#so i do apologize for a lack of activity here )

[royalarms]

classes started todayy!

[nocityfolk]

hi! sorry for dipping for nearly a month, things have been hectic in my personal life & with my mental health, and being here made it all that much worse, unfortunately. feeling much better now after spending some time off social media and more time with friends & family, and looking forward to writing again. thank you to the people who didn't unfollow, i appreciate you <3

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 — 𝐌.𝐒. & 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: They want you filled to the brim.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cockingwarming, booty hole plunging, vaginal cave exploration. Doll x Chratt.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Needy, needy hands grabbed and pulled on your skin. 

You had gotten back from a sunset walk not too long ago, curling up on the couch with Matt and Chris almost instantly. And they were pleased, finally getting to have you in their arms after a long day. You had been home. Self care activities with a face mask, an everything shower, and all that good stuff had consumed your attention - attention that they wanted. 

“Doll, sit here.” Matt doesn’t phrase it as a question. He simply pats his lap, already dragging you by your thighs onto his lap. 

Chris isn’t so pleased. 

A huff coming from his lips makes you give him a pointed look. He’d get his turn, he just had to be patient. “-’s so unfair,” he grumbles. 

Matt doesn’t even care. He’s content, grasping at the tops of your thighs with possessive hands, grazing his nose along your neck as he buries his face in your hair. “Smells so good. Did you use the vanilla one?” he asks, referring to the hair mask you had once put on him, and even though he didn’t love the feeling, he did love the scent.

He loved it even more on you. 

“Doll, come here.” Chris urges. Patting his own lap, he gets frustrated seeing your lack of movement, reaching over and starting to drag you by your hand. 

The second your body starts to move, Matt is making his hold firm around your waist, caging you in with an obsessive greed, a certain kind of hold that both infuriates you and makes your stomach feel warm. 

“Come onnnn,” Chris whines, tugging harder. 

Matt’s grip only tightens more, making you uncomfortable from the amount of pushing and pulling, your ribs starting to ache from the pressure. 

Deciding you’ve had enough, you push Matt’s arms off of you, shaking Chris’s hands off as you stand up, glaring down at them with crossed arms. “Do I look like a ragdoll?” you question, attitude drowning from your aura as you squint your eyes. 

A deer caught in headlights. That’s what they both look like, sitting up straighter as they both offer a sympathetic look, mumbling an apology, “Sorry,” they say in sync, their eyes growing sadder as they observe the distance from you. Now neither of them got to hold you. 

Silence consumes the room. The streetlights and stars peering in from the window accompany the little lamp light, a soft glow reflecting on their faces. They just look so sad, so defeated. Afterall, all they wanted was to be closer and they only pushed you away, hurting you in the process. 

Your posture slouches, your arms falling to your side as you let out a sigh, stepping forward and standing in between Matt’s legs. Combing through his hair, you lean down and place a kiss on the crown of his head, ruffling his hair before maneuvering and doing the same to Chris. 

“It’s okay, let’s jus-”

Chris surprises you as you try to talk. While trying to walk away, he tugs at the waistband of your sweats, keeping you in place before staring right up at you, his eyes watering as he murmurs, “Please.” 

Only the one singular word slips through his lips. You feel your heart soften as you admire his sympathetic eyes, looking over to see Matt trying to keep his hands held tightly together, almost as if he’s fighting the urge to force you back into his own lap.They both look like they’re in pain from how badly they just need you. 

“Matt…” you trail off, trying to grab his attention, but his eyes stay trained on his lap. Something’s wrong. 

Walking back over to him, you try to brush your hands through his hair, but Matt moves swiftly, storming off down the hallway to his bedroom. You look back over to Chris, seeing his eyes watering as he stares up at you with a pout. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, his eyes falling to his lap as he starts to twiddle his thumbs. 

The wooden floors creak with each quick step you take. His door is cracked open, his body laying on his bed as he holds a pillow over his face. 

“Matt?” you ask, gaining a muffled groan as he lays still. 

Taking a couple more steps, you climb up on his bed, petting his chest softly. And that makes him break. He pulls the pillow off his face, revealing a mess of tears cascading down his cheek.

“Awww, Matt…what’s wrong?” you coo, brushing his fair back.

All he does is shake his head. You try to move closer to hold him, but he pulls you in before you’re quite ready, making you crumble forward and land on his chest. 

“Just,” he chokes up on his tears, taking a couple deep breaths as he breathes in the vanilla scent coating your hair, “-need you. I don’t wanna share today and I just…need you to be mine.”

The possessive statement doesn’t go unheard - by you or Chris, who happened to be peeping through the door crack…

Your hands flail, a poor attempt at trying to regain an upright position, but Matt pulls you even closer, cradling your head into the crook of his neck as he rolls you over to your sides, swinging a leg over your body.

“Please, just - I need to hold you, I need this so bad. Please don’t make me let go,” he says, crying while his tears drop into your hair. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Promise.” As those words leave your mouth, you hear more footsteps - Chris’s footsteps, his hand grazing over your arm as he looks down at you sadly. 

Matt pulls you impossibly closer, practically swatting Chris’s hands off of you. “Go away,” Matt murmurs, cuddling you closer and trying to draw the blanket over the two of you. 

“What about me, baby…” 

His voice is low. The hum in the back of his throat tells you he’s holding back a lot of emotions. You push at Matt’s chest, earning a grumble of aggravation as he tries to pull you closer. However, you lightly tap on his chest. It gains his attention, his grasp loosening as he realizes - he’s doing the same thing he had been doing in the living room, and it’s making you upset. 

“Stop it. Scoot over” Orders fall from your mouth with no room to bicker. Matt scoots back, carrying you with him. You feel the mattress dip with Chris’s weight from behind, his hands grasping at your waist tightly, his fingers digging in slightly as he tries to pull you closer - but you’re already against both of them, only your sweats in the way. 

“Need you closer,” Chris mumbles, hesitantly tugging on the heavy fabric of your hoodie.

As you try to move to pull off the clothes, you feel Matt keep you in his rigid arms, making you unable to move. “Matt, I was gonna take my sweats and stuff off.” 

Matt’s ears perk at that offer. If anything, he wanted you closer too - desperately. Both boys loosen their grips, stripping themselves as you start to peel each item of clothing off, discarding it on the floor randomly.

“Come back,” Matt directs, holding his arms open and lifting the blanket up. You snuggle in, smiling as you feel Chris press his nude body against your from behind. Limbs loosen, your hearts beating in sync as you all relax from the rush of emotions. 

Chris’s breath is hot against your ear. Heavy pants leave his lips as he gently prods his hardening dick against you. He doesn’t want sex, he just wants to be closer. “Can you warm me, baby? I - I won’t move, promise, just…ugh,” he groans, his head falling limp against yours softly. 

Before you can say anything, Matt chirps in, “Wait. What about me?”

It had only really happened one time before. A similar situation to this one, except they had been visiting Boston for over two weeks, they really had a reason to feel desperate. Although you’re not sure why they’re feeling so obsessive tonight, you can’t help but crave that fullness. 

“Do you still have the lube?” 

Matt nods, nudging his head at Chris who immediately understands, swinging his arm off of you and rolling over to plunder through the nightstand drawer, pulling out condoms and the bottle of lube.

Just at the thought, both of their dicks are hard. They loved the way you looked when they had done it before. It felt so raw, so full of passion. 

“No…no moving too much, okay?” you clarify. Although you did love the fullness, it was a lot to be fucked with so much. Both of them nod, peeling open the condoms and rolling them on - they knew at least that would put you at ease and would make it easier. 

Matt slips in with ease, your pussy sucking him in greedily as he pushes his pelvis plush against yours. He’s deep. 

The sound of the lube bottle popping open makes your heart race. A cold liquid being smeared around the rim of your ass making you tense. 

“Shhhhh, just gotta relax,” Matt coos, cradling your head into the crook of his neck and pressing a kiss to your temple. You try to take deep breaths. Your body falls limp as Chris massages your ass, waiting until you let your muscles let loose before starting to prod his cock at your hole.

“I’m gonna go slow. Just - tell me if you need a break, okay?”

You nod, humming as a cry strangles through your lips as he slowly pushes himself in. It’s a lot - enough to make your fingers start to dig into Matt’s shoulders. He coos gently, combing through your hair as Chris holds his hands on your hips, burying himself in you so slowly that it feels like torture, but he doesn’t wanna hurt you. 

A shriek falls from your mouth as he fully bottoms out. Matt’s cock had slipped out just a bit from all the movement, his hips slowly digging back up before he could truly process the motion. Well, until you cry out, your chest pressing against his more. 

“-’m sorry, sweetheart, sorry,” he strains, taking deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. You’re just so warm - so drenched, he can feel the sticky residue starting to drip onto his balls, his gut clenching as he forces himself to halt all movements. 

“-’s…okay…” you breathe, slurring your words as you focus on how utterly full you feel.

Meanwhile, Chris is nearly making his lip bleed, trying to hold back as you nearly suffocate him with your other hole. 

“Doing so good, princess, so good,” Chris praises, massaging your hip as his eyes roll to the back of his head. 

They’re both finally content. 

And you’re finally full. 

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; completed! (18.02.25)

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

54 ) satanic mind manipulation

55 ) cucklord

56 ) when you kinda gaf

57 ) when you been thuggin it out for so long

58 ) a second try

59 ) be careful who you call OOMF

60 ) the paid price

BONUS:

TBA . . .

TAGLIST is closed

[webism]

★ sometimes, sukuna makes you ride his thigh instead of his lengthy fingers, or his sharp face or prodigious cock.

it's meant to be a punishment, a deprivation of what so often leaves you breathless and stupid, but you can't find fault in the muscled ridges of his thighs. maybe if your sharp-toothed lover was less active, less built, you'd struggle a bit more to find pleasure in his thigh.

you don't even know why you're being punished. it could be for your sharp tongue, or for touching yourself unpermitted, or for some other perceived sin. but as far as the space between you and ryomen stretches; he is the church and you are to kneel over his thick thigh and repent.

so repent you do. you rock your hips, grind down against his bare thigh as if seeking your own climax is apology enough for wronging your lover. if you wronged him, that is—sometimes sukuna punishes you unprovoked, the protests you give when you've really done nothing wrong get his dick hard. though you've cum more times you can count now, surely he can't punish you longer.

you can practically taste his cock it's so close, hard and throbbing and resting against his stomach just waiting to be doted on. you could reach out and grab it, and your fingers ache to feel the weight of his length against them, as does your tongue—but you know your ministries wouldn't go unpunished. and touching him when you're not permitted to doesn't reward you with the fun punishments like fucking yourself on his thigh; your ass would be sore for days.

"faster," his voice is steeled, painted nails digging into your hips. it hurts, how harshly he holds you, but it hurts in a searing way you'd miss if he were to let go. his touch is mean, you love it about him.

you oblige, rock your hips faster despite the sweat that pricks at your skin and the increasing work it takes for your lungs to provide you with enough oxygen to stay clear-headed. sukuna tsks, though, bares his teeth and forces you down harder against his solid thigh. it's a mess of your lust, glossy with your slick and you don't doubt he'll have you clean him up once you're too fucked out to think. perhaps with a cooling bath; perhaps with your tongue.

"you're a mess," he chides. "fucking filthy. stupid brat, so dumb and you're not even taking my cock. you couldn't."

harder, he presses your cunt against his thigh, pulls you to grind down on him. your desperation isn't lost on you, but sukuna's words prick at your stomach.

"i could. let me, please, i want—"

"you want?" he growls. "you don't want. you need my cock, brat, and i'm denying you a necessity."

you know he gets off on using you like this, playing with your threshold for pleasure. just how many orgasms can he rip out of you using his thigh alone? he's controlling your movements like you're the toy despite the lack of physical stimulation he gets from this. he's fucking you mindless and all he's doing is sitting nice and still for you.

when he manages another orgasm out of you, the slurred mewls of 'too much' falling of his deaf-by-choice ears, you realise your punishment isn't pleasure. it is the denial of himself: your newfound addiction, his reverent touch. he won't give you his cock, his tongue, his fingers or even the heel of his palm. all you get is his thigh, and you unravel from that alone. he finds it pathetic and all too erotic in the same breath.

is there really any denying you if he can draw pleasure from you using just the frame of his build?

thanks sutton for star hehe its so fun. i need to write more two-dick-sukuna writing him with one dick here felt wrong

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[lily-bisque]

how to seduce a neanderthal for dummies: sukuna edition -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

✦ ── synopsis: new school, new people, new you. or at least you thought. with the emergence of a pink-haired brute and jerk riling up your old habits, how could you not try to put him in his place?

✦ ── contents: 5.3k words, porn with too much plot, bullying, incredibly devious choso/reader dynamics, oaf and pathetic sukuna, explicit smut, dom/sub undertones, bdsm, really degrading language, orgasm control, dry humping, basically love and leashes with a bullying sub-plot. this is pretty filthy.

✦ ── a/n: thank you so so SO much to everyone who has supported me thus far. i can not believe i've managed to meet so many sweet and supportive people here and share my newfound love for writing with you guys :] i rly do hope you guys enjoy this work i'm delivering as my 1k followers special that was a request from the lovely @sstrawbaekie, she's got some amazing fic ideas!

day one. it was day one and you could already feel your eye twitching.

you’d stepped into the classroom, dragging your feet at yet another new private university, somehow smaller than the last.

you had garnered quite the academic reputation—getting into far too many fights for reasons you could only describe with a phrase as “justice is the constant and perpetual will to allot to every man his due.”

…or in simpler terms, you hated bullies.

you couldn’t stand the instinctive feeling that nearly had you gagging whenever you’d see some frail boy shoved into a locker at the hands of some brute, or a trio of popular girls tugging the braids of some newbie nerd who kept apologizing for her hiccups induced from fear.

without fail, a deep scowl etched tight lines across your face as you watched some cliché scenario unfold. and without fail, you stepped in.

you weren’t really one for words, asking the culprit you caught red handed to stop, or else. and they always chose the harder option, making you scoff at their lack of preservation before you swiped their jaw in one quick move.

were you really the villain here?

so what if you fought violence with violence? you couldn’t help the rage that burned like an untamed blaze in your gut, the one thing to douse it being swift and timely justice.

however, you were definitely on your last straw now. your father’s anger was only snowballing with each meeting with the dean ending in expulsion despite him paying a hefty sum for them to even take in a student with such a track record—dragging you home by the ear this last time and swearing that you were on your own now.

like, who’s parents were this involved in their post-secondary education?

but, of course, on your very first day, the first thing that you witness?

injustice.

“over there, you moron.”

you plopped down into your seat, dragging your hands over your face as you rested a cheek against your palm, bleakly focusing your gaze on the other side of the classroom.

there was a beastly pink-haired man, arms crossed over his chest and a leg propped pridefully against his chair, pointing at something on the floor.

beside him, a weary looking brown-haired boy with a dark stripe across his face, actively sweating as he crawled across the floor.

you glanced around the classroom, seeing how everyone was occupied with their friends or their phones.

as if this was the kind of thing they’d witness every other day.

“i-i don’t see what you’re talking about, sukuna,” he breathed out, squinting his eyes as his palms slapped the tile floors.

you adjusted your stiff button-up, now somewhat distracted with the atrocious uniform this school provided. why on earth was your skirt above your knees?

“oi, i found it,” the guy you assume is sukuna declared.

the raven-haired boy glanced behind his shoulder, only to be met with a pencil flying straight at his face.

sukuna barked a laugh, tossing his head back and clutching his chest, thrumming with howls. 

choso flinched, falling on an elbow without any sort of grace and cringing. 

you itched the crease permanently marked into your forehead from the display.

standing up, you paced over to the other side of the classroom, palm outstretched as you peered down at your new classmate, doing your best to conceal your pity. “you alright?”

you could feel the conversation in the classroom stall, everyone previously preoccupied with something menial dialing their full attention in on you.

still on his hands and knees, the boy glanced around as if you were talking to someone else, before peering up at you. “uh, yeah. i’m fine,” he squeaked out, doing his best to ignore the brute bristling behind him.

he took your hand in his and you could feel his nerves through his clammy hand and racing pulse. “you know you don’t have to lie, right? i’m not blind.”

he reluctantly dusted his thighs off, peering back at his bully before looking at you. his classmates began to murmur things, making his skin litter with even more goosebumps. “i-i’m not lying…” he trailed off, trying to keep his voice low.

you quirked a brow. “so i’m a liar now?”

his eyebrows shot up, nearly touching his hairline. you could see the fear that wracked him as he waved his arms, bending his knees slightly as if he was pleading to you. “no! no! i never meant to call you a liar.”

you grinned, placing a hand on your hip. “okay, then.”

you brushed past him, slapping a hand on his shoulder at encouragement that he shuddered at, before making your way towards the man who already managed to ruin your first day, and probably your last. “hey. what’s your name?”

he adjusted in his seat, giving you a quick once-over and assessing you with as much care you’d give roadkill. “what’s it to you?”

ah. the million dollar question. 

“i don’t know. think i’m just curious about the name of the guy so bored and with a brain so small, he has to entertain himself by picking on the weak.”

the immediate reaction, stifled chuckles and whispers, had sukuna clenching his jaw. his expression faltered, the smug smirk on his face now defensive. “think you’re funny?”

“yeah. i do.”

he stood from his seat, towering over you with his formidable height, but it didn’t deter you one bit. “what about now?”

you took a second to think about it, rubbing a hand against your jaw, before you took a step closer, chest nearly brushing against his midsection. “you’re about as scary as the size of your dick. which i can assume is even smaller than whatever you’ve got up there,” you emphasized your last word with a push of your finger to his forehead.

the classroom erupted in laughter, students keeling over as they watched the apex predator here get knocked down multiple pegs.

his head spun on a swivel, forehead burning with where you just touched him, and the tinge of red on the crown of his ears didn’t go unnoticed. he bore his gaze back on you, crimson eyes sparkling with a fury so red, it managed to even excite you.

but before he could get even a word out, the professor walked in, tapping her cane against the ground and asking the class to settle down.

you gracefully bowed to sukuna, pretending to tip an imaginary hat. “good day, kind sir.”

he clenched his fist, slamming it against a near table that caught the attention of everyone. 

the professor looked surprised, and somewhat startled by the action—as if they’d been waiting for the moment he’d finally had an outburst. “sukuna…” she started.

the man in question grunted, brushing past you and storming out of the classroom.

the brown-haired eyes gaped as he watched the scene unfold, as if he’d just been flashed by a homeless man, the kind of thing you’d only witness once in your life.

you had to hold back a chuckle as you made your way back to your seat, plopping down and not even noticing the tense atmosphere as everyone was still recovering from the impact of sukuna’s rage—as if it were a physical thing they could feel wafting in the air.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

fuck.

sukuna paced around the men’s bathroom, yelling at anyone who dared step inside while he gathered his thoughts.

not once had sukuna been defied, the utter lack of opposition from squirmy students and complacent teachers fearing his brooding form making it easy to get away with what he wanted.

so how did a girl like you just randomly show up and decide to break his flow of things? disrupting something that had become so natural, it was like the classroom was his habitat and he was king.

a storm of uncertainty and rage brewed in his chest.

but worst of all, the very reason why he stormed out without a word, was the way your words sent blood rushing south.

he had a raging boner. and he intended on hiding it from you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you could feel fingers tap your shoulder, a voice muffled commanding your attention as you paced out of the classroom after lecture.

you turned, just to see that pitiful boy from earlier. it was odd, he wasn’t scrawny like most victims you’d see, he was actually quite tall and had a nice build. maybe where he fell short were his crooked frames and gentle face, thrown in with his kind disposition.

not to mention, not many men can rival a massive man-child like sukuna.

you pulled your headphones off. “did you say something?”

he shuffled uncomfortably, as if sukuna was going to bite his head off for talking to you. “yeah, sorry. i just wanted to say thanks.”

you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him before shaking your head, his thanks not necessary. you were just glad it didn’t end up with your expulsion this time. “it’s fine.”

you paced on, but the guy followed you like a lost dog needing to imprint. “i’m choso, by the way.”

you gave him a soft smile before introducing yourself. “nice to meet you.”

he gripped the straps of his bag as he peered down at you, the flush on his pale cheeks evident. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was positively enamored with you. “it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

you expected him to disappear now, wanting to listen to your music as you headed to your next dreadful class, but he only continued on. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

you passed on a stiff smile as confirmation and he chuckled to himself. “what’s your next class? maybe i can show you.”

“uh, let me see,” you said, pulling your bag to your front, actively trying not to walk into anyone as you tore out your schedule. “looks likeeeee,” you drawled out, eyes scanning the sheet. “fuck. statistics. god, i’m horrible at anything math related.”

choso perked up at that, tail practically wagging. “really?” he started, rubbing his nape with a sheepish smile. “i wouldn’t mind, ya know, doing an assignment or two for you.”

you stopped dead in your tracks, turning around and smacking his arm. “this, choso, is exactly why you’re bullied. you can’t do that anymore,” you scolded, watching in real-time as his tail tucked between his legs.

he lowered his head, nodding reluctantly. “sorry. i could tutor you if you’d like.”

you grinned, sliding your schedule back into your bag and nodding. “that’s more like it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you met up with choso later that night. he’d managed to pop up after lecture where he insisted on walking you to your next class.

he was trailing you quite a bit, but you didn’t mind the company.

especially when the company was incredibly smart.

choso was great at breaking things down without being judgmental or condescending— even when you had your head in your hands and wouldn’t stop groaning after every practice question.

“that’s the normal distribution, not the standard distribution,” he commented, pen brushing against your homework.

you winced. “is that not the same thing?”

he gave you a soft smile, almost pitiful like your earlier one. “let’s take a break.”

you reclined, shutting your eyes and manspreading as you sighed. 

he placed a forearm against the back of his chair, eyeing you cautiously.

“what?” you blurted, feeling his impromptu gaze on you.

“huh? nothing?” he warily replied immediately.

you peeked out of an eye. “you’re looking at me like you’ve got a thousand and one secrets threatening to pour from you. spill.”

he grimaced, turning to face his desk and dropping his hands to his lap. “yeah. well, i saw something today.”

you didn’t reply, waiting for him to continue.

“remember when you stood up to sukuna?” the simple utter of his name made choso shiver.

“yeah, why?” you responded, itching your scalp and trying to rid your brain from the irritation still lingering from everything statistics related. 

“well. i noticed, uh,” he trailed off, eyes drawing shut as if bracing himself.

“what, choso? spit it out.”

he inhaled sharply, before turning to you.

“he had a hard-on after you cussed him out.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

now, this definitely was not your greatest feat. but, it was by far your most devious.

that night you spent cooped up in the library with choso?

yeah, no studying related to statistics went down after his confession.

instead, you and choso became a pair of utterly miserable and twisted individuals plotting on a very evil man. it cancels out, doesn’t it?

the plan the two of you concocted, much to your boredom and desire to step on tormentors and choso’s need to be unshackled from his binds to sukuna as his favorite chew toy, was far more immoral than your previous triumphs.

it took hours of meticulous research, at least on choso’s end because you fell asleep halfway through, before it was complete.

operation: wreck ryomen sukuna.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

it started off small.

glances, comments, nudges. anything to get him riled up?

whap!

the professor smacked their ruler against their stand, glaring across the classroom. “ryomen sukuna. are you even listening?”

the man faltered, head resting against his fist as he began to lose consciousness, droning out before he was startled awake. “huh?” he grunted, rubbing his eye with his thumb.

the professor sighed, fingers tapping impatiently against the stand. “if my lecture is so lackluster since you’re obviously an expert and can spare yourself by napping, i would be pleased if you took the stand and could teach the class.”

sukuna huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms, miffed that the one instructor who said anything to his face had to do so in front of the entire class. 

and interrupt his sleep.

but suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted when he peered over at you, snickering to yourself in his direction.

he frowned deeply, before you motioned at him, rubbing your thumb against the seam of your lips that looked far too plush before jutting your chin towards him.

his eyebrows knitted, mimicking your gestures just to realize he had drool dribbling down his chin.

fuck.

you smiled to yourself, shifting in your chair and tossing a leg over the other. he had to tear his gaze from your nearly bare thighs.

quickly snagging a pillow choso was resting his elbows on, he placed it in his lap to conceal something rapidly rising, cursing to himself.

choso couldn’t even be mad since he knew all was going according to his plan, and you were the perfect executioner.

the next time you ran into sukuna, he’d accidentally bumped into you in the hallway.

you wasted no time shoving him with all of your effort, calling him a big oaf, before storming off.

he could barely stop his heart from slamming his ribs, fearing it’d bruise.

and at night, sukuna would lay restless, tossing and turning and shoving his inner turmoil down down down…

with his hands in his pants, mumbling your name and wrenching his shaft. 

it was pathetic. he knew it was. getting all hot and bothered by the one person who defied him.

but he couldn’t deny his unbelievable attraction to you, nor could he admit it to you.

so he lingered in that grey area, too much of a coward to admit just how badly he’d want you to touch him, feel him, kiss him…

he dragged a hand down his face. what the fuck was he thinking?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“the fuck?”

sukuna arrived to class, shoving away the jitters he had flowing through him, unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

he’s not sure if it’s from being humiliated, or having to come face to face with the very girl who humiliated him every single day.

and somehow turned him on.

on his desk, though, was a scribbled note with poor handwriting and a kiss stamp, telling him you were waiting on him in the janitor's closet on the east wing if he wasn’t a pussy.

did you want to fight him? sukuna’s never fought a girl before, nor was he planning on it.

but the residue of your lipstick was tantalizing him, almost pulling him towards the janitors closet.

maybe he’d allow you to get one fist to his jaw before he left.

in his dream-like trance, he didn’t even notice choso propped on the desk beside him, head buried in a textbook he wasn’t even reading.

sukuna crumpled the note, shoving it in his pocket and mumbling something incoherent to himself, before hurrying out of the classroom. the lecture wouldn’t be starting for another couple minutes so it was easy to slip out.

choso pulled his phone from his pocket immediately, sending a text to you.

your phone buzzed, pulling it from your shirt pocket and reading it.

choso — operation is a go :D !!! 

step one: plant the seed?  check.

you scoffed at his excited text, shoving your phone away and getting to your feet, pacing around the rather small janitors closet. 

within a couple of minutes of you sighing, you heard a couple of heavy knocks against the door, pulling your attention.

a grin tugged at your lips. “what’s the magic word?”

the guy grumbled something under his breath before responding. “please?”

you snickered. “it’s actually ‘i’m a jackass with the iq of a penny’ but that works too!”

you had no idea why you agreed to this as you pulled the door open, eyes gleaming with mischief.

you'd barely known the guy for more than a couple weeks, but you could tell that he was entirely beside himself right now.

he was actively fidgeting, running a hand across the back of his neck and glancing behind him every two seconds. he was visibly nervous.

“gonna keep looking stupid or are you gonna come in?”

his eyes met yours, mouth dropping at your attire.

you were sporting a black latex shapewear, a black baton in your hand with tassels hanging from the edge, and a leash in the other.

you had a wedgie thanks to choso accidentally ordering a size too small, a whim in hopes that sukuna would be into this kinda thing.

his face was evidence enough.

maw slack, eyes dazed, and sukuna junior making an appearance just below his belt.

“the fuck are you wearing?”

you tossed the strap of the leash around your shoulders and twisted the leather tassels of the baton in your hand before smacking sukuna’s forearm with it, enough to make him recoil.

“shut the door.”

he gave you a strange look, a shiver crawling down his spine at your commanding tone, but complied nonetheless.

step two: secure the package — check.

you brushed past his shoulder, shoving his massive form slightly out of the way and locked the door he’d just closed.

he shoved his hands into his pockets, taking a few weary peeks around the room like someone was about to jump out of an empty cardboard box with a camera yelling ‘you just got punk’d!’

“take a seat,” you pointed towards the wooden chair smack dab in the middle of the cramped space, watching sukuna’s eyes actively avoid the curve of your ass.

his heavy foot falls fell against the floor, until he plopped down and the chair creaked under his weight.

you grinned, wringing the leather in your hand, black heels clicking against the floor as you sauntered over slowly.

sukuna’s hands rested in his lap, cracking his knuckles as he avoided your gaze, tan cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

you knew he wanted this—he’d have been out of here in mere seconds if he didn’t.

which was why you placed a gloved finger below his chin, standing right between his spread bulky thighs, and directed his vision towards you. his crimson eyes flickered with irritation before softening into something you’d never seen grace his features.

he actually looked quite handsome when he didn’t look like you spit in his food.

you didn’t say a word, simply leaning forward with slow deliberation, your warm breath fanning against his lips as your faces were just inches from connecting.

and then you kissed him.

soft, guiding, claiming.

he groaned, hands going limp at his sides as you pushed his head backwards, cupping his cheeks. he’d only imagined how your lips felt, so he couldn’t have dreamt up the fireworks that were going off in his head, actively short-circuiting any sense of logic he had a grasp on.

sukuna felt as if he were prancing in a meadow, or some secret garden, blossoming a romance away from ogling eyes and nurturing something almost… pure.

his body submitted to you, kneeling at your altar with a blank-slated mind and a fluttering heart, calling for your salvation. 

oh how he’d longed for your attention in such a short time is beyond him.

you, on the other hand, had to hide the smug grin teasing at the corners of your lips, knowing you had him just where you wanted.

you pulled away for a moment, hearing the sigh of relief and wonderment trickling from his mouth, eyes teary and dazed.

tossing a leg over his, you began to straddle him, resting your leather-clothed sex right over the prominent bulge in his jeans. “you into this kinda thing?” you queried, resting a hand against his shoulder.

he blinked a couple of times, still unsure as to how he’d even managed to end up here or if he was possibly dreaming, before reluctantly nodding. you’d never seen him at such a loss for words.

“what about this?” you drawled out and thus began to test the waters. you slowly, and as seductively as possible, pulled the leash from your shoulders and began to clasp it around his neck.

you could see the moment his breath hitched, eyes darting down to where your nimble fingers worked, tracing the cool metal that made him shuffle in his seat. “i-i like it.”

as he moved in the wooden chair, you hooked a finger around the large silver circle that rested against his adam’s apple and tugged it towards you, eyes narrowing as his went wide. “did i say you could move?”

he opened his mouth, only stumbling over each and every word. “i- uh, y-you never—.”

you tugged it harder, your nose brushing against his. “use your words.”

sukuna had never wanted to kiss you more, he thinks. he cleared his throat, mustering up every ounce of courage. “you didn’t.”

“i didn’t…?”

“you didn’t, ma’am.”

you clicked your tongue, releasing the near vice-like hold on his neck and standing up. “there you go.”

not once did his eyes leave your form, greedily consuming anything you could give him.

“ya know,” you started, pacing back and forth in thought, tapping against your chin. “i thought you were fucking vile when i first saw you.”

he swallowed a thick lump, akin to a rock, lodged in his throat. he doesn’t understand why, but he craves validation from you—he wants to look good for you.

“perched up all confident and casual, not a care in the world, kicking others down for your own enjoyment.” you skimmed your fingers through your hair, before stopping in place. “and for your information, i hate jerks.”

you started towards him again, sukuna tensing up in his chair before you rounded the seat. you placed your hands against his shoulders, leaning down until your breath tickled the crown of his ear. “so why don’t we change that?”

sukuna hiccuped, wanting to look back and meet your fiery gaze, but not finding the will to do so. “change what?”

you hummed, bringing the tasseled end of the baton and caressing his neck with it, making him shiver in his seat. “change your ways, for me.”

he stilled, and you could feel the palpable hesitation in the air, as if he was weighing it between his hands.

you took the chance to press a chaste kiss against his neck, bringing your hand down to his chest and smoothing out his shirt. “you wanna be a good boy for me?”

you could feel the immediate change in reaction—cheeks flushing, breath catching in his throat, words dying on his tongue, eyes fixing on your hand.

got him.

you walked around the couch and wasted no time slipping your latex suit from you.

sukuna was quite the handsome man, his looks enough to make your stomach flip and made it incredibly easy for you to agree to choso’s planning. yet, something in you was enjoying this far more than you’d expected yourself to.

dropping your outfit to the ground, you straddled him once more, wearing nothing but black lingerie and your latex gloves.

he was speechless now, making this a lot easier.

what you didn’t expect, however, was just how… audible he could be.

you grabbed a rope from a shelf, not even caring that class had started nearly ten minutes ago, and tied his hands behind his back, whispering a soft ‘no touching’ in his ear before biting the lobe.

pushing your breasts into his face, you muffled nearly any sound he could make, grinding your already soaked cunt against his clothed erection. you could just feel how massive he was, your mind short-circuiting at the size.

“couldn’t help but notice,” you huffed through a whimper, eyes fluttering shut as you chased your own pleasure. “j-just how fucking hard you get when i poke fun at you.”

he was just huffs and grunts into the mounds on your chest, dizzy on nothing but you.

“got a thing for girls who think you’re a dick?”

he nodded reluctantly, pressing a kiss just above the lace of your bra, hands wrenching in their tight hold against the chair.

“you’re a real perv,” you jeered, claws digging into the fabric of his cotton tee.

and before you could reach that sweet peak, the quickest, neediest and most overwhelmed whine you never could’ve expected left sukuna’s lips, a damp spot growing in his pants that was certainly not your juices.

you stilled, peering down and chuckling as you pulled your breasts from his face.

he was so flushed and dazed, he almost looked cute.

you had to conceal the grin on your lips, pulling yourself from his lap and standing up.

turning around, you glanced past your shoulder and curled your fingers through the fabric of your panties, dragging them down excruciatingly slow, sukuna’s wet eyes never leaving your form.

backing up, you sat reverse-cowgirl, bare cunt sopping juices across his lap.

how badly did he want to drag his hands across your waist, up your sides, gripping the plush of your tits—. but no, he had to sit here, and take it.

“how bad do you want it?” you groaned out, feeling the fabric of his jeans catch on your clit and drawing a whimper from you.

“b-bad,” he sighed, knowing his wrists would be bruised by the time he left this closet.

“just bad?” you teased, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your hips developed a mind of their own.

he huffed, eyebrows knitting as his sexual frustration only seemed to grow by the passing second. “use me. fuck me. l-let me make you feel good,” he sighed, eyes drawing shut as the shameful admission.

and it was more than enough for you to work his jeans and boxers off, resuming your position and sinking down on his girthy length.

of all the guys you’d been with, he was definitely the thickest, each inch he fed into you practically choking you.

“f-fucking hell,” you sputtered as he twitched inside your cunt, bulging veins dragging against your syrupy walls.

he bit his lip, tossing his head back as you strangled his cock, his breaths turning shallow and raggedy. like hell if he was going to ruin this with his witless mouth, fingers flexing in their restraints as his mind muddled with thoughts of just you.

after what felt like excruciating minutes, you finally bottomed out, pussy wrapped around his shaft to the hilt, practically brushing against your lungs. you leaned forward this time, fingers finding the strap of the leash and tugging on it.

a gasp was pulled from his lips as you began to gyrate your hips, bouncing up and down at a pace you could endure.

and god, were you a sight to see even from the back. he could spot the curves of your tits bouncing, your maw hanging open, his eyes dragging down to where the two of you connected.

not to mention, you were taking him raw.

“don’t cum ‘till i tell you, prick,” you drew a sharp breath in, stomach sucking in as you chased your own sweet pleasure.

“w-won’t,” was all sukuna could spit out, eyes nearly crossing from how tight the leash was against his neck, the pressure making him dizzy.

the curve of his cock hit all the right sweet spots to pull the most saccharine sounds from you, ass meeting his pelvis with each bounce.

“you o-on the p-pill?” sukuna huffed out, sweat beading his browline, teeth clenching as he felt pre leaking from his tip, feeling his high teetering off the precipice, nearly losing any sense of his sanity.

you sighed in frustration, fingers wrapping in the leather of the leash and pulling harder. “obviously, idiot,” you groaned.

don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum. sukuna had to repeat this in his mind like a mantra, desperate for sweet relief but knowing you deserved to feel just as good as he was.

“you gonna stay a good boy for me?” you prodded, focusing on just why it was you were fucking ryomen sukuna in your new private universities janitor closet. you reached your free hand down to stimulate your neglected bundle of nerves, fingers catching just how wet you were and smearing them against your clit. “can’t have a trouble boy at my side.”

“mmf!” he nodded, eyes clamped shut as he focused on not spilling his seed into your womb, not even realizing what he was agreeing to.

“you promise? no more picking on a-anyone?” you continued, making a figure-eight motion as his tip nudged your cervix.

“f-fuck. i promise i-i won’t bother anyone,” he squirmed, and you knew just how close he was.

“then come for me, baby.”

step three: seduce the neanderthal — check.

OPERATION: WRECK RYOMEN SUKUNA — COMPLETE.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“for the love of all things good, shut up.”

you immediately shot a glare at sukuna behind you, his hands on your waist tightening as you could practically see his ears downturn in the moment, shame coloring him silly. he turned his attention towards choso, letting out a sigh before speaking. “sorry. i mean, it’s been a long week. please reduce your chatter.”

you smiled bright, briskly nodding as you turned towards your friend who gave you a gentle smile. “i seriously do not understand how the two of you managed to become a… thing,” he cooed out, resting a cheek against an open palm, an all-knowing glint in his eyes.

you tossed an arm over sukuna’s shoulder, feeling him tense up, just like he seemed to do around you, feeling like he’d forever be indebted to you for absolutely no reason. “oh, we are not a thing. he’s my little plaything, a project that i’m working on,” you beamed out, tugging at the back of his hair to which he huffed at.

“she’s holding you hostage, right man?” choso chuckled, folding his arms over his chest.

“i think she cursed me. plans on striking down my family tree in the upcoming future.”

you shot him another look, but he cringed before motioning that he wasn’t done speaking.

“she makes me a better person. which is why,” he reached into his pocket, before pulling a pencil out and handing it out to choso. “i’ve stopped throwing pencils at people.”

choso’s eyes went wide, before you and sukuna exchanged a look, bursting out into laughter.

choso sighed, adjusting in his seat and turning away to conceal a grin. “it’s like they were made for each other.”

[nobodyfamousposts]

A bit of a random question : how would you imagine the events of BURN THE WITCH! happening in the Scarlet Lady continuity - assuming Lila is just as bad as in Canon?

@zoe-oneesama, since you are part of this, too.

SO.

I had a whole thing written up. A whole thing. And it was so awesome! I was so proud and happy with it. I was one paragraph away from being done and posting my glorious synopsis for the world to see. And then the screen refreshed, and I lost it all.  DX

So here’s my slightly less awesome description of the idea that I had to try and recover through memory. Fallible inferior memory of what could’ve been:

So if we’re ignoring Lila’s development and how glorious it would be to have Witch Hunter targeting Scar at the climax of the fall of her popularity, this would be a little more difficult to work with. Difficult, but still very much doable.

There are two ways it could work.

The first would be that Scar DIDN’T out Lila to the entire class so no one besides Chloe knows Lila is a liar. Perhaps the lazy option and closest to Canon, but it still works better than the Canon setup. Chloe would try to tell people that Lila is a liar and it would make sense that no one believes her because…well…it’s Chloe. She’s a known liar herself. AND a bully.

Of course, there’s still the matter of Adrien falling into jerk territory for not telling anyone that Lila is a liar, but given that this IS Scarlet Lady Adrien, we can arguably attribute his poor decision-making to his lack of sleep and added stress from solo hero duty. As such, I’m willing to give this iteration of him a break for not wanting to deal with the added drama between two girls he doesn’t want to be around anyway. Plus, it would be hilarious to see Chloe and Lila sabotaging themselves sabotaging each other in their attempts to rule the class and “win” him, only for each episode to end with Adrien hanging out with Marinette or Nino, because the boy deserves nice things and I live for the bromance.

The second option would be that Lila is outted but fakes her redemption arc.

After all, the classmates are naturally very easily forgiving of people. And Lila is a new student. All she would have to do is apologize and make up some claims, and they would totally be on board with still being friends.

Sure, they would take any of her future lies with a grain of salt, but that would only be her tall tales. Specifically her lies about connections and fame and the lies meant to make her seem “bigger than life“. That wouldn’t quite be the case for the lies made to make her seem weak and vulnerable. Especially if she kickstarts her new brand of manipulation by being just that.

“I’m SO sorry! *sobsob* I was so nervous being the new girl in a new school, and I was scared you wouldn’t like me. And you all are so cool that I wanted to be as amazing as you. *sob* I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! Could you ever forgive me? *sadface*”

And you know they would. Which would make for a particularly sinister form of emotional manipulation as she plays up the remorseful act. “I understand if you don’t believe me. It’s okay if you don’t forgive me yet.” Which would immediately invoke reassurance that of course they believe her and of course they forgive her! Which would distract from her current manipulations and suspicious behaviors. Emotional appeals are like that—focus on feelings and respond to those feelings instead of facts or truth.

And since Lila is “working so hard to be better”, of course they would want to support her in her efforts. Such as say, charity work. She may not go so far as to make up a charity like she did in the OG BURN THE WITCH!, but she can collect funds…which can then “mysteriously disappear” on the way to their final destination.

Meanwhile, Chloe would be the only one actively against it, which would make her a character for Lila to work off of. Nothing makes a liar look good like having someone else look like a bully. And Chloe’s attempts to out Lila for her manipulations wouldn’t get anywhere since it would be brushed off as Chloe being vindictive and not forgiving Lila over a past petty issue that everyone else has already moved on from. Which works both in and out of story because it is true. Right for the wrong reasons and all.

Unfortunately, this does mean that Chloe would get to do the “I Told You So” Dance when Lila does eventually pull her final stunt and gets caught.

Which would lead to Witch Hunter. It could be Rose again, though since the charity would be verified and she would be dating Ali this go around, he wouldn’t likely be mad or blame Rose for being deceived so she may feel less like her world is ripped out from under her. Mylene would also be an option as given her activism and involvement in the community, it’s something she would take seriously. It could even be Ivan or one of the boys. I’m not picky!

There are options!

So regardless, SOMEone is getting akumatized to burn a witch. 

…which would lead to two major problems in story.

The first, of course, would be that Scar is our Ladybug hero and she would happily let Lila burn. This girl intentionally led akumas to Marinette TWICE previously in the comic and also tried to hand her over to zombies another time—not even as a sacrifice or needed act to protect herself but simply out of pure spite. You KNOW she would get Lila caught immediately. She wouldn’t even be affected by the akuma. She would just hand her over and watch the show.

The second problem is that depending on when this takes place in the comic timeline, Marinette may not yet be Marigold. And since she wasn’t the one to out Lila, depending on which of the earlier mentioned to out Lila or not to out Lila versions we take, she may not be already aware of the depth of Lila‘s selfishness, which would make her susceptible to Witch Hunter and likely make her a part of the angry mob...assuming she doesn’t get akumatized into Witch Hunter herself.

Which means it would be up to Chat. A very tired, incredibly stressed out, and just about “done with this sh**” Chat. To save someone he hates from consequences she arguably deserves. All while resisting the urge to cataclysm her himself. 

Especially if she’s wasting time trying to manipulate him. Especially especially if Marinette follows the role of her self from the OG and tries to help Lila only for Lila to pull another “sudden but inevitable betrayal” and try to leave Marinette to the mercy of the mob.

His responses are open for debate at this point.

On the one hand, being the main hero and already hating Lila would grant him protection from the control effect so he could still save the day. And I imagine he would be SIGNIFICANTLY more terrifying than Ladybug was in the aftermath. See Ladybug’s “I will follow you around and make your life exceedingly unpleasant using the circumstances you have created and brought upon yourself” To The Pain vs Chat’s “Let me describe to you what Cataclysm can do to the human body. In detail.” Real Horror with serious implications and be careful with what you try to touch in the future *politesmile*.

…on the other hand, it amuses me to imagine Chat gets affected and helps stop Witch Hunter anyway. Either because he’s just that resigned to the job, because he sees Scar wants Lila burned and even when he’s under the akuma’s influence he still despises Scar more, or because Marinette remains sane and manages to navigate him to help either through cunning or out of his love for her.

……on the other OTHER hand, we were denied an akumatized Marinette in the comic and this could be a way to do it. Chat stays sane and ends up convincing Akumanette to stop out of her love for him to be the bigger person. Yes. Totally.

Chat: (Hugs Akumanette)

Marinette: (Deakumatizes)

Scar: (In background) Booooo. Laaaaame.

Lila: (Tied to a pole) Still tied up here!

Chat: Eh, you’ll be fine.

And since Akumanette is defeated and everyone is freed from the mob control with her defeat, there’s no need for the Cure. So we get the festival still set up and Chat and Mari can have a date.

And they may or may not leave Lila tied up while they do. Plus Lila is still left drenched in Seine water. So all in all, not a pleasant experience. And ultimately, she ends up in the same boat she was at the end of the original story, which I think is what everyone really wanted anyway.

Sadly, that includes Chloe. She will count it as a victory and be bragging about it for a while. A long while. 

But she’ll be getting hers soon enough anyway, so it will all work out.

[sethsclearwater]

How would the pack react to finding their imprint asleep either at one of the other imprints house or somewhere and someone is being really loud and they don't want their imprint to wake up because they know they have trouble sleeping at night

love this! i did a similar one for paul a while back and you can find that one linked here but i thought it would be fun to do one for seth too so here you go!

seth's touch was featherlight as he traced his fingers up and down your side, watching as you got some much needed sleep. for the first time in nearly a week, you looked at peace as you slept curled up under the covers of the plaid sheets of his old bedroom. despite the fact that the two of you had moved into your own place on the res, you still regularly found yourself at sue's house throughout the week.

"seth!" he'd heard jared calling his name from outside before jared even entered the house, seth's hearing and jared's unusually loud voice making it easy to hear him. though, this knowledge never made jared any quieter, and seth was starting to believe he made himself louder just to spite everyone.

he leaned down to press his lips to your temple before he slid his hand out from under your shirt, smiling to himself when you whined and rolled over, clearly already missing his touch, "i'll be right back," his voice was a whisper as he reassured before he was getting up to go figure out what jared wanted.

"seth!" jared's voice was somehow louder this time as seth quickly and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him as he headed downstairs to the front door where jared was quite impatiently waiting for him.

"i'm coming," he rolled his eyes, his voice a normal level as he was apparently one of the only members of the pack to have figured out that they didn't need to yell for them to hear each other.

he pulled the door open to reveal jared cameron who couldn't have looked less bothered by seth's annoyance, "paul said you made some banana bread yesterday," he explained, his usual goofy smile on his face.

seth, an individual who was generally considered to be one of the most patient members of the pack, just rolled his eyes again, "this couldn't have been a text?" he asked, a quiet laugh leaving his lips as he turned around to go get some of the said banana bread. before he could get to the kitchen though, he turned back around, "wait outside - you nearly woke y/n up yelling like that," his voice was a bit more stern, waiting until jared nodded and saluted him like an idiot before seth was heading back into the kitchen.

"yes sir!" despite the warning less than 3 seconds prior, jared managed to forget to lower his voice, something he quickly realized when seth sucked in a deep breath, making haste of packaging up some banana bread for him so he could get him out of these as quickly as possible, "sorry sir!" jared quickly apologized, the sarcasm still managing to drip through his voice despite the now lowered volume.

seth did his best to fight his smile, too used to jared's antics to get mad at him for them at this point, "just take the bread and go please," a quiet, breathy laugh left his lips as he handed jared the wrapped bread.

both boys exchanged smiles, "i didn't totally wake her up, did i?" jared asked, significantly lowering his voice as he asked about you, clearly understanding and sharing seth's concern for your recent lack of sleep.

"didn't totally wake her up," seth reassured and jared's smile widened, clearly happy his regularly scheduled boisterous activities didn't completely ruin your sleep.

"that's brilliant - thanks for the bread!" his volume increased again, though not to its original level, just enough that it had seth rolling his eyes with a laugh and shutting the door.

"anytime cameron," he reassured quietly before he was heading back upstairs to the bedroom to check on you.

much to his delight, he found you still sound asleep on the bed. he padded over to you, pulling back the covers just enough to get under them with you and pull you close to his chest, "promised i'd be right back," he whispered, pressing his lips to your hair before settling into the bed.

[endursent]

WHAT IF astral express sunday would be too nervous to hold readers hand or hugging them bc his brain goes 💥 until he gets used to it and softens up to reader waa 🎉🎉

HES SO SILLY i want him to explode

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , fluff , character exploration, mild suggestiveness in one section , gn!reader 】

【 note; see sunday mention. NEURON ACTIVATED. i have neglected sunday writing for too long, it's time to sunday post more. 】

【 word count; 1.818 | read on ao3 | masterlist 】

Even after properly defining your relationship as “definitely happening”, Sunday still struggles to adjust to it—not because he doesn’t know what to do specifically, but because he fails to follow through with a lot of it. 

  As soon as he meets your eyes and feels the warmth of your skin at the same time, his brain halts in place like a deer caught in headlights—something about the affection and love in your gaze causes him to freeze, to hesitate and draw back. 

  He wants to enjoy that warmth, he wants to touch your cheek and gaze into your eyes for hours on end, examining every detail of your iris until he has it mapped better than the back of his own hand… but his heart tightens and his arms tingle when he tries. 

  He’s afraid, scared to overstep thresholds whose doors have long since opened wide for his presence. Afraid to take a wrong turn in the endless hallways of his thoughts and what-ifs.

  You don’t push him, you give him time to consider his movement and actions and proceed in the ways he feels comfortable—but you don’t let him pull back too far either. You grasp his hand as it pulls too close to his chest and he swallows when you bring it to yours, you press his palm against your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat—quickened, excited, yet nervous as well. Sometimes, you’re also nervous. It’s okay to hesitate. 

  Mere moments like brushing his fingers against yours on accident are enough for his head-wings to shoot up into the air. You had simply been reaching for a pistachio in a bowl on a table where you sat with Sunday next to you, and he had coincidentally reached out as well. “A-ah, my apologies,” he pulls his hand back, wings lowering again as one moves halfway up his cheek in a meagre attempt to disguise the dusty red of his cheeks. 

  A small smile tugs on your lips and you take an additional nut to give to him. “It’s okay, here.” He holds his palm open for you to place the pistachio in, but instead of doing so, you peel the shell away with a click and hold it towards his lips. “Open up.”

  Five or so muscles in his face twitch as he leans back, surprised by your sudden approach and the very intimate gesture of trying to feed him—his eyes flicker to the left where Himeko is positively destroying March 7th in a card game, they’re not paying any attention to the two of you at all. 

  Sunday’s lips press together and for a moment you wonder if you might have pushed him a little too far, the red hue of his cheeks deepening as he avoids your eyes… and opens his mouth, just a little—barely enough to fit the small pistachio there.

  Your fingers touch his lips as you manage to set the pistachio on the tip of his tongue hiding only a little behind the bottom row of his teeth, and Sunday thinks he might explode. The way his upper lip lifted a little and a small drop of drool slid under his tongue—thankfully out of sight but definitely not out of mind—when your finger pushed under it to set the nut in his mouth…

  He swallows the pistachio quickly and nervously without chewing it and it almost stops in his throat before he could even realise what he was doing. Sunday might have just perished from embarrassment before the lack of oxygen would kill him were the pistachio to stop in his throat.

  Sunday hasn’t stepped off the Express in a while, he does so rather often, all things considered—usually choosing to at least peek out at the worlds you explore. After all, how can he find himself if he doesn’t look? 

  But he has never experienced a planet like this… you could convince him this is some intergalactically funded horror exhibition if you tried. Long stretches of trees and branches reach into the skies, casting dark shadows on the dull grass that covers the ground as far as one can see. The skies are dark when you hop off the train and practically drag Sunday along.

  He walks close to you, unsure if to reassure himself of your presence among the shadows, or to be ready to give his assistance were you to catch your foot on a root and crash on the ground—you’re walking so fast he can't help but think it’s just a matter of time.

  You feel something touch your thumb and look down, only to see Sunday’s gloved hand retreat. He’s looking ahead and pretending there is nothing strange happening. “Are you scared?” you wonder, tilting your head to get a better look at his face.

  A small frown tugs at his lips, so faint you could barely see it. “Of course not, but I am concerned about us getting lost—do you know where we’re going?” 

  “Kind of,” you sway your hand a little, seeing if you can fish at where he has retracted his to. “Pom-Pom mentioned there a huge city not far from where we dropped down, this world has some real good puddings if I read right.”

  Sunday merely hums in response, following you along. You did finally find the city—high buildings made of darkened wood, but with bright lanterns and strings of lights hanging between buildings to illuminate the streets in a comfortable orange. All the ambiance needs is rain (and for you two be inside a nice café) and it’s perfect.

  The streets, however, are a labyrinth. 

  You get lost only seven minutes after reaching the city, and no matter how you squinted at your phone, you couldn’t wrap your head around the map—and it doesn’t help that despite the darkness, it’s midday, and thus the streets and crowded near shoulder-to-shoulder. This place must be popular despite the gloomy atmosphere. 

  Having almost lost sight of you wandering around trying to get your bearings in the crowd, Sunday gathers his courage and stomps down his thoughts—and takes your hand. 

  You stop where you’re going and turn to look at him. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

  He still avoids your eyes, but his grip is firm. “You’re… still going in the wrong direction.”

  “I am?” you look back down to your phone and tilt it sideways. “Ah! Like this, I get it now… I think.”

  Sunday sighs, stepping closer to you as a person shoulder past your positions—and suddenly the two of you are standing far closer than planned, nearly pressed against the wall of a building that leads to the corner of the street. He can’t stop thinking about your hand against his gloved one, and he also can’t help but notice that your fingers feel cold.

  As you try to figure out the best path towards the mythical pudding, holding your phone out for Sunday to see as well, his fingers and palm engulf yours and try to move some of his heat to you. His thumb rubs over your palm as you speak and the lack of proper reaction from you, yet still laying your hand out to him, helps him find the gesture more natural and comfortable… something he wouldn’t mind indulging in more often. 

  Sunday is a very passive person when it comes to affections, he’s rarely the one to reach out first and needs a bit of a push to even come up with romantic gestures. He considers the time you spend together and the understanding between you to be much more precious and indicative of his affections.

  However, he gets an idea one time from something he saw when scrolling his phone… to leave notes around. Sunday wasn’t sure of it at first—and a little embarrassed that someone else might find them before you do—but gradually began to find it as an easy way to show his attention. 

  Sometimes, the notes have a small message on them (mostly reminding you to sleep more) but other times, there’s no message at all. He came to use it as a ‘I thought of you’ message, where he leaves a blank, small post-it on something. 

  One time you forgot to buy new toothpaste on the Express’ most recent stop and dreaded having to borrow from someone again—until you opened the drawer to fetch your toothbrush and saw a full tube with a small blue post-it on it… now you need to go over to his room and rub his cheeks and thank him for remembering your complaints about always forgetting to buy a new one. 

  Sunday is a surprisingly good caretaker, you caught some sort of cold or flu on a recent trip off the express and have been miserable in bed for days. Up and down, hot and cold, snot-filled and gross on all ends. But he sits down by your bedside and takes your temperature, lays the back of his hand against your heated skin and does all he can to help. 

  One aspect he struggled with was when you got whiny one evening and reached out for a hug…

  While you might mistake his hesitation for disgust, as you are snot-nosed, puffy eyed and half crying from misery—it’s far from what was on his mind. But Sunday feels his chest tighten at the sight of you so miserable, temporary as it is, and he doesn’t have the heart to refuse your embrace. 

  He leans down and lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your clammy forehead rubbing into his shirt as he stiffly pats your head and tries to soothe you. “It’s alright… your fever is going down, you’ll be okay soon, just remember to drink the water on the nightstand, okay?” he mumbles by your ear, and the more you nod and thank him for taking care of you, the more his muscles ease and he shifts a bit to lay down with you, allowing you to burrow into the crook of his neck and find comfort in his presence. 

  Sunday rests his chin over your head and rubs your back. “Would you like me to sing for you?”

  You nod into his shoulder and he closes his mouth to hum familiar tunes, the beginning of a familiar song as the vibrations in his chest rumble against you. His voice is soothing, and his singing is surprisingly soft and gentle. 

  As you drift to well-needed sleep, Sunday stays with you until he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep… and then for a while more, just long enough that he can’t imagine tearing himself away from you—or risking waking you up by rising from the bed. Perhaps it’s alright if he stays the night here, after all, he needs to make sure you hydrate through the night.

[summertiide]

THE BIZZYBOYS BLOCK YOUR PATH!

(link to the other part of these!)

got an ask about their fight in a continuation of the OFF-styled ones i did before, and i'd been procrastinating these for a while, so i finally got around to finishing them!! boss fight thoughts below the cut! :-]

this might be a little rambly so apologies in advance!!!

so to start with, i feel like it would be shortly before the Inspekta fight as sort of a miniboss - none of the bizzyboys on their own have a ton of health, but its a 6v1, so the difficulty comes in from that! with direction from Capochin, they're more organized, and if he's defeated, they're able to do more specialized attacks, but they're more scattered in turn order/lacking the previous flow to the fight, making it more clear which ones need to be defeated sooner than others

here's some ideas for each bizzy on their own:

Capochin (Bizzy Captain): potentially able to use a "rally" attack to bring back fallen bizzyboys, uses his turns when they're all up to make one of them do an extra attack - doesn't do all that much attacking, himself, but you'd wanna get rid of him first to keep the bizzyboys that you've already defeated down

Grujaja (Bizzy Brute): with Capochin still active, he's got a moderate attack recharge, and deals some pretty heavy damage, inflicting Palsied as a sort of "knockback" from each hit / when Capochin goes down, he still deals as much damage, but takes a significantly longer time to charge attacks, and has lower accuracy

Patty (Bizzy Defective): "defective" in the sense that she doesn't want to fight you and, when Capochin goes down, the fast but light-damage-dealing attacks almost entirely stop, save for reactive attacks when she's dealt damage

Bananathaniel (Bizzy Chatterbox): STATUS EFFECTS FOREVER!!! he's sort of the support of the two "casters" of sorts, boosting bizzyboy stats and giving them Hasty, while rarely doing anything to the enemies directly (if there's no other bizzyboys, he might have a low-damage attack, but i'm not certain on that one)

Alexei (Bizzy Glutton): moderate to heavy damage, occasionally healing himself from a snack-break turn! when Capochin goes down, he'll do a lot less attacking and a lot more healing, which makes him hard to take down, but easy to avoid damage from

Vibiano (Bizzy Couturier): the other "caster" of the group, but specializing in afflicting the enemy with status effects - Blinded, Madness, Poisoned, and Asleep are the main ones among those! similarly to Bananathaniel, when there's no other bizzyboys left, he has an attack, which is just slightly higher damage than Ban's, but a fair bit slower to use

ANYWAYS that's all i got!! i might find some excuses to do more art for this (idk if it qualifies as an AU at this point, i haven't thought about how it'd go plot-wise!), but thank you again for asking, anon, i love thinking about this stuff!!

[isak-dot-gov]

Hi! Can you please do a Paige x reader wife wherein they had a fight in the morning just before Paige went off to training and the reader stays at home but was so upset that she decided to go out even though Paige told her to stay at home because they’re still new in the neighborhood and she might get lost. And can it be fluff please. Thank you so much!

Priorities

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Word count: 1331

My masterlist :)

....................................................

The early morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen windows, casting a soft glow over the empty coffee mugs and the half-opened box of cereal. You stood by the counter, arms tightly crossed over your chest, watching Paige as she rushed around the kitchen, her sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor as she fumbled with her duffel bag. She was trying to be quick, but it only made her seem more distant. The morning was supposed to be for the two of you—a long-awaited day off to explore the new neighbourhood, to finally feel like you were home after so many changes. But now, as you stared at her, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar sting of disappointment.

“So, that’s it? You’re really going to cancel our plans?” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but it was too late to reel it back in.

Paige froze for a second, her fingers pausing on the strap of her bag. She looked up at you, her expression a mix of apology and guilt, but the determination in her eyes never wavered. “I have to go, babe,” she said quietly. “Coach called last night. The team’s running plays today, and we’re already on a tight schedule. We have to get this right if we want to win the game this weekend.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm, though it felt impossible. “And what about us?” You took a few steps closer, fighting the lump in your throat. “What about the day you promised we’d finally have? Just the two of us? You and me. No basketball, no practice, just… us, Paige. Do I really have to keep coming second to your career?”

Paige winced at your words, the hurt evident in the way her shoulders slumped. “That’s not fair, you know it,” she replied, voice low and strained. “You knew this wasn’t going to be easy when we moved here. I’m not doing this just for me; I’m doing it for the team, for the future. You know how much this means.”

“Do I?” You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because it feels like every time we make plans, I’m left holding the bag while you’re out on the court. I feel like I’m constantly sacrificing for your dream, but when do I get some of your time?”

Her face softened with regret, but she didn’t step closer. Instead, she moved to the door, her hand resting on the handle, her back to you. “Please stay home today. It could be dangerous out there, we're still new to the neighbourhood, and I don’t want you getting lost.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to babysit me, Paige. I’m not asking for much. Just… us. But maybe that’s too much to ask for.” The words came out sharper than you intended, and you immediately regretted them, but it was too late.

Paige turned around, her eyes wide with a mixture of pain and frustration. “You’re right. I should’ve handled this better, but I’m doing my best. I want you here with me. I need to go, baby. I love you. Please don’t leave the house.”

The air between you felt suffocating. You wanted to forgive her, wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But instead, all you could do was look at her, the disappointment still lodged in your chest as you watched her walk out the front door.

You tried to stay in the house, you really did, but with the bitter taste your argument with Paige left in your mouth, and the lack of an entertaining activity you grabbed your jacket and walked out the door, not giving her instruction to you a second thought. As you stepped into the crisp morning air, the cold wind hitting your face was a welcome distraction. The streets were quiet, but the further you walked, the more distant you felt from Paige—and from everything you had hoped today would be.

You didn’t know how far you were walking, but with each step, your frustration seemed to dissipate. There was something soothing about the neighbourhood—the little details you had been meaning to explore but never found the time for. The small, tucked-away cafes. The vibrant murals on the walls. It was all new, but there was a sense of calm in the unfamiliarity.

You stopped at a café situated on the neighbourhood's park, ordering a cup of coffee, hoping it would settle the unease gnawing at you. As you sat by the window, watching people walk by, you pulled out your phone. A series of missed calls from Paige stared up at you. Each one felt like a reprimand, each one a silent plea for you to come back.

You slid your phone back into your pocket. You didn’t know if you were ready to face her yet. Maybe you needed more time, or maybe you just didn’t know how to process everything. The truth was, you didn’t want to be angry with her. You just felt… invisible. Like you were always expected to put her career first, but when did your needs ever come second?

The daylight faded as you wandered further, following the winding streets that seemed to go on forever. You had no idea how far you’d gone, or how long you’d been walking. The stress of the morning weighed on your shoulders, but now there was a creeping worry: you were lost. Really lost.

Your heart quickened, and a sudden wave of panic swept over you. You pulled out your phone again as you continued walking around in an attempt to find your way home, but this time, you stared at the map, trying to orient yourself. You didn’t recognize anything.

What if something happened? you thought.

Then your phone buzzed again. Paige.

You looked at the screen, your thumb hovering over the call. But you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The guilt was almost suffocating, but the frustration still lingered.

As you took a deep breath, ready to try and figure out where you were, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching behind you. You turned, only to see Paige, her face flushed from running, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Baby?” Her voice cracked slightly as she hurried to you, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I couldn’t get in touch with you, and I—I was so scared. I thought something happened to you.”

The moment she reached you, she didn’t wait for you to say anything. She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you as though she couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go. You stood there, stunned for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, before you finally let go of the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed to get away for a bit.”

Paige pulled back, cupping your face in her hands, her thumb brushing over the wetness on your cheeks. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re second place. You’re my everything.”

Your chest tightened at her words, the weight of the morning's argument finally breaking free. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have walked away like that. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss across your forehead. “Let’s go home,” she said, her voice steady and comforting.

With a final, lingering glance around the neighbourhood, you both turned and made your way back. As you walked side by side, you knew this wasn’t the end of your struggles. But it was a beginning—a promise that no matter how lost you got, you would always find your way back to each other.

[sanchosgf]

gentle reminders

in which jude can’t seem to understand the weight his injuries have on his girlfriend

word count: 1.2k!

warnings: none i think! this isn’t proofread and i’m a little rusty so go easy on me please

heat tricked down your spine as you observed jude, his hand clasped in the medics as they moved his shoulder around. you knew he’d still play, they could tell him his arm had fallen off and even then you knew he’d be determined to continue the game.

your heart remained in your throat for the remaining minutes, unable to appreciate your boyfriends game as your whole body shook with nerves anticipating the weight of his injury that he seemingly was unable to grasp.

this wasn’t the first time you were left worried as jude played through an injury, each time ending in an inevitable argument as you pleaded for him to rest and take care of himself, and you were sure this time would be much the same. however thoughts of fighting were lost upon you as you finally spotted jude walking down the tunnel, his eyes lacking their usual post game spark as he pulled you in for a tight hug, his head nestled comfortably in the crook of your neck.

the hug was short lived, as you pulled back swiftly, hands settling on his cheeks as you inspected every inch of him, noticeable worry swirling your eyes.

“i’m okay baby, promise, just a little hit yeah?” jude comforted, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead a gentle reminder of his love for you. his attempt to console you however was futile, shaking your head back and forth as you peered up at him - now standing back at his full height as your fingers slipped from his cheeks.

“but it wasn’t a little hit jude, you shouldn’t of played on it!” you tried to keep your voice down as you admonished him, arms crossed over your chest, his missing warmth and the physical disconnection making your heart twist.

jude sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked at you before swiftly looking around. “let’s not do this here, please.” his eyes bore into yours, pleading almost as his hand rose to stroke your cheek, catching a tear you didn’t even know had slipped from your eye.

hesitantly you nodded, leaning into his hand and kissing it gently as a silent apology, one he swiftly accepted, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you to the car. no words were shared between the two of you. the silence filled with small glances and shaky breaths, neither of you willing to address the impending argument.

silence followed the two of you into the house, the air tense as you actively held your tongue, wanting nothing more than to get cosy in jude’s arms and forget about the game - jude however had other plans.

“are you going to say what’s on your mind, or continue trying to knock my head off with your mind each time you look at me?” judes voice was heavy, sleep coating ever syllable as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“it doesn’t really matter if i say what’s on my mind, we know you never listen to me when it comes to your injuries. it’s like teaching a baby to drive jude, can we just go to bed?”

jude’s eyes widened significantly at your sudden admission, all sleep leaving his body as he stared at you, mouth agape. though it wasn’t an unwarranted statement, jude knew he dragged you through hell and back with stress each injury, continuously playing on each injury despite your incessant pleas for him to rest. each time ended much the same - you being right and jude being out longer than necessary.

despite the truth jude scoffed “tell me how you really feel babe” his tone was snarky, sending daggers straight to your heart as you finally looked up at him.

“j you know i didn’t mean it like that, but you also know that each time we end up in this situation i end up being right! i’m sick of watching you exhaust yourself and play on injuries which only leaves you out for longer. i hate seeing you hurt and i hate that you can’t see how much it hurts me. i’m tired of it jude.” your voice wobbled slightly as you spoke, desperate to feel jude’s warmth against you, however all you were met with was his icy glare.

“maybe i should sleep in the guest room tonight, let us both cool off.”

his suggestion saw another bout of tears gather in your lash line, eyes searching his own for any trace of a joke.

“if that’s what you want” you choked out, defeated and too tired to argue further. jude’s facade cracked at your defeated expression, however with a lingering kiss to your forehead he left you for the guest room, leaving you with a cold bed and tear stained cheeks.

neither of you could sleep, and as the clock hit 2 jude finally got up, desperate to make amends with you and let you know how much he truly cared for and loved you, disappointed that he failed to do so earlier.

his cold hands met your cheeks softly, thumbs rubbing comforting circles under your eyes as they opened slowly.

“hi baby…” jude’s gentle whisper cut through the silence of the room, as you sat up slowly pulling jude beside you and placing your head right against his heart. it was shameful how quickly you folded at the smallest of touches, however you’d been craving his touch for hours and close now was not close enough.

jude’s lips pressed small kisses to your forehead, knowing how much you adored the small action, and making a note to shower you in an abundance of forehead kisses the next day. “im so so sorry my love… i hate putting you through this, and i don’t show you enough how grateful i am for all you do for me, especially when im injured. i hate that im the reason for you tears tonight sweetheart.”

your eyes fluttered open at his admissions, head tilting ever so slightly to catch his gaze, moonlight illuminating his features. “it’s okay, i get that it’s hard and you just want to play, but you deserve to rest as well y’know? i just wish you’d give yourself a break”

jude nodded at your words, one of his large hands coming up to cradle your cheek, tilting your face up until his lips hovered over yours. impatient with his slow movements, your hand wove to the back of his neck, pressing his lips onto yours as you relished in the warmth the provided, a gentle caress of his own over yours that sent your heart into overdrive.

the kiss spoke volumes for the two of you, as you both lost yourself in it, basking in the intimate connection after hours without any touch.

jude was the first to pull away, forehead leaning against yours as he looked at you intently.

“i love you, y’know? more than anything.”

his words were solidified as he placed his lips against your forehead once more, not faltering as you spoke the same words back, voice slurred as you felt your body succumbing to sleep.

“can we sleep now? i’m tired and i’ve finally got my favorite body pillow back.”

jude let out a tired laugh at your statement, nodding his head as he guided the two of you to lay down, your head nestled right over his heart and under his chin as his arms wrapped securely around you - your small fight long forgotten. his lips provided a gentle pressure against your forehead, a small reminder that even though you two fought, you truly were his best girl, and he’d do all he could tomorrow to show you just how much he loved you.

[girlsworldillusion]

I'll fake it until you give up (or will it be me?)

Ravenclaw!Barty - Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: The five times Barty tried to hint at a relationship with you, being actively blocked in the process, and the one time you were the one who did it.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Ella's Notes: This was supposed to be a one shot, yes I know. But it got out of hand and it was so ridiculously long that no one would have the patience to read something like that. So I split it into two parts - but before you kill me, the second part is practically ready, so I'll post it very soon. Let me know what you think of this first part!

In this story I didn't go into any details about the Slytherins mentioned and Barty himself having any association with Voldemort, nor anything about Death Eaters. In fact, you can even pretend that this scenario doesn't exist in this fic, because that was my intention. I wanted to create something independent, an alternative and lighter version of the events. Maybe in a future opportunity I'll write something within this canonical reality, but that's not the case this time.

Happy reading!

Word count: 6,5k

Lovely tags: @just-here-for-ff @amel1ee

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

i.

You felt bad for the blonde girl next to you in History of Magic class, having to put up with your frustrated huffs every few minutes, born of a complete and utter lack of understanding of the subject. Each class made you feel more confused than the last. Which, honestly, was understandable considering who was teaching.

Professor Binns, oblivious to the students dozing off and openly drooling during his lecture, continued to float tediously around the room with his hands clasped behind his transparent body, reciting every tiny and unnecessary detail about the Goblin Rebellion, his favorite topic to lecture on, with the energy of an old and broken vacuum cleaner.

You glance with some irritation at the nearly blank parchment on the table, your meager notes consisting only of dates and names fished here and there throughout the ghost's monotonous and endless speech - nothing that would guarantee you a good score in the upcoming N.E.W.T.s.

You hate with all your might that your impeccable grade record in all other classes is constantly tarnished by this one hellish subject, year after year.

How was it possible that after so much time listening to the same long and exhausting lectures about the damned rebellion, you still hadn't learned anything substantial about it?

It was clear that this was all Professor Binns' fault and his innate ability to put anyone to sleep in ten minutes of class - five if the day was particularly hot.

"And with that, I conclude today's class." The old ghost's dull, drawling voice rings out and for the first time since class began you feel excited by something he says, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "For the next class I expect from each of you a detailed essay on how Urg the Unclean went from a simple goblin to a renowned leader of the XVIII Rebellion, even having his own image on a Chocolate Frog Card."

The smile dies as quickly as it appears and you slam your forehead against the tabletop with an exasperated groan between your teeth, hearing Pandora chuckle beside you, though she’s certainly as bored with the task as you are.

You turn your face away from the cold surface of the table, cheek pressed against the wood and a defeated look on eyes as you glide disinterestedly across the classroom — which looks as ready to kill themselves as you do. Your expression, however, sharpens immediately when you notice him.

Unlike the other students, who are either openly drooling over their desks as they take the best nap of the school year, or rolling their eyes so hard they might as well end up in the back of their heads in exasperation over this class, he remains irritatingly unfazed.

At first you wouldn’t think he was paying attention in class, not with the nonchalant way he rests his face on his hand, elbow propped on the table. His gaze isn't even on the boring Professor Binns, who's still talking (detailing the damned assignment about Urg the Unclean). His face is tilted over his palm, a sly, soft smile on his lips. And he's looking at you.

You keep the side of your face flat on the table as squint at him suspiciously.

You couldn't say when you first became aware of his stares. And even after you noticed it, for a long time you wondered if you were just imagining it. Of course it could only be your imagination. Why, after all, would he be staring at you at every opportunity he got? There was no apparent reason for it in your mind.

But time passed and what was apparently just imagination changed into an irrefutable certainty. You couldn't pretend not to notice his stares, especially since he never tried to be subtle about it; whether it was over the steamy cauldrons in Potions Class, or from the Ravenclaw table during meals, or the piercing gaze he gave you as he skilfully glided through the air on his broom during a Quidditch match, or even from a strategically positioned spot on the table in front of you as you tried to concentrate and study in the library...

Whatever it was, he was always looking.

And it was already disturbing you. Because, no matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't understand why.

Of course, your mind always ran to the worst possibility of all. Some cruel little game orchestrated with his friends.

Although he was a Ravenclaw, you knew that most of his friendships was centered around Slytherin. Somewhat questionable friendships, such as; Evan Rosier, Regulus Black, Bellatrix, Rabastan Lestrange, Lucious Malfoy, Severus Snape, Wilkes...

Regulus Black and Evan Rosier seemed to be the most 'normal' of the dysfunctional group nicknamed by the other students as the Slytherin Gang; Regulus with his usual superior and disinterested attitude and Evan with the restless and endless energy of a Cornish Pixie. The others, however, were much more openly unpleasant and frightening.

It was not uncommon for you to have to give detentions to Rabastan Lestrange and Bellatrix Black on your nights of patrol as a Head Girl. You would constantly find them doing something they definitely shouldn't, like sneaking out of the dungeons after bedtime to make out indecently in the castle corridors in plain sight, or even cornering some poor younger student to torture with their cruel psychological games - and sometimes physically.

In any case, Barty Crouch's constant association with this group made you automatically label him as one of them, making you wary and suspicious, especially after noticing his stares at you.

Maybe Bellatrix and Rabastan were using him as a channel for revenge on you after all those detentions?

Although, knowing the sadistic and selfish streak of the duo, you doubted they would plan to inflict any torture methods on you through anyone other than themselves.

But anything was possible and the longer he stared, the more paranoid you became.

He smiled a little wider and his stupid crystal blue gaze slowly blinked at you, almost as if he could read your mind.

You blushed, widening your eyes slightly. Could he be a legilimens?

You knew he had the intelligence for it. He was intelligent enough that you were absolutely certain that, even though he didn't seem to hear a single word Professor Binns was saying, he already knew every annoying detail of this subject by heart.

Merlin, he had managed to perform and do ridiculously well in TWELVE O.W.L.s during the fifth year! Which is almost impossible to do, unless you're a damned time traveler, or someone with a level of intelligence and academic commitment that is destined for creatures of superhuman level.

You had your suspicions, and envy, thinking that perhaps he had access to a Time-Turner. But, since Time-Turners were only granted through a direct request from the Head of House to the Ministry, who fully trusted that the student would not use it recklessly, you ruled that possibility out almost immediately. No one in their right mind would trust that Barty Crouch Jr. would not use a Time-Turner to open rifts in space-time and permanently alter events of the past and future for purely selfish reasons, least of all the very sensible and intelligent Head of Ravenclaw House.

Which, of course, didn't help with the question of how he did it.

You yourself had fought tooth and nail, basically living like a living dead person throughout the school year to fit as many classes as possible into your free time during the day, and still managed to complete ten out of twelve O.W.L.s. Of course, at the time, you felt incredibly proud of this, since the standard was for a student, even the smartest, to only complete around seven or eight. Your pride, however, deflated considerably when you discovered that Barty Crouch, a guy with a questionable sense of humor and a worrying level of disinterest in seemingly anything that didn't have a pair of nice legs and a skirt, had surpassed you.

Indignation and envy aside, you felt like you were being pushed to the limit with these constant stares.

Pandora thought he was in love with you. An opinion that, respectfully, you laughed in her face when you heard. There was no way in hell that something like that would happen. Not only was Barty stupidly attractive and therefore completely out of your league - but the mere idea of ​​someone being romantically interested in you made you feel...well, weird would almost be a descriptive enough word.

You didn’t want romance. You never really understood the appeal of it, not at such a young age. Love distracts, it makes people lose sight of the goal, it makes them silly and vulnerable. And you didn’t have time to be silly and vulnerable, not with the weight of so many responsibilities on your shoulders, with dreams and grand ambitions waiting for you in the future. And surely no guy who had trouble keeping himself from cumming as soon as he got in your pants would understand that well enough. You were used to keeping yourself apart, it was almost a defense mechanism at this point. While other girls your age were collecting love, you were collecting good grades in the classes. And that was okay.

Don’t get me wrong, you weren’t necessarily a pessimist (but you certainly weren’t someone who believed in anything; your mother always told you that there was more wisdom in proving it for yourself than in believing in mere whispered words here and there). You just didn’t really understand how this whole love thing could be remotely interesting at your age.

And anyone with half a functioning brain cell knows that Crouch is chaos incarnate: loud, mischievous, and impossible to ignore. He's determined to break every rule ever made by man, but somehow still manages to be absurdly endearing while doing it. It just makes you want to run — to hide. He's definitely the kind of trouble you try to avoid as much as possible in your life.

And that's why the possibility of him being in love with you was definitely not encouraged. In fact, you vehemently refused to even acknowledge it. Simply because it wasn't possible — by any means. Neither would he be interested in you in that way, and much less could you afford to accept any soft feelings from him, on the off chance that they were real. So you cling to the only coherent explanation for all this supposed interest of his: cruel intentions.

Yes, that had to be it.

And it's with that thought in mind that you hurriedly gather your things as soon as Professor Binns finally finishes his almost endless speech and dismisses the class.

You don't look to the side as leave the classroom with brisk steps, but feel his gaze following you anyway.

ii.

Regulus Black was very handsome.

Like, unfairly handsome.

You stare at the Slytherin with a fair amount of jealousy oozing from your pores, a pout on your lips and a furrowed brow. The guy, for his part, doesn’t even seem to be aware of your spiteful gaze upon him, taking elegant, measured bites of the chocolate pudding on his plate, nodding discreetly every now and then to agree with whatever his chatterbox neighbor is saying.

He clearly doesn’t want to engage in any conversation with the boy, but he’s too courteous and polite to make any rude comments about it. Because of course, he’s Regulus Black.

With his aristocratic nose elongated in an undeniably masculine way, but maintaining a delicate curve and a pert tip in a disturbingly cute way - the soft dusting of freckles over the bridge only intensifying the cuteness. His thick, dark eyebrows, drawn in a perfectly symmetrical arch. His pale, smooth skin like the most flawless marble sculpture. His beautiful, onyx curls, framing the sides of his face like he was some ethereal creature from a fairy tale. His eyes, deep-set and beautifully flickering between green and blue, surrounded by the most ridiculously thick curtain of dark lashes you’d ever seen on anyone. And that was just Regulus Black’s face. It was taking absolutely everything in you not to start a detailed analysis of his damn tall, ripped Seeker body.

Now, you hadn’t planned on spending the night cataloging how many unfair ways Regulus Black managed to be more pretty than any other boy you’d ever seen in your life — by Merlin, he was prettier than most GIRLS you’d ever seen, too. You definitely didn't plan on feeling completely humiliated by his appearance that night, as if you looked like you'd been beaten by a Whomping Willow and never recovered from it.

None of that was in the plan, but at some point during Professor Slughorn's endless ramblings and the pretentious comments from the students of this small and select club of supposedly exceptional young people, you found your mind wandering to unwanted places. Unfortunately, Regulus Black was the one sitting right in your line of sight, on the other side of the table - and the poor guy was the victim of your mental fixation to escape boredom.

At first, you saw Slughorn's invitation as an invaluable honor. After all, you had been included in the extremely selective list of the most promising students at Hogwarts. Your body practically vibrated with excitement in the days leading up to the meeting. You picked out a cute dress for the occasion, fixed your hair and even applied a light layer of makeup. Your expectations were admittedly high and you planned to leave the meeting with some good friends and a lot of extra knowledge in your pocket.

But the meeting was nothing like you imagined.

Yes, the students present were all exceptionally talented in one way or another, and the food was quite good too. But the whole thing proved to be nothing more than a parade of superiority and arrogance, so dull and unsatisfying that it drained your energy within the first few minutes.

Slughorn was genuinely proud of having assembled such a group of model young minds, but the students were only concerned with proving who was better than the other. There was no stimulating conversation and extra knowledge as you had imagined - it was just an irritating and inconvenient contest of who had the best and most absurd lived experiences (most of them made up, you were sure) and who, in fact, stood out with it. 

You wanted to leave within the first fifteen minutes of this verbal ordeal, but forced yourself to stay for the sake of Professor Slughorn, who was genuinely elated by the whole thing.

Black and you were the only ones who hadn't shared any stories with the others, resigning yourselves to discreet and scattered comments here and there, just enough to let them know you were present.

To escape the absolute boredom, you let your mind wander. And that's how you ended up hyper-fixated on Regulus Black and his immaculate beauty. The Slytherin proved to be a very effective source of distraction, although his flawless face showed no emotion, remaining as expressionless as a doll - it was clear that the guy also wanted to get rid of this meeting urgently.

Your attention is only broken when a dramatic noise sounds at the entrance of the room, announcing someone's arrival.

Your eyes widen when you see none other than Barty Crouch Junior stumble into the room, spectacularly late. He smiles broadly at the alarmed looks at his indiscreet entrance, walking calmly with his hands in his pants pocket.

There must have been some mistake, you think in bewilderment as you watch him walk over to the table as if he belonged there.

Maybe he was just here to deliver a message?

Your hunch is proven wrong when he seems to notice your presence with a surprised look, his arrogant smile softening immediately to give way to a more natural, more sincere one. Even with a few options open, you sigh in no surprise when you hear him sit down in the empty chair next to yours, sliding in with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, as if he was destined from the start to end up sitting next to you tonight.

You refuse to look at him, turning your face downwards as you busy yourself with sinking the spoon into your own half-eaten chocolate pudding. His audacity to sit next to you only makes you more frustrated - it's not like you're sending out the least bit receptive vibes to his company.

"It's very good to have you with us, Crouch. Even if you arrived later than agreed. It's a shame, I'm afraid you missed some very interesting experiences from your colleagues."

You want to roll your eyes at what Slughorn says from the head of the table, hardly classifying any of those made-up nonsense as remotely interesting, but his presence beside you makes you too tense to do so.

"I'm sorry about that, Professor, I had to finish some important work before I came. I promise I'll be here on time next time."

There's not much sincere regret in Ravenclaw's voice, in fact you swear you can hear something mischievous in his words, which almost makes you want to lift your head to look at his expression.

But, determined as you are to ignore anything Barty would no doubt say to start a conversation, you tilt your head down a little more so that your hair partially hides your face, still showing great interest in the pudding. Crouch, breathing beside you, makes a small sound of confusion at the obvious walls you’ve been putting up, before the sound turns into something akin to amusement.

“You know, ignoring me isn’t going to make me leave,” he says cheerfully — far too cheerfully for someone who’s supposedly (and rightly so) being ignored on purpose.

His recognition of your intentions means you can’t keep up your charade any longer. So, with a heavy sigh, you peer through your hair, already knowing what to expect.

There, right next to you, casually sitting like he was the male protagonist of some clichéd, cheesy romance novel, Batry Crouch smiles.

You feel your eye twitch.

Unlike Regulus, with his ebony curls elegantly arranged around his face, Barty always had that look of someone who tossed and turned all night in bed and didn't even bother to use a comb when he woke up. Locks of light brown hair stuck out in every direction, a mess of strands as chaotic as absolutely everything about him. A few lighter strands stood out among the brown mess, oscillating in a rich shade of gold and honey. And oh Merlin, did the look suit him.

"You look so beautiful tonight. I like that dress on you." He comments, seemingly oblivious to what his words spoken out of absolute nothingness could do to you. Or perhaps very purposefully aware of them. "By the way, you always look beautiful so..."

He's waving his hand in the air as if to emphasize the point that those supposed good looks were normal for you. And of course you get really nervous. It's true, no matter how much you try to deny it to yourself. No matter how much you deny the reasons for being nervous either. You're just not used to compliments, from anyone. Yet you appreciate them very much. Not that you're ever going to admit it, especially to someone as unruly as Crouch.

But you're worried that ravenclaw will notice how nervous you really are anyway, Merlin knows that would only boost his ego and further intensify his apparent commitment to poking you in the most annoying ways. It's a colossal effort to try to calm yourself down while simultaneously trying to stop the blush that was forming on your face. But by heavens, it's really challenging to do so when he's staring at you so openly and intently - oh my, he really doesn't have any respect for the boundaries of proper social behavior, did he?

Your eyes sparkle, cheeks turning pinker as you stare at him with a mixture of shyness and a violent session of anger daggers from beneath your lashes. You’re visibly flustered the longer he stares at you (and unlike you, he’s very comfortable with it), your hands fidgeting with each other on the table in a nervous gesture, having long since given up on poking at the poor chocolate pudding.

Barty blinks briefly at your nervous gesture before returning his eyes to yours. “You know you look so cute when you’re all blushing like that,” he teases playfully. “You look like a little strawberry or something.”

You let out a low, uncomfortable meow in your throat, feeling like you could burst into a ball of flames at any moment. What kind of dysfunctional compliment is that? He’s so horrible at it!

“But then again, I’ve never seen you blush that much,” Barty continues as if the observation wasn’t completely humiliating and unnecessary, his head tilted closer to your flaming face with genuine interest. Your gut churns and protests, seemingly trying to eat itself. What’s with that damn look on his face anyway? “Wait…do I make you shy, princess?”

You hate him. You hate him so much, You swear to Merlin, Barty is the worst. He can’t let a girl blush without drawing undue attention to it?! Sure, it’s a little like baking in your dress from how hard your body is blushing, and yeah, maybe you’ve never reacted like that to anyone else — but that’s no big deal!

Except Barty’s looking at you like it is. Like he wants to cut you open, dissect your insides and see for himself just how deep your supposed secrets are, and it’s doing things to you.

Your face won’t stop burning. “What a stupid ideia, of course you don’t — of course I don’t…” Your sudden, complete inability to form a coherent sentence only makes you more frustrated. “Just shut up, Crouch.”

But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. This is Barty.

“If you’re going to lie about this, at least be convincing,” he smiles wider, a sickly sweet humming sound in his throat, as if the whole situation pleases him beyond words.

You frown, hissing through your teeth as you ball your hands into fists, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Stop smiling, idiot. This isn’t funny.”

The teasing glint in his blue eyes softens to something gentler at your discomfort.

“I’m not smiling to make fun of you little lion, believe me.”

Barty hums, lifting his hand from the table to reach out towards what appears to be, to your complete horror and shock, your face. Any naughty joke dies in your throat, your eyes widening in response, a blush creeping across your skin. A sharp gasp escapes your parted lips and you blink owlishly at those fingers so close to reaching your cheeks.

The boy freezes along with you, surprised by your reaction, his fingers frozen in midair as if he had been struck by a Glacius. You barely notice, though. All you can hear is the anxious beating of your own heart, the electricity that seems to crackle from the fingertips that threaten to brush against your skin.

He’s not…he shouldn’t be touching you. And he’s not, in fact. But then why does that make you feel suddenly dazed and pliable like long-whipped cream? It’s almost a disappointment that he hasn’t extinguished those last few inches and touched your flaming cheeks. You almost regret not knowing what his fingers would feel like on your skin.

What?

The thought comes so quickly, so naturally, that it almost makes you jump.

“Huh...” He breathes and you blink pathetically, coming back to the present with a startled expression and hands strangely damp with cold, nervous sweat. His eyes grow curiously darker, and he realizes, you know he does, you know the exact moment he understands something that not even you are willing to acknowledge, and holy shit, no. Just—no. No.

And when you turn your face away to escape that undesirably intense eye contact (and the equally undesirably feelings that come with it), you realize that damn Regulus Black has finally gotten tired of pretending to pay attention to what the boy next to him is saying. Because now his attention is completely focused on you and Barty and the strange exchange that just happened.

He’s wearing what you’d initially think is a completely neutral expression, but a closer look reveals the slight lift of his eyebrow as he slowly, appraisingly slides his eyes between you and Barty, as if silently contemplating something. For some stupid reason, as he stares at you like that, you feel a lot like a child caught by mom doing something their shouldn’t. He seems to find whatever he’s looking for when he allows a small, almost imperceptible smirk to lift the left corner of his lip, his sharp gaze shining with far more mischief than you’d expect from someone as emotionally distant as him.

You silently wish the ground would open up and swallow you right there, taking you to the deepest abyss - or any fucking place where you can just forget this whole thing ever happened. Your face is so heated with humiliation that you can literally feel your cheeks tingling with red, which only makes Regulus’s smirk grow a little wider.

Your resentment towards Barty Crouch Jr and his colossal guilt in this unspeakable situation grows along with that stupid grin.

“I’m leaving,” you announce abruptly, much louder than necessary, glad that Slughorn is now too engrossed in a conversation with a Hufflepuff in the far corner of the room to notice your cowardly and untimely exit. Before you do, however, you narrow your gaze at Barty while practically hissing through your teeth. “And, by Merlin, you better forget this whole thing ever happened or I swear I’ll spell you and make you vomit slugs all weekend, Crouch. I’m just going to — damn, just...bye.”

And then you’re off, without even allowing the ravenclaw to answer you — he’s already said too much, anyway.

Your stubborn gryffindor streak is trying too hard to sugarcoat the situation and convince you that this was a brave and completely strategic exit, to avoid more trouble. But the truth is, it's just you running, shamelessly running away with your tail between your legs while you can still feel Barty Crouch's gaze burning into the back of your neck and Regulus Black's annoyingly knowing smirk etched into your mind the entire way.

iii.

You never neglected your duties as Head Girl, ever.

So it was extremely unusual that you, on your patrol night, would be hiding in a dark, secluded alcove with a gray cat curled up on your lap while you cried everything you hadn’t cried in longer than you could remember.

You supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later, given the circumstances. But it was really inconvenient that it was on the night of your patrol.

A few days ago you received an owl from your parents with the news that your aunt, probably the person you loved most in the world, had passed away. Despite your intense feelings for her and the absolute shock of reading the letter, you didn’t shed a single tear. Not that night and not in the nights that followed. You grieved, of course; silently and internally. But for a moment you truly believed that this was it - this was all the grief you would ever feel.

Maybe you felt things differently than other people. Maybe you didn’t need to wallow in grief and tears like most people tended to do during their mourning.

And then, as you were patrolling the halls earlier that night, you spotted a cat approaching. At first, there was nothing special about it; cats were everywhere in the castle. Except this cat, furry and gray and with the smug air of someone who was countless miles above you in the social hierarchy, was almost identical to the cat your beloved aunt had kept. The same cat you spent the summers teasing, fluffing its soft, well-groomed fur while the animal gave you its best utter scornful glare — your aunt’s laughter ringing in the background, amused and affectionate.

And that was it.

Before you even realized what was happening, you felt the first tears roll down your cheeks, chest shaking with a shaky sob that fought to escape your lips. Like a burst dam, you felt something break inside you, intense and abrupt. There was no way to control the torrent of emotions that threatened to suffocate you, all you could do was run to find a place where no one could witness your collapse.

The cat, surprisingly, followed your hurried steps all the way, settling between your ankles as soon as you found a safe alcove, wrapping its long tail around your legs as you slid down the wall until you fell to the floor. You cried and sobbed and it purred the whole time; its soft, furry little body rubbing against your skin in a strangely comforting way. It made you feel a little better with its presence, the way it went out of its way to keep you company - as it knew it would do you good at that moment.

Small sobs escape your lips and the weight on your chest threatens to suffocate you for a moment and you choke, covering your mouth.

It's clear that this is undoubtedly a dramatic and unfortunate consequence of trying to internalize your feelings as you always do. But the worst thing is knowing that, when this sudden storm of emotions passes, you'll do it again. Because that's what you always do with your feelings. Run and hide.

The only consolation is knowing that no one other than the poor cat who had the misfortune of crossing your path (or would it be the opposite?) is witnessing this embarrassing moment. You're alone.

At least you think you're alone — until you're not anymore.

The flames in the braziers arranged on the stone walls cast shadows on the floor as someone approaches. And you don't need to look up to know who it is. There's no need to, because you feel the weight of his gaze, the same impossible-to-ignore gaze as always. You know it's Crouch without a doubt and you don't want to be seen like this. Not by anyone, but certainly not by him.

This seems to be enough of a motivator for the cry to die in your throat and suddenly your focus is solely on getting away of here. Get away from him. You need air, space, something.

You stand on shaky legs so fast you feel dizzy, your balance already precarious from the headache from crying so much, and the impact makes you stumble. For a split second, you think you might fall — your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts — and then a strong hand grabs your wrist, another braces on your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground. The cat running away during the confusion.

You don’t process what happens immediately, the abrupt turn and your own reeling mind making it hard to form a coherent judgment. Your mind is still stuck on running away and I can’t breathe, and it takes a second to realize that Barty is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful on your body, his expression wavering between amusement and concern.

“Hey hey little lion, what’s the rush?” He teases as always, but his voice loses its careless tone as he seems to get a better look at your face. And you can only imagine the shitty visual you’re giving off. The flames on the walls highlighting the wet trail of tears on your flushed cheeks, your eyes puffy and red from crying, teeth sinking into a quivering bottom lip, hair messy around your face. You look like hell, and you know it.

It doesn’t help that Barty is still examining your face, his eyes narrowing beneath heavy brows that furrow together.

You pull away from him, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly.

“I’m fine.” You spit before he can elaborate on whatever it is that’s on his mind.

Crouch doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?Because honestly, princess, It's not what it seems.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. "Did someone hurt you? Tell me who made you feel like this, please, I swear I-"

"I said I'm fine." You cut off the endless stream of words, looking down as you adjust your shirt against your body, shifting the weight to your other foot, ignoring the new wave of tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. In the same way that you purposefully ignore how his readiness to solve whatever it is that made you feel so bad makes you feel...things. "Go bother someone else, Crouch."

Barty exhales, something heavy in the sound. You look up at the sound, almost uncomfortable with the change. For the first time, his blue eyes aren't filled with that same joy or mischief its always had. Just something inquisitive, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don't have the strength to deal with right now.

"Why...why do you do this?" he asks, softer now, but no less intense. Your brows furrow in confusion at the question, eyes still bright with unshed tears. He sighs, giving you a look that is nothing short of wistful. “Why do you try so hard to pretend that you don’t need anyone to care? You always act like you carry the whole world on your own and you’re doing just fine.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips tighten. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge how close his words are to the truth. Your throat tightens.

“Why do you care?”

Barty lets out a sigh, tilting his head slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if you’re something he’s trying very hard to decipher. Then he laughs, low and humorless.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice is lower now, something dangerously close to vulnerability. Your fists clench to the point of pain at your sides. “I care because it’s you.”

You blink at him, unable to understand, unable to accept whatever it is he’s trying to tell you. In fact, something inside you whispers that you do. But it feels like too much, like more than you can handle, more than you can comprehend. You feel impossible, a being made of knots and thorns, too tight in your own skin.

“Please,” you sigh then, tired and tearful, the next wave of tears finally spilling over your waterline to run down your wet cheeks, “let’s not do this now…I just, please—”

“Shhh,” he silences your incoherent protest as he pulls you closer with a firm but still gentle tug on your wrist. Your head sinks into the hard planes of his chest as you follow the pull with the naturalness of a wooden doll, your eyes wide and still leaking water — because, Merlin, he’s hugging you.

Your nose is buried in the white dress shirt of his uniform, and the first thing you notice is how strangely good he feels. Warm and comfortable against the chilly wind that blows in through the hallway’s openings, smelling like the wood that fuels the flames of the many fireplaces around the castle’s many and the fresh mint of the tea you drink before bed. And you don’t know what to do with it, what you’re supposed to be doing here. Your body is stiff and trembling as he gently wraps his arms around you, as if you’re something priceless, leaning in so he can bury his nose in the roots of your hair.

“Relax.”

And as if that small, whispered ‘relax’ was all you needed to pull yourself out of your own mind, you slowly feel every muscle beneath your flesh give way and do exactly what he asked; your body relaxing against his, doe eyes blinking against the softness of his shirt, lips parted as you let his presence comfort you.

He feels safe, trustworthy. And it’s so rare that you feel this way that even though you know it would be over in an instant, you don’t want to, and it doesn’t matter, and…your fingers ache to touch him back. It feels like a lifetime before you allow yourself to and you’re returning it. You wrap your arms around his waist to hug his back, gripping the fabric under your hands so tightly it hurts, but you can’t bring yourself to let go, face sinking into his chest to sob some more. Please, don’t make him let go.

“It’s okay, we’ll have time to talk later,” he murmurs into your hair, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he doesn’t. He lets you cry and sob into his shirt, completely ruining it in the process. But Barty doesn’t care, not even when you sniffle and move to pull away after realizing how messy you’ve been. He just mumbles, 'It's okay, princess, I just want to help you feel better' - something that makes you blush and cry a little more. Because, good heavens, no one has ever said something like that to you.

At one point, you realize that you're both sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and you're half-sitting on the floor, between his legs, face still against his chest - feeling his deep, even breathing calm you down.

By the time tears stop falling, you're exhausted. You've been exhausted for so long, but this kind of exhaustion is different. Better. You realize that you're lighter now than you've felt in a long time, thanks to Barty Crouch Junior. And you...don't know how you feel about that.

And you're too exhausted to think about it.

But you do know one thing.

You don't hate this comfortable contact with him. You don't hate his fingers gently combing through your hair, untangling knots you didn't even know were there. You don't hate his whispers close to your ear, reciting the name of every constellation visible in the dark sky.

You certainly don't hate this moment of peace, a white flag you've raised to wave lazily between the two of you.

When you pull away some time later, struggling to smooth out your wrinkled skirt and shirt, you mumble a thank you to him with heated cheeks and shy eyes. And when he smiles back with his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side, telling you not to mind, that it was nothing - and you freeze, feeling...

Disappointed?

It was nothing, really. This could never be anything other than 'nothing'. But for some reason, hearing that from him hits you in a completely unexpected and senseless way.

He notices the change in the shine in your eyes, rushing to rephrase what he said with a series of 'wait, that came out wrong' and 'please, I didn't mean it like that'. But you calm him down, assuring him that everything was fine and that it really was nothing, he’s more than right about it.

Before he can argue with that, you’re walking, smiling over your shoulder as you bid him a hasty goodnight before rushing off to your dorm.

Barty was right. This was nothing.

[kortsitron]

You're such a tease

✮ PARING Genji Shimada × Reader, Hanzo Shimada × Reader, Cole Cassidy × Reader, Niran Pruksamanee × Reader, Ramattra × Reader, Mauga Malosi × Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS cockwarming (as teasing), 18+, gender neutral reader (no genitalia mentioned), mdni, nsfw

✮ SUMMARY They react to your teasing/punishment

✮ A/N Hey, apologies for not being active, I won't lie this year and the last few months have been terrible and my mental was (and perhaps still is) in shreds. I will try my best to take care of the requests I got, because I don't want any of you to wait any longer. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Genji Shimada 

⟡ Genji is collected until instead of just cockwarming him, start moving your hips. The subtle movement cause his cock to twitch, but he still does his best to act like nothing is happening

⟡ Soon enough his hands find their on hips, gently squeezing them, as if asking for something more. Genji won't speak up unless he really has to, but once he does it's just quiet pleads, asking if you can finally move, because he needs you

Hanzo Shimada

⟡ Hanzo like Genji acts like he's collected, but you can see clearly that he's turning into a mess. The light blush, his breath becoming heavier. No matter how much he tries to hide it under his grumpy expression, you can see right through him

⟡ When you decide to tease him a bit more, moving slightly, you hear a soft gasp from him. He does his best to keep a frown on his face, but you moving more makes him moan. On the inside he gets for you to stop playing him

Cole Cassidy

⟡ Cole is unphased, the same smug smile face as he feels the familiar tightness around him. But soon enough, just a little movement has him shivering. Already using nicknames on you and trying to gently move

⟡ He can't help, but bite his lip, looking into your eyes as he tries to convince you to do what he wants

Niran Pruksamanee 

⟡ Niran is flirty from the start, giving you little touched here and there to convince you to give into his wants. His touches as always are subtle and delicate. His plan is to seduce you

⟡ When he feels you move, he can't help, but whimper quietly, quietly begging for you to keep moving your hips like that

Ramattra 

⟡ He doesn't understand the meaning of this, until you move slightly and all of his sensors are on fire. He almost jumped, already starting to feel overwhelmed. You swear you can see steam coming off him

⟡ Ramattra is not the one to beg, he himself shifts ever so slightly to get that tiny amount of friction. Hearing you complain about him moving, he will come up with so excuse that his cables are getting tangled up and he's just trying to prevent that from happening

Mauga Malosi

⟡ Will act unfazed, but soon is frustrated by the lack of friction. But soon enough he groans and growls your name, holding you in place as adjusts

⟡ He usually doesn't beg, he never gets, but if it’s the way for him to get what he wants - he will beg. He bites his lip and looks right into your eyes as he does so, hoping it would be enough. Obviously it's not, so he buries his face in your neck and whispers pleads into it, sending shivers down your spine

[caustic--soda]

Beyond the Surface of Suo and Sakura’s relationship

**MANGA SPOILER WARNING**

This is my first post on this website, apologies if theres anything incoherent here. This post is also very simplified and lacks some information as I wanted to keep it as concise as possible. If you would like a full-blown analysis about their relationship, do let me know. I may consider making a complete writeup.

Contrary to popular belief about their “lack of interactions”, Suo and Sakura share many important and pivotal moments together scattered across the story. They may not have that big impactful moment compared to other dynamics in WBK (examples being Chika calling Endo by his full name, or Nirei yelling at Sakura in Noroshi, but we’ll get to that later), however they are important to their relationship and for their individual characters. There’s too many to list here, so I will keep it short.

From the start of Wind Breaker, Suo has always teased Sakura; even lying to him when they first meet:

We all know that Suo is a very unserious guy, and this aspect of his character is highlighted the most when it comes to his interactions with Sakura. He constantly pokes fun at him; blatantly lying to him with the sole purpose to mess with him and just being a general tease.

These aren’t even all the instances when Suo does this! I got lazy while compiling images (yes, theres *that* many moments where Suo teases Sakura), but I hope this paints a good perspective.

This makes Sakura thinks of him as “untrustworthy”, in a more lighthearted sense.

Infact, out of anyone else in the cast, Sakura is the only person who actively questions Suo’s character. (I’m not counting Tsugeura because their confrontation was a one time thing)

But here’s the thing: Even if Suo takes advantage of the fact that Sakura is gullible enough to believe anything just so he can mess with him, Sakura still relies on Suo.

He relies on him to come up with a strategic plan for their war, partners with Sugishita despite his initial reluctance, and even follows his advice on how to fight with others people (which works in his favor immensely during the beginning of Noroshi and while he works with Sugishita)

Theres also another moment I’d like to showcase (which is very underrated imo):

Here, we see Sakura taking the support of Suo’s shoulder in order to kick Endo in the face. We also see Suo defending Sakura a few moments ago as well.

Heres’s the thing: Sakura is an arial fighter. He can easily jump to certain heights by himself, much less be able to kick his opponents mid-air. He doesn’t require any support to lift his body upwards.

So why would Sakura do this?

It’s simple: Sakura trusts Suo, whether it be direct or subconsciously. And as his vice captain, Suo also trusts Sakura. Why would he appoint him as class captain if otherwise?

Their mutual trust plays a massive part in their relationship. There are many instances showing this aspect, but for now I will just analyze this iconic scene:

Both Sakura and Suo immediately jump into action in order to protect their friend, Nirei, from any immediate threat (Endo). They exchange no words, only a knowing glance to each other.

I believe that this page shows the essence of their relationship: Despite their petty banter and occasional disagreements, despite how less ‘open’ their relationship is, they are more often on the same wavelength than not.

They care for and trust each other immensely. However, many of their nuances are in hidden between the lines of their relationship due to the guarded nature of characters.

And it is with all these aspects combined that makes the Suo and Sakura duo appealing to many people.

TLDR: Suo and Sakura trust and care for each other a lot, despite their personal shortcomings and Suo incessantly messing with Sakura.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk. There was so much more I wanted to write about here (such as their flawed perspectives on each other, suo’s perspective on sakura, and how they uplift each other), but unfortunately Tumblr literally refused to upload most of my images and nuked half of this post bc it decided not to save the draft; hence the short analysis. If you have any additional thoughts, feel free to let me know :)

[tamby-teeze]

Okay, so I know a solid 40% of the new Fantasy High was about Tracker "There's still deep attraction here" O'Shaughnessy, but HERE ME OUT

Gertie Bladeshield is the perfect woman for Kristen Applebees.

Cause, like, look, there was a lot of talk in episode 11 about impulsivity and chaos as an aspect of Kristen's character, mainly in how it's mirrored in Princess "Kristen if she had money" Naradriel, but it's also been a general focus this season, especially in how she often uses it to guard her emotions. Think back to "That's what you think", an incredible improv moment, but if you look at the big picture, Kristen's estranged parents make an incredibly inflammatory statement about her religion right after actively bullying her little brother, and instead of honoring any of the actual negative emotions she's being filled with in that moment, she pirouettes away. It's brought up in the adventuring party after this exact episode how Kristen is a cleric, a high-wisdom class that is naturally insightful, but uses these silly deflections to hold other people back from being insightful into her (hence Mac & Donna's lifetime insight disadvantage)

This isn't just limited to small moments, too. To take a broader look at the season so far, Kristen's chaotic, shrimp-jumping, wrangler-wearing, salsa-dipping, middle-school-campaigning, steel-workers-union-supporting bid for class president is often shown explicitly as a distraction from her existentially important job as the only cleric of Cassandra. Even when trying to earnestly apologize to Cassandra and prove to them that she's gonna prioritize her over class presidency, the only way she can articulate it is "You're the meat, mama." Her emotions are always guarded by some amount of chaos and impulsivity.

Now, how does that relate to Gertie "I've had a crush on you for a really long time" Bladeshield?

In both of the two scenes we've gotten of The Best D20 NPC (/j (but I do really like her)), Gertie has shown a pretty similar propensity for making bold, chaotic decisions in the heat of the moment. However, in my observation, these decisions do NOT come from a place of emotional suppression. Quite the opposite, actually.

Think back to her Grand Entrance into the narrative. Gertie, being one of the last people awake at Fabian's party, gifts her longtime-crush a jar of honey, something that connects directly to her passion/special-interest of beekeeping, in a homemade container designed as a pun on Kristen's last name. (in hindsight, the crush was very obvious) Then, in the middle of her infodumping to her about honey, Kristen's rich friend makes an incredibly dismissive remark about her good-natured gift. This obviously pisses her off, but unlike Kristen "That's what you think" Applebees, Gertie "I don't give a shit who's kid you are" Bladeshield lets herself feel those emotions very loudly, immediately starts a duel with possibly one of the most accomplished sword-fighters in the history of Aguefort, and declares him a life-long nemesis. She acts very brashly and impulsively, but in a way that doesn't hide her emotions, instead expressing them.

(I know there's a lot of talk about outbursts of anger being tied to Ankarna, but not only does the scene not really seem like foreshadowing to me, it's more interesting to see it through the lens of being Gertie's actual actions)

This trend continues with the 12th most noteworthy thing to have happened in episode 11 (which incredibly high acclaim), where after being explicitly asked to talk about bees by her crush, and being placed inches away from her face, kisses her on the lips. Now, excusing the albeit upsetting lack of consent, it once again shows Gertie acting very impulsively in a way that exposes her feelings to the people she likes. With these two instances of characterization being literally the only two scenes we get with her, it poses her as a very interesting parallel to Kristen, someone who shares in her willingness to make impulsive decisions, but differs wildly from her in the way she uses them to react to strong emotions.

However, does this really make Gertie the Autism to her ADHD?

(idk if Gertie really shows autistic traits, I just wanted to say that) Well, part of what Tracker a good companion for Kristen was that, as a fellow cleric, she naturally had very high wisdom, meaning she had enough insight to look past the layers of shrimp and salsa and engage with her on a deep level. However, clerics aren't the only class that cast spells with wisdom, so do rangers, including swarm-keeper rangers, which is a subclass that both has a good few abilities focused on spell-casting and was confirmed to be Gertie's subclass in an adventuring party. While her highest stat still could be dex (which, come to think of it, is a hilarious contrast to Kristen), there's no doubt that Gertie has a higher chance than most at being able to look past Kristen's barriers and see the complex hive of sweet, buzzing emotions underneath.

Hell, maybe that's where Gertie's crush comes from in the first place. Maybe, seeing this popular, proudly sapphic cleric be incredibly playful and chaotic on school grounds, she not only saw a bit of herself, but a little more. Perhaps, the type of mind that dedicates itself to allowing small, harmless critters to prosper even when no-one cares to join her club, is also the type of mind able to recognize when someone isn't allowing their truest emotions to prosper, making her wonder if they might have something to gain from sharing some of that chaos, using it not to hide, but to be free.

Or maybe it's just cause her last name has "bees" in it, idk.