#so why would you expect different from us

[dannyriccsystem]

hi Z! I have scoliosis (around 20 degrees) and sometimes people like us experience back pain during sex, especially if it’s rough. so imagine the reader has scoliosis. her and the driver just finished having sex but they were really rough on her and she was in pain but didn’t want to say anything because she didn’t want to ruin the moment. she tries to get up or move around and the drivers see her struggling, they thought at first that she was so sore because of them (they’re like 😏😏). but they realize she was in instead pain and she tells them about her scoliosis, and they feel bad for not knowing and promise to go softer or at her pace next time. then cue the soft aftercare. thank you for indulging in my delusions 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

NOT SO ROUGH!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

SUMMARY: You have scoliosis, and the drivers go just a tad bit too rough on you! Cue the aftercare.

WARNINGS: Rough sex causing pain (not intentional), aftercare, fluff, Y/N usage, smut/mentions of smut, not entirely proofread

FEATURING: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81

I actually dropped everything to do this request this is so cute.

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

Sex with Max was unlike any other, and you found that out the hard way— Literally. You never thought it was relevant to mention the scoliosis, because you hadn’t expected it to be an issue. It never proved as one before, but you were beginning to realize the mistake you’ve made.

He was rough, to sum it up. At first it was fine, your body gently rocking on the soft mattress with every pound of his hips against yours. Then, like a train, it hit you all at once. Your back started to throb, and your cries of pain mixed in with your soft moans, which fueled him more. You climaxed hard, finally falling flat against the mattress as he pulled out.

“You were so good my love,” He whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You groaned, trying to sit up, but it just hurt even more. He chuckled softly, mistaking your pain for soreness. “Can’t move?”

You hissed, eyes welling with tears. He paused, freezing up immediately. He cupped your face, hands suddenly so gentle. The same hands that were roughing you around just moments ago. “Y/N, hey. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Just-… Just a little,” You breathed in slowly, letting his hands pull you up into a sitting position. “I should have told you, I have scoliosis… It really hurts, I just… I was enjoying it, and I didn’t want to ruin your moment.”

“Oh, lieverd.” He pulled you towards him softly, peppering your face with kisses. “I will always prioritize your comfort over my pleasure. I want you to feel good too.” He propped up some pillow behind you, helping you lean back against them. “I’m glad you felt good, but next time, tell me as soon as it starts hurting.”

He kissed away your tears, sitting down beside you. “Okay… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He climbed off the bed and stepped into the connecting bathroom, returning seconds later with a towel. Max carefully wiped the sweat and arousal from your naked body, before draping you with a soft blanket. You hummed, your soreness seeping away. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I think I’m okay.” He climbed in beside you, softly kissing your forehead again. You smiled softly, relaxing against your mountain of pillows.

“You did great, I’m sorry I hurt you.” With those final words, you pressed yourself against his side and drifted off into a gentle snore.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

Unfortunately for you, it was hard for Daniel to tell the difference between whines of pain and whines of pleasure, which is why he didn’t take note of the excruciating back pain you were in. It was partially stupid on your end to hold back the information from him, as it could prove to be helpful, especially in a time like this. However, in your defense, you didn’t know that your first night together would be so rough.

And I mean literally. He was manhandling you, slamming his hips against yours. Of course, you enjoyed it at first, but as the minutes went by, the pain in your back grew. You hissed out in pain, clawing at his back. He figured this was part of your expression of arousal, and continued. It wasn’t until the tears began to well that he got the hint.

He slowly withdrew his length, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks. You breathed heavily, your back throbbing in pain. “Hey, hey…” He whispered in a hushed tone as you quietly cried. “Too rough? I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His hands softened as he lowered you back against the mattress.

You twitched, trying to shift into an upright position, and then cried out in pain. With quick reaction time, he grabbed your waist to steady you, brows furrowed. “What’s going on? Did I hurt you?” The sincerity in his eyes pained your heart.

“No- Well, yes, but it’s not your fault.” Your voice was shaking. With his help you sat up, your legs feeling like jelly and your back hurting like hell. “I have scoliosis, Danny. It was just a bit too rough for me.” You felt ashamed saying it, because you realized you should have said something sooner.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He kissed your cheeks apologetically, hands rubbing soothing circles across your exposed back. “I wish you would have told me, I would have been much more careful.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay, it just hurt,” You giggled softly at his worried expression, and leaned back against the headboard.

“Next time I’ll be more mindful. We can establish a safe word just in case it starts to hurt again.” You nodded in agreement, and shortly after Danny scampered off to collect some items to help soothe your pain.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Lando was a pent up guy. Racing really restricted his access to his lover, you, and when he was traveling so much he barely had any time to get himself off. It sounded gross, but the guy desperately needed a release. Thankfully, the week after the triple header was a free week, meaning he could come home and cherish you like he had been yearning for.

Cherish you he did. Your first time was a wild ride with Lando. He had assured your pleasure came first before he finally let himself enjoy you, sinking into your plush walls and losing control of himself. He hammered his hips into yours at a relentless pace, truly sinking in the glory of it all.

It felt great at first— Better than anything you had tried yourself, but the pleasure had melted into pain as soon as he started getting rougher. You hissed in pain, which was subsided by loud and uncontrollable moans. It felt like ages you were laying there until he pulled out, releasing on your stomach.

You breathed in shakily as he flopped onto the bed beside you, panting from over exertion. Even an athlete like himself would get tired after that. He rolled onto his side to face you, chuckling under his breath when he saw you struggling to move. “Sore?” He asked softly, amusement in his tone.

Except the color drained from his face when he realized you were in pain. He should have noticed it instantly, but he was caught up in the adrenaline of it all still. He sat up quickly, cupping your cheek with his palm and soothingly brushing his thumb over your soft skin. “Hey, Y/N? What’s happening?”

“Pain,” You uttered out. His heart immediately shattered for you, and he lifted to cradle your head in his lap, brushing a few baby hairs away from your face. “My back— Scoliosis flaring up-”

“Oh, Y/N… I didn’t know,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “What can I do?” You huffed, breathing out shakily. You slowly tried to lift yourself, and he took the hint to help you sit up. In a more steady position, you felt like you could breathe clearly again.

“‘M sorry, Lan. I should have told you.” He gently rubbed circles onto your back, checking your eyes for clarity. “I never thought it would be necessary until now.” You locked eyes with him, and he offered an apologetic smile. “I felt really good, but… Maybe we should take it slow next time.”

He nodded immediately, pulling a blanket up to cover your exposed skin. You softened, feeling the throbbing pain start to slowly creep away. “Yes, thank you for understanding.” You felt your lips quirk into a smile as you shared a gentle kiss.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

Maybe it was the position. Sitting up straight with no support, moving your hips as you rode your boyfriend, was probably not the best idea considering your back condition. Charles could barely contain himself, his passion too strong to hold back.

You hadn’t expressed your pain, trying to push it aside. It wasn’t until you went limp against his body that he realized something was wrong. Charles slowly pulled himself out of your tight heat, feeling himself soften instantly. He cupped your cheeks, shaking you fully awake.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N-” He froze when you blinked your eyes, seeming barely awake. He gave a sigh of relief. “Are you okay? Too rough?” He tried to keep calm, but it was hard. Pain was the last feeling he wanted you to experience during sex, unless you asked for it of course.

“Just a little bit.” You tried to push yourself up, but pain shot up your spine and you froze. “I should have told you. Charles, I have scoliosis. I never thought it would be important to mention.” You frowned, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry, I wish I had known. Either way, I should have checked in to make sure you felt good.” He lifted you carefully, his strong arms picking you up with ease. He placed you back on the mattress, tucking the covers in around you. “What can I get for you?”

“Maybe some painkillers and a heating pad.” You weren’t mad, just in pain, and thankfully… Charles was willing to care for you.

He rushed off out of the bedroom to gather your things. Roughly five minutes later he returned with some tea, medicine, and a heating pad for you to lay on. After you were situated, he climbed in beside you and carefully held you in the safety of his arms.

He drew patterns into the skin of your arm with his finger, tracing random shapes. You were 90% sure some of them were outlines of circuits. “Next time, we can go at your pace. Maybe even use a safe word, hm?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“I’d like that.”

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Lewis was a sincere guy. He always asked for permission, and assured that you were comfortable and safe during the act of sex. Tonight was no different, except he was testing the waters to see how rough he could go.

He was unaware of your scoliosis, and you were equally unaware of how much of an issue it would pose. Your pleasure had softened into pain, and your moans started to sound more like desperate cries. It didn’t take long for him to notice.

He tried to keep a good eye on you, and when he realized the subtle change, he froze his movements. “Everything okay?” Lewis asked, brushing a stray tear from your eyes. You shook your head softly, and he pulled out, his focus now entirely on you. “Okay, okay… Shh..”

He scooped you up into his arms and carried you off the hard couch, and set you down on his bed. You could barely move any part of your body without an unbearable ache. He kissed your jaw and collarbones, soothing your muscles. “Talk to me, pretty. What’s going on?”

“My scoliosis is acting up.” You watched his brows furrow.

“I didn’t realize you had scoliosis.” You seemed to shrink down into yourself, feeling slightly ashamed for not saying anything. “Well now I know, and I won’t cross that line again.” He positioned both hands on your waist. “Can you roll onto your stomach? How about a back massage?”

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

This was a new position for the both of you. You always liked missionary, because you liked to see the expressions Carlos made, and it was nice and relaxing that way. Sex felt so much more intimate, but after a particularly grueling race, he came back to your hotel room feeling a little more wound up than usual.

You ended up on your hands and knees on the bed, back slightly arched. You were in pain from the start, but the pleasure helped to mask it. Right up until the end. You managed to stick it out until you both came, leaving each of your satisfactory. It was after your climax that you collapsed against the uncomfortable hotel bed, quivering.

You felt Carlos lean over you, his chest brushing against the bareness of your back as he left little kisses all over the skin. “Sore, mi amor?” His accent was thick as he whispered against you. You shuddered, but it wasn’t like the typical one. Something felt off.

He lifted himself up and helped you tilt your head to the side, realizing you were in pain. He helped you roll onto your back and sit up, making sure your every move was supported. After giving you some water and helping you breathe again, you looked away and explained yourself. “Carlos, I should have told you earlier but I didn’t want to ruin the moment… I have scoliosis.”

“Ah, amor…” He kissed your temple, holding the side of your head with his large hand. “I don’t care about that, I just care that you’re okay and safe. In the future, tell me if I’m too rough. I’ll never be too out of it to listen to your wishes, especially during intimate moment.”

His sincere response made you feel emotional. You buried your face in his neck, letting him cradle you gently to ease the pain.

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

Your relationship with George had been practically perfect, but things were still going at a slower pace. Tonight in itself was a big step, because it was the first night you both showed interest in having sex— So you did.

You wanted to tell him, you really did, but it never came up naturally. It was hard to talk about, because even though it didn’t look too obvious, scoliosis made a lot of everyday things difficult for you. What you didn’t realize was that sex would be one of these things.

You initially were fine, but as George lost himself in the pleasure, the pain started to become more prominent. You seethed between gritted teeth, clinging to him tight. He took this as a sign to continue his efforts, letting the both of you climax simultaneously. He laid down beside you, rolling the two of you onto your sides as he held you.

You winced, tears finally spilling. Finally paying attention fully, George quickly realized and hopped out of bed, ready to do whatever you asked of him. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Can I get you anything?”

You almost laughed, but the pain was too prevalent. You just shook your head. “Scoliosis- Back hurts.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He helped you shift into a position that was comfortable, and sat down beside you. “Deep breaths with me, like this.”

Once he was certain you would be okay, he gathered some towels, fresh clothes, some hot tea, and put on your favorite movie while he gently massaged your aching back muscles, reassuring you that this would not be a repeat cause. It was safe to say you felt very loved that night.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

It actually started as your idea. You and Oscar had always been fairly vanilla in bed, and while you loved it, you wanted to experiment more- Find out what you were really in to. He didn’t mind your request to be a bit rougher, even if it was awkward for him at first. He was used to being gentle with you.

You really did enjoy it at first, and then rough turned into hurtful, and your back started throbbing like hell. You scratched his bare back, for sure leaving deep marks from your nails. He groaned, head dipping down to bury into your neck. You whispered out a hoarse, “stop,” and he didn’t even have to think twice.

There was no safe word in place, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Oscar pulled out immediately, staring down at your face and searching for emotion. He could tell you were hurting, and your pain usually meant he felt pain too.

“What? What happened?” He stared down at you, and you slowly tried to reach up, but couldn’t really move your arm. Even that alone hurt like hell.

“Scoliosis. I think you went too rough,” Her tone wasn’t accusatory or mad, but he still felt awful. “Help me sit,” He did it without question, pulling your body up to sit against the headboards. He stood up and grabbed his hoodie off the floor, helping you pull it over your head.

“What can I get for you, baby?” He kissed your forehead, voice soft as he rubbed your arms soothingly. You shook your head.

“Nothing, it’ll pass… I just need to relax.” After dressing himself, he joined you on the bed and let you get settled in his arms.

“Maybe we should stick to being gentle.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

[dresshistorynerd]

I have a theory for why they are Like This. At their core, TERFs are conservatives. Believing biological essentialism is a conservative view, it reinforces and justifies the patriarchy. They may say and truly think they are fighting against the patriarchy, but they are not since they just accept the justifying logic of patriarchy, they just take different conclusions from it. They accept that men and women are fundamentally and irreversibly different, that the differences we observe are caused by immutable biological essences, but they just come to the conclusion that it's the men who are ontologically evil. So when they say they are fighting patriarchy, they can't target the actual foundations, the societal structures of it, because fundamentally they think those are not societal structures but immutable essences of humanity.

What is left if symbolic liberation, attacking the symbols of oppression instead of oppression itself. That's why they are so focused on dress weather we're talking about revealing sexy fashion or corsets or hijab, because they see them as symbols of oppression. They cannot accept that these symbols are not oppression in itself. No clothing is ever inherently oppressive. The gendered expectations, which are forced upon people are oppressive, and often that involves expectations of dress, but it's not the dress that's oppressive, it's the systems which control the dress.

I think that's why they are so focused on claiming historical fashion as inherently oppressive. Otherwise they would have to admit that there is something deeper there, something more complex than "men forced upon women an inherently limiting and harmful form of dress because men are simply violent and dominating by nature and women are simply passive victims by nature". They would also have to face that just changing how women dress won't liberate us from the patriarchy, but changing societal systems is hard and slow and requires you to unpack a lot more than just gender essentialism.

But of course this is not really feminism or liberation, it's just whitewashing.

there is actually a large radfem population who get mad if you imply women’s fashion throughout history wasn’t specifically designed to torture and maim women. like, not just corsets. if a fashion historian talks about the functionality of removable pockets and underskirts, they’ll get really angry. idk why, truly. women throughout history were doing jobs and living lives, they needed clothes that could be functional. even if the upper crust was competing to see who could strangle their waist, everybody else had to have clothes comfortable enough to move in. and the widespread corset maiming is a myth too.

[lukie17]

Ordering a body pillow of them!

It was a sleepless night when you decided to doom scroll until sleep finally kicked in. Until an ad caught your attention, a deal of a costume made dakimakura. It was 50% off and you could ask for the pillow to show a fictional character, an actor or even someone you knew. Without thinking twice, you send the picture of your husband with your specifications.

You tried to keep it a secret from him, until he found out.

Xavier

He was supposed to be on a mission and not return until a few days later. While he was gone, you used the pillow and put it back into your secret spot. But this time it went wrong, Xavier being the freak he is, ended up the mission earlier than expected and wanted to pass out in the arms of his partner in life.

But what did he find? His beautiful wife hugging someone else. He did not know who it was nor he cared, he yanked the pillow out of you and his sword pressed against the "neck" of the intruder. Scared out of the sudden attack, you raised your weapon and aimed at him, carefully turning the lights.

Xavier's scowl only grew heavier as his own eyes met him. The pillow showed him in his cat butler self with the difference that his uniform was open, showing his torso and chest. The hunter's face was an enigma, and you froze, knowing too damn well that it could either go wrong or really wrong. Xavier was even jealous of himself and the pillow might trigger it even more.

To your demise, but not surprising, Xavier cut the pillow into tiny pieces. You sighed as you let him rage, trying to find the right words to ease him, maybe there could be a way where you get out of the mess without walking funny for the next few days. But the beast was on the loose.

In a second, Xavier's lips were on your own, one hand pressing you against the bed while the other one ripped his uniform apart. His kisses were a warning, he would make sure that you won't even for a pillow or him.

Zayne

Zayne discovered it by accident. He was doing some spring cleaning at your apartment when he found it. Stacked at the bag of the closet, Zayne almost froze the dakimakura when he landed his eyes on it. Not because of jealousy, but he thought that there was an intruder.

Out of curiosity he examined the pillo. He was in his doctor's coat or at least a spicy version of it. He wondered why you had ordered it and when you did it. Since the pillow smelled like you, he guessed that it was something that you used frequently. Zayne could have taken the path of hiding the pillow away, and save you the embarrassment, but you had played a lot of pranks on him lately, so he had a score to settle.

That evening you walked home tired of a long shift and just wanted to rest, but Zayne had everything planned. As soon as you opened the door, he greeted you.

"Welcome home, cheater" sipping tea from his mug "Did you have a nice day?"

You were confused. You would never dare or wanted to cheat on Zayne. In fact, he looked really calm and was he smirking? He had not a smile on his face but you could tell something was going on.

"What?"

"No need to play dumb" his head pointing to your room "I have discovered the man that is in your bed"

No sound came from you, still trying to understand what was going on. Yes, you invited friends like Xavier or Caleb to your apartment but never cheated on Zayne. Wondering what made him act like that, only to discover your body pillow in bed. You wanted to crawl in a whole, you wanted to die and get eaten by a wanderer. But Zayne had other plans.

"I think I got the messge" his arms caging you against him "I need to stop more time with my wife or else she would leave me" before you could explain yourself, Zayne devoured your lips.

Sylus

He will never, never, NEVER, let you forget what you did. You were on your knees sitting on front of him as the pillow floated infront of you while Sylus made it turn around with his evol. In the pillow, he was wearing some kind of armor that looked like a dragon. It was both endaring and weird.

You did not know what to say. Sylus, as always, had the upper hand and there was no way gettint out of it. So you decided to play your trick card: jumping into his lap hopping to distract him but he had other plans.

The red mist caught you and pushed you down until your face was against the body pillow, making sure that your face was against his face in the pillow. Then he position himself behidn you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I never thought that you would be such a naughty kitten" you could not tell if he was mad or happy about the fact that you had a body pillow of him, and you did not want to know "Though, I do not know what it took you to buy another version of me when you have me right here"

He sponned you around so you could face him, and when you tried to look away, his evol made you look at him. He looked like a lion about to devour his prey, and for the first time in a while you were a little afraid of Sylus, in a good way.

"Cat got your tongue?" he mocked as he leaned closer "Or are you only going to talk to the pillow, kitten?"

Sylus closed the distance between you, making sure that any sound woud be trapped in his mouth. You don't know if you regret buying the pillow or not changing the address direction to other place rather that your shared home with Sylus.

Caleb

My husband , Caleb would tease you and feel so flattered at the same time. He didn't know that you had it in you, but he also had to tease you as we know. He will lift the body pillow high enough for you to not reach it, and he will se your face blusing as you try to get it back.

"What's that pipsqueack? You missed me so much that you have to get one pillow out of me" you were basically a tomate, but you could not lose.

"Who are you to talk, panty-thief!"

Caleb froze and he left the pillow hit the floor, quickly you grab it at tossed in the closet.

"You- you know?" he was now the one who was turning red "How-how? I was sure that I was careful..."

"How could I not when my old underwear kept reapearing as if it was new!" you protested, hoping that he would forget the body pillow "You pervert! Why do you think I make sure to do all the laundry?"

The body pillow was now a thing from the past for him, the lonely travels to the deepspace tunnel were only bareable because he took a piece of you with him. He never anything pervert with them, but he liked to have them close, he did not know if he could survive with them. He got in his knees, and hugged your legs, looking like a dog who was sad for being scolded.

"Pips, pleasee" he rubbed against your legs "Let me do your laundry again"

You only sighed with relief, now he would forget about the pillow and let you be. After all, you need someting to cuddle against when he went to missions for while. Though you were lucky that he had not open the pillow and found his own underweare in there. What can you say? Weirdos attract each other

[namelessgakusei]

EP. 1.2 COMBUSTION

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread.

EP. 1.1 IGNITION (prev.)

EXTRA EP. 1.3 CONFLAGRATION

Synopsis: His "brother" turned out to be a shapeshifting demon, who was targeting his mother's memento for some reason.

"You're dead." Dante's voice trembled at the sight of the man in front of you. With their differences only being their hairstyles and the color of their coats, you'd think of the man as Dante's reflection. But, wait—

Brother? Dante's brother, Vergil? You've only heard bits and pieces about him from various sources, rarely from Dante himself, given his habit of masking his trauma. Not that you pried deeper, you respect Dante and you're not going to snoop about his past since he doesn't want to tell you.

Still, you know that Vergil died when they were children, so seeing him here means that he... survived? But why appear now? Your eyes tracked his movements with suspicion.

Vergil smirked and reached out his arm. "Oh, I'm here..." His fingers moved erratically until it stretched towards the both of you in a flash. Dante's eyes widened, hand instinctively grabbing your arm and dodging the attack. "—in the flesh!"

Using the gun you handed him and your own that you snatched from your briefcase, the two of you spun to shoot Vergil in vital areas, his body folding unnaturally upon the impact. With a grunt, "Vergil"'s body contorted and expanded in size, before shaping itself as a one eyed, blue demon.

"Ew." You grimaced at the transformation.

Seeing that his cover is revealed, the demon slithered across the walls, narrowly avoiding the bullets from the both of you, before fleeing through the vents. Seeing that its abilities match up from the demon that got away earlier, Dante smirked, "Oh, you're the demon baby from earlier." Before snatching your gun and aiming at the floor, shooting through the concrete to create a hole. Predicting his crazy move, you jumped and clung to his back as the two of you fall to the basement.

"You alright there?" Dante cocked his head to the side without looking at you. You didn't replied, silently getting off of him and surveying your surroundings as you watch his six. Just as expected, the demon aimed for his blindspot, thinking you were an easy kill due to being human. Well, you weren't Dante's partner for nothing.

"Jackpot." You jumped and avoided the scythe that was slammed to the ground, opening your briefcase midair to procure another gun. The debris inhibiting the visibility of the area, but it didn't mattered, you know where the target is and shot. True to your skills, five bullets jammed itself in the demon's eye, providing an opening to exploit.

The demon screeched in its temporary incapacitation as it transformed its arms to large axes, blindly and haphazardly swinging around in hopes of hitting Dante. "Hand over the amulet!" While already recovered, it can't get a hit due to how nimble the two of you are, easily dodging its swings. Walls started to break down due to the strength of the attacks but your partner doesn't seem to mind the danger of the situation, whooping and jumping around in excitement. "Whoo-hoo!"

"Dressing up as my dead brother is a bit too much." Dante landed on a crate and dodged another whip, shooting mid-air with a grin. "Personally, I would have stuck with being a creepy baby. It was working for you!" Bullets seemed to pass through its body but not its eyeball, but Dante hadn't seem to notice it yet, rendering his attacks useless.

"DO NOT stick with the creepy baby!" You barked and changed weapons to a submachine gun. "Dante!" Swerving to the other side of the room, all while avoiding the demon's limbs and the items launched at you, you flung magazines at his direction. "Aim for the eye!"

The change in target seemed to agitate the demon, transforming into a liquified form and slithering about the room, avoiding your bullets and making you accidentally hit the fire extinguisher. The smoke stills for a moment before something moved to your right, making you swivel to shoot, only for it to be revealed as a step ladder. Realizing too late that it's a feint, you heard Dante get slammed to the wall from your behind. "Dan—"

Electricity crackled as the demon's tongue snaked around his necklace, pulling it towards his mouth, smirking smugly at Dante's trapped form.

Electricity crackled as the demon used its hands to trap Dante's wrists, preventing him from using his pistols, smirking smugly as its tongue snaked towards his necklace. As the accessory lay on its tongue, the demon realized too late that it failed to immobilize the other demon hunter in the room. The sound of a gun cocking had it turn to your direction with a confused trill. Dante's gun is pointed straight to the demon's eye as you smirked.

"'Sup bitch."

The force from your bullet sent the demon jerking, it's face turning inside out to removed the ammunition inside it's eye, giving Dante an opening to break free. The wall cracked and broke as he strained to against his binds, sending the demon flying to a wall with a punch. With a turn, his expression turned from confusion to relief as you hold out his mother's memento in your hands.

"You've been trying really hard to steal my necklace," The demon was rendered into a pathetic mess of goo when the both of you approached it. Dante sneered as he tied his pendant back to his neck, "Why is that?", the two of you pointed your respective pistols at the twitching demon.

"The irony is that I'm a shapeshifter," Its voice was rasp due to its beating, and despite its sorry state, managed to smirk at Dante. "But you're the one who doesn't know what you are...!" With a cry, its body swelled as energy crackles, growing in an alarming rate. You tried to open your briefcase for another weapon when it registered that both of your guns clicks in place, but Dante already shielded you with his body for the imminent explosion.

Which did not came, as the demon only shifted to a bat as it flied away.

Both of you exhaled in relief, but the sound of metal falling off made your head shot up to him, with Dante looking at you in confusion. Your eye twitched as you grabbed his wrist without breaking eye contact, holding it up as more pieces of the the gun you made for him echoed on the floor, only then turning to examine the damage he made. The grip and trigger guard is oh so crushed. Dante knew this situation all too well and sighed, mentally preparing himself for your lecture back home. "Every time..."

"Dante!"

Dante traced the rim of his hat with a chuckle. The chippy dance pop music of Dance Dance Revolution plays while your partner is having the time of his life. "Okay☆" The screen displays the steps you had to follow but Dante confidently ignores it in favor of his own dance moves.

You sat on the couch, unimpressed, when he posed as the music swelled and stopped. His score was counted with an applause, showing a "D" with the game over being announced. "You suck!" You snickered as Dante turned to you with a distraught expression, collapsing to the floor with a whine.

Coming over and crouching beside his collapsed form, you grinned, the two of your oblivious to the chaos that has been brewing behind your backs.

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities ii

part one here

pairing : fem reader x slytherin gang x golden trio.

warnings : SMUT. slight choking, nipple play, reader is a virgin, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, pet names, reader almost has a panic attack, talk of virginity and sex. lmk if i missed any! :)

summary : the slytherin boys have their way with you, but what about those who get left out?

a/n : i hope this is what you expected, feedback is greatly appreciated and needed.

────── ☾ ──────

the next days were a blur. you were not ignoring your friends any longer, but you could tell that they were treating you rather differently.

first, ron started to hold the door for you, theo brought you extra sweets from honeydukes and draco would give you his homework without you even asking.

what was happening? you were almost positive you knew the reason behind it all. so, whilst in transfiguration, you slipped hermione a note.

“can i see you after class?”

she looked at you, a confused expression on her face, but she nodded nonetheless.

you smiled appreciatively and went back to listening to professor mcgonagall, not remotely aware of the pairs of eyes following your every move: tom, mattheo and blaise.

they were concerned. well, they did have a reason to be - you weren’t ignoring them any longer, but you were acting rather differently, not really giving them the time of the day either.

“what do you think she wrote?” blaise nodded his head in your direction, nervously playing with his feather.

mattheo looked up, his eyes focused on the back of your head as if he could read your mind. but seeing that it was no use, his head dropped on the desk. “if only we knew someone who’s learned the art of occlumency.”

“she’s wondering why you lot are acting so unusual since that day” tom hummed, rolling his eyes as he neatly put his notebook back in his school bag. “and it’s legilimency, idiot.”

blaise winced incredulously as he looked back at his friend. “us? i’m sorry you wanna be picked so bad that you’re willing to act nonchalant and humble about it.”

“it’s a skill” he smirked, finally standing up to leave as professor mcgonagall dismissed the class.

“you know, sometimes i feel like we’re so alike” mumbled mattheo happily, earning a dangerous glare from his brother.

watching them whisper to one another, you shook your head - mattheo shoved his brother, who, as unbothered as ever, brushed a hand over his robes while exiting the class.

and you could bet you knew the reason.

“ready to go?” hermione’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts, her smile bright as she looked at you.

“sure” you returned the smile, ushering her out of the room with a hand at the small of her back. and once you were positive you were out of earshot, the other students already heading towards the great hall, you spoke up. “listen, i know how this might seem, but you’re the only girl in the group… what’s gotten into them?”

she sighed, using her middle and pointer finger to rub at her temple; this was a discussion she thought she’d never have to have again, not with another girl anyway.

“they… they want you to pick them. each of them wants to be the one to claim your virginity. to claim you.”

“to claim me?” you were beyond confused, you really didn’t think your virginity was such a big deal. at least to you it wasn’t. “have they done the same to you? when you were- you know.”

she laughed softly at your nervousness, gently rubbing your back through your robe. “have you met them? of course they did. but- well, yes, they did.”

your ears perked up at her hesitation. “but?” you questioned rather alarmedly. “but what, mione?”

she took a deep breath before speaking, and you hated how that made your stomach churn. “they were not as possessive back then. they weren’t aware how much it meant. because whoever it is that you choose to do it with, it creates a special bond between you. it’s the first person you feel comfortable doing these things with, the first who gets to kiss every inch of your skin, explore your body” it looked like she was in a haze, daydreaming of the day she’d lost hers.

“oh, i understand” you nodded slowly. “so… who took yours?” you asked even though you could already guess.

“enzo” bingo. and how could you not guess? they were practically always together, always looking out after each other.

humming, you fell deep in thought. how could you ever choose between them? they were all your friends, and you’d never forgive yourself if your decision would hurt any of them or make them feel left out.

so you shook your head, toying with the ring on her finger as you leaned back against the wall. “i could never choose, mione. i don’t want to. i don’t want this to be such a big deal, i just want to get it over with so we can move on and fuck unlimitedly.”

your words made her burst out laughing, softly biting on her lip as a few students passed, and she took your hand in hers, guiding you to to the great hall too. “if you want to be a part of this, you will have to choose. but they won’t pressure you, if there’s one thing that they hate is feeling like they pressured each other into doing something, especially sexual… you have time.”

you nodded and finally, reaching the table, you sat down between draco and tom. “good morning” you greeted softly as you started filling your plate, your mind wandering.

“hey, y/n/n” theo reached over the table to squeeze your hand, a sincere smile on his lips, before draco kicked him under the table, the older boy hissing as he glared at him.

you didn’t really notice that though, you were too busy trying to figure out what you were gonna do.

but the boys seemed to notice that. the way you, so absentmindedly pushed at your meal with your fork, the boiled eggs smashing and the yolk leaking out of them. “woah, what have they done to you, sweetheart?” enzo’s voice was teasing, but in his own soft, characteristic way.

you looked at him, and he frowned at the confused, almost lost look on his face. then back at your eggs, your meal positively looking like a crime scene. “sorry” your voice was soft, barely audible. “m sorry, i’m not even hungry. i don’t know why i even took them.”

your nerves were growing and everyone could sense that, hence why they all shared concerned glances and only tom dared to speak. “can you focus on me? look at me, please” his voice was not like anything you’d heard before. it was soft and gentle, and he placed a hand on your arm, his slender, pale fingers squeezing loosely.

looking up at him, you tried your best to focus on his eyes. his eyes were so beautiful, a gorgeous shade of a deeper blue, and you could swear that you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips, but he quickly regained composure. “do you want to go back to the common room? lay down on your dorm maybe?” he asked and you nodded, arm curling around his own as he stood up, taking you with him.

🤍

you all but threw yourself on the bed, the boys sitting around you - tom and blaise were sitting on the rug by your bed, theo on your armchair, all while draco, enzo and mattheo shared the couch.

“i’m sorry” your voice made them perk up, their expressions almost unreadable, but one thing was for sure - they would do anything to make it better.

“what for, lovie?” asked blaise, his hand twitching as he almost grabbed your hand, but decided against it.

you sighed, mind wandering back to the day before. you had done the same thing : you moped around on the great hall and they had to take you back to the common room. “i’m being a baby. i just… i don’t want to choose.”

theo frowned. “choose what, dolcezza?”

“between you guys” avoiding their eyes, you started playing with tom’s family ring, his hand on the bed just by your head. “i talked to hermione today, and she explained the whole special bond thing, but i… i like all of you. i don’t want a special bond.”

enzo blushed, trying his best to hide his face by leaning his head forward, chin resting on his chest. mattheo nudged him playfully, messing up his perfect hair and causing the boy to whine.

“oh, baby” draco’s voice was soft as he approached the bed, but not before slapping enzo on his crotch. before you knew it, the bed dipped slightly and draco sat by your side, looking down at you lovingly. “we’ve been stupid, making you feel like you had to choose one of us to be your first. we’ve done stupid things and you’ve almost had a panic attack because of it.”

you didn’t say anything, just looked up at him, and the boys all seemed to had gotten closer too. “i don’t want any of you to feel less important. i’ll gladly let you all fuck me.”

you hadn’t realized what you said before it was too late, and even you were shocked. the boys all looked at you like you’d grown two more heads, and you flushed furiously, cheeks now a deep crimson.

“is that right, sweet thing? look at her, boys” mattheo’s voice was taunting, his signature smirk widening as he took a few steps closer to you. “i believe this poor thing only wants us all to feel good, to be able to feel her tight pussy for the first time ever. how sweet is that?”

“so sweet” theo’s voice had turned a lot deeper, need present in his tone. he had that look on his face. the one you’d seen before, directed at you.

“whenever you’re ready, angel, and whoever has you first…” blaise grinned, his hand coming down to caress your voice, your chest rising up and down rapidly. “this pussy’s not going unruined.”

your breath got caught in your throat and you almost choked at the intensity of it all. heat pooled in your tummy as they looked at you, hunger evident in their prying eyes.

“i want it” it was a soft whisper, a breathless, needy confirmation. and when tom’s eyes found yours, you knew you were in for it.

he was usually the most composed one, but in these past couple of days, he’d shocked you. he could be loving, caring and could even lose his composure around the right people. you’d seen glimpses of it before, but never like this, never so vulnerably.

his eyes seemed to twitch, so subtle that you almost missed it. he finally standed, making you feel small under his gaze. “how about we get her wet first, boys? oh, wait-” you didn’t expect it, but in the blink of an eye, tom had pulled your skirt up over your hips, curling two fingers around the hem of your panties.

you were drenched. you couldn’t even get out the gasp that was hanging in your throat, because his fingers just felt so good on your throbbing clit. everyone was silent as he worked on you, spreading your wetness over your slit and holes. “she’s so wet already. what’s gotten you so wet, baby?”

finally managing to gasp and whimper needily, you looked up at him, and he smirked at your helpless state. you looked limp and he fucking loved every second of it.

“answer tom, pretty. he might just stop making you feel good if you don’t” mattheo came to stand at his brother’s side, one arm resting against tom’s shoulder, and for the first time, he didn’t push him away or make a snarky remark. “you know how he gets.”

you whimpered out a soft ‘you’ and that instantly made tom’s eyes sparkle. in a moment of weakness, his thumb started rubbing your clit, and before you knew it, mattheo started massaging over your hole with two fingers. it was a feeling that you could not describe. nothing that you’d felt before.

their fingers felt so good on you, far better than all those time you had gotten off on your own. “t-tom- matty, please” you cried out, your legs begging to shake from the pleasure you were receiving. the way tom was pressing against you, and how mattheo was so close to making you scream on his fingers - it made you dizzy.

“ow, angel” draco was still sitting beside you, his eyes watching you and studying your reactions very carefully. he raised his hand and started stroking your jaw, his cold fingers making you shiver as the boys continued their assault on your cunt, causing you to jolt when tom would occasionally press too hard on your clit.

you looked up at the blond, growing more desperate to have all of their hands on you, your nipples getting harder and achy by the minute. he saw the way you shifted, and when your hard nipples pressed against your white top, the corner of his lips tilted upwards.

“you need my hands, y/n/n?” his hand slowly made its way down your neck, squeezing at the base of it for merely a second before it slid lower. you shivered in anticipation and he carefully pulled your top down, freeing your boobs - you were not wearing a bra. he groaned. “fuck, what are you doing to me?” and he looked into your eyes as if he was really waiting for an answer, but unfortunately you couldn’t give it to him if you wanted.

truth be told, you had not planned any of this. it all just worked out in your favour.

he brought both his hands to cup your breasts, squeezing gently as he watched them bounce back to their original shape, nipples looking eager to be - licked, bitten, tortured - by him.

draco wanted to tease you, he really did. but you looked way too delicious, so he didn’t hesitate and started sucking greedily on your nipple, one of his hands squeezing and pulling at the other one. you could hear him, even if your ears were ringing due to tom and mattheo’s attempts to make you lose your mind. draco was panting, not wanting to pull away from your boobs for one second. it really was a sight for sore eyes.

“feels g-good” you moaned loudly and tangled your fingers in his hair, your attention finally turning back to the boys between your thighs.

mattheo cleared his throat and when you looked at them, tom was wearing an annoyed expression. “didn’t forget about us, did you?” he asked pointedly, and retracted his hand, leaving you squirming for more.

but before you had the chance to blurt out an apology, mattheo spoke up. “i think you’re wet enough, sugar.”

but he didn’t continue, he didn’t make you feel like you had to do something more than that. he left it up to you.

“i want enzo to eat me out” your voice was small and said boy looked at you in shock, that it almost made you take your words back. but before you could do it, he was already on his feet - ready to do anything you pleased.

hermione had told you that enzo was good with his hands and mouth, and you were doing nothing but trying to test that theory.

he looked beyond excited as he looked at your cunt. it was glistening with wetness and a bit of sweat, and your clit looked mouth-watering; it was so swollen and hard.

“you are beautiful” was all enzo said before he buried himself between your legs, his hands holding you as if you were made of glass. “so so beautiful, you look divine” his voice was breathy as he nosed at your clit, pressing a soft kiss there.

draco, on the other hand, was grazing his teeth against your sensitive buds, making your toes curl and your pussy throb at the sensation. his mouth was perfection.

sponging a wet kiss on his temple, a broken cry was ripped from your throat as enzo slipped two fingers inside you, much too easily. his tongue sucked at the bundle of nerves that was your clit, sometimes exploring your sopping folds. “so sweet” he mumbled against you, his mouth not once leaving your heat as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back into your skull.

“thank you, thank you, thank you-” tears were streaming down your face as you watched the other boys through blurry eyes.

mattheo and tom were jerking off, their cocks red and looking painfully hard, whilst blaise was watching the scene in front of him intently, and you did see his fingers twitching, probably needing to grab at you, but not daring to.

“kiss me” it was a broken plea that earned you quite a few confused glances, even enzo looking at you curiously from between your legs, not once resuming his work. “blaise- baby, kiss me” you whimpered, and kissing you he did.

he pressed his lips against yours, his hand gripping your jaw and holding you in place as he dominated the kiss. he tugged at your bottom lip and you whined, chasing his mouth. “so fucking needy” he groaned and smashed his lips against yours again; the kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, spit glistening on your chin. “you just need us all, don’t you? you need us to please this desperate, perfect body of yours.”

his teeth sank into the underside of your jaw and you yelped in pain, your fingers digging into the back of his neck. “yes, yes i do!- i’m- i need all of you, i need you to make me feel good.”

“atta girl” mattheo spoke up as he tugged at his cock, his eyes moving from your cunt to your bare chest. “are they making you feel good, angel?”

you hummed and felt the knot in your belly about to snap, enzo now sucking harshly and bullying his fingers into your cunt at a pace that had your legs trembling uncontrollably, but fortunately draco was there to catch you. he placed a firm hand on your thigh, grounding you as he kept sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

“m gonna cum” you choked out and started shaking again, this time not even draco’s force being able to help calm you down. “please, please- i need to cum” you asked for permission, but you didn’t even know who was it that you were asking.

enzo used his free hand to caress your belly, his sweet eyes looking up at you. lost in them, you didn’t even notice when theo stood and walked over to you, his fingers forcing you to look up at him as he spoke lowly, his voice firm and steady. “look up at me when you do” he demanded and you nodded fervently, biting at your bottom lip.

in a matter of seconds, you were cumming. your heart was racing - so much so that it felt like it was trying to get out of your chest - you were sweating and your hands were gripping at anything you could find - draco’s shoulders, enzo’s hair, the sheets.

your walls spasmed around enzo’s skilled fingers, your clit fluttering as he sucked on it, refusing to let go as he moaned against you, his eyes rolling back as he started humping the bed. your cum was heavenly - the taste, how it dripped down his fingers, everything was pure perfection.

and what was even better? theo’s eyes were analysing your every move. how your lips pursed, how your muscles tensed - the way your eyes watered as you struggled to keep them open.

“you’re just perfect, principessa. you did so good” he praised as he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

you breathed out a laugh as you tried to recover from your orgasm and the overwhelming sensations you had gone through, but you had little to no time to do that, because the door flung open and revealed the golden trio.

harry was more pissed than ever judging by the look on his face and his clenched fists, ron was just red with fury, and hermione just looked disappointed, her brown eyes seeming more dull than ever before.

“and what the fuck do you think you lot are doing?”

────── ☾ ──────

[illiath-the-fae]

So... just to add some reality to this.... because a lot of people seem to think they'd be perfect and would not have any issues with being able to handle these things if they happened in their own lives in some way...

If OP is referring to the included response image, then the response needs analysis, because it does not say (explicitly) what OP is responding to. As the image response wasn't supplied by OP I'm not sure OP is responding to that or a different response. If not and there was a more direct response, then it should have been provided, not this one, as I do not agree that this response says what OP claims.

For those who are unsure why I say this, my analysis of the response posted is below the line (I'm reminded of Brandolini's Law here)...

There are two primary ways to read this response. There are other ways, most likely, but I wanted to highlight these two.

The person is hateful enough of people who won't accept being called a specific word that they'll cut them out of their life (which seems to be the way this thread is taking the response).

The person is has sufficient levels of social anxiety that potentially harming someone by accident is sufficient cause for them to avoid the individual in question.

The first method is how people seem to be reading this, based on attaching it to the post by OP (I do not know if this was OP is referring to this post or not so I don't want to say "OP said this" or anything).

Method two, which is how I read that message, is as follows.

Their first sentence that claim "dude" is gender neutral. That's a stance, many in California see the word that way, I understand, even if I disagree. That said, the RP (Response Poster) is taking that stance with their post, which suggests they use this the same with men, women, cats, dogs, otters, fish, birds, etc (okay, maybe not, maybe only humans, but hey, I can be hyperbolic, right? right? oh, okay, maybe not... let's just assume it's people only for now).

In their next sentence they express their response if someone in real life requested not to be called dude. Their response would be, probably (so this hasn't happened to them), stop talking to them altogether because of their anxiety around accidentally disrespecting the other person. While this means the person is likely to cut someone out of their life (this bit matches up to OPs post) it is not because someone else is transfemme (this doesn't match up, because RP doesn't mention transfemmes at all, even though OP specifically mentions them), but because of their anxiety around disrespecting other people.

Okay, so now I put on my psychologist hat and I see someone who is dealing with elevated levels of anxiety about social situations (maybe clinically, maybe not, this is a SINGLE SENTENCE not something I could diagnose from, even if I wanted to. It's just a higher level of anxiety that would be expected). Someone who knows they're going to make a mistake and don't want to harm someone (even slightly) with their mistake that they are likely to self-isolate from that individual to make sure it doesn't happen (this is called setting a boundary, some of you are big advocates of that from what I've read here on this site).

People who would rather self-isolate themselves from others, rather than make mistakes that they believe will harm the other person (even slightly), exist, are real, and think this way about all sorts of behaviours. Rather than putting this person on blast because you have read what they have to say and read something into it that isn't in what is written, perhaps we could take a moment to actually process what they wrote and see if they actually say what we initially read into it? It would help.

If they did say what we think they said, rather than shaming them entirely, is there is another way we could handle the response than putting them on blast? If RP had, in fact, said they'd shove transfemme people out of their life, if the transfemme requested not to be called 'dude' what could we have done? Could we have a method that includes the person and tries to get them to change their mind? We've got a lot of things attempting to divide us, as a society, even more will be coming in the next few years, divide and conquer is a well-known fascist tactic, don't do it for them!

On a side note, there is also another factor I think we should include here... As part of the whole "we should learn how to be inclusive, not exclusive when something bad happens socially", we need to remember that it is a highly common behaviour for individuals to be unable to word things clearly to describe their feelings around a matter such that they'd rather avoid those feelings and the subject of them, than attempt to address them. We even have terms for when people's ability to handle social situations is affected by that to a "clinically relevant level"... you may have heard of some of those.

I'm sorry was there actually a post where a cis woman said she would cut a transfem friend out of her life if a transfem asked her to stop calling the transfem dude? Please tell me this was a hypothetical and not real

[fairestwriting]

Hii! I love your writing! Not sure if you did this yet, but could I get headcanons of what Leona, Jamil, Vil, and Lilia would call their s/o? (Other than herbivore on Leona’s part) Thank you so much <3

THANK YOU!!! this is a little (just a little) different from the way i usually write hcs but i hope you like ittt

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Leona didn’t really intend for it to be his personal nickname for you or anything, but yeah, Herbivore does stick — at least for a while — and yeah, he’ll still use it even if you’re also a beastperson, regardless of what you truly are. He actually thinks it’s extra funny to use it if it doesn’t suit you.

The nicknaming is going to evolve with time, though. He does like using the occasional baby or babe, just casually, and probably not in public, but it won’t be the main thing he’ll call you. His preference very much is in giving you a specific, fitting nickname. Something no one else could call you, at least not in the way he does.

Since he’s started out with Herbivore, he’s most likely to keep following that animal theming route. It feels right, anyway. He’ll think about it, going through many, many working titles until he finds something that feels perfectly customized. It’s a significant amount of time until he just springs your brand new nickname on you, grinning all proud of himself... And after that day, that’s basically your second name.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Jamil likes using your first name, and he’ll mostly stick to that. When you’re around others, it’s basically a given that he won’t be calling you darling or sweetheart or anything like that, since he prefers to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes of strangers. PDA is just not his thing, and it will never really be.

Part of why he sticks with using just your even in private is just the comforting familiar feel of it, but he also does genuinely love your name. If you listen closely, you’ll notice that the way he says it now is just a little different from how he said it before you got together…

On the rare occasion he calls you something other than your name, you can pretty much be sure it’s always going to come after a ”my”. Something like my love or my dear, which, fittingly, is more likely to slip out when he’s feeling more possessive than usual. But it’s pretty much reserved for that, plus whenever he’s comforting you for any somewhat serious reason. If you ask him to say it more often, he gets all flustered.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

Like Jamil, he also really enjoys using just your first name, said in this way that’s just slightly softer than how he says everyone else’s names. What distinguishes them is that Vil does that intentionally, in this specific way that’s clear enough for you to maybe pick up on, but not everyone else.

He really does like using petnames in private though. Vil is a little hesitant at first, because he’s definitely said the words before in some production he acted in. He didn’t think much of it then, they were just words for him— But now that he’s doing it for real, he can’t help but notice just how different it feels. He knew it would feel different, he just wasn’t expecting it to feel that intimate…

In these moments, he finds himself being particularly fond of the more domestic-sounding kind. Honey is a common one, darling is used but a bit less so, it’s mostly for when he’s feeling particularly affectionate. Silently expects you to return the gesture, but it still makes him blush a little whenever you do.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia brings out the petnames pretty early on. Just around the time when he realizes his interest in you, which comes with the decision that now, his flirting is going to be intentional. The first one he uses will probably be something simple, easy to sprinkle into his usual speech, like dear.

He kind of likes the more “ambiguous” sounding names— That kind of stuff you might hear from the nice old lady who lives down your street. Hun and sweetie are other two favorites of his. Needless to say, he not only keeps it up even after you two start dating, but also specifically focuses on using whatever gets him the biggest reactions from you.

Despite having clear favorites, though, his approach to petnames is almost like he’s going down a list. One day you’re love, then the next you’re sweetheart. He likes to switch it up, see how you like different names, how you react to them. Very much encourages you to return the gesture, and if you do, he’ll copy whatever petname you call him, so you two match.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[yourauthorjen]

| GOLDEN HOUR | — joaquin torres

(requests open)

| synopsis: | it was just two lovers, sitting on the car listening to Blonde, falling for each other.

| includes: | joaquintorres x fem!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, flirting, sunsets, use of nicknames/pet names, mention of reader being bullied, alcohol consumption

| word count: | 2.1k

| a/n: | so i was listening to golden hour by jvke (if you couldn’t tell and i felt like i really had to write a scene of this. and i feel like this turned out a lot better than expected. the ending was lowkey rushed because i wanted to get this out asap.

FALL HAD JUST settled in, meaning that bonfire season had finally begun. Invitations to beach bonfires were handed out like party favours, alcohol and beer aisles had been stripped clean, and everyone was now making a beeline to their nearest beaches.

Unfortunately, Joaquin had also persuaded you into joining their shenanigans, which was why you were now stuck in his passenger seat, sulking with several cans of beer that had already become lukewarm.

“Admit it asshat, we’re lost,” you grumbled, watching him furrow his eyebrow at a passing highway sign.

"We're not lost," he said though he didn't sound too sure. "We're just... taking the scenic route."

"What you're saying is exactly what someone who's lost would say."

He didn't argue, just grinned like he always did, so full of himself but in a way you absolutely adored.

You sighed, staring out the window. The sun was dipping lower as you drove, shadows stretching across the road, painting he sky with golden and orange hues. You ripped apart one the plastic rings holding the beer cans together, and cracked the drink open.

"This is not the way to the beach," you mumbled, taking a long swig of beer, "Look, we're driving across a highway on a cliff, meaning the elevation is higher and we’re no where near getting down to the sand and water."

"C'mon mi vida,” he said “Don't be so grumpy. Consider it quality time with me."

You pretended to gag, but your heart skipped a beat at the nickname. "It's not quality time when you practically begged me to go with you. Why couldn't you go with someone else?"

He mocked a hurt face, "Because deep down you love me, and you still agreed to come with me in the end."

You jabbed a finger into his arm, "It’s called tolerating you, Joaquin. And don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he hummed, and you let out a more than dramatic exhale. He was your closest friend the two of you glued to each others side ever since high school, and now through college. He was the person you found yourself running towards to no matter the occasion. He had taken you to prom when no one else asked you, he had picked up your broken pieces when everyone you know left you. He had lived through bruised knuckles and broken fingers when you couldn't muster the courage to defend yourself from people you called friends.

And as much as you wanted to tell him the words you spent years locked up in your chest, you couldn't tell him, because you were too afraid of what the consequences could lead to.

Instead you turned back to the window, and as you stared you couldn't help but notice the way the sky spilled in different colours across the horizon, the clouds gradient shades of lavender and peach, which if you were being honest was stunning.

Eventually, the road dipped and twisted again, taking you farther away from any recognizable landmark. The highway was secluded and silent, and as your fingers fidgeted nervously you finally decided to flick on the radio, humming as it turned to life.

"Frank Ocean? Really?"

"Hey," you interjected, "You don't get a say on this, not after you threw away my perfectly fine Spotify gift card."

"It was an accident!" he protested, “Besides I bought you a new one right after."

"Okay soldier, eyes on the road."

After a few more silent minutes of driving and twisting back and fourth around turns, Joaquin slowed the car and pulled off onto a gravel shoulder near a bend in the road that looked out over the sprawling ocean bathed in the last warmth of the day.

He cut the engine as you turned to him bewildered. "What're you doing?"

"Taking a break," he said, eyes glittering, "I'm gonna try and get some cell service."

The GPS on both your phones had long since stopped offering any useful guidance, opting instead to chirp the same same "GPS Signal Lost" every few miles.

You sighed, though your lips still twitched upwards against your will. He wasn't wrong, it was cooler up here, the wind catching your hair as you propped yourself onto the hood of Joaquin's car, letting yourself shut your eyes and enjoying the soft glow of sunshine casting onto your face.

"Well, that's one hell of a view." Joaquin said, joining you as he sat on top of the car, his shoulder brushing yours. "What do you think? This better than the bonfire?"

You cracked one eye open, pretending to ponder. "I don't know Joaquin, with the distinct possibility that we might be stranded here all night instead of me drinking beer until I fall face first into the sand really sounds a lot better."

Joaquin let out a laugh, deep and heartfelt, his dark curls falling into his eyes as his amused smile widened. It made your chest ache, seeing him so carefree and untroubled, the sunlight bringing out the gold flecks in his brown eyes. He smelled like spices and a hint of pine and with his hair tousled artfully, it made your resolve wobble just a little.

"Fine," you admitted, "I guess this is pretty okay."

"Just okay?"

You rolled your eyes. “Do you want me to take it back?"

“I’m just saying,” he replied, his lips curling into a smirk, “if this were a date, it wouldn't be bad.”

Your breath caught a little but you tilted your head toward him, trying to keep your voice light. “Is it a date?”

He looked back at you, his smile faltering in a way that told you for once there wasn't some ridiculous joke waiting behind it. “Would it be the worst thing if it was?”

The world seemed to still for a moment- a change shifting your world drastically, as his eyes found yours full of love and admiration she hadn't seen before. He waited for a response, but the only thing you could muster was a weak shake of your head, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

The silence between the two of you was palpable, and the music that was still playing in the car faded into nothing. Instead you were filled with the pounding of your heart crashing louder than the waves below.

"Friends don't usually go on dates, right?" you attempted meekly, taking a shaky breath.

His jaw ticked as he shifted towards you, his body facing yours and his eyes flickering with an expression that you couldn't tell if he was about to cry, laugh, or say something sarcastic. But when he finally spoke his voice was raw, painful, and quiet in a way that made your throat constrict.

"No. No they don't."

"Joaquin..." you tried, eyes pleading as you realized your mistake, "I didn't... I-"

"It's okay," he said softly, "I get it."

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes, before you grabbed his hands. They were warm but rough, his fingers curled around yours as you squeezed them tightly, silently begging for him not to leave.

He seemed to understand as you moved closer to him, close enough that your faces were only a few feet apart. You were close enough that your noses were almost touching, and close enough that you could see your reflection in his pupils. His eyes widened as your hair fell into your face, almost like a curtain hiding you away from the world as you leaned your forehead against his.

"No,” you pleaded again the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I love you, and I love you so much that I don't want to mess this up for the two of us."

His own eyes turned glassy as his forehead tipped forward to press more firmly against yours, like he needed to feel every inch of you, like just being that close wasn’t quite close enough.

“I don’t care if we mess it up,” he whispered, “I care if we don’t try.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers wrapping tighter around his. "I don’t… Please don't let me mess this up."

“You the part where I pretended I haven’t been in love with you since the first time we met?"

You cracked a watery smile as he pulled his hands out of yours, and gently cupped his hands to your face as he dipped his head and began pulling you closer and closer until—

His lips found yours, sweet with a hint of salt, and a taste that felt raw but so true. Your heart collided with your chest, as your hands found a way up to his jacket, fingers scrunching up around the fabric as he deepened the kiss.

This wasn't a drunken kiss you had once shared after a night out at the bar, nor was this the sisterly peck on the cheek you sometimes gave him for fun. This was something that you had never felt before, the warmth, the passion, and the love that you both felt so strongly for each other.

Your hands glimpsed the outline of his broad shoulders, as you both finally pulled away from each other. Your eyes darted over his sun-kissed face, and you couldn't help the stutter in your chest as his eyes softened.

"I love you too,” Joaquin breathed, "And if we’re stuck here for the rest of the night than so be it.”

You smiled—really smiled—and the heavy weight that had weighed you down for so many years finally lifted off your shoulders. It was the kind of feeling that no beach party or crowded bonfire could’ve given you.

“Then let’s get stranded,” you said, voice hoarse, as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Below you, the ocean stretched out endlessly, waves brushing the cliffs with a rhythm older than any map or compass. The sky had darkened to indigo, with just barely visible streaks of orange dotting the horizon. The stars were beginning to prick through the veil of night, and you could still hear the music from the radio playing low through the speakers—melancholy, and soft.

You felt the time slow down around you as you let Joaquin circle an arm around your waist. You let yourself be engulfed in this content moment, carefree and abiding.

You had Joaquin now.

And somehow, that felt like the way home was always supposed to look.

[readerihardlyknowher]

In Every Universe | Pt. 6

Can't believe Amanda's going to be a mom for real now oml

Spencer Agnew x Reader Warnings: None WC: 1,824 Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6

“Hello, welcome to Smosh Mouth. I’m Shayne-” “-and I’m Amanda, and we have a very special guest here today: Y/n Y/l/n!” Both of the hosts look at you, and you wave to the camera, saying hello. “And today we are going to be talking about romance, is that something you know a lot about Y/n?”

“Oh wow, romance,” you chuckle, a little nervous. This is the first time you’ve been able to come onto Smosh Mouth. “Yeah actually, I do. I mean, I’ve had romances before, and I recently rewatched Pride and Prejudice.” Amanda gasps at this.

“The one with Colin Firth?” “No, the one with Matthew Macfayden. From Succession.”

“Right, okay, and was it any good?” Amanda’s perpetually enthusiastic voice makes you smile. Talking with her just feels natural, which is why it’s good she’s one of the hosts.

“Yeah, actually. I mean, it’s one of my favorite movies. I can’t lie, I love a good fairytale ending where everyone’s just happy and in love.”

“Same. I love seeing people happy and in love,” Amanda’s excited voice agrees with you, before looking at Shayne with an expectant look.

“Yeah, I mean I’ve watched my fair share of romance movies, and there’s some good ones out there.”

The rest of the podcast continues on in a much similar manner. Amanda and Shayne ask you questions about shows, games, and even basic questions about your romance life, like your first kiss and whatnot. You share more than you thought you would have, but nothing too intimate or personal. Gotta keep some semblance of privacy on the internet. Eventually, Amanda’s face breaks into a smirk, looking down at her paper before back up at you.

“So, you’ve had many on-camera romances with our favorite Spencer.” You chuckle at this, having known from when she first mentioned romance that it would lead to here.

“Yeah, I have. I mean, I’ve also had a few romances with other cast members in other games, but I think Spencer and I have had the most romances. I mean, besides you and Angela.” You throw it back to her, with a smile, which she laughs at.

“She’s my wife, man!”

“Your work wife,” Shayne throws out.

“Yes, my work wife.

“Anyways, Y/n, we wanted to know straight from you how it feels to be shipped to such a degree. All of us here have been shipped with other cast members many times in the past, but how do you feel about it?” You go silent for a moment to think about it, trying to give a sort of political answer to the question. Honest, but nothing to stir the pot.

“I guess I don’t really mind it. I mean, even if I did mind, it wouldn’t stop anything. Besides, what girl hasn’t been shipped with her boy best friend at some point? But really, it’s no different than how Amanda is with Spencer, so I really don’t get why I’m the one getting shipped. I know you’re married and I’m not, but still,” you finish with a smile, feeling a little hot under the heat of the lights.

“To be clear,” Shayne begins, “we do have it on record that Amanda does in fact have a crush on Spencer.” This comment makes your face heat up more, smiling nervously and shaking your head.

“Oh right, well nevermind that comparison then. What I meant was that we’re just really friendly with one another.”

“Yeah I mean,” Amanda scratches behind her neck. “There’s just something about Spencer that makes everyone love him. It’s so weird.”

Shayne chuckles at that. “Oh yeah, I mean even back in the Defy era everyone loved him.”

You can’t stop smiling throughout the conversation, and you know it must look a little silly to the audience. The truth is just that you love your best friend, everyone does. He’s a very lovable guy, nothing “weird” about it. But what is weird is how your heart flips when you hear what Amanda says next:

“Which is why we’re bringing on the one and only Spencer Agnew to join us here today!”

Immediately you turn your head and watch Spencer as he walks up on set from behind the cameras. You hadn’t even known he was there and silently you wonder if you’ve embarrassed yourself. You have half the mind to move your chair over as he brings one of his own to sit next to you, between you and Shayne.

“Hey, how’s it going guys?” Spencer says to the two hosts before looking over at you, his familiar, all too comfortable grin on his face. “Hello, my wife.”

You huff out a laugh and return the smile. “Hello, my husband.”

“Guys,” Amanda’s voice draws your attention. “Knock it off. There’s too much chemistry already and we haven’t even gotten to the question we’ve all been wanting to know.”

You both pause at that, turning to face her, expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“Where did the marriage joke come from?”

At that you both turn to each other, smiling and silently asking who wants to be the one to tell the story. It only takes a second before Spencer looks down, a little embarrassed.

“I’ll tell. So, back when we were working as editors with Defy, we were good friends. So, one day we’re about to start a shoot, I’m helping to set up, Y/n’s across the room working on something else and she calls my name. Now, I don’t know what was with me that day, but I said ‘Yeah, hun?’ in front of EVERYONE there.”

“And that’s what got us our first trip to HR.”

Amanda “aw”’s at the story. Shayne merely chuckles and shakes his head. Amanda’s brows crease as a question enters her mind.

“Wait, but why did you call Y/n that?”

Spencer can only shrug as a response before laughing. You catch him glancing over at you and can see a light dusting of red on his cheeks.

“I don’t even know, man. If I’m remembering correctly, it’s because that’s what I was calling the girl I was with at the time and was super tired coming into work, so I just slipped up.”

“And that’s called a freudian slip,” Amanda says, nodding. This causes Spencer to laugh and put his head in his hand, saying her name under his breath in exasperation. You step in to continue the story.

“So yeah, then after that, people on set thought we were together. Once they realized we weren’t they just turned it into a running joke that we’re the married couple on set. But I guess that title now has to be handed off to you and Courtney now,” you say, directing the energy back to Shayne who nods.

He ends up telling a story of his own about how the people at Smosh were told/found out about them dating, and how they wondered at first whether or not to ever tell the audience, but ended up settling on telling them once they got married. It’s a nice change of pace at this point in the podcast, getting to listen to a sweet story. Eventually, the conversation falls back into the topic of romance movies, in which they end up asking Spencer what his favorite is.

“Excluding Attack of the Clones? I’d have to say Princess Bride right now. Y/n and I rewatched it about a month ago and it still holds up.”

Amanda “ooh”’s at that choice, agreeing that it’s such a good movie. Shayne takes this time to turn towards the camera and speak.

“So, just for you guys at home, Spencer and Y/n like to watch movies and shows together in their free time.”

“Hey, we’ve invited you two to join us sometimes and you always blow us off!” You say playfully. It’s true though, when watching a movie you knew one or the both of them loved, you would ask if they wanted to join, but most of the time they end up being too busy.

“I come whenever I can. Mostly though, after a long day I like to hit the gym and relax with Courtney,” Shayne responds, a slightly offended tone with his first statement, before going back to the casual style he speaks with. Amanda nods and looks as though she’s about to speak before you feel Spencer’s warm hand through the sleeve of your shirt, resting just on your upper arm.

“Yeah, gives me more time to relax with my wife as well,” his smooth voice replies to Shayne. You turn and shoot him a confused smile before smacking his hand.

“Get your Mountain Dew fingers off of me,” you huff out as he pulls his hand away with a smile.

“See what I have to put up with? Women, amiright?” Amanda immediately boos Spencer’s comment, Shayne putting his head in his hands.

Pretty quickly, the topic turns back to movies and TV shows, Amanda talking about her love of Turkish dramas, and you talking about your favorite movies. Shayne turns to you once you’re done talking.

“So, Y/n, aren’t you and Spencer having your movie night tonight?” You nod and hum as a response to his question. “Do you know what movie you’re going to watch?”

The two of you turn and look at each other, silently wondering if you should share it, before you take in a breath and turn back to Shayne, a giggle in your voice as you speak.

“We’re actually watching The Notebook.”

“My choice,” Spencer adds. Amanda gasps and holds her hands to her chest, while Shayne hums and nods.

“Oh my gosh, such a good movie.”

“Well, I think that we’re nearing the end of our episode here,” Shayne’s voice calls to attention. You had hardly noticed how quickly time had passed since you first sat down, Amanda and Shayne’s energy, as well as Spencer’s presence being so welcoming. You almost wished this episode would never end, however, it does comfort you to know that you and Spencer will be seeing each other later tonight.

“Thank you for having us, I hope to get invited back soon. You guys were amazing as always,” you say, being nice for the end of the video. Amanda looks at you with an excited look on her face.

“Yes, and you have to tell us more about your movie nights,” Amanda teases you, which makes you a little flustered but you brush it off. You’re about to speak before Spencer talks first.

“No way, if you want to know about our movie nights, you’ve got to come when we invite you. What happens at movie night stays at movie night.”

Amanda opens her mouth to protest, and you realize this is just going to prolong the end of the video, so you turn to the camera, a playfully panicked look on your face.

“Quick, cut the video now! They’re not going to stop otherwise!”

Tag list: @lisiliely, aliceblxck, burrowedinnature77, 65percentleg

[mean-girl-astarion]

This post is how I just found out that this used to be Astarion's camp clothes description:

And now I'm just... thinking about Astarion and clothes. Because we all know about the underwear embroidery that did end up in the final release:

These prompt the initial thought of, where on the clothing were these lines embroidered? (Read on for in depth thoughts/ramblings)

For the shirt, was it on the front? The back? The collar? Inside the collar, perhaps? Was it something he meant for everyone to see on the shirt, or tucked away somewhere on the fabric just for him to know about?

I'm inclined to think it would be something just for him. As the post I linked at the top does a wonderful job of examining, he didn't choose to sew this line into his shirt for any pretense or exaggeration of his personality - it was for him. He wanted this quote to be with him, words he felt a connection to. So as far as that goes, I think he would have embroidered the line somewhere not obvious to anyone else, like under the back of or on the inside of the collar.

As for the underwear, this is an entirely different story, isn't it? Because while it's objectively a funny/silly thing to sew into one's underwear, in contrast to the previous embroidery, I think this one was done with others in mind. The quote is something you would expect from Astarion's humor, but I can't help but feel that going as far as to put this on his underwear is also tied into the performance of his personality. So I think this line would be placed somewhere tastefully visible, like just under the waistline of the fabric, whether it be across the front, side, or back.

Think about it, when would he have had time to sew his clothing? I imagine it must have been in those in-between moments, when he wasn't in the middle of doing something for Cazador and he also wasn't actively being tortured. An in-between moment lasting long enough for him to be able to sit and sew, repairing any tears in his clothing, and eventually taking it far enough to embroider quotes into the fabric. Maybe keeping his hands busy and taking care of his clothing when he could granted him the tiniest sense of control in his life as a slave.

My point being, I think all the emotions that surround the situation he was trapped in for 200 years play a role in what he chose to sew into his clothing. Because this wasn't a leisurely hobby he did when the mood struck him, it was something he did when he just happened to find himself with some precious, fleeting moments alone.

"Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums" is said to be a line from a poem. It provokes real emotion, has deeper meaning. They're words that Astarion read somewhere and didn't want to forget; words that remind him of a part of himself that he didn't want to forget.

"If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky" has a very different tone in comparison, especially considering the fact that Astarion was not bedding anyone in his life by choice. In my opinion, the wording aligns with the mask he wears - the charismatic, flirtatious stranger whose primary objective is to seduce others, even if the overall humor of it does stem from his genuine personality.

But it also makes perfect sense for someone trying to cope with a miserable existence to try and find some humor where they can, doesn't it? I know I certainly cope with humor when I can. Sometimes even when I shouldn't, maybe, but everyone copes differently.

So picture Astarion, feeling used and pathetic after yet another night of the endless cycle of being forced to use his body for other's goals and pleasure, regardless of how much he hates it. He gets one of those in-between moments, so he sews.

Why use the time to embroider his underwear specifically? Looping back to what I suggested earlier, if using his rare in-between moments to care for his clothing gave him a minor sense of control of his life, then maybe sewing something into his underwear provides a sense of control, however small, within the cycle of bedding victims for Cazador. Because as suave and confident as he acts, we know he is actually feeling incredibly vulnerable every time he goes through the motions. No one he bedded actually "got lucky" in any way, because Astarion didn't actually have any bodily autonomy. He was going to bed with people whether he wanted to or not.

So what does sewing this line into his underwear do? It presents an illusion of choice - the false implication that bedding him was a "lucky" encounter; the implication that he often rejects people; the implication that Astarion has a say in whether or not he sleeps with someone. So putting this seemingly silly joke on his underwear, it's something that adds to his performance, but using his own humor in it might be something that helps him pretend that he does have a choice. And maybe, if the person he's with happens to notice the embroidery before he's taken off his underwear, they share a laugh about it, and maybe that final performative detail that he came up with gives him that feeling of being in control of his body. Even if he knows it isn't real, and that it'll be gone in a matter of moments.

Or, you know, maybe it isn't supposed to be that deep, and that's why they ended up not keeping in the shirt's embroidery and instead just kept the underwear one as a throwaway joke. But I personally have a hard time not wondering why Astarion would be sewing quotes into his clothing.

[judesmoonbeauty]

SurpriseBag 2025: Dress Up With the Cunning Mobster Doll Story- Jude Jazza's Story

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Jude turned into stuffed doll.

This pleased me IMMENSELY because—

(This is my chance to get revenge...!)

While being bullied and teased, I received his love differently from others, but I’ve always wanted to get back at him somehow.

Jude: Gotta real sinister look on yer face, whadda ya up to?

Kate: Heeheehee……I just think you look adorable, Jude.

Jude: What’s with the shady laugh?

Kate: Don’t criticize the way people laugh.

His expression couldn’t change, but when I picked Jude up, I knew he was looking at me suspiciously.

Kate: Jude. When I was a kid, I loved tying ribbons to my stuffed toys.

He was lowered onto the edge of the desk, looked up at me and made a low voice.

Jude: Oy, wait.

I took a small box from the shelf and opened it.

The box contained colorful ribbons. I picked up a few and showed them to him with a bright smile.

Kate: Which do you like?

He made hoarse noise as he stood up and tried to step back.

Jude:…..Dont’cha dare.

But he stopped when he realized the position he was in.

I smiled even more when I saw Jude standing on the edge of the desk, where he would fall if he took just one step.

Kate: Maybe this deep purple ribbon? Ah, this one is nice too!

Jude: Yer the worst.

Kate: It's nothing compared to what you usually do to me.

Jude: Hmph, yer the one who enjoys bein’ bullied.

Kate: Well, let’s table that for now…..

Jude: Let’s not.

I clear my throat and pick up the deep purple ribbon.

Kate: It’s not a big deal, it’s just a little ribbon.

Jude: Ya can’t be serious— Oy!

Catching Jude as he tries to escape, I place the ribbon around the back of his head, bring up both ends at the top of his head and tie them off—

(Oh, soooo cute…!)

The Jude doll is now complete with a ribbon tied on him.

Jude: ……This's the worst.

He looked so cute just sitting there while looking the other way, that I had to use both hands to cover my grinning.

Jude: Satisfied now? Lemme down.

Kate: Oh, I want to tie this frilly ribbon around your neck too.

The moment I picked up the pretty, white frilly ribbon, Jude stood up and lost his balance.

Kate: Be careful!

I quickly picked him up so he wouldn’t get hurt, but he was flailing around in my lap.

Jude: Are ya kiddin’ me, why do I gotta wear some frilly arse ribbons?

Kate: Please don’t move so much, it’s dangerous.

Jude resisted with all his might, refusing to wear the frilly ribbon, so I held him down.

That’s when—

Kate: Waah!

Suddenly, smoke billows in front of me and my lap becomes heavy.

After blinking several times, my vision finally cleared and I met Jude's eyes.

Jude: Huh…..?

Kate: Y-you changed back already?

Jude open and closed his hand several times to confirm that he really changed back, and the sighed haggardly.

Jude: ‘Twas down right awful….Don’t ever wanna go through that again.

Jude: The hell’s with turnin’ into a stuffed toy. Betcha that quack doc mixed dodgy stuff into our food again.

Jude: Thanks to that, I went through a right mess. Should go ‘n give him a good kick fer it.

Jude got up from straddling my lap, and started grumbling about Roger again—

Kate: Ppfff-

Jude: Hm?

I couldn't help but laugh because on Jude’s head….

Kate: Jude, you're wearing a cute ribbon.……

The purple ribbon he was wearing as a stuffed toy was still tied on top of his head.

The long ribbon fits perfectly now that he’s back to its normal size, with a beautiful bow sitting on top his head.

Jude: …….

I clutch my stomach, unable to handle this unusual sight of Jude.

Without altering his expression, he untied the ribbon—

Jude: Princess, hold up yer hands.

Kate: ? Sure.

I did as I was told and stuck them out, and in a flash my hands were bound tightly together with the ribbon.

Kate: Ah.

Jude: Real good job ya did earlier.

Kate: Well, uhhh~…..

He looked down at me with a crooked smile, and when I averted my gaze, he instantly carried me away….

Kate: WOAH!!

Jude: I’ll turn ya into a dress-up doll too, but…..

I was surprised when he threw me on the bed, and he immediately hovered over me—

Jude: ‘Fore that, we gotta strip off all yer clothes, yeah?

It didn't end with just taking off my clothes, I was tormented more severely than usual.

And I decided that if he ever turned into a stuffed doll again, I would definitely dress him up in frilly clothes.

[Story Set Master List]

T/L note: I know, I could’ve used the word “plushie”, but that didn’t exist in their time period, so I didn’t. And I'm sorry for the bows, but I couldn't resist putting them on him either when they were missing from his sprite.

Tag List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

If you're +18 YO and wish to be added to my tag list, please feel free to comment below or DM me.

[crazyyluvr]

back in the umemiya x medic!reader roll so have a little drabble i made while procrastinating from all my dues and studying for my exams <3 just a bit of backstory that i had lingering at the back of my mind that i had to get out before i forget it so enjoyy!

wc: 543

original idea/oneshot

i was just thinking about how medic reader and umemiya had been a duo ever since, from middle school all the way to bofurin, to when umemiya became a leader and dragged you up so you could stand beside him at the top of bofurin.

at the beginning, people wondered how the two of you became as close you were, since you were quite different from each other; you were harsh while umemiya was gentle, umemiya was lighthearted while you were serious. you two were like a sun and a shadow, differing, but one cannot exist without the other.

one of the things umemiya was known for was how well he took care of and protected his own people, and you were no exception to it. in fact, it probably tripled when it came to you; every time you both ended up in a fight, he'd be the one doing all the hard work while you just waited for him to finish so you could patch him up.

everyone always wondered why he never let you lift a finger against anyone. it was obvious that you were more than capable of handling yourself despite never proving it, but you never intervened whenever umemiya was fighting, even if he got himself into a sticky situation.

hiragi was the only one who ever got the courage to ask the leader himself about it, when they were alone on the rooftop garden, watching the sun set as you took your turn at tending to the plants, too focused on your task to listen to their conversation.

"don't they know how to fight?" hiragi pointed out, nodding towards you. "why don'tcha let them fight?"

umemiya didn't answer immediately. the hues that the setting sun casted on the clouds was beautiful, an amazing blend of fading blues and vibrant oranges.

but he wasn't looking at that.

he was just looking at you. you, crouched over one of his eggplants, your face focused as you studied the plant.

"the last time i let them fight..." umemiya started, flashes of that day appearing in his brain, "it didn't end well. for either them or the person they were fighting against."

he chose his words carefully; he knew that you didn't want people knowing much about what had happened to you, and why it was enough to make you avoid fighting entirely.

"fighting is a drug," umemiya said, turning away to look at his friend, who was watching him. "those who take it either get numb to its effects or get so addicted to the point where they can't control it."

hiragi glanced at you again, and he seemed to understand.

you used to fight — which was expected, since you were umemiya's right-hand man. something had happened to you, and it affected you enough to cast you aside to the role of a medic permanently.

hiragi didn't ask any more questions after that, opting to just watching the sun fall to make way for the moon.

but he couldn't help but think that the day that he'd see you fight would be a bloody, bloody day indeed.

and he, for some reason, did not want to ever witness that happen, even if it meant bruising his own knuckles to ensure it.

[is-the-fire-real]

[IMAGE ID: Tags from a reblog by user @whitebeltwriter. They read: "#what about stickers on the shelves themselves (not on the products) calling customers to boycott the products? #would that work better? since it doesn't touch the products themselves?" End ID]

Oh, you picked a bad day to pull this one on me.

I want to ask you to try and actually empathize with retail workers for one second.

Imagine you work in a Big Box Mart. You've been denied one of your breaks already because two people called out. You've been screamed at by multiple customers because they know they can verbally abuse you. You're sweating heavily, possibly coated in grease because they made you work the fryer in the deli. Your hands might be coated in paper cuts because they made you handle too many cardboard boxes. You've had to clean up after some TikTok prankster cut open all the bins for holding beach balls and spilled them across half the store. You're already done and your shift is only half over, and that assumes you leave on time.

You have already been stopped twice by customers and by your walkie-talkie on your way back to get your lunch. You just want your lunch. It's a crappy soggy sandwich because you work at Big Box Mart and that's all you can afford. You almost make it to the break room.

Your walkie-talkie squawks.

"Whitebeltwriter to aisle 30!" your manager bellows.

You sigh. Pick up your walkie-talkie. "I'm on lunch," you say.

"Did you clock out yet?"

".......... I'm about to--"

"Doesn't matter. Some jackass graffiti'ed all the food shelves. Get some cleaning supplies from the back and take care of it."

So you go to the back and you get a bottle of orange spray and some rags, and you try to scrub the stickers some jackass has slapped all over the food prices, because that's company property which makes it your problem. You have to apologize to every customer who wants to get past you. You have to deal with every customer who wants to know what you're doing and why, and you have to reassure them that the store is secure and the food is safe, it's just some stickers.

And then you have to go get a razor because some jackass thought it would be Great Activism to use super-strong adhesive stickers because that would stop The Evil Jews from peeling them off and hiding their genocidal crimes from The World, AKA Big Box Mart Shoppers Who Do Not Care About This Because They Are Not Terminally Online. So you spend even MORE time kneeling by the shelves and now your knees are killing you because you've been squatting here for your entire lunch break scraping this crap off the shelves, why are people so cruel and thoughtless? Why would they do this to you?

And then you don't get your lunch break because you live in an at-will state and you need this job, so you go back to the registers hungry, despising the jackass who stickered the shelves. And you tell everyone in your line about this jackass, and they all laugh and agree that they are indeed a jackass, because who thinks stickering shelves in a Big Box Mart is advocacy?

Only a jackass thinks that.

The point, @whitebeltwriter, is that even if you allow for the idea that food waste is avoided, you are still causing real and material harm to some of the most vulnerable workers in the United States of America in the name of your cause.

Do you understand that this is why so many people despise your cause? It's not because of a biased media environment, it's because people see what you are doing and don't like it. You do foolhardy things which create a huge mess for other people to clean up, and then, when told you're doing that, you go "Well, what if I created a different kind of mess for other people to clean up? Would that make it better?"

No! The point is that you're making a huge mess and expecting the people who have to clean it up to love you and listen to you! That is toddler behavior! It's socially expected of toddlers, not of whole and entire adults!

The principle difference between the TikTok prankster who made a huge mess in the store, and the Hamasnik who made a huge mess in the store, is that one is making money off it. Otherwise, they are identical: both seek attention, both are making a huge mess, both are indifferent to the suffering of others who have to clean the mess up, and both are confused as to why everyone wants to ban them from the shops they just wrecked.

Why don't we understand that we made everyone suffer for TikTok clout/Gaza awareness?

We do understand. We hate that you made us suffer.

would you look at that they even made it a yellow badge

[moonlight-prose]

mr. perfectly fine

a/n: i've had this in my drafts since i saw the trailer of we live in time. and honestly it was basically done, so i don't know why i didn't just drop it. so this is me digging it back up and putting some finishing touches on this quick drabble of angst. it's small, but writing it really made me want to re-watch the movies. so we'll see if anything comes from that. for now though, enjoy!

summary: there's a lot you would change in your relationship with peter. how late he'd show up to dates, the massive amount of missed calls and texts, and his forgetfulness. only there's a defining factor that might shift the entire trajectory of your lives together. peter parker was spider-man...and you didn't know.

word count: 2.3k+

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty as fuck though, peter gets dumped (sorta) but it doesn't last long, lots of tears, secrets exposed, fluff, forgiveness.

New York always seemed to reflect your emotions with ease. Like a mirror you couldn't break, or even avoid. Maybe it happened because you were looking for it without realizing; searching for answers to the never-ending questions that nagged at you. Different ways to work out the equations that held no solutions. A new way of figuring it out.

Yet no matter how many trials you ran, how many times you inputted the numbers, you seemed to always find yourself staring at the one thing that made sense. ERROR.

You counted the times he stood you up, tracked the calls he missed and the texts he only read but never answered. You compiled them like research, as if you were stuck in your lab and he was the experiment. He became the hypothesis you had to back up with well crafted proof. Only science never helped in situations of love. And you found that counting the days, watching the minutes and seconds go by, only made things worse.

The dinner went cold an hour ago, the candles snuffed, and the soft love songs were traded out for something sadder. Like other nights, you half expected you'd see him in the early hours of dawn. The glow of sunrise illuminating him like your very own hero, your favorite person to exist.

Every other time you chose to forget, to move on with your time together and find something happy to focus on. But tonight's calendar had been marked. A red heart written around your initials.

One that he wrote.

Six months passed in the blink of an eye.

Where you used to be awkward—barely able to speak to each other—now you found comfort in the silence. But when the quiet gave way to loneliness, you felt yourself begin to slowly chip away. You always thought he'd be here to put you back together, to save you in moments of brief darkness that left you wandering this shared path alone.

Yet when the clock finally struck midnight, and you were three glasses of wine in, you felt the final thread of hope snap.

You sighed, the burn of tears spilling over as you swallowed the last of your drink. "Happy Anniversary Peter," you muttered, getting up from the table.

The rain outside pounded against the asphalt. Wet streets glimmered with street lights and smelled of discarded cigarette butts. You wrapped the buckle around your waist tight enough to close up what parts of the coat gaped on your body. The dark charcoal wool fabric didn't belong to you. It lingered with Peter's scent, but you couldn't find yours as you rushed out the door.

You didn't want to stay in that apartment longer than necessary.

Perhaps you should have left some message behind—let him know that eventually you'd be back for your things. Somewhere in the back of your mind you understood what tonight was. A defining moment in your relationship. A chance for him to finally pull his act together and be with you.

Yet like everything else...you'd be simply another thing he'd have to let go of.

He wouldn't have a choice.

The salt of your tears mixed with the drops of rain that streamed down your face. You welcomed it as you walked. There wasn't a defining spot you were going—no grand plan once this came to pass. But somehow you wound up in a park, staring at a bench, and picturing a past version of yourself. Nose buried in a science book and lunch propped on your knees. You could see how Peter rushed by, how he nearly broke his neck turning to look at you.

You watched the moment happen all over again right before you. And for the first time in two months, you wanted to stop him.

The door opened with the usual creak. He winced at the noise with the memory of saying he'd fix it eventually. The DW-40 sat under the sink where he picked it up, never getting around to actually completing the job. Simply another let down that he'd never live down.

You said it was alright; claimed that the squeak gave the front door character. And that might have been true.

It still didn't stop Peter from beating himself up over it.

"Babe! I grabbed some food on the way home. Got your favorite." He stuffed his mask in his backpack, discarding it in the hallway as he went. The suit still clung to his already soaked body, but he hoped you wouldn't pick up on the peek of red beneath his clothes.

The plan to tell you was coming together nicely. A romantic dinner on the top of the Empire State after hours surely would give you a chance to think things over. He just had to work out the logistics of setting up everything with the security guard he befriended.

"Also I remembered to ask May about dinner in two weeks-"

He froze at the sight of the dark living room, of the table decorated with candles and plates filled with food. Very little scared the ever living shit out of him now. A familiar territory of adrenaline he’d come to welcome. But the sight of the calendar placed on his chair—the red heart blaring like a signal in the night sky—had his heart dropping to his stomach.

"No..." The food was forgotten about, dropped on the counter as he picked up the offending piece of paper. The clear mark around the date drawn by him two weeks earlier. A reminder to let him know that of all days...he couldn't forget this one.

He couldn't let you down again.

The clock in the corner read ten thirty and his heart lurched at the sudden realization that you finally did it. You gave up on his antics. All the moments he couldn't fix himself. You chose yourself over the madness of loving him. He wasn't sure which was wore. You not being here to give him a chance of groveling on his knees, or the silence in the apartment at knowing that your laughter and love would never fill it again.

He didn't have time to rationalize his decisions. Barely even noticed that he was walking out the door—the loud bang echoing in the hallway—as he went. Somewhere in the city you were mourning a relationship he was determined to fix. Yet he couldn't figure out where the hell to start looking.

This wasn't the first fight you'd had. The first time you left the apartment he found you in a hole in the wall cafe. A place he'd never even heard of before. And after three cups of coffee, a long night of talking, you both agreed to work on the communication. To heal what small wound had been opened.

Only this time was different.

This time the wound festered, grew to the point of being fatal.

This time he wasn't sure he could heal what he already broke.

His web clung to the building as he swung, landing five feet away from the already darkened cafe. Much to his own detriment you didn't bother to try getting out of the rain.

A crackle of lightning echoed in the night sky, thunder rolling in a few seconds later. It covered the sound of him nearly collapsing to the ground as a car swerved by—the horn blaring in his ears. The calendar was tucked in his jacket pocket, the ink bleeding through the soggy paper. But he refused to let it go. He couldn't. That was his final piece of you—the last moniker of a relationship that was worth it.

He only hoped you felt the same.

"Where are you baby?" he muttered under his breath.

After checking your favorite diner, bar, and bookshop. He was starting to run out of options. Almost as if you simply up and vanished from the city entirely.

You didn't want to be found. Yet Peter knew he wouldn't be able to live without you. How could he? When the chance of getting a peek at your smile was worth waking up early in the morning to see you off for work. Little moments of joy kept him going. And nearly all of his were spent with you. Each laugh, kiss, and look, were his to keep.

His to protect.

And he'd fucked all of that up.

Time passed quicker than he would have liked. The rain beat down on his body and he could no longer discern between his tears and the water. Still he searched. He checked every nook and cranny of spots you shared together.

Until the park came into his view atop a random apartment building. His heart leapt in his chest, body thrumming with nervous energy, as he swung down to the mushy grass that squelched beneath his sneakers. The cold shouldn't have made his hands tremble. Although perhaps the weather had nothing to do with what made his stomach twist, body overwhelmed with a fear he might never understand.

He knew why he shook like a leaf. He could feel the nerves beat alongside his heart, echoing his earlier sentiment throughout his entire body.

Letting you down this time wasn't a chance he was willing to take.

"Baby!" he called, running past low lit sidewalks and darkened tree lines. He ran until he felt the cold sting of rain on his face—until his clothes dripped water and the soles of his shoes were puddles.

Only to pause at the sight of a hunched over figure on a bench, their hands gripping the edge of the wood, and shoulders shaking with each stunted breath. Peter's heart tore into pieces. Fluttering to the ground as he stepped closer. Simply a flimsy piece of that ruined calendar. He could hear your sobs, smell the salt of your tears, and that broke him beyond repair.

He did this.

He took the most important person in his life and ripped them a part.

"I'm sorry," he said over the rain, catching the way you jumped—your eyes wide and lips swollen from where you bit down on them.

"Peter-"

Before you could get out the words to dismiss him. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands pressing into either side of the bench. Caging you in. This wasn't a chance for him to grovel, to give excuse after excuse. He’d passed that point months before. This was him finally letting you into the final piece of his life—the truth he wanted to shout from the rooftops if it meant getting a chance to see you smile again.

Fuck he'd give anything to see you smile.

"There's no good excuse okay? I don't have one. I'm just sorry." You sighed, moving to unlatch his grip. Only to find you couldn't get him to budge. "I don't want to keep hurting you. So if after this, you wanna go then you can go. I won't stop you, or call you, or even ask you back."

"Don't-"

He shifted closer, surprising you as his speed. "Just know I love you. I'll love you forever baby."

"Peter what are you doing?"

With a sharp gulp of air, he stripped off his jacket and t-shirt. They fell to the ground with a went plop as silence wrapped around the both of you. For a moment, he wondered if you'd take him seriously. Maybe you'd laugh. Maybe you'd leave him faster than before. But you simply stared at him—mouth parted and eyes wide as you took in the spider emblem sewn in his chest.

He coughed, shoving his wet hair out of his face. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. The dinner with May was actually gonna be me telling you on top of the Empire State Building-"

"That's why you always forget the milk," you murmured, glancing to the side—a dazed expression now donning your face.

"What?"

"Every time I ask you to pick something up from the store at night. You never remember."

Heat spread rapidly across his cheeks. A red flush he knew was bright against the light on the sidewalk. "I don't always forget."

Rainfall filled the void of silence as you dragged your eyes along each web, the itch of your fingers too much to take—finally pressing them along the ridged fabric you’d only seen in blurry newspaper images. A mark that all of New York came to see as hope. The promise that for once in their lives they would be safe on streets known for violence and horrors.

You tried to wrap your head around the truth, pressing a thumb into the spider carved directly above a heart you knew was too good to be true. One that beat in time with yours, a familiar thudding echo you fell asleep to each night pressed tight to one ear. Peter was that man, the savior of a home you couldn’t see yourself leaving, the hero you’d only heard stories about.

“I guess this complicates things,” you finally mumbled, hand finding his chin soaked by the rain.

His sigh bled into the air, filling your lungs with the air you struggled to find. “Does that mean…you’re staying?”

“I’m just glad you weren’t cheating on me.”

Peter laughed, surging up with a speed you’d never witnessed before. “Never.”

His lips were cold against yours, gloved hands rough against the skin of your cheek, but the taste of him was the same. The man who asked for a chance in this park, promising to make your life interesting despite the chaos he dragged atop shoulders stronger than others. He carried the world with ease. Now it was your turn to do the same for him.

“So what’s it like dating Spider-Man?” you mumbled against his lips.

He grinned, pulling you up with an arm around your waist. “Free transportation.”

“Anytime I want?”

Thumbing the top of your cheek he pushed what tears remained aside. “For the rest of your life. If you want it.”

Oh how you loved him.

“I want it.”

[therogueflame]

The Heir

hi,

this is for this anon, so here is a little-ish drabble bc i didnt know how to make this into something super substantial. i also didnt know what gif to choose my bad. love you bye

✨ My Masterlist ✨

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❄️ My ASOIAF/GOT/HOTD Discord Server 🔥

Summary: In the quiet hours of the night, you and Cregan face the future growing between you, caught between the weight of duty and the fragile hope of giving your child a life beyond the crown.

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, pregnancy, light arguing, arranged marriage implications, angst, fluff

KingConsort!Cregan Stark x Targ!Queen!Reader

MDNI!

The fire had burned low, leaving only the soft glow of embers. It cast the chamber in a muted, flickering gold, shadows stretching long across stone and wood, as if even they had grown too weary to stand upright. The air smelled faintly of ash and warmed velvet, and the quiet settled thick and heavy in a way you rarely found anymore. Beyond the balcony doors, the city murmured—distant wheels grating against cobblestones, the occasional far-off shout—but none of it reached you here, not truly, not in the queen’s chambers sealed tight against the world you carried on your shoulders.

Your body ached in slow, relentless ways you hadn’t expected. It was not the sharp, blinding pain the midwives warned of, but something deeper, older, a weariness that settled into your bones and whispered of a different kind of battle. The crown you had worn all day sat abandoned on the table beside you, catching what little light was left and reflecting it in trembling shards. Even without it resting heavy on your brow, the weight of rule clung to you, pressing into your skull, your ribs, your very breath.

You had not summoned the handmaidens. They knew better now than to ask. You needed the stillness more than company, needed a moment where you could hear your own breathing, steady and uneven against the hush of the night. Your fingers drifted to the swell of your belly, round and full beneath the thin silk of your nightdress, and the babe within shifted—just a slow, deliberate roll, as if stretching in their sleep. You closed your eyes, biting gently at your lower lip, and let the feeling wash over you. You had grown accustomed to their movements, yet each flutter still startled something deep within, something fierce and unnameable that curled itself into your heart.

This child was already everything. A bloodline. A future. A cost.

You had told Cregan. Told him in the same voice you used to command lords and councilmen, like it wasn’t shattering something inside you just to say it aloud, that the babe would bear your name, your title, your throne. He had listened in silence, offering no argument, but no comfort either.

When the door opened, it did so without a sound. It never did with him. Cregan moved like a shadow in these halls, silent and sure-footed, as if even the stones of Maegor’s Holdfast dared not betray him. You felt him long before you turned your head—the shift in the air, the grounding weight of his presence. He crossed the chamber slowly, boots scuffing the carpet’s edge, gloves landing with a quiet thud upon a nearby table. No formal greeting, no clearing of his throat like so many men at court. Only the sound of his breathing in the hush.

You counted six breaths. Then seven. Eight. When he remained silent, you spoke first.

“I meant what I said,” you murmured, voice quieter than you had intended, worn thin at the edges. “The child will inherit. They’ll take my name. My crown.”

Another breath, heavy between you, before he answered.

“I know,” he said. “I knew it from the moment you placed your hand on your belly.”

You turned then, met his gaze across the dim room. He stood by the hearth, tall and unmoving, firelight sharpening the lines of his face, casting his eyes in a glow that could not soften the tension building behind them.

“Then why are you angry?” you asked.

“I’m not angry,” he said, brow furrowing slightly.

“You haven’t spoken to me all evening.”

“I have been listening.”

“To what?”

“To the silence,” he said. “To everything that didn’t need saying. You are queen. The child is yours. The crown passes through you. That has always been the way of it. I knew it when I placed the ring on your hand. Knowing it does not make it easier.”

You straightened, hand pressed firm against the curve of your stomach. “They are owed the realm.”

His nod was slow, heavy. “Perhaps they are. But what of the price they must pay for it?”

The words landed hard between you, and for a moment neither of you spoke.

Cregan remained rooted where he stood, arms crossed loosely, the dying light catching on the fur trim of his cloak. He didn’t raise his voice—he never needed to—but the weight of him filled the space between you as surely as any army.

“I never fought your claim,” he said again. “Not when the lords doubted you. Not when the Small Council questioned your right to rule. I stood beside you when it would have been easier to stand aside.”

“And I have never forgotten that,” you said quietly.

“Then trust me now.”

You drew a shallow breath, feeling the way the babe shifted against your ribs. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about survival. About legacy.”

“It’s about control,” he said, voice firm but not cruel. “And fear.”

You flinched as though he had struck you, but you held your ground. “I am doing what must be done.”

“And what of what should be done?”

He stepped forward, deliberate, as if unwilling to let you retreat. “This child is not a weapon. They are not a tool for the realm to wield.”

You lifted your chin. “I am protecting them.”

“And in protecting them, you would chain them to a life chosen for them before they can speak,” he said. “You have carried the crown so long you cannot imagine setting it aside, even for their sake.”

The words struck deep. You folded your arms around your stomach, as if shielding the child from the world already.

“You want them raised in the North,” you said stiffly.

“Yes.”

“Far from court. Far from me.”

“No,” he said, his voice softening. “Raised in both. To know the snow beneath their boots and the wind in the pines, but also the sea air of Blackwater Bay. To see stars unobscured by torchlight and to learn their lineage with pride, not fear. To know they are both Stark and Targaryen.”

“They’ll never belong anywhere,” you whispered. “Not truly. Half of each world but never whole.”

“They will belong to themselves,” he said. “If we let them.”

You shook your head, throat tightening. “The lords will see it as weakness. They’ll say we’ve turned the heir against the realm.”

“Let them,” he said. “We have endured worse.”

Your voice broke despite you. “They will tear them apart.”

“Then we will hold them together.”

You turned your face away, blinking against the burn behind your eyes. “You don’t understand. You weren’t born to this. You don’t know how quickly the knives are drawn.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer, “but I know what it means to be loved freely. And I will not let fear shape our child into something small and brittle.”

Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. But when you turned back to him, he was moving toward you, and when the floor creaked softly beneath his knee, you felt your breath catch.

Cregan knelt before you, not as a lord to a queen, but as a man to the woman he loved. His hand rose, steady and warm, and pressed against your stomach. The child stirred, slow and sure beneath his touch, and you laid your hand over his without hesitation. His thumb brushed against the silk stretched over your belly, a quiet promise made flesh.

“I don’t want to take them from you,” he said, voice low and rough with feeling. “I only want them to be free. To know the snow and the sea, the dragon and the wolf, without shame. To choose their life instead of having it carved into them.”

You closed your eyes, let your hand slip into his hair, felt the familiar weight of him as he bowed his head against you.

“They will know both,” you whispered. “They will have it all.”

He let out a long breath, pressing a kiss to the curve of your belly, then rested his forehead lightly against your sternum, breathing you in like a prayer he would not speak aloud.

“We will teach them,” he murmured. “Together.”

You bent to meet him, your forehead resting against his, breath mingling in the warm, dim space between you. The fire crackled, the child shifted, and the world, so vast and sharp beyond these walls, narrowed down to something tender, something certain.

You stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in the fragile, luminous quiet of a promise neither of you would break.

[sturnsblogs]

some idea for frat boy Chris au

•either reader or chris getting a partner as a "rebound" and end up cheating w each other.

•they went to a party got drunk maybe one of them got in a fight or walked in on with someone else and ended up leaving tg? (not sure that makes sense)

•maybe adding more tension with Nathan? Or even readers best friend..

BABY PLEASE

Fratboy!Chris X Toxic!Fwb!Reader

—

Nathan has ALWAYS had a thing for you.

Even when you treated him like a backup plan, he couldn’t help but want you.

So as soon as he found out you and Chris weren’t doing your thing anymore, he immediately slid up on your story.

Nathan:

you look really pretty.

Nathan:

i mean you always do, but that pic?

you looked…different. good different. soft.

Nathan:

sorry if that’s too much, i just had to say something

You:

no it’s not too much

it’s sweet

thank you

Nathan:

i’ve kinda been waiting to say something

just didn’t feel like my place before, you know?

You:

and now it is?

Nathan:

only if you want it to be

i’m not trying to push anything

but yeah…

i’ve always seen you. like really seen you.

You:

why didn’t you ever say anything before?

Nathan:

because he got to you first.

and you always looked at him like there was nobody else in the room

even when he didn’t deserve it.

Nathan:

i didn’t wanna be the guy waiting around

but i kinda was anyway

so here i am.

Nathan:

i don’t expect anything

just figured it was my turn to be honest.

You:

you’re kinda smooth, nate

has anyone ever told you that?

You:

because if they haven’t… they should

You:

also

i don’t think you’ve ever made me smile this hard through a screen before

You:

i always knew you were sweet

but this?

you’re being dangerous

Nathan:

dangerous huh?

should i stop?

You:

mm…

no

i kinda like it

You:

but just so you know

you’re not allowed to make me fall for you on a tuesday night over texts

that’s not fair

Nathan:

no promises

i’ve been waiting too long not to try

Nathan:

sooo…

how would you feel about hanging out sometime?

like a real hangout. just us.

could be a date. could be whatever you want it to be

Nathan:

i just wanna see you

no pressure, just… you and me

You:

hmm

depends…

Nathan:

on?

You:

are you planning on making me smile in person too?

because if so…

i might say yes

Nathan:

only if you promise to smile for me

deal?

You:

deal.

i’m free friday. pick me up at 7?

Nathan:

say less

friday at 7

and don’t think i won’t show up looking fine just to impress you

You:

i’d be disappointed if you didn’t

It was late—around midnight—when your phone started buzzing non-stop. One message. Then two. Then three. By the time you checked, you had over ten new messages. All from Chris.

Chris:

wow

u really said yes to him?

that’s funny as fuck

Chris:

you couldn’t wait like two seconds before throwing yourself at someone else?

Chris:

you’re such a fucking slut it’s crazy

Chris:

he told me

you couldn’t even pretend to give a fuck huh?

Chris:

hope he fucks you better than i did

Chris:

actually nah

you probably don’t even care

you’d take anything that gives you attention

Chris:

you’re really out here embarrassing yourself

congrats

Your fingers hovered over your screen for a minute. Your heart was pounding. That familiar sting in your chest hit hard. But you weren’t about to let him get away with this.

You:

are you serious right now?

You:

you told me to be your friend, chris.

this is what friends do now? blow up my phone & slut shame me for moving on?

You:

nathan showed me respect. something you couldn’t even spell.

You:

you don’t get to do this.

not anymore.

Chris:

i was just mad

fuck

i didn’t mean all that

You:

no. you did.

and it’s fine. now i know where we stand.

You:

don’t text me again.

Chris:

please baby i’m sorry

i didn’t mean it i swear

Chris:

i was drunk

i was pissed

i just—i freaked out

Chris:

the thought of you with him made me lose it

Chris:

you know how i get

you know me

Chris:

please don’t shut me out

i can’t take it

Chris:

i fucked up, i know i did

but i didn’t mean that shit

not really

Chris:

you know you’re not like that

i was just hurting

Chris:

i’m hurting now

please talk to me

Chris:

i miss you so much

i don’t even sleep anymore

it’s just you in my head

Chris:

just tell me you hate me or something

anything

just don’t leave it like this

—

A/N- THANK YOU FOR THE IDEAS ANGEL. ALSO do you guys prefer mean chris or nicer chris

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy yi @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo