#my head is spinning and i am feeling weak

[ladylucksrogue]

I was going to wait til Monday to post a bit of this, you know for mental health Monday but I decided to roll with it now.

I don’t post a lot of real life things here because this tends to be my little fandom safe space where I love posting my fandom messiness and thirsting over clones and posting my fanfic.  But I have noticed a lot of peeps that I interact with are going through a rough patch.  Post Holiday blues, January blues…something.  It’s rough out there, especially in the real world.

Went through a bit of a slump myself.  Prior to the holidays, I did up my writing plan for all my WIPs.  It was very…ambitious for lack of a better word.  Like damn, I know I can write a lot in a session but we’re talking like a fic a day and that…just hasn’t happened.  So, when I missed a couple days of writing, I was hard on myself.  I hold myself to impossible standards sometimes and forget to give myself space.  

I was pretty hungover on January 1st, the wine got to me a bit more than usual and I just wasn’t feeling writing at all, though I did push myself to write a few words.  I was able to post my New Years story a couple days later but I remember posting and thinking this is shit.  This isn’t your usual, though it’s not terrible in retrospect.  I just…it got to me.  So instead of following my crazy plan I focused on some drabbles and doing Whumpuary, which is thankfully every other day, so it gives me a bit of space.  I have been working on my next installment of my fix-it, which the first scene is light hearted and it’s been fun but slow going.

Had a bit of an epiphany a couple days ago, because of a comment someone said.  And it sent me into a bit of a tail spin.  An angry tailspin that my hubby had to catch the brunt of.  He is fabulous though and just rolls with it, lets me rant and knows that I’ll feel better for it.  Someone in our extended friends group cracked a joke about me not working yet and how I’m just enjoying sitting around at home.  It was meant to be light hearted but it hit wrong on so many levels.

I lost my job last year due to a company restructuring.  It was sudden and I was really angry at the circumstances of it.  And more importantly, because it was the second job I had lost in two years to no fault of my own.  But I still gave myself the fault in all of it.  There was a time where I really struggled to hold down a job for a variety of reasons after I got out of the military, and every time something like this happens, it digs up a bunch of stuff from then…

But the fact of the matter is, since losing my job a lot has happened healthwise and I am actually on disability.  As of right now, I can’t work.  It’s something that has been a long time coming and the timing just happened to work out.  At the same time, people who know react one of two ways, oh but you’re fine, you don’t look sick, why can’t you work, or they start on some BS about must be nice, etc.  I won’t even start on the whole who is deserving and mooching off the government stuff, because I will just make myself upset.

It isn’t nice.  For someone who has worked all their life, I would much rather go to work every day than sit at home.  Weird but true.  And I feel doubt and second guess this and wonder if I can go to work and all this is just me being weak, etc.

Comments like that from people don’t help at all.  And then it happened, the moment of clarity…because usually I’m fine on most days.  And then I was working on a scene, got up to make myself some coffee and I had a moment.  There was a sound in my apartment, no clue what it was, but it set something off in my head and for a good moment, I had this really disorienting moment of not really knowing where I was, like half in a memory and half in the present and trying to sort it.  It’s happened before.  I have PTSD, an autoimmune condition, and a whole list of things, so the amount of times something has gone wrong suddenly is long.  But I’m standing there at my kettle like nearly going into a panic attack and managed to calm myself down and sort what happened.  Had this happened at work, I would have had to go sit somewhere for a bit, wasting work time to pull myself out of it and then pretend to be productive for the rest of the day.  Because, in the immediate aftermath of this, after I calmed down, I was dizzy and exhausted and just done.  No energy left.

And the fact that I was home allowed me to go take a nap for a couple hours and reset so to speak, which is probably the best and most effective way I have found in dealing with a PTSD attack.  It works for me personally better than any med they have given me.  Can’t do that working.  Not to mention, if someone is next to you when stuff like this happens, most people are not willing to understand.  You are immediately judged and ostracized (in my experience) because you do not fit into society’s mold.  

But after all this, it made me realize that I need to give myself a bit of grace.  To allow myself moments to feel bad.  To focus on myself and be accepting.  I think it is a big part of self-care we all forget.  Like even people that don’t have medical conditions or diagnoses need to remember.  We all cannot be perfect and productive always.  Sometimes we need a break.  We need to allow ourselves that.

Especially during this time of year, when stress is high and people are frustrated.  We just all need to give ourselves a pat on the back, take things a day at a time and practice a little acceptance.  Like if we finish that chapter or art or whatever in a day, that is fantastic.  On other days we might not do much of anything, and that is ok too.

This is in no way a message saying I am taking a break btw, so no worries! To those who follow my writing, I am here and writing, just on my own time. So at times, I'll probably post a bunch at once and other times, it'll be a bit slow going. Also, keep asks and interactions coming, absolutely keeps me sane and happy to keep interacting!

[kinokochouchou]

ah, I think I fucked up again somehow at work. having brain fog impacts me a lot lately it seems. I think ill need to go to the doctor with that, because something not wright

[arolesbianism]

There's a well 🎉

[tender-rosiey]

Can u do a drabble with jjk men where their child gets into a physical fight?

"MY KID IS NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!"

— when your kid with gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto, and toji gets into a fight (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband happily swings your hands together, as you walk to the principal’s office. meanwhile, you’re worried sick about s/n and what happened to him.

satoru rubs your hand reassuringly before slamming the door open and yelling, “did you win?!”

your eyes widen, but before you interject, s/n replies back enthusiastically, “yes, I did!”

you hurry to your son, kneeling in front of him to check him thoroughly.

you let out a sigh of relief when you see that he isn’t hurt in any way. sensing your distress, he hugs you. “I missed you, mama,” he says, snuggling into your neck.

“me too,” you smile and almost get lost in the moment, but then you hear a camera shutter. you look back and see your husband, holding a camera.

“oops, don’t mind me, hun.”

the dad of the other boy—who you didn’t notice was even there—stands up, livid, “can you take this a bit more seriously?! my son is injured!”

you’re about to reply yourself, but then satoru beats you to it. he stands right in front of the man and looks down at him, “surely, you’re not yelling at my wife, right?”

the man stumbles back into his chair, and satoru stares him down, making him sink even further into the chair.

the mother then speaks to you, “what your son did is unacceptable! look at how my baby is right now!”

looking at the other boy, you decide that the mother has every right to be mad. his nose is bleed profusely. you’re pretty sure it’s broken.

you look at your son and quirk an eyebrow, “s/n? what happened?”

“I was showing my friends the picture I got of you, and he said you were ugly! he can’t do that!”

your husband turns back and gasps, “he did what?!”

as if the dad himself is the one that is getting scolded, his eyes get teary.

meanwhile, you see the mother whispering to the boy, and he nods, ashamed. she looks back at you and says, “however, what your son did is not acceptable.”

“I know that the reaction was a bit much, but what your son did is also unacceptable,” you answer with your son nodding behind you.

“well—can you not be so close to my husband?” she snaps at satoru, whose cursed energy is increasing.

“you and your husband need to get taught a lesson if you raise a kid that’s so stupid he thinks my beautiful, divinie, and drop dead gorgeous wife is ugly,” he states, and the lady finds herself shrinking back beside her husband.

the little boy also scrambles into his parents’ embrace.

you place your hand on satoru’s forearm, and he immediately relaxes.

you smile and press a kiss to his cheek then pat your son’s back before instructing him softly, “you have to apologize for hurting him so much, though, s/n, okay?”

your son, ever the obedient sweetheart when it comes to you, looks at the boy, “I am sorry, but you should be sorry too!”

the other boy nods, crying, “I am sorry!”

your son nods, satisfied with the answer. your husband then picks s/n up and spins him around as he sings his praises, “I am so proud of you for defending mama like that! so so proud!”

the boy grins happily and hugs his dad. satoru then raises his finger, “but you gotta know that people are weak, so we can only do this to them all the time.”

your son nods eagerly, before wiggling to the ground. he runs to you, excited to tell you about his day. you grin and listen to him happily, ignoring the crying family on the other side.

your husband kisses the top of your head before turning to the principal with a smirk, “so, principal, is there anything you would like to say?”

“I am gonna piss myself.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

you dragged sukuna to the principal’s office, after you got a call of a major incident happening involving him. your husband insisted on dismissing it, but you just had a feeling that something is seriously wrong.

you both enter the office, eyes immediately falling on your son who is sitting unbothered on the chair. meanwhile, the principal is resting his elbows on the desk and striking a pose that could only be described as trouble.

when s/n sees you two, his eyes light up, and he runs to give you—and only you—a hug. sukuna scowls, “what about me?”

“you said you don’t like my hugs,” your son huffs, averting his eyes away. sukuna stares at him for a second, before picking him up by the scruff and placing him in his arms.

the boy looks at his dad, shocked, before snuggling into his embrace.

your husband leans his head just a bit on s/n’s head. you both then direct your attention to the waiting principal.

the principal taps his fingers together, but sukuna grumbles, “are you not gonna talk?”

you stifle a giggle—which sukuna notices and you notice the slight smirk now present on his face. the principal looks up at the three of you then speaks slowly, “well, you see…”

he looks up, “your son set my car on fire.”

a few beats pass.

then your husband barks out a laugh, one so hearty that it catches everyone but you off-guard.

the principal looks incredously at sukuna. your son tilts his head in confusion, before sukuna ruffles his hair, “how did you even do that? seriously, that’s my son for you!”

the boy thrives off his dad’s praise, and they get lost in their world, as your son details how he orchestrated everything.

the principal frowns, vexed. he clears his throat to speak up, “sir, I think you might have misheard. I am saying your son—”

“did I ask you to repeat yourself?”

the tone leaves no room for discussion, and it also sends shivers down the principal’s spine. your little boy snickers, and you side-eye him, effectively shutting him up.

the principal shakes his head slowly, then he looks at you for help.

truthfully, the man has every right to be both terrified and offended cause what the hell kinda is able to set a car on fire and act so nonchalant about it? it’s the kinda kid with a dad who backs him up for it.

however, the man assumes that voice of reason is you.

you want to help, but you’re just too tired. so, you smile, “I understand that what happened is harsh, sir,” he lights up, then you continue, “but surely, you can get a new one, right?”

the man pauses and looks at you with wide eyes, before spluttering, “wha—ma’am, you can’t be serious—"

“surely, you. can. get. a. new. one. right?” you glare.

the man nods frantically.

sukuna smirks pridefully, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. he leans his face near your ear and whispers, “my kinda woman.”

you smile and wrap your arm around his waist and squeeze his hip in return. you both exchange affectionate bedroom looks, forgetting about the frightened principal.

meanwhile, s/n looks at you guys, wrorried, and murmurs, “mom, you’re scarier than dad.”

despite what he says, s/n jumps into your arms and nuzzles against your cheek. your husband rolls his eyes with no real annoyance behind them.

with all the courage left in him, the principal smiles nervously and stutters, “you—you can leave now; I sincerely and deeply apologize for the hold up.”

nobody moves an inch.

“…please leave.”

NANAMI KENTO:

you, your husband, and your daughter are now seated in the principal’s office.

you are waiting for the other kid and her parents to come in as well. you’re tapping your feet, restlessly, but kento lays his hand on your knee and rubs it gently.

he nods at you, and you smile.

you know your daughter would never fight unprovoked. said daughter gets off her chair and climbs into your lap. she hugs you tightly, and you instantly start petting her hair.

she lets a small sigh, but then the principal enters the office with the other parents in toe. you see your husband’s eyes narrow, before he leans close to d/n and asks gently, “isn’t that the girl you said was bullying your friend?”

your daughter nods intensely and whispers back, “she was about to hit her today, and you told me not to let people bully others! that’s why I hit her.”

you pat her head, and she grins. kento hums then nods, “I get that, but couldn’t you get a teacher, sweetheart?”

“the teacher would’ve taken too long!” your daughter huffs, and she is right. but, there still is a lesson that she needs to understand.

the principal clears his throat and sits in his chair. “well mr. and mrs. nanami, your daughter has inflicted pain on a friend of hers—”

“bullies aren’t my friends!”

good saying, but this probably isn’t the time. you pat her back, and she instantly understands what you mean, so she—begrudgingly—calms down.

the principal continues, “as I was saying, she hit her classmate, and as you can see, it left a bruise. such violent acts are prohibited in this respected establishment.”

“shouldn’t bullying be prohibited as well?” you ask, and the man splutters.

“that doesn’t happen—”

“i can assure you that my wife is speaking the truth,” kento backs you up, “if you would like, we can check the cameras or what the teachers say regarding the environment you’re fostering.”

your daughter’s head starts spinning from the big words.

your husband places a hand on the top of her head before resuming, “while I acknowledge that my daughter shouldn’t have been physical in defending her friend, you ought to acknowledge that what the other girl did was also unacceptable.”

“and since you want to solve the root of the problem, shouldn’t you punish the one that did the bullying and warranted my daughter to act in defense?” you press on, and the principal gulps.

the father of the girl stands up, “my princess would do no such thing—”

“your record isn’t that pretty either, so I suggest you sit down,” you say with a smile, and it does the trick. the man immediately sticks to his wife—who has said nothing, and you assume it’s because she knew what her daughter did.

everybody keeps staring at each other for a while, with your daughter having a staring contest with the other girl.

“we will deal with our daughter accordingly,” kento speaks up as he stands up, straightening his suit, “but we expect that the girl is also held accountable for her shameful actions. thank you.”

you and d/n get up, and the three of you exit the office—like icons. kento holds your hand and d/n’s, and you giggle, “did you see how they looked?”

“should you be encouraging d/n about laughing at others?” your husband asks with a small quirk of his eyebrow. you nod confidently.

“if they’re rude then yes!”

he shakes his head helplessly with a smile. then your daughter looks up to kento as you are walking and says excitedly, “dad, I won!”

your husband looks down at her then smiles gently, nodding as he gives her a thumbs up. you raise your eyebrows and gasp lowly, “hypocrisy?”

“hmm, I don’t know.”

GETO SUGURU:

your daughters hang off their dad’s back as you guys head to the principal’s office. they squeal and giggle, and suguru has an ever-permanent smile.

he is holding onto your hand gently and says, “don’t worry; I doubt that the girls actually caused damage.”

“I know, but what I am curious about is why they would get into something,” you reply, pensive, “I know my daughters very well,” you smile, and the girls grin.

they start chanting your name, clapping, and saying I love you a million times.

you open the door slowly and are met with the principal standing in front of his desk and a girl standing on top of it. your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you all enter.

your husband wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. he tilts his head, “so, what’s wrong?”

the man drums his fingers on the desk, leaning back, “your daughters have ganged up on my daughter.”

the both of you take a moment to examine the girl from afar. there seems nothing wrong with her: no bruise, no blood, no nothing.

you exchange looks, and you take the turn to speak up, “your daughter looks okay to me.”

the man huffs and crosses his arms, “she was hurt emotionally! severely too!”

the girl nods strongly and pouts. her dad gasps and hugs her. he then starts coddling her before asking her, “what did they say to you, sugarplum?”

“they said that I looked like a mole rat, daddy!” she replies, hand on her chest as she ‘falls’ to her knees, “and—and that’s only one of the many bad things they said!”

the man gasps yet again and starts comforting her.

you and your husband let out a snort, barely containing your laughter. the girls puff their chest in confidence. you and suguru look at each other with a poorly hidden grin, and you get caught.

the man fumes, “you’re laughing at my dear sweet princess sugar?!”

“no, we are laughing at the insult,” you reply.

“it’s quite creative,” suguru chuckles before turning to the girls who have long let go of him. he kneels down and asks them, “why did you guys do that?”

“she pulled my hair!” one of the twins spoke.

the other chimes in, “and she made fun of me.”

“oh.”

just from that word alone, you can tell which path your husband is gonna take in continuing this conversation. you have a half a mind to make him summon rainbow dragon to take you home.

you just wanted to know the reason, and suguru is probably never going to leave it at that. forget how ‘calm’ he usually is, his family should never be insulted.

“…see, this why you’re all a bunch of monkeys.”

“monkeys!!” the twins scream in unison.

this time both the principal and the daughter gasp incredulously. your secretly a diva of a husband carries your girls then holds your hand before exiting the office.

he walks in silence, and you quirk an eyebrow, “so, what are you going to do, mister ‘filthy monkeys’?”

“I have a feeling that you’re making fun of me, honey.”

“and that feeling would be right.”

the girls settle on his shoulders, freeing his arms, and he takes the chance to tickle you. you squeal, “suguru, stop! I am serious! not in public!”

“but you’re being mean, sweetheart,” he mock pouts, “such bad things you’re saying.”

your roll your eyes, and you guys continue on your merry way back home.

that event passed by like a breeze, but for some reason, the school has been appointed a new principal because the last one went missing.

I wonder why.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

“relax, ma,” your husband says as he rubs your shoulder in hopes of comforting you, “the kid is surely fine; he is our son after all.”

“I know, toji! but what if he did get hurt?” you fret then scowl, “I swear to god, if they harm a single hair on megumi’s head, I will make them wish they were never born!”

toji smirks lightly and ruffles your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before opening the door. he sees megumi sat, arms crossed and frowning.

involuntary, toji lets out a sigh of relief, and you waste no time in going to your son and checking on him, bombarding him with questions.

“did you get hurt?”

“no.”

“did he hurt you?”

“no.”

“are you okay?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, mom, I am fine,” megumi murmurs, cheeks heating up at your affection. toji chuckles at the display before looking at the principal.

the man purses his lips before sighing, “your son has beaten up jay.”

you and your husband blink silently. then your husband tilts his head, “who?”

the principal grits his teeth before standing up. he crosses his arms before huffing, “jay, the son of the town’s mayor! that boy is as important as his father, yet your son has so brazenly hurt him!”

you frown, “I don’t care who he is, and I am sure that my son won’t hit somebody for no reason!”

megumi nods, and you smile at him.

you pat his hair gently, and he reluctantly leans into the affection. meanwhile, toji has been listening silently before turning to megumi and asking, “who the hell is that?”

“the one with the sea slug hair,” he replies instantly. you let out a hum of recognition.

your husband stares blankly before he clicks his finger, “oh,” he then looks at megumi and ruffles his hair with a small grin, “I hated that kid’s dad—good job.”

megumi lets out a small smile before giving his dad a thumbs up. you roll your eyes with no real annoyance behind them and side-eye toji.

toji chuckles then looks at the fuming principal. the man, now red in the face, yells, “mr fushiguro, that is unacceptable behavior from both you and your son!”

“…okay?”

you shake your head and usher megumi out of the room. you and toji share a look, before you close the door. the moment it clicks, your husband turns to the principal with a blank face.

he takes a few steps, stopping right in front of the man. toji grabs the principal’s shoulder then speaks lowly, “you won’t speak of this, ‘kay?”

he nods frantically, face contorting as he tries to compose himself. toji smirks and heads to the door with a small wave, “see ya never, teach.”

your husband finds you and megumi in the school’s garden.

he sees megumi and yuuji—his friend—playing together, while you relax on the bench. for some reason, toji feels a wave of warmth flood his chest as when he sees you and megumi smiling.

yuuji yells something to you that makes you laugh heartily. toji feels himself relax and smile just slightly. it’s moments like these he feels ever so grateful to have you in his life.

and he swears to forever protect you and megumi. he has acknowledged a long time ago that his only wish is to be by your side.

that’s why, in no time, he is behind you, effectively blocking the sun. you look up from where you’re sat to your husband.

“hey pretty,” he hums.

you chuckle as he rests his elbows on the bench, “slain?”

he grins, “slain.”

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[banj0possum]

Bloody Red Roses

Yandere!Evil King x GN!Reader

CW: kidnapping, weirdo behavior, pretty mellow for now

👑 It was known throughout the land that King Alistair of the Obsidian Kingdom was a terrifying and cruel ruler. His heart held no mercy for those who opposed him.

👑 His dark magic was one to be feared, many know better than to ever go against him and his undead soldiers.

👑 Recently, he’s set his sights on your kingdom. He was planning on overthrowing a few lands and expanding his territory, and with your kingdom’s promising resources and location, he saw it as the perfect prize.

👑 But he isn’t a war mongering psychopath who declares war right then and there, no no he’s much more sophisticated than that, he’s going to kidnap the princess instead!

👑 He needed a bride anyway, so for him it’s a win/win!

👑 “Sir! We got her! We got the princess!” The door opening and the rattling of bones got Alistair’s attention. He sent a few of his skeleton soldiers to capture the princess whilst on a carriage ride through the borders of his territory.

👑 There were many guards protecting the area, but their weapons were no match for enemies who couldn’t die, and with a little bit of sleeping potion, carrying the princess away will be easy as pie.

👑 “Excellent~ and you brought her to my chambers like I told you correct?”

👑 They nod and scamper alongside the king to meet the princess

👑 “Oh princess~ are you awake ye- !!” His eyes widen and he cuts himself off. The person unconscious and tied up in his bed was indeed a royal, but the princess they were not.

👑 “What. Is. This?” He growls, the soldier’s bones rattle in fear

👑 “W-well you sai-“ “Does this look like a princess to you?! How am I going to take over their stupid kingdom if don’t have a bride!?” He scowls angrily.

👑 He hears you tossing and turning in your sleep, you let out a soft little squeak as you reposition yourself to be hugging one of his pillows.

👑 “…”

👑 “Uhm…your highness..?”

👑 “Leave. I’m done with your stupidity..I’ll deal with them myself..”

👑 The soldiers waste no time running off to who knows where as Alistair looks at you with cold eyes.

👑 “Hm…”

👑 He takes a seat by the bed, watching you as he figures out what to do with you.

👑 He’s trying to figure out a strategy, but he keeps getting distracted by your form. You looked so small and delicate, maybe he could…no that’s stupid he could never..could he?

👑 His thoughts plague him a awhile longer until he notices you waking up.

👑 Your muscles are weak, your head feels like it’s spinning, and it takes a bit for you to get back to your senses and realize what happened.

👑 You jolt awake, remember of the attack and almost scream at the sight of Alistair, but he was quick to covers your mouth and try to ease your panic. It took a while, but he managed to get you to stop fussing so he could take off your binds.

👑 “Apologies for this little..incident, I was supposed to take your sister..but now that you know my plan for your little kingdom, I have no choice but to keep you here. Perhaps I don’t need a princess to marry after all, I could just use you as ransom..” he chuckles.

👑 He sees the tea in your cup rippling in your shakes hold and scoffs, bringing his hand to hold your wrist to still your trembling “Oh don’t be so scared now, I don’t bite..”

👑 It was just supposed to be a means to make you stop shaking, but your skin…your big pitiful eyes staring up at him..he didn’t want to let go.

👑 So he kept you, for ransom of course, not for anything else..

👑 With you at his disposal, he started preparing negotiations with your kingdom to see what they’ll do to get you back.

👑 But in the mean time, he had to deal with you somehow..

👑 He settled on just letting you wander around the castle (with supervision of course)

👑 But then he starts to wonder what you do everyday, what did you even like to do? If you were staying with him, he might as well talk with you for the time being.

👑 It started off sort of awkward, he spotted you by the garden feeding some birds with two soldiers watching you. He approached and waved at the soldiers to leave them alone together. You thought you were in trouble but to your surprise, he just asked you how you were doing..

👑 “I uhm..heard you like going out here everyday..I figured I’d join you…Don’t take it the wrong way, I just had some..free time..that’s all..”

👑 The whole interaction was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be so casual and calm with someone, especially a royal of another kingdom.

👑 He enjoys the reactions you give him whenever he talks about his role as the dark king of the Obsidian Kingdom. Your nervous but polite smile masks your mortification of him, but it’s adorable to him nonetheless

👑 “What? A scared of the big bad king? How cute.”

👑 Your little talks slowly became frequent, for the king, it even became something he couldn’t help but do. What can he say? He was so used to your presence it seemed wrong to not talk to you at least once..plus he had to check to see if you weren’t planning an escape so..

👑 “Where have you been my little rose? I haven’t seen you all day.”

👑 His interest in your interactions turned to fondness the more he picked up on your cute little quirks. He takes note of the things you find funny or interesting, he brings them up in order to see that adorable little smile of yours, and that giggle, oh god that giggle…

👑 He denies it so much at first, but slowly starts to accept the fact that he wants- no, needs you with him

👑 Soon he started to want your presence even more, offering to eat meals alongside you instead of eating whenever he’s schedule allowed it, he started eating scheduled meals for you <3 we love self care guys

👑 “Of course I’m eating with you tonight. After all we never got to finish our conversation.”

👑 He loves watching you, even when simply eating or any mundane thing, you will more often than not catch him staring at you. You’re just so cute and soft! Definitely not like the snobby and overly stiff men and women he’s seen.

👑 He couldn’t have you trying to escape so what better plan than to keep you by his side 24/7? Then you’ll never be out of his sight!

👑 “What’s so wrong with letting you tag along my dear? I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself with me.”

👑 And what if you try and sneak out from your chambers? Clearly you need to be moved to his chambers, that way he can make sure you’re behaving.

👑 Oh and of course in case you get lost, he made you a cute collar with the royal insignia on it! Isn’t it pretty? He used your favorite colors and everything!

👑 Of course he needs to fulfill his kingly duties. But how can he leave you alone for that long? No worries, you can sit right on his lap! That way you won’t have to stand for a long time and hurt your feet.

👑 And those clothes? So simple and out of style, perhaps you should wear something more fitting to his kingdom’s styles? Like a cute outfit with lace and ruffles! You look so delicate and graceful in it! He can’t help but buy you lots more outfits like that! Tis only fair for a person of your status.

👑 “How about this one? It compliments your form…what do you mean it looks too cutesy? I think it looks perfect for you.”

👑 he’s the type to not do much physical affection, but dear god does he crave both giving and receiving it. Give him a kiss or a caress of his cheek and he struggles to keep his composure and not melt to your touch

👑 Simply put, he might not seem like it (at least he thinks he does) but he can’t live without you. He couldn’t fathom the fact he was planning on trading you for a kingdom, you’re way more valuable than some puny kingdom!

👑 He even considers his original plan, you wouldn’t mind right? Besides, he bets you look absolutely exquisite in a little wedding dress~! Even if you don’t want a dress, an elegant suit would perfect on you~!

👑 “Where do you think you’re going my rose?”

It’s finally here guys ✨✨✨ I know it’s been a while but I’ve been busy with school and genshin. Anyway we got em in the end! Thank you for being so patient guys !! qwq

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...

"Who did this to you?"

Cue protective instincts and sexiness

hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.

Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”

Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.

It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.

“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.

This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”

You glance at him sideways. “How so?”

Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.

“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.

Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.

“Why? It’s true.”

John Price

“Who did this?”

“Why do you care so much, John?”

You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.

“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.

“I don’t know why,” you murmur.

“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.

Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.

‘Tell me who did this?”

“And do that what?”

“What the fuck I want to them, love.”

“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.

But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.

“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.

“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.

Yes. Close enough to kiss.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.

His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.

No one stops him. No one glances his way.

And why should they?

He is a man made fury.

There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.

To him, this is a failure.

He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.

The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.

You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.

Fucking hell.

“Out,” barks Simon.

The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Simon—”

“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.

“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.

Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.

Who did this?

The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.

All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.

That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.

But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.

He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.

But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.

You are not his.

Even if he wants to be.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @heeheehoohoohahahihi @eternallyvenus @burn1ngw00d @taysarchive

[emmyrosee]

So Urm just a thought u got any…. Deep non curse sukuna angst I think it’s a good day to cry.

-anon🥢

Sukuna is nothing if not self sabotaging.

Things with you have been good. Borderline perfect; you’re the missing piece to the life he’s cursed to live, where he’s always self aware of his weaknesses and takes them out on those around him. There is no blessing, not when all he does it hurt. It’s a miracle yuuji and choso deal with his shit enough, he knows they should’ve dropped him off the face of the earth with the pain he causes.

Now, it seems, it’s your turn.

Your turn to be on the receiving end of his fury, his rage and heartbreak, your only chance to escape being to leave him; maybe that’s all he wants: you to leave him.

He stopped calling you. Stopped answering texts. When his brothers and parents ask about you, he merely stays silent, opting against making you sound more divine than they know you are.

You’re perfect. You’re not for him.

Theres a pounding on the door that goes unanswered by everyone in the house, and he groans as he gets up to answer it, only to reveal your frame in the door.

You look distraught. You’re angry, he can see that in your eyes, there’s a betrayal buried deep in them. Your face holds a scowl and your breathing picks up at the sight of him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes and walks away from the open door, knowing you’ll follow him no matter what. “So?”

“So?” You ask, offended. “You and I are supposed to be in love, supposed to be partners in crime-“

“Im hearing a lot of ‘supposed to be,’ and not a lot of ‘have to be’” he snaps. He hears you take a breath to say something, but you don’t. He screws his eyes shut. “Get over it. I didn’t sign a contract with my blood saying I have to come to your every beck and call.”

“Sukuna. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Being an asshole,” you say firmly. “Let me in. I’m here. What’s going on?”

“I’m sick of you.”

At his blunt words, you gasp, and sukuna feels the bile rise up his throat. He’ll do anything though. Anything to make you stop loving him. “What…?”

“I’m sick. Of you,” he echos. “You checking up on me, demanding we go out, flaunting me off to your friends like I’m some damn trophy-“

“Because I love you!” You hiss. “I want to show you off, make the world see how lucky I am to have you!”

“‘Show me off?’” He cackles, spinning on his heel to face you. “There’s nothing to show. I am nothing to you. You, are nothing to me.”

You reel back at his words, waterline swelling with tears as you are wounded by his words. “You think because I take you out on a few dates, we kissed a little and I held that little hand of yours, that you’re anything special to me?” He shakes his head with a cruel chuckle, “I’ve done that to every broad I’ve ever been with. You’re not special. Never were anything more than a body to me.”

You puff out your chest like an animal trying to protect itself, “then what about the nights we cuddled?” You demand. “What about our late night trips to McDonald’s or 7/11? What about the nights you cried in my chest about your miseries and hardships, and I carded your hair and cradled you close to my body?”

“What about them!” He yells, the cracks in his confidents breaking. Those moments mean the world to him, and for him to now force you to use them against him has his blood running cold. “Yeah, I let you see the softer bits of me. Who cares?”

“I do!” You wail. “Because it made me think, for one second, that we could be something special! Something we earned and worked for together!”

“I think you forget,” he snarls, “I lived a fine life without you in it. We can go right fucking back the minute you started thinking this bullshit.”

You flinch at the harshness of his words. It’s working. Sukuna feels it. The love you have for him dwindling, the connection being frayed and severed with every pass of his words-

“Then do it,” you whisper. “If your life was so great loveless, then go back. But just know, I’ll never stop loving you. Ever. You’ll never have the peace of the freedom of heartbreak when it comes to me.”

With that, you take a step back, followed by another, but your eyes never leave his. Your bottom lip wobbles and you grab your coat over the back of his chair. He watches as you cover your mouth with your hand before dashing out, slamming the door behind you and leaving a trail of tears. His eyes are fixed on the door that’s finally stopped shaking on its hinges from the slam, as if waiting for you to sweep back in and demand his love, demand him to care and want you back.

But it doesn’t come. You don’t come back.

He can’t fight the urge to swipe everything off the counter with his arms in a fury, plates and cups flying off and shattering under the force. He pants like a voracious beast, angry and predatory, but he’s grounded as he steps on a shard of crystal from his mom’s wine glass.

And now, rather than chase you down the street, begging for your forgiveness, he sits down, using his hands to pick up the bigger shards. There’s an unfamiliar trickling down his cheek of hot tears, one splatters to the floor, and that’s it. Sukuna, with the monster he worked so hard to keep at bay, ruins another paradise in his life.

He cries alone.

All alone.

[0omillo0]

Hyunjin x reader

comfort ♡ the reader is exhausted but keeps telling hyunjin that she is fine, until she faints.

warnings: nothing, hyunjin being a drama queen

for @hannamoon143

You were running on fumes. Lately, it felt like the world was spinning a little too fast, the weight of everything pressing down hard. But you kept it hidden, pasting on a smile and giving Hyunjin a reassuring nod whenever he asked if you were okay. He could be a little too intuitive sometimes, and you didn’t want him to worry about you. After all, he had his own busy schedule, his own pressures.

Tonight, though, you felt especially drained. It was as if the air around you was too thick to breathe, and no matter how hard you tried, the tightness in your chest wouldn’t let up.

Hyunjin appeared in the doorway, tilting his head as he watched you with that curious, concerned look he’d been wearing so often lately. “Are you… sure you’re okay, Y/N?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the edge of worry underneath.

“Of course,” you said quickly, flashing him a smile you hoped looked convincing. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You’ve said that every day this week.”

“I know. I just… I’ll be fine,” you said, waving a hand as if to brush it all away. But the wave of dizziness that hit you just then made you grip the edge of the table for balance.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?” He took a step closer. “Because I know when you’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

You let out a shaky breath, giving a small, helpless shrug. “I just… I don’t want you to worry.”

His gaze softened, but his tone was firm. “Too late for that, babe. I’m already worried.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the world around you started to blur, the edges of your vision going dark. Before you could stop it, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on the couch, with Hyunjin’s face hovering above you, wide-eyed with panic.

“Oh my God, you’re awake! Are you okay? Are you breathing? Do I need to call an ambulance?” he exclaimed, his voice high with worry as he waved his hands dramatically.

“Hyunjin…” you murmured, struggling to sit up, but he immediately held you down.

“No, stay down! You fainted! Like, actually fainted!” His voice was a mix of alarm and pure distress. “Do you know how terrifying that was? One second you were standing, and the next, you were just… gone!” He clutched his chest, taking in a deep breath as if he’d barely survived the ordeal.

You managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think fainting right in front of me doesn’t scare me? You could’ve hit your head! Or… or… worse!” His eyes widened even further. “Do you want some water? Or a blanket? Or an entire medical team?!”

“Hyunjin,” you laughed softly, though you could feel your heart racing a bit from the embarrassment. “I just… I think I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

“A little?” he echoed, sounding incredulous. “Babe, this isn’t just ‘a little too hard.’” His voice softened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he held it tightly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” you admitted, looking down. “You’re already so busy, and I thought I could handle it.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, lifting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “Listen, I don’t care how busy I am. If you need me, I’m here. Always.”

You looked away, feeling the emotions rising up, but he cupped your face, pulling your gaze back to him. “Hey,” he said gently. “I mean it. You’re my person, okay? You don’t have to do this alone. I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

You bit your lip, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like I’m failing, Hyunjin. I’m exhausted all the time, and it feels like I’m always one step behind. No matter how much I do, it’s never enough.”

He listened, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “Oh, Y/N… why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?” His voice was a gentle whisper. “You’re not failing. You’re doing so much, and you’re amazing at everything you do. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping despite your tears. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m saying that because it’s true! I see you work so hard, and I see how much you care about everything you do. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“I just feel like it’s not enough. Like… if I don’t keep pushing myself, I’ll fall behind,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he rested his chin on your head. “Then lean on me. You don’t have to do everything on your own. Just… let me be here for you.”

You stayed like that for a while, Hyunjin holding you as the weight of your worries seemed to melt away. His hand stroked gently down your back, and he hummed a quiet tune, one you recognized from his playlist.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Alright, new plan: tonight, you’re doing absolutely nothing. I’ll take care of everything, and you’re going to relax.”

“But—”

“Nope. No ‘buts.’” He raised a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay quiet. “Doctor’s orders,” he said, puffing out his chest and winking.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, even as he threw a dramatic hand to his forehead. “In fact, I’m not sure I can leave you alone. What if you faint again? I’d never recover!”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Fine. I’ll rest… if it’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. But I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You’re stuck with me.” He gave you a playful nudge and then got up, grabbing his phone. “Let’s see… I’m thinking snacks, movies, and maybe an emergency blanket fort. You’ll thank me later.”

With a sigh, you gave in, feeling lighter already. As he bustled around, grabbing pillows and snacks, you watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude. He might be a bit of a drama queen, but he cared for you in ways that made every worry seem smaller.

Hyunjin returned, arms full of snacks, a mischievous smile on his face. “Now, the real question is: cheesy romance movie or hilarious rom-com?”

You laughed, feeling a genuine smile spread across your face. “You pick.”

He settled beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Rom-com it is. And hey, if you start feeling overwhelmed again… you come to me, alright?”

You nodded, leaning into his side as the movie began. “Thank you, Hyunjin. For everything.”

He squeezed your hand, resting his head against yours. “Always, Y/N. I’ll always be here.”

In that moment, you felt lighter than you had in weeks, wrapped in the warmth of Hyunjin’s presence and knowing that, no matter what, he was by your side. And as the night wore on, filled with his laughter and comforting touch, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face the world alone.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father’s murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

August draws you onto the dance floor. He tugs your arm so you swing into him, hitting his chest with an oomph as the first song begins. Your first song. Every girl dreams of this, don’t they? Their wedding day. Their first dance. But what about the father-daughter dance? 

You try not to think of anything but that moment. Not that bloody night, not the vows strangled from your throat, or the incessant pulsing of your heart. Just move your feet, sway, let the melody wrap you up and hold you close. 

Your husband has one hand on your lower back, his other cradles your gloves fingers and guides them onto his shoulder. You tilt your head up to see him. The spark in his blue eyes dispels your breath like fog. 

His hand falls to your hip as he turns you with him, moving smoothly around the floor, before all those watching eyes. Beneath the music is a drawn hush. His audience, his people, watch their new king take his crown jewel. 

His hand slips down and brushes the curve of your ass. He pulls you flush to him and growls. You squeak in surprise. It is another show of his dominance. Another proclamation of his power. If your father was alive, he would have his hands cut off but your father is dead and his hand remains as it is. 

“You are not his daughter anymore, you are my wife,” August intones under his breath. 

“Yes,” agree in a hollow gulp. 

“So smile,” he taunts. “Aren’t you happy to have a husband?” 

“Yes,” you repeat again. 

“You don’t seem it,” he challenges. 

You twitch. You make yourself lean into him. You drag one hand from his shoulder and to his chest. You feel the muscle beneath and your chest thrums. You feel his power nested beneath his suit. His cheek dimples, he’s pleased at the play of fear on your face. 

You make yourself smile and run your hand up to his collar and tickle along his neck. His throat bobs and you flutter over the short stubble already poking through his skin. He leans his head down and you nearly trip over yourself as you strain to kiss him. 

He hums, still moving you in his thrall, and his tongue flits over your lip. You let him in. He twirls you and bends you backward as he stills your feet. He deepens the kiss as he keeps you off kilter. The crowd jeers and eggs him on, shattering the brittle tension. 

He parts and puts you back on your feet. He spins you away and pulls you back in. You are weak to his whim. You are his wife, his possession.  

As he turns you, you see your mother. She watches in sombre stillness. She sits as others stands to watch, others joining the fun with their partners. 

Your hand drifts down and you keep it high on August’s shoulder as your other nestles into his side beneath his jacket. He purrs, content at your submission. He kneads your ass and breathes over your hair and veil. He toys with it as it brushes his knuckles. 

“Keep this on tonight,” he growls. 

Tonight. 

You quiver at the thought. This is only the beginning. That small hole in the back of your mind splits into a gaping tear and your fear floods in. 

“Your father always was greedy but I daresay his worst offense was keeping you locked up,” he snarls and kisses your forehead, the trim of his mustache bristling along your hairline. 

You shiver and curl your fingers against him. You cling to him as your legs threaten to give out. Your family mantle is suddenly a chain around your neck. The iron ball at the end will only drag you down. 

He nuzzles your hair, “will you shake when I have you under me?” 

You whimper, “please.” 

“Denial cannot protect you. It didn’t protect him,” he growls. “I could drag you out right now and fuck you over a toilet. Hell, I could throw you down on this floor and throw your skirts up and they would cheer me on. Every last one of them.” 

Terror surges through you and you pull back to look him in the face. To this point, he’s been patient. Stony and strict but not unkind. You can see clearly then what makes him so dangerous. His boldness. His shamelessness. His iron determination. 

“Yes, I know. I know you could. You can,” you eke out. “But I am being good. Sir, August, why would you be cruel?” 

He smirks, “I’m not, am I? I’m reminding you that I can, if you choose to stoke it.” 

“I understand,” you quaver and rub his chest appeasingly. Instinctively as you try to calm this sudden rise in him. “I can be good.” 

“For me or to me?” He wonders. 

“For-- to—Both. Whatever you will have of me,” you plead as you rub beneath his jacket. “Tell me what you want?” 

He stares down at you. His eyes sparkle and the corners of his lips tweak. He brings his knuckles up to pet your cheek. He considers you then stops, his hand on your hip. 

“It is time,” he booms out and signals to someone unseen. 

You turn to search for whoever it is. From your other side, a man approaches with a chair. You spin back and your mother stands. Her hands are fists. Her face is steel. She watches as her shame threatens to boil over. 

August puts you in the chair by your shoulders. You look around as the dancers still and circle around. Those still at their table angle around to see.  

You squirm as your husband gets to his knees. He puts his hands behind his back as Margot comes forward to lift your skirts. You stifle a yelp as she throws them over his head and he bows to drag his lips along your ankle. 

You twitch as he creeps up your stocking. You know what this is. You’ve been to many weddings. You always found the display terribly humiliating.  

His breath plumes over your leg as he reaches your thigh and he pinches you with his teeth. You cry out and your hands are grabbed before you can swat at your dress. Theo pulls your wrists behind you and you writhe as August continues his mission beneath the layers of tulle. 

His nose brushes along your leg and he kisses the tender flesh as you quiver. He nips and licks in a faux search for your garter, only biting down on it as you whine in discomfort. He tugs it down slowly as his growl rumbles against you. 

He brings it down the length of your leg and the skirts fall away from his head as he sits back on his heels. He has the lace in his teeth as his hair is askew from his plunge beneath the fabric. He grabs the garter and waves it at the ground as he stands and chortles in victory. You’re released and fix your skirts frantically. 

“Ahhh,” he scrunches it to his nose and inhales, “I can smell it. My wife is ready.” He shakes the garter in his fist and the crowd laughs, “aren’t you?” 

He turns to you and scoops you up. You cry out as he brings you against his chest. He sighs and looks around at the crowd; at his empire. 

“To the boss!” Theo calls out as he raises a glass and the entire room mirrors him in anointing their new king. 

[yeonzzzn]

✨all my little stars: park jongseong

epilogue for no limits duology | the limits series

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 3.2k

synopsis: jay’s world spins faster after finding out of your pregnancy and making the preparations for the life you both created with a mixture of the normal chaos and the unexpected.

genre: established relationship, blonde!jay, uncle!jay, fluffy, suggestive.

warnings: swearing, the boys being down bad (as usual), mentions of sex, pregnancy mentions, that’s probably it ♡

★ this is an epilogue of the spin-off to the main series, please read off limits / parts 1-2 to this spin-off before reading this one. they are tagged under the title ★

•·.·no limits spotify playlist'·.·•

“C-can you repeat that?” Jay’s throat went dry and his hands were shaking and his knees weak. 

The doctor smiles at him, “I said, congrats Dad, you’re having twins.” 

Twins? Jay couldn’t believe it. If it weren’t for the handrails he held a grip on the bed you laid in, he would have completely fallen to the floor at the news. 

The surprising thing is, you weren’t even shocked. You saw it coming with how big your baby bump was. Mostly with Jay’s sister also being pregnant, her bump was of normal size. At first, you thought maybe your baby was growing a lot bigger than you’d thought, but as the days went on…it became obvious you were carrying more than one life. 

Jay on the other hand looked like he was fixing to have a heart attack. You were genuinely worried for your fiancé until he looked over at you and his lips curled into a smile. 

“Twins,” he chuckles and smiles wider, “Baby, we’re having twins,” Jay took your hands in his, placing kisses on their tops then placing a kiss on your forehead, resting his head against yours and rubbing the pads of his thumbs in your palms, “I couldn’t be happier.” 

But oh man did the boys not let Jay live this down. 

Jay’s sister took you and her out for some much-needed girl time for dinner and shopping, while Jay stayed behind at the apartment. 

“BROTHER NO FUCKING WAY!! TWINS?!?” Heeseung laughed, slapping the back of his friend, “We get rid of Jake and __ just for them to be replaced.” 

Jay dropped his head into his palms, “I’m so happy over it that I'm exhausted. But it was also such a shock.” 

Heeseung was now running his hand up and down his back, “All jokes aside, I am happy for you man, this is great news.” 

Jake nodded, standing from the solo recliner and ruffling Jay’s hair, “Just think our little Hwa will have not just two, but THREE family members to grow up with.” 

Jay chuckled and sat back on the couch, his smile going from ear to ear. He was genuinely so happy. Twins?? He still couldn’t believe it. And the timing of his sister and you being pregnant at the same time was even more perfect. His children will get to grow up with hers, and neither of the four would be alone. 

Jay let out a yawn, “Jesus. Jake, is this how you felt about the first check-up you and my sister went to for Hwa?” 

Jake let out a soft groan and also leaned back, “Yes. I was shaking so badly and my ears were ringing. But it’s such a happy feeling at the same time.” 

Jay nodded, taking a good long look at his best friend/brother-in-law, his eyes widening as he stood quickly to his feet, causing every male to stare up at up. 

“You good?” Sunghoon asked, “Did having twins get to ya or something?” 

Jay shakes his head, “No. I just realized I need to move YN in, like now.” 

It was the one thing both you and Jay kept putting off. Specifically because of your parents, or well, father. If your father didn’t like Jay when they first met, he sure as hell didn’t like him now. From what you have told Jay, he already isn’t happy about the engagement or the pregnancy or moving out. But it is what it is. Jay didn’t care, he had you and that’s all that mattered to him. 

Sunghoon whistles, “Guess this place will be crowded until Jake and __ officially move out.” 

Jake smirked, “And guess who all is going to help move YN in and us out because the two females are pregnant?” 

Jay also smirked and glanced down at Heeseung and Sunghoon. 

The two males looked at each other, communicating silently. 

“Nah,” Jake said, his Aussie accent coming out thick, “You two aren’t getting out of this!” 

And they didn’t. You and __ sat on the couch with smiles on both your faces as you watched your men do all the work. Even Hwa was clapping and cheering the men on. It was adorable. 

Before you knew it, you broke the lease for your apartment, had everything cleaned out, and officially moved in with Jay. It was meant to be this way, and long overdue. 

The first night with Jake, __, and Hwa gone was too quiet. Jay rolled over onto his back and exhaled out. 

“What’s on your mind, my love?” you asked, not moving from the position you were lying in but shifting just enough to look at his face. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, tilting his face towards you. You shake your head, waiting for his response to your question, “It’s just…quiet.” 

You smile at him, reaching your hand over and running your fingers through his blonde hair, “You’ll just have to get used to it, it’ll be okay.” 

Jay closed his eyes as you continued to run your fingers in his hair, and sighed at the loss of your touch and seeing you roll back over. Jay moved to his side and pressed his chest to your back, hand slipping under your night shirt and rubbing at your pregnant tummy, his lips making home against your neck. 

“We can always make some noise of our own,” he whispers against your neck, now sliding his hand down to the waistband of your shorts, “You’re so sexy pregnant.” 

You chuckle at the feeling of his cock twitching against your back, leaning into him and tilting your head to give him more access to your neck, “Do you want to make some noise?” 

He laughs against your skin, slowly pulling down your shorts and panties, “Always.” 

—

Time seemed to have flown by too quickly. Every day it's getting harder and harder to do normal daily activities and the males of the apartment forcing you to basically be a couch potato. When Jay wasn’t home to help take care of you, Heeseung or Sunghoon was always around to help out in any way they could. You always felt terrible, but they didn’t mind. They did this for __ when she was pregnant with Hwa. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t complain. It gave you time to plan your and Jay’s wedding. The best thing is that you didn’t have to worry about catering for food or flowers since you and Jay both own a restaurant and flower shop. Saves a lot of money. 

Months passed and __ finally was rushed to the hospital to birth to her and Jake’s second child. And to Jake’s lucky stars, they had a baby boy: Ha-Yoon Sim. 

Jay slapped the back of his best friend’s back, “You got so lucky having a boy.” 

Jake gripped the bed rails of his wife's bed, sweat rolling down his face as he stared at her with their baby boy, “You’re telling me.” 

You stood on the other side of her bed, running your finger on his cheek, a small yawn escaping his lips, “Gosh, he’s a spitting image of Jake,” you giggled to her. 

She lifts Ha-Yoon up, rubbing her cheek against his forehead, “Both of my kids look way too much like their father.” 

Jake tilts his head, “You say that like it’s a bad thing?” 

Jay takes a good look at his nephew and laughs, “Still has the Park nose too.” 

Sunghoon shakes his head with a wide smile, “I don’t think either of you will ever get away from the Park's nose.” 

“Ma,” Hwa softly said, clinging her hands to Heeseung’s shirt as he held her in his arms. Her eyes carefully watched her mother and baby brother. 

“Wanna see your new brother?” Heeseung asked, brushing his nose against her cheek and making her giggle. 

“Hee,” she giggles more, now brushing her nose against his cheek. 

“Bring her over,” Jake reached his arms out for his daughter, Heeseung transferring her over. Jake leans Hwa over the rail, her eyes staring down at her brother, “This is Ha-Yoon,” Jake kisses her cheek, “This is your little brother.” Hwa’s lips tried to speak the word brother, she looked over at Jake with a confused look, “Brother,” He said again with a smile. 

“Frother,” she tried, and Jake just nodded and smiled more. 

Jay was now at your side, shifting you over a bit to lean over and hug his sister, “Our little family keeps on growing. I’m proud of you, stinks.” 

With a free arm, she hugged him back, tears swelling her eyes, “I know. I love you so much, big brother.” 

Jay kissed his sister's forehead and ruffled her hair, “I’m going to teach Ha-Yoon how to play the guitar and to cook, be prepared for that.” 

She rolled her eyes but kept her smile, “Of course you will.” 

Watching your family smile and laugh had you placing your hands on your tummy, being excited to meet your twins and grow this family even more. 

Jake glanced up at you, seeing how you trace and look at your pregnant belly and he couldn’t help but smile even more, “You’ll be due in two months, ya?” 

You look up at him and nod, “That or sooner.” Jay was now wrapping his arm around your waist and placing a hand in the middle of your belly and kissing your temple. 

Jake shifted his eyes to Jay and then back to you, “I can’t wait to meet my nieces.” 

Jay whipped his head to his best friend, tilting it to the side and glaring at him, “You want me to fold, don’t you?” 

His sister scoffs, “You’re so girl dad, big brother.” 

Jay looked between his sister and Jake, “You both are manifesting girls aren’t you?!” 

Heeseung pulled up a chair and leaned his elbows onto the bed, “Jay, just accept you’re having twin girls.” 

Sunghoon added, “Both Jake and yourself have shitty luck, you’re going to have girls.” 

“There’s still time!” Jay said with a sigh, leaning his head against yours. Jay wouldn’t mind girls, he’ll love his children regardless of gender. He just knew it would be over for him. If he thought it was bad when Hwa was born…it would be worse when you give birth. 

And finally, that fateful day arrived. 

Jay held your hand, squeezing it tightly as you pushed. Sweat rolled down the sides of your face, holding your breath with each push. 

“That’s it, keep pushing, YN,” Jay said, wiping the sweat off your face, “Keep taking deep breaths, my love. You’re so strong.” 

You flung your head back onto the pillow, gritting your teeth and using every ounce of strength you had to push out the bundles of life. 

“Good, good,” the doctor said, “Baby number one is almost there.” 

Jay rested his head on yours, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on your hand as you squeezed back tighter. You didn’t take another breath until crying filled the hospital room. 

“One baby out, keep up the pace, YN,” the doctor said, her smile wide as she looked up to you and Jay, “One baby to go.” 

Jay pressed a kiss to your brow, “Almost there my rose petal, keep fighting.” 

You took a few deep breaths and nodded, pushing with all your might, a pained groan leaving your lips as your second baby finally made its way into the outside world. 

“Congratulations parents, you did it!” the doctor said, taking your second child to be bathed and cleaned up. 

Jay chuckled, his smile big, forehead still resting against yours, “It was all her, I’m just here for support.” 

“Your support still did something,” one of the nurses said, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Want to come meet your daughters?” 

Daughters. Everyone was right. He was done for. 

Jay swallowed and nervously nodded, “Yes, please.” 

The nurse smiled and led him over to the table where his daughters lay side by side, their sobs stopping the minute Jay reached the table, their brown eyes staring back at him. 

His whole body shook, hands trembling and knees weak. He gripped the table, trying to steady himself from falling over. His girls…these are his girls. Two lives he helped create. Two lives that are now his entire world and more. His knees buckled, the nurse taking to his left and helping him regain his balance. 

“Everything okay?” you asked out of breath, concern filling you as you watched your boyfriend nearly fall over. 

Jay nodded, tears swelling his eyes as he gently traced his fingers down his twin's faces, “They are so perfect.”

“Want to hold them?” the nurse asked, “I can help.” 

Jay nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to hold his baby girls. 

He picked one up, reaching his other arm out to take the second from the nurse, holding them closely to his chest and walking over to you, “Baby,” he sniffled but held his smile, “They are so beautiful.” 

You sat up the best you could, reaching your hands out, “Gimme, please.” 

Jay placed one of your daughters in your arms, “This is Aera,” he smiled, then held up your second daughter to his face, kissing her forehead, “And this is Hana,” then placed her in your other arm. 

“Aera and Hana Park,” you smile, tears swelling your eyes and slowly falling, “They are perfect.” The minute Jay held his daughters' gaze he knew their names for them were perfect.

He watched as you cuddled Aera and Hana to your chest, placing kisses on their small faces. 

And that was all it took for him to crumble. Tears streamed down his face as his imaginable barrier of protection was placed over the three of you. Jay leaned over the bed, wrapping the three of you in his arms, and cried into your hair, “My girls,” he took a shaky breath, and placed a kiss on your temple, “My sweet girls, I love you all so fucking much,” He leaned back but kept his arms tight around you three and connected his lips to yours, breathing you in to stabilize him, “My rose petal and little stars.” 

There was a knock on the hospital room door, and a nurse opening it, “Are you the family?” she asked. Jay perked up, thinking his parents, sister, niece and nephew, and best friends arrived, only for his smile to fade at hearing a voice he didn’t want to. 

“Yes,” the man said, “I am the father of the one who gave birth.” 

The one who gave birth huh? Can’t even call her your daughter. 

The nurse let your father and mother in the room, Jay quickly stood upright and walked to the edge of the bed, his protective nature coming out. 

Your father stopped a good distance away from Jay, your mother standing right behind him. 

Jay gritted his teeth, “If you’re here to play some kind of sick fucking game, get the fuck out!” 

You didn’t even stop him for his outburst. It was well deserved. Mostly after the fit your father threw once you broke the lease to your old apartment and the way he got upset over finding out you was pregnant. You held your daughters closer. 

Your father sighed and looked to the floor, “I didn’t come to start any fights.” 

Jay clenched his fists, “Then why are you here?” 

He glanced up at Jay and took a few steps forward, placing his hands on his shoulders. It took everything in Jay to not push him off. 

“I want to be in my grandchildren’s lives, after thinking long and hard, I knew if I continued down this path I would have not only lost my daughter, but my grandchildren.” 

Jay looked back at you, your eyes wide as you stared at your father, waiting for you to respond. But you never did. 

He looked at your father, “I think she needs time,” and your father nodded. 

“Anything she needs, I will do,” he squeezed Jay’s shoulders and then gave them a slight tap, “Welcome to the family, son.” 

Your parents walked to the door, giving you one last look then walked out. 

You didn’t realize how long you held your breath until Jay was back at your side and pushing your hair from your face, “YN, breathe.” 

You looked up at him, “Why did it take birthing my children for him to decide to change?” 

Jay continued running his hands through your hair, “Sometimes it takes something great coming into the world to change everything,” he looked down at his daughters, “The minute I looked at our girls, everything changed for me. My life has a greater purpose. I’m sure he felt the same.” 

You just nodded looking down at your girls. You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive your father, but the fact he showed up was a start. 

Another knock happened on the door, the nurse giving you and Jay a concerned look as she went to the door, barely sliding it open and peeking out, “Are you family?” 

“Hell yeah, we are! I’m ready to meet my nieces!” 

Jay exhausted out a sigh at the word choice his sister decided to make. 

The nurse stepped to the side, his sister rushing in with Jake carrying Hwa in one arm, and Ha-Yoon in his car seat carrier in Jake’s other hand. Heeseung and Sunghoon trail in after along with Jay’s parents. 

“No one even told you guys I had girls,” Jay teased, reaching out to hug his sister. 

“No one had to,” she teased back, squeezing him tightly, “We already knew.” 

She practically shoved Jay out of the way to run to your bedside, “YNNIE!!” she cheered, leaning at your side to get a look at your girls, “Oh my god they look exactly like my brother!! They have the Park noses too!!” 

Hwa stretched her arms out, “Jay!” her sweet voice coos, Jay taking his niece in his arms and then reaching out to hug Jake. 

“Can’t get away from the Park nose,” Jake said with a smile, hugging Jay tightly, “Congratulations, brother.” 

“Thanks, man, it means so much.” 

Heeseung and Sunghoon were next to hug Jay, then his parents, each of them smiling wide and giving their congratulations. 

“Babies!” Hwa said, pointing at you and her cousins. 

“That’s right!” Jay said with excitement, “You want to meet your cousins?” 

She smiled and nodded, “Cousins!” 

You smiled at little Hwa when Jay sat her on the bed at your side, holding her shoulders, “Hi Hwa,” you said softly, “This is Aera and Hana.” 

Hwa smiles and lifts to her knees, little hands placed against yours that hold the girls, “Family!” 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” her mother sniffled, “We are a big family.” 

Everyone crowded around your bedside, each taking turns holding both of your girls. 

You looked between each of them, tears falling down your face. Family. This is your family. 

Jay pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Nothing can get better than this.” 

You nodded, pulling him into a tight hug. Nothing could beat this.

‧₊˚✧THE END✧˚₊‧

— perm tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle

@jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia

@wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove

@fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun

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@hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee

[claynine]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write about Muzan in his final form getting pegged by the reader? And maybe add some pet play if that's okay for you?

Thought I'd do this ask as the first one back lol, hope you enjoy! (Btw I'm working on all the requests I have, dont worry! ♡)

Warning: bondage, pet-play, praise, pegging,

Embarrassed, he felt absolutely embarrassed yet... he couldn't deny that he liked it. The way your hands were squeezing his plump thighs, nails digging into his skin, leaving red stripes along the way. It felt delicious, making his mouth water.

"Tell me, Muzan-sama..." you purred, you're fangs showing as you smirked up at him. You gripped his thighs again, earning a grunt from him. "Are you... my good boy?"

He glared weakly at you, no, no, he's the demon lord. But... the thought of being a good boy, no, of being your good boy... it made his head spin into a mind space were he couldn't do anything else but say...

"Yes..." he said quietly, almost to soft for your liking. "I am..."

You smiled, pulling yourself up. He looked beautiful, his hands tied tightly to the headboard of his king size bed. His white locks creating a halo around his head, his face showing nothing but lust. Truly, a masterpiece.

"Good, I guess then... I should give my good boy a prize, right?" He tensed at your words, feeling suddenly lightheaded at what he saw.

You pulled your kimono off, showing your bear body, and a white, big strap on. He burned holes at you, hating the idea of being fucked by you instead of fucking you. He could easily break free from his restraints, kill you on the spot, yet... he couldn't. Fuck, he couldn't.

You grabbed his marked thighs, spreading them apart. You poked his entrance with the tip of the strap, looking at his reaction. He sucked in a deep breath, brazing himself, he didn't stop you, he couldn't stop you, not when he felt so good just by being weak against you.

"My good boy..." you leaned forward, and bit his exposed neck, he gasped softly as you begin to push inside him.

It was big, too big. Heck, maybe even bigger than his own. And that made it hotter.

"Fuck you." he glared at you as you pulled away from him, smiling. The darkness of his room enhanced the brightness of his red eyes.

"Muzan-sama, that's not nice." You pushed all the way inside him, he chocked on his spit.

"F-fuck-..." you leaned forward again, pushing one of his legs on your shoulder, letting the tip press directly on his prostate. He swore he was seeing stars.

"Especially since I plan on fucking you really good..." he looked down as you pulled out, almost entirely.

"Agh! W-wait... shit-" you thrust inside him fully, watching his stomach bulge at the size of your dick.

He moaned loudly, and you enjoyed the sound. Thrusting inside him roughly, rearranging his guts nicely and thoroughly. Making sure he felt as much pleasure as possible. And fuck he was feeling it.

"Y-yes... fuck yes...!" He moaned, his nails digging into his palm, drawing blood. His body felt hot, as if he was in hell right now, and still he felt like he was in heaven at the same time.

The room was filled with his moans, the sticky clap of your hips meeting his. Your eyes stuck to his face. Big red eyes rolled back, tears forming.

"More, more-" he tried to look at you straight in the eye, so he could demand you to go harder. But his eyes flew to the back of his head with every delicious hit the tip of your strap landed on his prostate.

"So cute, my little master, hm?" He didn't comprehend what you said anymore.

"Cum-... gonna- gonna cum-" he tried to alarm, as his pleasure weld up into a ball, ready to explode at any second, one more thrust, just one-

He looked at you in shock as you stopped. His eyes filled with tears, a weak glare directed your way.

"Do you deserve to cum?" You asked him, you thrusted into him harshly, he moaned out, on the brink of his orgasm. "I don't think you do..."

He felt like crying, even though he already was unbeknownst to him. He moved his hips desperately, looking for any friction.

"Don't- don't stop-" he finally used his force, breaking out of his restraints, but to your surprise he didn't use his freedom to kill you.

He gripped your hips, his tentacles appearing out of nowhere, they wrapped themselves around you.

"Cum, let me cum, I'm a good boy!" His deep, demanding voice now unrecognizable. "Please-"

You gripped his hips tightly, and began moving faster than before. Your lips twisted into a smirk, you kissed him, swallowing his moans.

Muzan on the other hand was crying. He felt too good, his senses turned to mush, electricity flowing through his body. He gripped the sheets, tearing holes in them. You pulled away letting his screams of pleasure consume the room.

"Cumming, Cumming, fuuuck-" his trapped your body as he came, biting your shoulder, you moaned in pain.

His stomach was stained white with his cum, he continued to twitch as you pulled out slowly. His eyes closed shamely as his cheeks turned pink. How was he going to explain this...?

Obviously the uppermoons heard, as the next day he clearly walked funny. And even though all the demons were quiet, a certain demon with rainbow eyes couldn't hold his giggles.

Don't copy.

Property of clay9z.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ EVERWINTER WITHOUT MERCY — TARTAGLIA.

contents. fluff + established relationships, fishing with ajax’s siblings bc they’re everything <3, ajax being a terrible flirt lolsjdjd, he’s implied to be taller than reader, gn! reader, kisses in the snezhnayan cold <3

he’s done it again, you think exasperatedly—teucer’s neck is bare as he walks through the harsh snow, the fabric of his scarf hanging loosely from his shoulders.

“hey, make sure you keep this around your neck,” you scold, wrapping the scarf tightly around teucer’s neck, “you’ll catch a cold.”

he groans a little—but he’s a good kid, listens to you when you tell him enough times, leaning into your hand as you ruffle his hair. you smile fondly as you look down—and then a weight presses against you from behind.

“yeah, teucer,” ajax hums, “you don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

“i won’t,” the younger boy insists, “colds are for the weak.”

ajax laughs. you can feel the rumble from his chest against your back as he murmurs, “it’s colder than usual teucer. make sure you keep it on.”

“that goes for you too, y’know,” you huff, spinning around to stare unimpressed at him as his own scarf is loose around his neck—ajax has the decency to at least attempt to look guilty.

“oh, i guess you’re right,” he nods, “can’t set a bad example for the kids.”

“and you can’t get sick,” you scoff, “i’m not in the mood to get sick from you.”

“i never get sick,” he says confidently with a wave of his hand, “but—” he starts with a drawl. his words as sickeningly sweet, enough to make your head spin a little from how decadent it is, “it does always stay in place when you do it.”

of course. he’s loosened it on purpose, just so you’ll wrap it for him. he’s exhausting, just a bit—as sly as he is painfully obvious, and it never ceases to make your eyes roll in that way he loves. in that way that makes him chuckle as he leans down a little closer, brows raised.

so you sigh—but there’s the beginning of a smile on your face, the start of a giggle in your voice as you say, “honestly, ajax. you’re shameless.”

“am i?” he grins, hands finding your hips as you reach over and secure the scarf around his neck.

it’s gentle, the way you touch him. the way you carefully work the fabric around his neck. the way you make sure it’s just tight enough to stay in place so he doesn’t catch a cold, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable.

not many people touch ajax gently—he doesn’t want them to, even. he needs the rush of people giving him their worst, just so he knows he can give it back tenfold. but you…well, he likes that soft way you trace his cheek with your thumb. that careful way you brush a few strands of hair from his face and admire his eyes for a moment.

they’re cold most of the time, his eyes—dead without a shine. not around you, though. in fact, you think the stars create themselves right there in his pupils and reflect across the sky. it makes being away from him a little less unbearable, you suppose: when it feels like the stars are his and he brings them to you.

it makes it feel like he’s not so far away.

“there,” you mumble quietly, cupping his cheeks once you’re done. he looks adorable, you think, wrapped tightly in a long coat and a thick, red scarf. he looks comfortable enough that you can’t help but squeeze his cheeks together a bit as you giggle. “all warm,” you smile.

“but my lips, i’m afraid,” he sighs dramatically, “are achingly cold in this harsh, snezhnayan weather. if only there was some way to warm them up.”

he eyes your lips hungrily—a little thirsty in a way that makes you wonder just how insatiable ajax really is. something about him always seems thirsty for more, always ready to devour in a way that makes you wonder if there’s a side to him you haven’t quite yet seen. a more carnal one, perhaps. or maybe, one that’s helplessly in love, that he never quite gets enough.

you like to think it’s the latter.

“teucer is right there, ajax,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“so now it’s a crime to show affection to those you love?” he gasps, “you want teucer to grow up unable to show his true feelings?”

“no,” you deadpan, “i want teucer to grow up less of a handful than you.”

“i’ll be less of a handful if you warm my lips,” he chuckles, boyish and young and all the things he should be. all the things the world should let him be. “they’re bitterly numb, right now.”

and…well, you can’t deny him—you never could. so you shake your head and trace the swell of his cheek one more time with your thumb, rubbing warmth back into his skin even as the harsh blows of frigid air slice against him.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s warm in your hold. it never won’t be.

“you’re insufferable,” you huff through a laugh.

and then you kiss him, delicately so. your lips press against his perfectly enough that it never felt like he was away. it feels like you kissed him yesterday and the day before that. it’s so familiar, you don’t need to ingrain the feeling into your memory for when he inevitably leaves again. you’d never forget the way ajax feels—not how he tastes or sounds when you meet him, skin to skin.

he hums against you, traces circles into your hips with his thumbs as he pulls you closer by the waist.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s bearable in ajax’s warmth. it never won’t be.

“much better,” he nods as he pulls away, “i feel warm already. but you should stay close by…you know, just in case i get cold again.

“well, lucky for you—”

“are we going to fish now?” teucer calls, tonia and anthon waiting patiently in the distance. ajax sighs—you giggle, leaning closer and pressing one last peck to his lips.

“well, let’s not keep them waiting,” you grin, “i’ll keep you warm later.”

he grins widely at that, raising a brow. “is that so? well then, i’ll hold you to that.”

he has stolen my heart and i am deeply unwell. painfully. sickeningly. psychotically. unwell.

[thef1diary]

Happy 2k babes! Can you write a small piece of reader being iron deficient and lando just taking care of her? Reminding her to take the pills and stuff

I am totally gonna use his first win as a plot, also this reminded me to take my own pills cuz ya girl is iron deficient

wc: 600+ (omg I can actually write a blurb?!?!)

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You've been standing on your feet during almost the entirety of the race, anxiousness overtaking your emotions, rippling through you as he raced lap by lap in first place.

Throughout the podium celebrations, you cheered so loudly to the point where you felt like you would wake up with a sore throat tomorrow morning. You felt lightheaded, and as the celebrations went on, you were reminded of the fact that you had forgotten to take your iron supplements earlier that day. Telling yourself you'll take them later, you returned to Lando's driver room while he completed his media duties.

You heard Lando's footsteps approaching, entering his room covered in sweat and champagne but still holding onto his trophy. You smiled once you saw him smiling, so wide that it could've competed with Daniel's infamous pearly whites. You mustered all your energy to stand up and greet him, but as you rose from your seat, a sudden rush of dizziness swept over you, causing the room to spin.

Lando's quick reflexes caught you just in time, his strong arms wrapping around you to steady your wobbly stance. "Whoa there, easy now," he said, concern etched in his voice.

You leaned against him, grateful for his support. "I'm okay," you insisted, though the lightheadedness refused to dissipate.

As you sank back onto the sofa, feeling defeated by the sudden onset of weakness, Lando's expression softened with understanding. "I think you might have forgotten to take your iron supplements again, haven't you?" he said gently, his tone more statement than question.

You nodded sheepishly, feeling guilty for neglecting your health in the midst of the celebrations. But Lando didn't scold you or chastise you for your oversight.

Without a word, Lando wandered off further into the room, finding your bag and shuffling through it for the bottle of supplements you always carried. He returned, standing in front of you while holding a bottle of water, "here, take this," he said gently, handing you the pill.

As you swallowed it down, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Once the room stopped spinning and you felt more steady on the couch, Lando helped you up again, this time with more caution. "Let's take it slow, okay?" he said, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he held you close.

You arched up a brow, "says the fastest guy on the track today." His worry dissipated, replaced by a smug grin, "I won."

"Yes you did, baby, I'm so proud of you." You placed a kiss to his cheek, earning a sound of displeasure rumbling from his throat.

"Gimme a proper kiss, I deserve that today, no?" He looked at you with the sweetest smile, but you shook your head, pushing him away playfully. "You stink, go shower first."

He held his hands up, knowing that he was covered in champagne and sweat, "alright, alright, as long as you don't faint out here while I do."

"The faster you shower, the faster you'll get your kiss, Norris," you stated and held in a chuckle when he fumbled over his two feet to get himself in the shower.

When he returned, you curled up on the couch, Lando wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, okay? I'm always here to help," he whispered.

With those simple words, Lando reminded you that even in the midst of his own triumphs, he would always be there to support you, to lift you up when you were feeling weak, and to remind you of the importance of prioritizing your own well-being. For true victory, he knew, could only be achieved when both of you were standing strong together, side by side.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @glitterquadricorn

[literaila]

hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

[svnluns]

⋆ fuck ur boyfriend

I was sitting at the end of the stairs, crying my eyes out at this party. I thought that partying would have cleared my mind after my boyfriend broke up with me but ig no.

I pulled out my phone out of my pocket and scrolled a bit on it.

I then caught a shadow approaching me. I looked up from my phone and looked at the girl in front of me.

I knew her since a few years now because we have always ended up in the same classes but i never really talked to her, mostly because i didn’t really care.

“Hey, whats up? Ur good?” She says, looking at me with pity.

“Yeah im fine” I answered, wiping my tears away and setting my phone on my lap.

She sat next to me and looked at me.

“You don’t seem ok, your eyes are all red, like you’ve been crying for weeks, whats the matter?”

She seemed actually “worried”. Maybe i should open up, i mean it’s no harm.

“My boyfriend broke up with me” I say, sniffing.

“Damn, i’m sorry, i’m sure is an asshole, u deserved better anyway” she says looking at the crowd of people dancing and then at me.

I didn’t really know what to say. She had a point, I put so much effort into this relationship for nothing.

“You want a drink or something?” She says, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Yes thanks Billie” I say with a weak smile.

She turned her head to me and looked at me with a confused look.

“How do you know my name?” She says.

“We’ve been in the same classes for years, i might have never talked to you but i remember your name eh”

“hmm” was all she said, turning her head and walking away.

We ended up in the kitchen. She took 2 red cups and poured some vodka and some coke.

“fuck your boyfriend, just have some fun tonight, you will have time to cry about it tomorrow” She says with a smile.

“fuck him, he wasn’t even good in bed” I say with a chuckle.

“that’s what i like to hear” Billie answered with a smile.

She grabbed my wrist, and dragged me into the living room where people were dancing and drinking.

Billie started to dance with me, grabbing both of my hands and spinning me around. I started laughing before i could stop myself.

Her smile defined that seeing me smile tonight was all she had hoped for.

“See you’re finally smiling, i’m glad that i could have helped you clear your mind”

We then stopped dancing and she leaded me to get some air. My head was spinning and that’s exactly what i needed. It feels like she was reading my mind.

We sat on a chair and she spoke again.

“Are you feeling better now? Please tell me that you don’t think about him anymore, i did everything that i could to make you feel better tonight” She says playfully.

“I am in fact feeling better, thanks you so much, i own you”

“Nah don’t worry about it, you’re good” She says, looking at me up and down.

I knew what was about to happen already, how she was looking at me meant only one thing.

She leaned in and kissed me. She kissed me with passion, like it’s one of the things that she wanted to do tonight beside making me happy.

I kissed her back and positioned my legs on her lap.

As we kissed, I felt a rush of emotions and a burning desire that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Her hands roamed over my body with a hungry urgency, and I knew exactly what i wanted.

Without breaking the kiss, she stood up, pulling me with her, entering the house, we were giggling while making our way to one of the empty rooms in the house.

As we entered the room, she pushed me against the door and pressed her body against mine, her hands roaming under my shirt and sending shivers down my spine.

I had no idea that this would have happened tonight, and i hid no idea that she could make me feel that way.

She pulled me closer, her lips finding mine in another passionate kiss. Her hands wandered down my body, touching every inch of my skin with a hungry touch. Her touch made me shiver, and a low moan escaped my lips.

She smiled, her fingers tracing over my stomach and trailing down to the waistband of my jeans.

She slides her hand down in my jean, and started to touch my pussy, rubbing her hand on it.

She unbuttoned my jeans and pulled my thong to the side, so she could have a better look of what she was doing.

A few moans escaped my lips as she was now kissing me to keep me quiet.

I couldn’t stop arching my back, she knew exactly what she was doing, her fingers moving with an expert precision that made my legs tremble.

“You’re so sensitive, i love it. She whispered.