is your mother the main character here?” The question is direct, blunt—like everything about her.

You feel your face heat up, looking away. “I... maybe?” you murmur, the words hesitant.

“No need to lie,” she interrupts, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “The text screams it. Every line, every word choice… it’s as if you were exorcizing a ghost. Tell me, is that what you tried to do? Exorcize the guilt of loving and hating at the same time?”

The brutality of the question leaves you speechless. You shift in your chair, uncomfortable, but she doesn’t seem inclined to ease the tension.

“Did she leave you?” Agatha presses, her eyes locked onto yours, as if she could pull the truth out of you by force.

You hesitate but finally let out a shaky sigh. “Yes.”

For a moment, her face seems to change. Something in her gaze softens, but only for a fraction of a second before she composes herself again.

“And yet, you chose not to hate her.” She tilts her head, as if studying a particularly intriguing piece of art. “That is… rare.”

“I think that… she did what she thought was best for her,” you reply, your voice almost a whisper. “I don’t blame her for seeking happiness, even if it hurt me.”

Agatha remains silent for a few moments, as if processing something. There was something in the text—or maybe in the way you spoke—that seemed to touch an old wound in her. A shadow passes over her face, but she quickly pushes it away, replacing it with a neutral expression.

“You have talent,” she declares, breaking the silence. “Still raw, but it’s genuine. And, more importantly, you have courage. The kind of courage I’m looking for.”

You blink, confused. “Looking for?”

Agatha leans forward, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intensity. “I’m assembling a team for my next project. I need minds that think like yours—that see beyond the surface and aren’t afraid to explore the shadows. Would you be interested?”

Your heart races. Working with Agatha Harkness? The woman you admired, even feared? It was more than you could have imagined, but the answer was obvious.

“Yes,” you respond quickly, barely able to contain the excitement in your voice.

Agatha smiles, and the gesture is as enigmatic as the rest of her. “Good. Get ready, little gem. I’m going to shape you piece by piece," The way she spoke was hypnotic, pulling you in. “and it will be… painful.”

As soon as you answer affirmatively, Agatha pulls something from the pocket of her purple blazer: a business card. It’s blue, with purple lettering in an elegant cursive font. The floral scent of the paper fills the air as she slides the card across the table toward you.

“Come to this address tomorrow,” she says, her voice firm but low, as if each word were chosen with care. “Seven at night. And don’t be late.”

You take the card with trembling fingers, its weight feeling heavier than it should. The moment you touch it, a wave of déjà vu washes over you. The texture, the scent, even the sophistication of the design remind you of the card Rio gave you earlier.

Two women so different, and yet… so similar. Both had a presence that seemed to capture the room, leaving you breathless. Both seemed to see through you, as if they could decipher your deepest thoughts with a single look.

You feel your heart speed up, confusion mixing with excitement. Why had these women, so powerful and enigmatic, captivated you so much? Rio had left something in you—a sense of unresolved mystery. Now, Agatha was doing the same, but in an even more intense way.

“Something wrong?” Agatha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“N-no,” you reply quickly, slipping the card into your backpack. “I’ll be there.”

She only tilts her head, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before turning and leaving the room. Her silhouette disappears through the door, but the weight of her presence still lingers—heavy, inescapable.

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, a single question echoes in your mind: What the hell were you getting yourself into?

And more importantly, why couldn’t you stop feeling excited about it?

~*~

Y/n... How lucky you are, huh?

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[servndipityz]

namgyu with alternative reader? perchance.. smut🫶🫶😁

a/n ── i'm so nervous about this one! i hope i didn't do a terrible job on portraying alt culture (i know nothing about it). i kinda tried to make it not super specific so anyone can feel identified. again, sorry if it's lowkey bad. it's also my first time writing smut, believe it or not, but i've had years of experience reading it so i don't think it's that bad. enjoy :)

STRIPPED

warnings ── smut, +18 MDNI!!! porn w plot. drug usage, sex under the influence, sex in a club, fingering, orgasm denial, degradation, light choking, kinda brat taming? p in v, unprotected sex, creampie.

word count ── 4.6k

he'd ended up there. of course, he'd ended up there. only someone as unlucky as him could wind up at some fucking goth party. or punk. or… whatever. he didn't really care about the whole thing—the dramatic makeup, the dyed hair, the incredibly loud music blaring through the club. none of it.

nam-gyu had envisioned a chill night on his free day, but no. of course, his co-worker had to get sick. of course, nam-gyu owed him money for the pills he'd given him last week. of course, he had to cover for him that night.

and, of course, it was alternative night at club pentagon. usually, his co-worker handled these kinds of nights—special events, themed parties, all that.

what did nam-gyu know about alternative culture anyway? he wondered the same thing as he weaved through the crowd, making sure everyone was having a good time, keeping an eye on bar sales.

so far, he'd been stepped on twice—not too bad, except when it came from one of those platform boots everyone seemed to be wearing. those hurt like hell. but at least the night was going smoothly. for now.

so good, in fact, that nam-gyu figured it was time for a drink. he'd been working for hours, making sure this party ran smoothly. he owed that co-worker a lot of drug money, and this was the only way to settle it. it’s not like he’d ever do this out of the kindness of his heart.

he made his way to the nearest counter, resting his elbows on the cool marble as he waited for someone to take his order. he couldn't help but wonder how anyone could actually dance to this loud-ass english music that sounded more like screaming. he'd take the regular techno dj any day.

meanwhile, you finished pouring a vodka red bull and handed it off to yet another customer. that's when you noticed him.

he stood out—not in a good way.

hunched over the counter, inspecting it like he might find some cocaine stuck in it (which, honestly, he probably would if he looked hard enough), looking like a wet rat. his clothes gave him away. who even let him in like that? plain black shirt, black jeans, a couple of rings.

he looked up as you approached.

his first thought was that your leather top made your tits poke out. his second was that, without all that emo makeup, you'd actually be pretty cute.

his third was what the highest-alcohol-content drink he could order was.

he opened his mouth to ask, eyes flicking to the bottles behind you—

but you spoke first.

"you're ruining the vibe, man."

he frowned, caught off guard.

you just raised an eyebrow, speaking over the loud music. "i said, you're ruining the vibe."

"i'm not doing anything," he scoffed, annoyed. he just wanted to order his damn drink. last thing he needed was some lecture.

"exactly," you said. "you don't belong here. what are you even doing?"

not like you actually cared. you were here to do your job, bartend, make money, go home. but this guy—standing there, stiff shoulders, sharp jawline, judging everything and everyone, probably without even realizing it—looking at you like that, eyes dragging over you like you were some kind of curiosity—

yeah. he rubbed you the wrong way.

being alternative, you already got judged enough. the last thing you needed was someone doing it at an alternative party.

he frowned even further. "i'm here to work. not that it's any of your business."

that caught you off guard for a second. "you work here?" your head tilted, curiosity slipping into your tone. you leaned over the counter, the neckline of your top shifting just a little lower. who knew—if this guy was someone important, you had to use all your charms. especially after being so rude. "i've never seen you around, and i always bartender at these kinds of parties."

his gaze flickered down your cleavage before snapping back to your eyes. but you saw it. the way his jaw clenched, the way he suddenly looked more annoyed than before—like he was mad at himself for looking.

"i'm not thrilled either," he mumbled, clearly uninterested in conversation. "just covering for a friend. now, could you actually do your job and get me something to drink?"

you bristled at his tone, raising a brow as you turned to the shelves of bottles. "jeez, someone's grumpy. what can i get you?"

in reality, nam-gyu wasn't grumpy. well, he was, but that was just how he was. it was just... for some reason, you made him nervous. the girls he usually dealt with at clubs were boring bitches trying to get a VIP card or whatever drugs he had in his pocket.

you were the opposite. rude. annoying. and he didn’t like that. but for some reason, it made his blood rush somewhere else, clouding his brain.

"just give me a shot," he said after a pause. "something strong."

you turned your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips—the kind that sent a shiver down his spine. you walked back to the counter, reaching for a bottle hidden underneath.

"drinking on the job?" you asked while pouring the liquid into a shot glass, then casually grabbing a second one.

nam-gyu let out a short, amused huff. if drinking was the worst thing he’d done on the job, he’d be in a much better place. but he watched curiously as you poured the second shot, his eyes flicking up through his lashes, brow slightly raised.

"what?" you asked playfully. "if you’re doing it, so can i."

you finally set the bottle back and raised your glass. he mirrored you, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something in his expression—almost a smile. you entertained him.

"cheers," you said, clinking your glass against his before downing the shot in one go. he followed suit, setting the glass back on the counter, suppressing a grimace at the sharp burn of alcohol.

“so,” you said, clearing your throat slightly after the shot. “who’s the friend you’re covering for?”

nam-gyu said the name, and your eyes widened.

“that junkie, huh?” you smirked. he chuckled. “yeah, i know him. he’s a little more talkative than you, though.”

nam-gyu narrowed his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing. it’s okay to be shy.” your voice was innocent, teasing, calculated. you'd decided that you'd had enough, that you might as well have some fun. “anyway, my shift’s almost over. wanna get out of here?”

“i’m not shy.” he sounded offended, then glanced away, considering your offer. “and i told you, i’m working.”

you huffed. “fine. just needed someone to smoke this with." you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a tiny zip-lock bag filled with greens. "guess i'll have to find somebody else."

now that caught his attention. maybe almost as much as your exposed skin did. suddenly, he was interested. but also suspicious.

“what do you have?” he asked, leaning slightly over the counter, his voice lower, more serious.

“your junkie friend gave it to me for a gig i did. said it’s good shit.” you shrugged, playing it cool, acting uninterested—like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. and he took the bait.

“why would you wanna share it with me?” he still sounded wary, but there was something else in his tone now. curiosity. maybe even something close to interest.

you groaned dramatically. “look, i’m heading to the staff room. you coming or not?” you said, already turning away, signaling to your co-worker that your shift was over.

now, nam-gyu didn’t need weed. not exactly. he could probably find ten of those zip-lock bags hidden in his place, forgotten in favor of other, harder drugs. but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to say no to free drugs.

especially not from such a petty girl.

you grinned to yourself as you felt him rush to walk behind you, trailing after you through the club like he didn’t know the way like the back of his hand.

as you reached the hallway leading to the staff room, nam-gyu couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on your half-ripped fishnets, the way they framed your legs under that short black skirt. was he here for the weed or for you? he wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t care much.

you finally reached the door, slipping past a few couples too caught up in each other to notice, and he shut it behind him. the staff room was small, dingy, and reeked of bleach and cigarette smoke, but you still sank onto the worn-out sofa next to the table like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

you leaned back, stretching your legs out just enough for your skirt to ride up slightly. not too much—just enough to make him notice. and he did.

nam-gyu stood near the door for a second, like he was reconsidering this, before scoffing to himself and dropping onto the couch beside you. he was close, not touching, but enough that the warmth of him was noticeable. enough that when he exhaled, you could feel the faintest brush of his breath against your shoulder.

"roll it," he said, nodding at the bag in your hand.

you raised an eyebrow. "you're really bad at asking nicely, huh?"

he just looked at you, serious. "you’re really bad at shutting up."

that made you laugh. he was watching you now—really watching you—as you pulled out the papers, fingers working effortlessly, licking the edge just to see his reaction. you weren’t disappointed. his jaw flexed again, his eyes dark, tracking your every move like he was trying to pretend he didn’t care. like he wasn’t already leaning back, manspreading, trying to act like he had the upper hand here.

cute.

you tucked the blunt between your lips, lighting it, taking a slow drag before passing it to him.

nam-gyu hesitated, just for a split second, then took it, bringing it to his mouth. his fingers brushed yours in the handoff, and it was stupid how that tiny touch sent something sharp down your spine. or maybe it was just the way he inhaled, head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as he exhaled, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

you licked yours.

the weed hit, slow and warm. the music outside was muffled, the sounds of the party fading into the background, leaving only this—dim lighting, the scent of smoke and alcohol and something else, something charged.

"you always do this?" nam-gyu asked after a beat, voice lower, lazier. "lure random guys into the staff room for a smoke?"

you smirked, tilting your head. "only the rude ones."

he huffed, shaking his head, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile. he passed the blunt back, his fingers lingering just a second longer this time. you let them.

the room felt smaller. warmer.

"you always this uptight?" you asked, taking another slow hit. "or just with me?"

nam-gyu let his head roll against the back of the couch, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "you always this annoying? or just with me?"

you exhaled smoke, letting it curl between you. "you like it."

he didn’t answer. but he also didn’t look away.

you were both leaning back now, legs almost brushing, breaths slow and measured like you were both pretending not to notice the heat building between you.

nam-gyu wet his lips, head still resting against the couch, eyes flicking to your mouth before he caught himself and looked away. like it was a habit. like he was trying so fucking hard not to slip.

you took one last hit before stubbing out the blunt in the ashtray beside you. then, shifting slightly, you turned toward him, letting your knee press against his thigh. deliberate. slow. testing.

"you're staring," you murmured.

he scoffed, but it came out weaker than he probably meant. his hands clenched into fists on his thighs like he was keeping himself still on purpose.

"you’re high," he muttered, looking away.

"so are you." you tilted your head, voice dropping, playing with the edge of your ripped fishnets like you weren’t watching the way his gaze followed the movement of your fingers. "and what, does that mean i can’t see the way you’ve been looking at me all night?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "i haven’t been—"

"you have," you cut in smoothly, shifting closer, feeling the warmth of his body now, solid and tense. "you’re mad about it. i can tell."

his jaw clenched.

"tell me," you purred. "are you mad because you don’t like it? or mad because you do?"

his fingers twitched on his thigh. his breathing was heavier, controlled, like he was still fighting it. fighting you.

so you leaned in, lips just close enough to ghost over his ear. "it’s okay," you whispered. "you can touch me."

and that was it.

nam-gyu moved so fast you barely had time to smirk before he grabbed you by the back of the neck, his lips crashing into yours, hot and desperate, all teeth and pent-up frustration. his other hand found your waist, yanking you onto his lap, and fuck—he wasn’t holding back anymore.

he was done fighting it.

and so were you.

his lips were all heat, all pressure—nothing hesitant, nothing soft. you barely had a second to adjust before his teeth caught your bottom lip, his fingers gripping the nape of your neck like he wanted to own you. his other hand, firm on your waist, yanked you flush against him, and fuck—he was hard.

not that he acknowledged it. not that he’d ever admit that you’d done this to him.

your knees bracketed his hips as you settled onto his lap, rolling your hips down just enough to feel him. his grip tightened, nails digging into the meat of your waist. he hissed against your mouth—half warning, half surrender.

“you don’t play fair,” he muttered, lips grazing your jaw now, teeth scraping skin, testing.

your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt. “neither do you.”

his hands dropped—one to your thigh, sliding under your skirt, fisting in the torn mesh of your fishnets. the other traced the curve of your ass before shoving you down against him again, this time deliberate, a slow grind that made both of you exhale sharp.

his breath was uneven, warm against your throat. “you think i haven’t noticed?” his fingers curled, gripping tight enough to bruise. “the way you’ve been—” a sharp pull at the fishnets, a rip, cool air hitting skin—“fucking teasing me?”

you laughed, half-gasping when his tongue flicked against the pulse at your neck.

his fingers dipped, pressing against the damp heat of your panties, no patience, no hesitation. his other hand was now tangled in your hair, keeping you locked right where he wanted—breath hitching as he rubbed slow, teasing.

then his hand moved, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, warm against your skin, sliding between your thighs. the first touch was barely there, just a single fingertip running along your slit, slow, teasing.

you squirmed, but he didn’t let you go. “look at you,” he murmured, mocking, the pad of his finger dragging over your cunt, pressing just enough to make you shudder. “all that attitude, but you’re already—” he exhaled sharply, felt it before he even had to say it—so fucking wet.

"fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his forehead resting against yours for a second like he was trying to collect himself. but his fingers were still moving, sliding along the slickness of you, testing, exploring, spreading it just enough to make you squirm.

"yeah?" you murmured, voice breathy, teasing. "you like that?"

his only response was a low, quiet curse under his breath before he pressed his fingers in deeper, the tips just barely pushing inside before pulling back, slow and torturous. he was watching you now, eyes dark and half-lidded.

and then, without warning, he slid one finger in, slow but firm, curling just enough to make your breath catch. your nails dug into his shoulders, and his other hand tightened on your hip, holding you steady.

"fuck," you whispered, rolling your hips into his touch, chasing it, needing more.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug, and then he added a second finger, stretching you just a little more, fucking you slow and deep with just his hand. the angle was perfect, his fingers pressing against that spot inside you that made your toes curl, made your breath come faster, needier.

"you’re so fucking tight," he murmured, more fascinated than anything, watching the way his fingers disappeared inside you, the way you clenched around them. he twisted his wrist slightly, his palm pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his fingers, setting a rhythm that had you grinding against him, chasing that pressure.

your moan was quiet but desperate, and he smirked, eyes flicking up to yours.

"you always this easy?" he murmured, his voice taunting, dark.

you opened your mouth to snap something back, but then he crooked his fingers just right, pressing deeper, and your words dissolved into a gasp, your head tipping back. his lips were on your throat a second later, sucking, biting, leaving marks you’d have to cover up later.

his pace picked up, fucking you harder with just his fingers, each drag of his palm against your clit sending another sharp wave of heat curling low in your stomach. the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathy moans, his heavier breathing, the slick sounds of his fingers working you open.

"you gonna come?" he murmured against your skin, his voice rough now, strained.

you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. "fuck—don’t stop," you breathed.

nam-gyu felt it—felt the way your body tensed, the way your thighs shook against his hips, the way you were right there, so fucking close. he could see it too, in the way your mouth parted, in the soft, breathy little gasps escaping your lips, the ones you were trying to swallow back like you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

but he wasn’t that generous.

just when you thought he’d let you tip over, when your body clenched down around his fingers so tight he could barely move them, he pulled away.

just—gone.

the sudden loss was so sharp, so fucking unfair, that you let out a frustrated, needy little whine before you could stop yourself, your hips rolling forward, chasing after the feeling, after his hand, anything. but nam-gyu just sat back, bringing his wet fingers up to his lips, slipping them into his mouth with a slow, deliberate hum.

"mm," he mused, tongue flicking over them, eyes locked on yours. "not bad."

"are you fucking kidding me?" you were panting, legs still shaking where you straddled him, your body on fire, needing more, needing anything. your eyes flashed, your hands curling into fists against his chest like you were two seconds away from either punching him or ripping his shirt off.

he just smirked. "what?"

"you—" you gritted your teeth, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "you’re such a fucking asshole."

nam-gyu chuckled, low and lazy, his hands dragging up your thighs again, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just to remind you he still had you exactly where he wanted you. "maybe, but you're still here," he murmured. "still dripping for me."

"yeah, because you didn’t let me cum, you dick," you snapped, rocking forward again, grinding against him, feeling the hard, thick press of him through his pants. he was just as worked up as you were, and you could tell—he was trying to play it cool, but his breathing was heavier, his fingers twitching against your skin like he was barely holding himself back.

that made you smirk. "ohhh," you taunted, rolling your hips again, slower this time, watching his jaw clench. "that’s why, huh? you’re hard as fuck and don’t wanna finish before i do."

his eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your hips. "watch your fucking mouth."

"or what?" you leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. "you gonna do something about it?"

that was it.

one second you were teasing him, playing your little game, and the next you were flat on your back, your spine pressing into the shitty, worn-out couch, his body caging you in. his hand was already shoving your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, not even bothering to be careful.

"you talk too much," he muttered, voice rough, breath hot against your jaw.

"and you do too little," you shot back, just to push him, just to make him snap again.

it worked.

his hand was on your throat, not squeezing, just there, just pressing, just reminding you that he could if he wanted to. his other hand yanked at his belt, the metal buckle clinking as he undid his pants, as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

fuck.

you’d felt it before, pressing against you, teasing, but now you saw it. thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, the kind of length that made your thighs press together instinctively, made you bite your lip even as you refused to let him see you flustered.

nam-gyu saw it anyway.

"knew you wanted it," he muttered, running the head of his cock along your slit, dragging it slow through your wetness. "acting like a brat, but your pussy’s already begging."

"shut the fuck up and—"

he pushed in, just an inch, just enough to make you gasp, make your nails dig into his arms.

"yeah?" he exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, like he was already holding himself back. "that what you wanted?"

you barely had time to adjust before he thrust forward again, burying himself deep, stretching you in one slow stroke that left your back arching, your head tipping back against the couch.

"fuck—"

nam-gyu groaned, low and almost desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottomed out, as he let you feel every fucking inch of him.

"you feel that?" he murmured, breath ragged, his hips rolling just a little, just enough to make you whimper. "how tight you are? how you’re fucking squeezing me?"

you couldn’t answer. you couldn’t think. all you could do was feel—the way he filled you, the way he stretched you, the way he stayed there for a second, teasing, waiting, making you want it more.

you swallowed, trying to catch your breath. "you gonna move, or you just like teasing your own dick?"

his laugh was low. then he pulled back and slammed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"fuck—"

your back was pressed against the couch, legs spread wide, thighs trembling as he held you open. his body caged yours beneath him, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip, keeping you still as he drove into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. his cock filled you completely—thick, hot, deep—dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp with each desperate slap of his hips against yours.

"you gonna be good now?" his voice was low, ragged, dark with amusement. his grip tightened, fingers digging bruises into your skin. "or you still wanna run your mouth?"

you tried. you really did. you opened your lips to snap something back—something mean, something cutting, something to remind him you weren’t easy to break.

but all that came out was a choked moan as he grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"that’s what i thought," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, his mouth just barely brushing yours, teasing. "bratty little thing—talking shit. but look at you now."

his hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to keep you in place. not squeezing. just controlling. just owning. his other hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the swollen bud.

"fuck," you gasped, your hips rolling up instinctively, chasing that pressure, that friction.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug. "yeah? you like that?"

you wanted to tell him to fuck off. you really did.

but then he twisted his fingers just right, his cock hitting that spot inside you at the same time, and your body jerked, your moan breaking into something desperate.

"that’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his pace still brutal, relentless. "don’t fight it. you wanna cum, don’t you?"

"yes—yeah," you panted, nails scraping against his wrist where he held your throat.

he pulled back suddenly, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained, making you whimper at the loss. his fingers abandoned your clit, and before you could protest, he did something worse—something filthier.

he spat.

the wet warmth of it landed directly on your pussy, slick and obscene. your whole body jolted.

"fuck—" your breath stuttered, your back arching as heat shot through you.

nam-gyu groaned at the sight, at the way you clenched, the way your body reacted so instantly, so helplessly.

"you like that, huh?" his voice was thick with satisfaction, his fingers dragging through the mess, smearing it over you, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t.

but the heat in your stomach coiled even tighter.

"say it," he ordered, his voice rough, his cock pushing back inside you, stretching you open again, slow and deep, making you feel every inch. "tell me you fucking love it."

your pride cracked. your body betrayed you.

"fuck—i love it," you gasped.

nam-gyu groaned, his breath hitching, his pace quickening. "good girl."

and then his fingers returned, rubbing messy circles over your spit-slicked clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, pushing you higher, harder—

you were already close. too close.

"fuck—fuck, i’m gonna cum," you choked out, hips jerking against his hand, against his cock, chasing it. "please—please don’t stop—"

and this time he didn’t.

he fucked you through it, his fingers never letting up, his pace relentless, driving you higher, harder, until it finally snapped—

your orgasm hit like a fucking wrecking ball.

your body clenched down on him so tight he cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering for the first time. the pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking as you moaned through it, loud and wrecked, the sound swallowed by the shitty little staff room.

"fuck—fuck, yeah, that’s it," nam-gyu groaned, his grip on your hips bruising now, his thrusts rough and desperate as he chased his own release. "god, you feel so fucking good—"

he buried himself deep, his breath stuttering, his cock twitching inside you, and then he was coming, his grip tightening, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he groaned low into your skin.

for a second, all you could hear was the ragged sound of your breathing, the quiet hum of the party outside, the distant bass thudding through the walls.

nam-gyu exhaled, slow and shaky, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your waist, still holding you, still pressed against you.

then he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of you, dripping between your thighs.

he smirked, dragging a lazy finger through it before pressing it against your lips.

"open," he murmured.

you did.

and fuck, the look in his eyes when you sucked it clean—

you were so fucked.

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Hello, good morning/afternoon/evening/night. I'm the anon that requested for the platonic!dad Lilia vanrouge headcanon. I've finished reading it and I would love to request for the biological one! The adopted headcanon was amazing. And I also apologize for for not putting in my request with more thought 😅.

Thanks for the ask! I can totally do that! And don't worry about it, I was hoping to get to write both anyway <3

(I don't know if I'm thinking too far into it, but I wasn't sure if you wanted pre NRC or present, so I'm going with the same as last time)

!Platonic!Dad! Lilia Vanrouge x Biological Daughter

(Kinda a second part to This in a way)

However it came to be; a one night stand, a past lover, or some freak magic accident, you were Lilia's one and only blood relative left. His darling daughter.

Don't get me wrong, Lilia loved Silver and Malleus more than anything, but it felt different looking at you and being able to sense his fae blood running through your veins.

When you were left to the single father's care it was after he had already dealt with a newborn dragon. He believe that as you were his own flesh and blood you'd surely be easier to care for, but oh how wrong he was.

If anything, you were MORE difficult to deal with because you were his own flesh and blood.

Lilia finally got a taste of his own medicine when you started imitating his pranks (how did you even get in such a high cabinet).

At least he understands your magic and can help you figure out how to control it.

He treats you virtually the same as if you were his adopted child, just with the fact that you have his magic in mind- . . .he looked away for one second, where'd you go?

One time, Lilia left you and Silver with a pre-teen Malleus for him babysit as he had something to attend to. Silver spent the whole time sleeping whilst you spent the whole time making malleus play games with you (he didn't mind, he was just happy to have a friend). Lillia came back to see you and Malleus reenacting the war with wooden animals Baur had carved for you (maybe he told you too many stories of his glory days).

Lilia still loves doing your hair- what's that? You want to do his hair?

The other generals keep their mouths shut, but their eyes are glued to the great Lilia Vanrouge and his messy, lopsided pigtails with bright pink and blue bows on each for the entire briefing.

You escaped the cottage once when he looked away to try and get Silver to eat his food, and he had no clue where you were for almost a day. He was freaking out and about to take his magearm and go on an all-out rampage when he got a letter from the queen saying you had 'made a delightfully unexpected visit to the castle for a playdate with Malleus.'

Lilia rushed over to the castle immediately, ready to scold you, but when he got there he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he fell to his knees crying as he watched you and Malleus sleep softly: cuddled up to each other. The queen found him in this state and simply patted him on the back before recounting how he and her daughter had once pulled a very similar stunt back in their youth. (he has her recount any and all stories of him causing trouble as a child in order to hopefully have a leg up on any stunts you pull in the future)

Right when he thinks he knows how to handle anything you throw at him, you come home with an owl bear cub in toe asking tow. You recount the story of how you found it next to its unmoving mother, and he has no choice but to let you keep it.

When you tell him you want to name the owl bear 'Bear' he tries to argue with you that it's not a very good name, but you win. Bear it is.

Anytime you and Silver go out in the woods to play he sends Bear with you just in case.

Baur gets quite the shock when he comes to pick up his grandson from the cottage only to find him riding on the back of an owl bear as it chases you and silver (you were just playing tag).

He turns to the cottage to see what Lilia was planning to do about this only to see him casually. . .barbequing (if you can even call it that) in the garden and watching you all play. Baur ends up staying longer than expected, mostly to salvage whatever slop Lilia was making for his poor kids, but also to hear Lilia's explanation as to WHY IN THE GREAT SEVENS' NAMES THERE'S AN OWL BEAR PLAYING WITH THE KIDS.

The time finally comes for Lilia to head off to NRC with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, but this time let's say (for the sake of being different that the other fic) that you somehow end up there as well. Lilia would have liked you to be in Diasomnia with him, but you instead end up going to Ramshackle with the prefect. This is an all-boys school after all, so the best place for you to be on campus is probably in the dorm with the only other female student. (That and Bear came with you and Ramshackle already has Grim so. . .)

There's no telling what trouble you'll get to in your time staying at NRC, but rest assured that Lilia will be there to help you out (whether that means getting you out of trouble or helping you cause more).

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Request Information

[semisasseater]

Baby, you’re so preciou-ciou-ciou-cious.

Boyfriend! Thanos x Boyfriend! Nam gyu

Summary: poor nam gyu was never able to paint his nails and thought he’d never be able to, until he asked his boyfriend to paint them.

Tw: mentions of drugs, fluff, angst if u squint, low self esteem, soft intimacy, acts of service, just cute stuff, let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: i HAD to write this once i saw someone ask for this.. i literally love thangyu so much people who don’t can argue with me !! i swear thangyu is my little babies who do no wrong…? anyways after im done with my other requests i might just also focus on writing thangyu!! also gabby hates me yall </3 (im lying i think)

Not proofread!

Word count: 579

Nam gyu had always wanted to paint his nails. It was a small, silly dream, but a dream nonetheless. Every time he tried, though, it ended in disaster—streaks of polish smeared across his fingers, uneven globs drying in clumps, and an overall mess that left him more frustrated than satisfied. His hands shook too much from all the drugs he had taken in the past with his boyfriend, a lingering reminder of mistakes he couldn’t erase.

Tonight, though, as he pushed open the door to Thanos’s room, he saw something that made his heart flutter.

There, sitting on the floor, back against the bed, was his boyfriend, carefully painting his own nails. A deep violet polish coated his finger, matching his vibrant purple hair. His movements were precise, steady, effortless.

Nam gyu hesitated in the doorway before quietly stepping inside, lowering himself next to Thanos. He fiddled with the hem of his oversized green-and-white shirt, biting his lip before finally whispering,

“Please paint my nails…”

His voice was small, almost embarrassed, and when Thanos turned to look at him, his expression was one of mild confusion.

“You want your nails painted?”

Nam gyu nodded, his dark eyes filled with something vulnerable, something hopeful.

Thanos studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay I’ll do yours after alright?”

Another nod, and Nam gyu settled in, watching closely as Thanos finished painting his last nail. There was something oddly calming about the way he did it—the slow, careful strokes, the way he blew on them after to dry. It was fascinating, almost hypnotic.

When Thanos finally turned to him, he patted the space in front of him. “Okay come here”

Nam gyu shifted so that he was fully facing his boyfriend. Thanos reached for the small collection of polish bottles beside him and glanced up. “What color do you want?”

There was a pause before Nam gyu murmured, “Black”

Thanos nodded, picking up the black polish and opening it with ease. He reached for Nam gyu’s hand, but as soon as he touched it, he felt it—how badly it trembled. The shaking was worse up close, uncontrollable. It made something in Thanos’s chest ache with guilt.

Without a word, he gently took Nam Gyu’s finger, holding it steady in his own hand before carefully applying the first stroke of polish.

Nam gyu watched, his lips parting slightly. He had never been good at sitting still, but in this moment, he felt frozen, caught in the warmth of Thanos’s hands, the way he handled him with such patience.

Thanos worked in silence, finishing the left hand before moving to the right, his grip never faltering. He didn’t rush, didn’t get frustrated, even when Nam gyu’s fingers twitched every now and then.

And then, finally, it was done.

Thanos blew gently on Nam gyu’s nails before leaning back with a satisfied nod. “Wait for them to dry okay?”

Nam gyu stared at his hands, his breath catching. It wasn’t just that they were painted perfectly—it was that someone had done this for him. Someone who cared.

“Thank you…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Thanos simply smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of Nam gyu’s head. “Of course anything for my love”

For the first time, Nam gyu didn’t feel ashamed of his shaking hands. Because for once, they had been held with love.

And for the first time, his nails were painted perfectly.

All thanks to his amazing boyfriend.

@semisasseater

Taglist : @ancientvamp

[covenofagatha]

practice makes perfect was so fucking hot. i woke up, checked my notifications, started playing with my tits, finished it, and then had to reply messages like my underwear wasn't soaked. curse you and your incredible writing for the millionth time smh 🙄

regardless, that experience + the fic + my latest brainworm + the puppy ideas = evolved tiny brain worm for your reward. consider:

(degradation, petplay, collar mention, spit, we love titties, body fluid mixing (its precum and saliva. no piss! i respect miss covenofagatha 🙏), cum on face lol)

titjob with desperate! puppy! g!p reader.

reader who's whining, pawing at agatha needily, embarrassed at how hard you've gotten just by looking at her. agatha mocks you, talking about how you're "more pathetic than a common whore" and "how could you ever handle yourself without me, pup?"

she tugs at your collar, cooing at you condescendingly, "is it all sticky down there, my sweet girl?" or "awwww, poor baby, can't control yourself, can you?" while she guides you to her chest. your breast fixation is a little unhealthy and you latch on needily, sucking and kneading, but she grips a handful of hair and tugs you off, drool collecting at your mouth.

"god, you're so fucking dirty," she groans, loving how depraved you look. with her permission, you slot your dick neatly between her tits, and her firm hands on your hips control your pace. "can't do it without me, can you, pup?" and you watch as she spits down, her saliva mixing with your residual ones in the space between her breasts, cause you to jerk upwards at the molten heat that sears in you.

"need you, please, please-" you jumble up your words as she digs her hands into your ass, jolting you through the cavity, spurring you on as your rapidly building precum mixes with her and your spit, dick gliding back and forth.

you thrust, and god, you don't even need to squeeze her tits together, the space just perfect for your cock, and the thought that she was made for you makes you throb. "filthy little dog," agatha snarls, and you whimper in response, because god, it's so fucking hot to be reduced to her desperate little pup, rutting on her chest, her brand littered across your back, her collar clasped tightly around your neck.

she owns you, and that, combined with the feeling of her soft, supple tits against your hard, veiny cock and the knowledge that your fluids are mixing with hers, is what sends you over the edge. "gonna- ngh- please-" is what she hears before a sheen of white covers her face, and the look of her drenched in your cum sends your sensitive dick a surge of desire, and you meekly shoot out another load.

"pathetic," she scoffs, and you grow embarrassingly hard at the way her eyes narrow, her brows furrowing in mock frustration, and when she yanks you by your collar, you lap up your cum off her face obediently, while she mutters about what a dirty little puppy you are.

-

small one this time because I've just barely woken up, but i had to get this out or i would be distracted all day. wonderful job with mean! agatha, i loved the degradation and thought you would like a bit more of it. good luck for your exam that i assume is coming up again in a day or two 💜

-lots of love, worm anon :)

So sorry about that predicament (except not at all 🤭) and I am so glad you liked (most of the fics I have written over the past few days have been inspired by your brainworm that has infected me too so I love knowing that you like them)

Your rewards are so good 🫠 I really just need to compile them into a few fics because fuck I can’t stop thinking about the ideas you have (I always appreciate/like more)

Lots of love right back to you for all your delicious thoughts 💜

[tarotoftheendless]

Hey, Sand Fam, I am seeing a lot of you blaming NG for the end of this series, and whereas I do think Netflix and the Sandman cast and crew are actively distancing themselves now from NG, I don't think NG is the reason Sandman is ending.

Please remember it took forever for Netflix to greenlight us even getting more or the series. They were likely going to axe it in the first place but the showrunners likely negotiated saying they had plans for a script that would end the series and *THAT* is likely what got us just one more season. That is speculation, that is a guess, but if you logically look at how S2 was handled from the start, then the end of the series was always the plan. Didn't they also call it Sandman 2 and say we are just getting more episodes here and there at the beginning of when S2 was first announced? Like it wasn't even called Season 2...

Also, with the leaked bts photos, of Lyta, the Fates and Gilbert... isn't that all stuff that is end of the comic series stuff that got filmed? And when those photos came out, I don't remember the exact date, but wasn't it just before the NG stuff came out and or literally just after it? Do you think they scrambled to write a quick script, get a location that quickly and get costumes and all that cuz they were all "Oh no, NG is a fucking creep, better end the show now"? No. Filming anything in general takes time and careful planning. It was always the plan guys.

The thing that likely did get affected by NG is how Geeked Week was handled. The bts footage and such was edited in a way to not mention NG at all. I do think that was on purpose.

The other reason I think ending the show was planned is because S2 has to do with Dream's story and his story alone. Writing a whole script like that takes time and planning. And why I think it was always the plan is because of interviews of Tom Sturridge for S1. He was abhorrent to the idea of The Sandman being only about Dream, and the idea of a movie because, if I remember Tom correctly, "how can you take just one story from The Sandman and make a film about that? The Sandman is a story about stories, not just one guy." Not the exact quote, but you get my point. S2 was always supposed to be the end because they scrapped the whole idea of making it a story about stories and wrote a *WHOLE SEASON OF A SCRIPT* about Dream instead. That was planned.

The end was always the plan. NG is not to blame for this.

The actors and crew now have room to work on bigger and better projects and The Sandman is on their resume, and regardless of NG, that will still look good for them because obviously they are not NG and they did not condone what NG did, so they will not and should not be found culpable for NG's actions at all, therefore will find bigger and better work in the future.

This is not the end of the world, this is the Death card in tarot; something must die for something new and better to be born.

The Fandom lives, the Sand Fam thrives, we are taking back the power of the work from NG and making it beautiful for us and us alone. Don't forget that. This is for us. This is will never be for NG ever again.

My ending thought is this: One of my favorite things about Star Wars: The Last Jedi is Luke's conversation with Yoda. (No, I will not be having debates about how good or bad the film is...) And Yoda talks about the lesson of failure is the greatest lesson to learn and to pass on. Not to ensure the failure of others but to teach them how to handle failure and how to grow past the failure. The last thing Yoda says to Luke that gets me to tear up every time is this; "We are what they grow beyond". And that is where I am taking my love for The Sandman and this whole Fandom. We have grown beyond NG and it is ours now. We have grown beyond him, take comfort in that.

[synvil]

say you love me // matt sturniolo + chris sturniolo

synopsis : not saying “i love you” back to your bfs, a tiktok trend.

tiktok trends masterlist !

matt sturniolo (☆´3｀)

‘i’m abt done here, so ill pick up some food for us and be home in like 10 mins.’

matt was currently out doing some errands and such, and is in the middle of texting you as he prepares to leave and head home, letting you know the plan.

you respond back fairly quickly, a smile lacing on your lips as you decide to mess with him a little. ‘okayy, sounds good. see u soon :)’

your text causes the boy to smile lightly and he buckles his seatbelt, texting back. ‘i love you, angel’

‘mmh!’

you can’t help the giggles that escape you as he furrows his brows at the screen and sits in the car, staring at the phone in his hand as he tries again. ‘i love u [name]’

‘yup! be safee’

within seconds, your phone suddenly begins to vibrate, signaling that matt was calling. stifling a laugh, you clear your throat and answer. “yeah babe?”

“[name], what’s wrong? did i do something?” the immediate concern in his voice nearly causes you to give in as you purse your lips and feel your chest warm. “what do you mean?”

matt frowns as he leans back in his seat and crosses an arm over his chest. “you aren’t saying it back. what did i do?”

“awh, honey. im sorry, i was just teasing you. i love you, matt.” you coo, already feeling bad and matt huffs lightly. “god, you’re so much sometimes.. i love you more, dumbass. pizza still okay?”

“heh, sounds delicious. see you soon, matt.”

“alright. love you, angel.”

breaking into a wide smile, you chuckle. “i love you more.”

chris sturniolo (⸝⸝⍢⸝⸝) ෆ

“mmh, my baby is all dressed up, looking sexy.”

chris curls his lips into a smirk as he brings an arm behind his head to rest against his pillow while his other hand holds his phone as he lays in bed. “where you headed to?”

you giggle at chris’ words and smooth down your jacket a little, adjusting it before turning to the mirror in his room to look for any last minute changes. “i’m heading out with some friends, we’re going shopping.”

“mmh, pick out something pretty then. can’t wait to see it.” chris calls out, directing his attention back to his phone and you hum, picking up your purse off the bedside table. “i’ll take pictures.”

“alright, have fun. i love you, babe.”

“i will. i like you more.” you quickly say in response, speedily making your way to the door, and just as your hand grabs the handle, chris stops you. “nuh uh, get your ass back here.”

you bite your tongue from releasing a laugh and glance back innocently. “what? i’m going to be late.”

chris narrows his eyes as he stares up at you in disbelief. “i love you, princess.”

“i like you too baby, now can i go?”

chris appears unamused, quickly growing impatient as he stands up and heads over to you, and you swallow to keep your composure. once he arrives at your side, he cups your chin and presses you against the door.

peering down at you, he tilts his head and tries again, this time more firmly and staring right into your eyes.

“[name]. i love you. now say it back and say it right.”

feeling the warmth spreading across your cheeks, you shyly look away and murmur. “..i love you, chris..”

the man only smirks and pecks your lips before pulling away. “good girl. you’re lucky i don’t teach you a lesson.” he warns casually before making his way back to his bed and waves his hand dismissively.

“see you later, baby.”

a/n : i lowkey don’t know how to write chris but gave it my best shot !! hope you guys enjoyed :)

synvil™️

[bucktommykinkweek]

Welcome back to bucktommykinkweek!

This round will take place February 23-March 1, 2025. There will be three kink prompts and one dialogue prompt every day. You can write one, combine two or all four, or interpret them however you like! This round we also have the top 5 prompts from last time as bonus prompts!

There is no minimum or maximum word count for fics. Art, graphics, or any other creative work are more than welcome!

This event is for 18+ participants only. If your age (or some form of 18+) is not in your bio, your post will not be reblogged or added to the ao3 collection.

PROMPTS | AO3 COLLECTION

Please include your prompt(s) and the fic rating at the top of your post, as well as any content warnings as you see fit.

Submissions can include other characters, but bucktommy should be the primary pairing. 

We do expect that most fics will be rated M or E, but note that non-sexual kink is also fully allowed and encouraged! Please ensure that if your works include sexual content it is rated appropriately. 

Please tag @bucktommykinkweek and #bucktommykinkweek so we can see your post! All posts will be vetted before being reblogged or added to the AO3 collection. Vetted posts will be reblogged into the queue, and a mod will comment a "⛓️" when your post has been added. If a mod has not replied to your post within 2 days, please message @bucktommykinkweek or @aringofsalt!

If your work is posted on AO3, there will be a collection on ao3 that you can add to. The collection will be moderated and all fics that appear there will have been vetted by a mod.

Late submissions will be accepted!

Artists: please put any explicit acts or nudity under a cut. Due to the way tumblr handles nsfw art, if you are more comfortable posting the full art elsewhere and linking a preview, please do so!

Once the event is complete, all submissions will be added to masterlists for each day.

If you have any questions or suggestions, please feel free to reach out!

This is first and foremost an event meant to celebrate bucktommy. We are looking forward to seeing and celebrating everyone’s work!

Please do not use this event to kinkshame or be negative towards other people’s kinks and headcanons. We are sex- and kink-positive, and this event is all in good fun! While we are focused on bucktommy, we will not be supporting nor endorsing any bashing of other ships or characters.

No content endorsing the following will be allowed to participate:

Homophobia

Transphobia

Ace/arophobia

Racism

Harassment of any kind

You may depict these things in your works if they are warned for, but work that is intended to be bigoted or harmful to others will not be included.

This event is moderated by @aringofsalt, @loullaby, and @theweewooshow

[leverage-ot3]

my drafts finally ran out and I’ve been too exhausted to go through like 2k worth of drafts to tag so apologies abt break in posting

urgent question: if you have any tips about recognizing undercover cops and ICE agents please write below. I never thought my very liberal state would come to this but I live in an area with a very high level of immigrants + multiple municipalities are basically de facto sanctuary cities since they have extra protections written into local law

I work at a healthcare facility that sees high numbers of new americans (with varying ‘legal’ statuses). there are reports from individuals within the local spanish speaking whatsapp channels that ICE is stopping people on their way to our healthcare facility. I can’t disclose too much without revealing highly identifying information about who I am and where I work, but higher management is not handling this good enough. everyone in my department (social work) is outraged and will do whatever it takes to protect the people we serve regardless of management. they deny it’s happening because it wasn’t happening when they went outside to look but that doesn’t mean shit- they’re 100% making rounds and patrolling. we are likely going to start taking walks during our limited breaks around the neighborhood to keep lookout. I’d much rather have a patient do telehealth or reschedule, or have them wait in my office an extra 20 minutes instead of possibly getting stopped by undercover agents. with the recent executive orders healthcare facilities aren’t even respected as sensitive locations discouraged from being raided anymore.

so yeah. any tips on spotting any undercover cops/ICE would be swell. funnily enough I have been thinking a lot about that one thing eliot said about undercover law enforcement and shoes. I’ve also been researching that already + rights and what to tell patients + everything else I can think of BUT thought I’d float it out here as well

stay safe, everyone in the US and outside. you are cared for, loved, important. you matter and deserve to be treated with humility and respect. look after each other

[shurup-overt]

don't ever let go of what's beloved

these bastards made me cry! THRICE!!

@mari-lair I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart, also this will be LONG. I'm sorry skdjkls

SPOILERS UP TO CH27 BELOW

(not super detailed but still can ruin the experience)

I'VE FINALLY read ycit after half a year of putting it off it just because I "didn't like the idea of akane being dead&doomed" skslsks I was wayy too superstitious. anyway I'm glad I stopped being stubborn

IT WAS HELL OF A RIDE (positive) and I finished it (27 chapters at that moment) looking like nene in ch107

I'm not even joking

where do I even begin.

the amount of research and thought and love poured into the fic is INSANE. it's always so nice to feel the author's passion through the work and this one overflows with it.

am I being too sappy? I dunno, I speak what's on my mind lol!!

as I said, it's noticeable that it's written with so so much love to the characters and this love is INFECTIOUS!! I didn't know I'd get attached to aka, so fast too. it's like my thought process was almost the same as teru's all the way through chapters 0-20 lmaoo

a small digression from the main topic - the thing is, what I wait for the most in tbhk is a flashback about terukane's first meeting & how the glasses were made. ofc there's always a possibility they were made by teru just for fun and as a way to make akane owe him (although this might be ooc) but the possibility of it is thankfully really really small because teru looks at them and handles the topic very gently. too gently for it to be just a forced prank. also akane has been keeping them with him on his bead near his head while sleeping (not even the bedside table or smth! who the hell keeps their glasses with them on the bed at night?? <- comes from a glasses person)

so, especially because of teru's wording ("he said he wanted to live his life like he used to"), I've been STRESSING over the possibility of akane BEGGING teru for help there, like what if he was struggling with switching forms at first and hence wasn't seen by students? what if the clock keepers didn't explain him almost anything about the supernatural world and so he was scared and confused? what if teru cornered him there and he had to prove he's human? (by the warmth of a touch?) what if he cried? what if teru comforted him? (or tried to lol) what if there were more struggles??

and so I was soo glad to see this topic being expanded!! I know it's an au and all (and the contract's gone worse here) but what I mean is, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks about it!! reading akane's backstory was Painful As Heck but really Good.

my godd I wish the boy had some comfort. I can't look at ycit akane because I start tearing up immediately.

"I hope akane managed to use the bill" "I hope the seals helped at least a bit" I HOPE SO TOO. JESUS. THE POOR BOY WAS LEFT ALL ALONE WITH A TERRIFYING KNOWLEDGE AND THE TWO DIDN'T EVEN SAY GOODBYE TO EACH OTHER PROPERLY

and his backstory hasn't even been fully revealed yet. I feel like I'll die when that time comes. shaking

alright I don't wanna whine here too much now moving on-

this idiot. /affectionate

the attention to the smallest details!!!!

the amount of canon things implemented?? HELLO? I mean it's natural to expect a canon character act according to canon but it's the first time (I think??) I've noticed SO MUCH small facts THOUGHT THROUGH and carefully weaven into the fic to fit the narrative perfectly. sometimes they're really small and almost insignificant but it's like finding easter eggs!!! it fills me with so much joy to feel the love to the kids through the writing (I repeat it again ahahaha). teru's complicated (VERY MUCH SO) feelings towards his father, akane liking raspberry sweets, akane (and aka) liking when pride of a certain someone ( ^^ ) shatters in front of them and their facade falls, teru itching to jump headfirst into research as soon as there's a reason to mess with exorcist tools and invent something (oh I so adore this in canon I can probably ramble about this a lot), teru being eager to play in the snow, teru covering his face when he cries!!!! and that's just the things I remember right now THERE WAS A LOT MORE

it all makes me point at the screen with an "AH!!" expression and think "YES THAT'S MY BOY/GIRL!!"

YAKO AND TSUCHIGOMORI TOO!! I was so glad to see yako being involved so much and her character handled perfectly with all her traits and quirks and sillyness /affectionate hehe I love her so much and although tsuchigomori hasn't showed up as much, reading the scenes with him was a delight as well

also when I said about the passion, I meant not only the love to the fic's main cast, but also the passion to analyze the og medium itself as a whole. (am I making sense? I don't want to sound too creepy) explaining myself: take aka: his character, his quirks, his abilities, his drama, worries and experiences - for it all to be as deep and believable ( = excellent) as it is, it was necessary to take all the smallest bits about ghosts' and supernaturals' mindset we have in canon, be it hanako or sousuke or mitsuba etc, analyze it, and make aka one of their kind but still very much unique and closer to akane than to them, even though he doesn't remember being him. even if you didn't do what I said entirely on purpose, I'm just amazed by how aka is written. it's awesome

squeezes him.

thank you for being the extremely stubborn "leech" you are. mwah

aidairo sadly have given us very little info about exorcism and supernaturals in general (I'm biting the table as we speak) and the way you still took the crumbs, thought them through, added bits here and there, and made it all work perfectly is just amazing. I was overjoyed to read about mimics, other kinds of supernaturals, how spiritual energy feels, how touching a ghost feels in detail, weakening seals, blood pacts, boundaries, etc etc. it's like it's all canon, it doesn't make the reader question it whatsoever, so well-made. I'm clapping.

the description says you've never written a teru pov before and I'd say you nailed it from the very beginning!! you understand his mindset so deeply, reading your works is the best experience. the picky bitch in my ear never goes "he would not say that" and instead is just as amazed as I am

the first chapters before the bonding are HEAVY as heck. they're extremely hard to binge read but I mean this as a good thing. they're extremely painful by just how realistically they are written, so good you can't help but sync with teru and feel the same emotions as he does. And his life is SHIT at that moment so I was SUFFERING with him both the first and the second going through the chapters :'D again though, it's not bad, it's the opposite - it makes the happy moments thrice as good and the overall bonding brings A LOT of warmth. I feel like it healed me in a way after punching me in the stomach 10 chapters in a row

also I love it so much just how much the fic focuses on teru's everyday life before the manga's main plot. I mean, well yeah, it's a 14-15yo teru pov, but still. so detailed, filled me with warmth.

*slaps roof of ycit* this bad boy can fit SO MUCh fun ideas and good concepts in it

seriously, the range is insane. a questionnaire, a quarrel (multiple), siblings talk, beach episode, dancing, hugging, both crying, possession?? hello?? BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! summer festival, sleeping on the other, fighting for the other, fighting together, even working in food service together (aka the thing I'd expect out of a trkn fic the least lol). the list goes on. and despite how bizarre and random it sounds out of context, nothing from it feels like a filler, everything fits into the plot perfectly. I have no words mari how are you doing that

ever since I've read the bloodpact chapter, I was worried about how encounters with mimics will go from now on because now aka can go anywhere and, how it was stated before, aka's and a mimic's energy feel the same… the boys will need to come up with a strategy of some sort (which is tricky if mimics learn from the memories) ourghh makes my head hurt! but in a good way. or will mimics struggle picking a target between aka and teru now? what if they're weaker when faced by multiple opponents because of that? that would be fortunate. anyway! mimics leap at the target eventually, so that eases the task. and whether the boys encounter them or not, they will have each other's backs, and it warms my heart.

I've wanderend off the main topic again, oops. as you see, the fic made me think of all sorts of things lol and it's an incredibly good sign.

what if teru did take a picture of the swing set in ch13…..... ourghh I don't even know if it'd be better or worse...... it's over now though, so I'm glad either way

and ch27 has destroyed and rebuilt me several times I think .

I drew this before ch28 but then it came out and oh boy. I don't even know what to say. Good for them. so proud of them

I HAD SEVERAL SONGS FOR THIS but I don't want to make this too overwhelming so I've tried to pick the faves among faves (still kind of failed so . no pressure)

Bullet by Saint Motel (lyrics) for teruaka

The Song with Five Names a.k.a. Soapbox Tao a.k.a. Checkmate Atheists! a.k.a. Neospace Government (A.K.A. You Can Never Know) by Will Wood and the Tapeworms (lyrics) for aka - this one may be too extreme. it kinda clicked for me but I might be delusional

quiet room by ewe (has eng subtitles) for teruaka - makes me feel things similar to the ones 'therefore you and me' does

Yakusoku no Overture by Toki Shunichi (akane's VA hehe) - I haven't found a full version of this arrangement on youtube but it should be on spotify? or other streaming platforms I'm pretty sure? sadly, I've only found a russian translation (as unusual as it is lol) so I've tried to adapt it in english here, hope it looks right!

I might be delusional here sdslkds but what's certain is that I enjoyed the fic all the way from the start. thank you for creating this, truly

p.s.: please let me know if I made you in any way uncomfortable. I myself didn't expect to write so much; I only wanted to express my gratitude but this might be overwhelming. (I'm a very anxious person so I felt like I needed to say this sdskldj) you aren't obliged to respond in any way and this isn't me asking you to continue working on the fic. just saying thank you for the things you've made

that's it! wishing you a great day :)