#then maybe MAYBE I’ll do the boys. maybe

[gdinthehouseee]

Sugar: KWON JIYONG x READER

summary: jiyong is eager to please you, by any means necessary…

word count: 1669

tags: smut; dom reader and sub jiyong, implied sugar daddy dynamic, hand job, begging, unprotected p in v sex,

ao3 link

The boutique is closed to the public. Of course it is. Jiyong had it cleared out just for you. A full rack of unreleased designer pieces is rolled in as soft jazz hums through the overhead speakers. You’re seated on a velvet chaise, sipping champagne while a stylist flutters nervously nearby, awaiting your reaction to the gown Jiyong insisted they bring out just for you.

“I told them it’d look even better on you than the model,” Jiyong purrs as he strolls back into the room, decked out in a loose silk shirt and tailored trousers, sunglasses still on indoors. Forever the dramatic one.

You arch a brow. “That’s why you made me cancel lunch? Just to play dress-up?”

He shrugs, practically ripping off his glasses and walking over until he’s kneeling beside your chair, long fingers gently curling around your ankle.

“I wanted you all to myself.” He brings your foot into his lap, casually massaging over the arch through your heel. “Besides… you like it when I spoil you.”

He’s not wrong. The room, the clothes, the way his gaze never leaves your face when you walk out in something new—it’s intoxicating. But you know that look in his eye. He’s waiting. Testing.

“You didn’t really do this for me, though, did you?” You ask, voice smooth. You slip your heel off and press the ball of your foot against the inside of his thigh, watching his lips twitch into a smirk. “You did it because you’re desperate for attention.”

That smirk slips just enough for you to see the shift. “…Maybe.”

You lean in, fingers brushing beneath his chin, lifting his face to meet your eyes.

“I haven’t decided if you’ve earned it yet.”

“Earned what?”

“Praise,” you say simply. “Touch. Me.”

He shifts on his knees, fingers tightening around your calf. “That’s mean.”

“No, baby,” you murmur, sliding your fingers through his perfectly styled hair, just enough to mess it. “Mean would be letting you watch me try on every single piece in this boutique, knowing you won’t get so much as a kiss until we get home.”

His pupils dilate. You can feel him trying not to squirm.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.” You lean close, brushing your lips against his ear. “But be a good boy… and maybe I’ll let you unzip my dress after dinner.”

“What if I misbehave on purpose?”

“Then you’ll really have to earn it.”

And just like that, the balance shifts again—he presses a kiss to your knee, deferent, eyes full of heat and need.

“…Can I carry your bags at least?”

Later on, he’s been quiet all evening, but not in a sulking way. Not tonight. Jiyong’s quiet means coiled tension—the kind that sits low in his stomach and simmers behind every gentlemanly gesture. He held your hand through the entire meal, thumb lazily brushing your knuckles like he was imagining where else he wanted to touch you.

And now? 

He’s on his knees again. Right where he belongs.

“I was good,” he murmurs, voice hushed as his hands rest on your thighs. “You said I could unzip your dress…”

You study him from the plush edge of the bed, the city lights casting a golden glow behind him. He looks wrecked already, and you’ve barely touched him. Hair tousled, shirt half-unbuttoned, pupils blown wide.

“I said maybe,” you correct softly.

His jaw clenches like he’s holding back a whine. “I carried your bags. I didn’t interrupt you once at dinner. I didn’t even get handsy in the car…”

You tilt your head, amused. “That’s the bar now? Not groping me in the back of the car?”

He smirks, but it’s shaky. His fingers twitch against your thighs. “Just trying to follow the rules.”

You lean forward, one hand sliding into his hair gently, but with enough force that he gasps when you pull. “You like following my rules, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You like earning my praise?”

He nods frantically.

“Then earn it.”

His lips part, breath hitching. For a moment he hesitates—pride flickering in his eyes—but he’s too far gone, too desperate to disobey now.

“Please let me take it off,” he says, voice low and needy. “Please let me show you how good I can be for you. I’ll do anything. I just want to make you feel good.”

You smile, easing your grip just enough to pet his hair. “There’s my good boy.”

The sound he makes at that—half-moan, half-relief—goes straight between your legs, adding to your own arousal that’s heating up in your abdomen. 

“Take it off slowly,” you command, standing to let him at the zipper. “And then you sit right back down. No touching unless I say.”

He obeys instantly, hands trembling as he drags the zipper down the curve of your back, lips parted, gaze reverent. When the dress pools at your feet, you step out of it and raise an eyebrow as he finally sits on the bed and looks up at you.

“Eyes down.”

He lowers his gaze obediently, fists clenched on his thighs.

“Touch yourself.”

He freezes.

“Don’t keep me waiting, sweetheart..”

His hand moves to his waistband instantly, a breathy curse tumbling from his lips as he shoves his clothes down. He strokes himself once, twice, biting his lip. You lower yourself into his lap, straddling him—fully in control, fully clothed in delicate lingerie that he bought for you just last week.

“Look at me now.”

He lifts his eyes; flushed, desperate, completely at your mercy. 

“You were good tonight,” you murmur, lips brushing his. Then you kiss him—deep, slow, claiming. He moans into your mouth, his hips twitching and slightly bucking up into you.

You pull back, just enough to whisper against his lips once more. “Keep begging, baby. I’m not giving you everything yet.”

You grind against him slowly, letting the thin fabric of your lingerie brush over his bare skin. He’s already rock hard, his cock painfully straining against your thigh, but you won’t give it to him yet. Not until he really earns it.

“You like this?” You murmur, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth as you roll your hips once more.

“Yes,” he gasps. “God, yes, I—”

You slide your hand into his hair again, gently tugging him back just enough so he has to look up at you.

“Then say it.”

He swallows hard, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

“I like it when you use me,” he whispers. “When you take control. I like being your good boy.”

Your smile is soft, slow, and dangerous.

“There it is,” you purr. “There’s my sweet thing.”

You lean in, kissing just below his ear, then lower your voice to a whisper that makes him shiver.

“And sweet things get rewards.”

You slide your hand down between you, wrapping your fingers around him—finally giving him what he’s been begging for. He groans—loud and unrestrained, his head falling back as he bucks into your hand. You stroke him slowly, deliberately, watching his muscles tense as he tries not to fall apart too fast.

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, already trembling. “Please, don’t stop—please, let me—”

“No,” you cut in gently. “You wait until I say.”

He whines. “But—”

You tighten your grip just enough to make him gasp, then lean in close so your lips brush against his ear again.

“You don’t come until I tell you, Jiyong. You hear me?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, I hear you. I'll be good, I’ll be so good—please, I just want to make you proud.”

The words make your heart twist in the best way, and your core clench around nothing. God, when he pleads like that, it’s almost too much.

You pull your panties to the side and sink down onto him slowly, watching as he falls back against the silk sheets. His entire body arches beneath you like it’s the first time all over again.

“Fuck—oh my god,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” you command.

He obeys, panting through gritted teeth, hands gripping the silk beneath you because you haven’t given him permission to touch you yet.

“That’s it,” you whisper. “Just like that. Look how good you are for me.”

You ride him slow, deep, dragging it out—making him truly feel it. Every stroke has him gasping, trying to keep it together as you talk him through it.

“You’re perfect like this,” you murmur, rolling your hips just right. “So beautiful when you beg for me. When you need me.”

He’s shaking now, his voice catching on every breath. Desperately, he sits up again. Your heart clenches at the sight of him trying his best to be good but wanting nothing more than to practically worship you. “Please let me touch you—please, I can’t—”

You guide his hands to your waist, finally giving in.

“There,” you breathe. “Hold me. Take it. You earned it.”

And he does. He holds on like he’s never letting go, pressing his lips to your collarbone as if worshiping you with every broken moan.

“Can I come?” He gasps. “Please, princess, I need—”

“Now, baby.”

He falls apart instantly—loud, raw, beautiful. His entire body trembles beneath you as you ride him through it, praising him with every breath.

“Good boy. That’s it. Just like that.”

When he finally collapses back against the pillows at the headboard, wrecked and panting, you lower yourself onto his chest, brushing his sweat-damp hair from his forehead.

“You did so well for me,” you murmur, pressing kisses along his jaw. “I’m so proud of you.”

His arms wrap around you tight, still trembling as he buries his face in your neck.

“I love when you take control,” he whispers. “I love being yours.”

You smile against his skin.

“And I love spoiling you, Jiyong. But only when you earn it.”

“Don’t get me started, princess.”

this is for my wives <33

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[fiastomatocheek]

NO CREEPY GUYS ALLOWED NEAR MY WIFE

pair: dad!will smith x f!reader

genre: domestic fluff, protective dad, subtle angst, romance.

warnings: unwanted flirting (non-graphic), strong emotional themes, overprotective twins, soft husband!will, hockey dad pride, will being hot when he’s mad.

summary: as a dad, will’s always blended into the background at the twins’ games, cap low and presence quiet, it’s a shadow of love instead of a spotlight. but when a stranger crosses a line while will is away for the first time, the twins step up to protect their mom. and when will returns, he realizes it’s time to stop hiding the family he’s so damn proud of.

fia’s notes: the idea originally came from a post on fiakive (me), and after seeing a few anons and moots show interest in the concept of dad!will, i figured that why not write one? so here it is! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed bringing it to life. also in this story, eli’s mom can be a hockey mom in this, but she’s never really been into hockey herself. maybe her husband is the fan, but she’s never been all that interested in the sport.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland

“Morning, gorgeous,” Will murmured,

“You ready to cheer our boys on without me?”

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “I’ll manage. But you owe me for doing this solo, Smith.”

He grinned, that boyish charm still as potent as the day you met.

“Name your price. Dinner out? Back rub? I’m at your mercy.”

You laughed, swatting his chest.

“Let’s start with you not being late for practice again. Coach was not happy last time.”

Will’s face fell, his blue eyes clouding with guilt.

“I hate missing their games. Charles and Theo are gonna be out there, probably pulling moves I taught them, and I’m stuck doing line drills.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing his stubble.

“You’ll be there tomorrow, and they’ll light up when they see you. I’ve got this. I’m their loudest fan today.”

He leaned down, kissing you, the kind of kiss that reminded you why you’d said yes to him all those years ago.

“You’re the best, you know that?” he said, pulling back.

“Tell the boys I’m proud of them, win or lose. And…”

His tone shifted, taking on that serious dad edge he used before every game. “Make sure they remember the rules.”

You nodded, mimicking his stern voice.

“Enjoy the game, have fun, and be brothers on and off the ice. No rough stuff, just clean hockey.”

“Exactly,” he said, but his expression softened.

“And one more thing, tell them to look out for you. Protect Mom when I’m not there.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart warmed. “Will, it’s a middle school rink, not a war zone.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stealing one last kiss.

“You’re my world, and they’re my boys. Gotta keep you safe.”

“Love you,” you called as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

“Love you more, babe.” he shot back, winking before the door clicked shut.

At 11, the twins were carbon copies of Will, tall for their age, with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes, though Charles had your smile and Theo had your quiet intensity but still they had a big love for hockey. They stumbled downstairs, already in their hockey mindset, their jerseys draped over chairs, Charles in #2, Theo in #43. Those numbers were Will’s from his USA Hockey days and his time with the Sharks, but the boys thought they were just his ‘weekend game’ numbers from pickup games with friends. You and Will had kept his NHL career under wraps, wanting them to grow up as regular kids, not as ‘Will Smith’s sons.’ or whatever nickname others people would gave them. Privacy was sacred, a shield against the media’s prying eyes.

In the car, the boys were a whirlwind of energy, their gear bags rattling in the trunk. Charles, the chattier one, leaned forward.

“I’m scoring at least two goals today, Mom. Watch.”

Theo, in the back, smirked.

“Only if I don’t block you first. My team’s defense is solid.”

You glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning.

“Okay, hotshots, what’s Dad’s rule?”

Charles groaned, flopping back. “Have fun, play clean, and be brothers on and off ice.”

“And don’t go too hard on each other. Oh and protect Mom when Dad’s not here.” Theo added, his voice softer but firm.

“Good,” you said.

“You’re on different teams, but you’re a team at home. Dad said he’s proud of you, no matter what.”

Charles puffed out his chest, his jersey crinkling.

“We’ve got you, Mom. Nobody’s gonna mess with us.”

“Yeah,” Theo said, his eyes narrowing. “We’re Smiths.”

You laughed, pulling into the school parking lot. The rink was a hive of activity, coaches barking last-minute instructions. The boys hopped out, hoisting their bags like pros.

“Go get ready,” you called. “Put your gear on, lace up, and I’ll meet you inside.”

They waved, disappearing into the crowd of jersey-clad kids. You parked, grabbed your jacket, and headed to the rink, you spotted Charles and Theo already in their warming up position, their names bold on their jerseys with number #2 SMITH and #43 SMITH. They skated with Will’s effortless grace, weaving through cones, firing pucks with precision. Charles flicked a playful shot at Theo, who blocked it with a grin. Just like their Dad, their focus unbreakable.

You found a seat in the front row, close enough to feel the thud of the puck. Lisa, the mom of Eli, Theo’s teammate, slid in beside you, her red scarf bright against the gray bleachers.

“Hey, girl!” she said, nudging you.

“Your boys look like they’re ready to run today game.”

“They’re hyped,” you said, grinning.

“Their dad gave them the full pep talk before he left for practice.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Will’s not here? That’s new. He’s usually glued to the glass, yelling like he’s coaching the Sharks.”

“Yeah, he’s got practice. He’ll be here tomorrow, though. The boys are counting on it.”

The game kicked off with a roar, the puck zipping across the ice. Charles, left wing for the Blue team, was a blur, dodging defenders and rifling a shot that hit the net five minutes in. The crowd erupted, and you leapt up, screaming,

“That’s my Charlie!”

Theo, right wing for the Red team, wasn’t about to let his brother steal the show. He snagged the puck, deked a defender with a move straight out of Will’s playbook, and snapped a wrist shot into the goal. You clapped wildly, your heart swelling.

“Go, Theo Smith! Go!”

Behind you, parents whisper, their voices a mix of awe and curiosity.

“Those Smith boys are unreal,” one dad said.

“That’s not just practice. They’ve got serious talent.”

“Look at that footwork,” a mom added. “Their dad must’ve been a hell of a player.”

Lisa leaned over, her eyes twinkling.

“That’s all Will’s doing, right? He’s got those boys skating like pros.”

You smiled, keeping your answer vague.

“He’s taught them a lot. They’ve been on skates since they were three.”

You never mentioned Will’s NHL career, not even to Lisa, who was as close as you got to a rink-side confidante. It was a promise you and Will made early on to keep the boys out of the spotlight, to let them be kids. The less people knew, the better.

The first half was a showcase of the twins’ skills. Charles threaded a no-look pass to a teammate, who scored. Theo blocked a shot, then set up a goal with a pinpoint assist. They were competitive but never crossing into dirty play, just as Will had drilled into them. You could see their personalities on the ice for Charles’s flair, Theo’s quiet intensity but they respected eachother, even as opponents.

At the break, you grabbed a hot chocolate drink, chatting with Lisa about the team’s playoff chances. That’s when a man approached, his smile a touch too warm. He was tall, with dark hair and a kid’s Blue team jersey slung over his shoulder, his son probably one of Charles’s teammates. His name tag read ‘Joseph.’

“Hey, you’re Charles and Theo’s mom, right?” he said, offering a handshake.

“I’m Joseph. My son, Max, plays with Charles.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand out of courtesy.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Those boys are incredible out there,” he said, stepping closer.

“You must be so proud. Raising twins on your own must be a lot, though.”

You frowned, caught off guard.

“Oh, I’m not, my husband’s just at work today.”

He either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it.

“Still, you’re doing an amazing job. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime, swap stories about the chaos of hockey parenting.”

His tone was unmistakably flirty, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

You’re already felt the discomfort. You hadn’t worn your wedding rings today, they were at the cleaner, and you’d left your engagement ring at home, worried about losing it in the chaos of the game. Maybe that’s why he’d misread the situation.

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” you said, stepping back.

“I need to get back for the second half.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, but his smile didn’t falter.

“Think about that coffee, though.”

The second half was just as intense, with Charles and Theo trading goals and assists. The game ended in a 3-3 tie, the kids spilling onto the ice in a flurry of high-fives and laughter. You stood, clapping, but your smile faded when you saw Charles and Theo skating toward you, their faces etched with concern.

“Mom, you okay?”

Charles asked, his helmet tucked under his arm, sweat matting his hair.

“That guy was weird,”

Theo said, his voice low and protective. He glared toward the stands, where Joseph was chatting with another parent.

“He was talking to you all funny.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry them.

“It’s fine, boys. He was just being friendly. Let’s get your gear off and head home. Dad’s waiting”

They exchanged a look, more of Will’s look, all fierce protectiveness and skated to the locker room. You exhaled, relieved they didn’t push it further. On the drive home, the boys were back to their usual selves, dissecting every play and plotting strategies for tomorrow’s game. They didn’t mention about that guy, so you assumed they’d let it go.

When you pulled into the driveway, Will’s car was in its spot. The boys bolted inside, their gear bags thumping against the doorframe.

“Dad!”

They shouted, tackling Will as he stepped out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

“Whoa, slow down, champs!”

Will laughed, ruffling their hair. He was still in his practice sweats, his face flushed from a hard skate.

“How’d my superstars do?”

Before you could answer, Charles blurted,

“Some guy was talking to Mom, and she looked super uncomfortable.”

Theo nodded, his arms crossed.

“Yeah, he was all smiley and weird. We told him we had to go, and he backed off.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze snapping to you. You saw the jealousy, but it was tempered by humor, his lips twitching into a smirk. He crouched to their level, his voice conspiratorial.

“Is that right? What’d you do, huh? Give me the play-by-play.”

Charles grinned, puffing up.

“We skated over after the game and said we had to leave. He looked like he was gonna run.”

“Good job, boys,” Will said, high-fiving them.

“You gotta protect Mom when I’m not there. No creepy guys allowed near my wife.”

“Will,” you said, rolling your eyes as you kicked off your shoes.

“It was nothing. Can we eat? I’m starving.”

Will stood, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

“Nothing, huh? We’ll talk later,”

He whispered, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity.

To the boys, he said, “Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Dinner was a lively affair, the kitchen table covered in takeout pizza and garlic bread. Charles and Theo recounted every goal, their voices overlapping in excitement.

“Dad, I used that spin move you showed us!” Theo said, waving his slice of pizza.

“The goalie didn’t even see it coming.”

“And I passed like you do in your games,” Charles added, mimicking Will’s wrist flick.

“It was so smooth.”

Will leaned back, his smile wide and proud.

“You guys had fun out there? That’s what matters. I’m so damn proud of you, you know that?”

“Dad, you said ‘damn,’” Theo pointed out, smirking.

Will laughed, holding up his hands.

“Oops. Don’t tell Mom I’m corrupting you.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Too late for that.”

After the boys went to bed, their gear bags neatly stowed for tomorrow, you and Will settled on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand and his arm around you. Will tilted his head, his voice low.

“So, this guy… what’s his deal? Hitting on my wife when I’m not around?”

You sighed, leaning into him.

“His name’s Joseph. He’s a dad on Charles’s team. I didn’t wear my rings today, they’re at the cleaner, and I left my engagement ring at home so I wouldn’t lose it at the rink… he probably thought I was a single mom. I shut it down, but the boys noticed. I feel bad for not wearing something to make it clear.”

Will’s jaw tightened, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No rings? Babe, that’s like leaving the goal unguarded.” He kissed your temple, his voice softening.

“But seriously, you okay? He didn’t push too hard, did he?”

“No, it was just awkward,” you said.

“I was polite, but he mentioned coffee or something. The boys swooped in before it got weirder.”

Will chuckled, pulling you closer.

“That’s my boys. Got my back. But tomorrow? I’m coming with you, and we’re making sure that whole rink knows you’re mine. Charles and Theo’s mom, my beautiful wife, no question about it.”

You laughed, swatting his chest. “You’re ridiculous, Will Smith.”

“Ridiculous and crazy about you,” he said, kissing you deeply, his hand cradling your face.

“Nobody’s forgetting who you belong to.”

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, the alarm blaring at 6:00 a.m. You groaned, but Will was already up when you shuffled downstairs, wrapping your robe tighter.

Will glanced over, grinning. “Morning, Mrs. Smith. Ready to show that rink who’s boss?”

“You’re way too chipper for this hour,” you muttered, but you smiled, grabbing a coffee.

Will was in full dad mode, checking the boys’ gear with the precision of an NHL veteran. He sharpened Theo’s skates, tested Charles’s stick tape, and packed their water bottles with the same care he put into his own pre-game routine.

“Can’t have dull blades or sticky tape,” he said, more to himself than you.

You woke the boys, who stumbled down, rubbing their eyes but lighting up when they saw Will in his Sharks cap and hoodie.

“Dad’s coming!” Charles cheered, fist-bumping Theo.

“Gonna yell louder than Mom?” Theo teased, dodging Charles’s playful shove.

After a quick breakfast, Will drove, his hand resting on your thigh as the boys chattered in the back. At the school, you spotted Joseph near the entrance, talking to another parent. Theo nudged Charles.

“That’s the guy from yesterday.”

Charles nodded, his eyes narrowing. “The one who made Mom look all weird.”

Will’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he kept his cool, his jaw set.

“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got this.”

Inside the rink, Will claimed a front-row seat by the glass, pulling you close and kissing your cheek for good measure.

“Gonna make sure everyone sees us,”

He whispered, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. You noticed Joseph a few rows back, his expression unreadable.

Will turned, his smile polite but razor-sharp.

“Hey, man, didn’t get to meet you yesterday. I’m Will, her husband. Play for the Sharks. Had practice yesterday, so she was flying solo. You a big hockey fan?”

Joseph’s face went white, and he stammered,

“Uh, yeah, I, uh, my son plays. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,”

Will said, his tone friendly but with an edge that said, Back off. He turned back to the ice, his arm around you, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The game was a thriller. Will was on his feet the whole time, banging on the glass and shouting.

“Nice hustle, Charles! Keep your stick down, Theo!”

When Charles scored with a slick backhand, Will roared, “That’s my boy!” Theo answered with a goal, his shot a carbon copy of Will’s, and Will high-fived you, grinning like a kid.

Theo’s Red team won 2-1, but Charles skated over to hug his brother, their helmets clinking. After the game, kids swarmed Will, recognizing him from Sharks games on TV.

“Mr. Smith, can you sign my stick?”

One boy asked. Another shoved a phone at him for a selfie. Will obliged, his arm around you the whole time, while Charles and Theo stood nearby, confused.

“Dad, why do they know you?” Theo asked, his brow furrowed.

Lisa, Eli’s mom, laughed as she approached.

“No wonder your boys are so good. They’ve got an NHL dad coaching them at home.”

You and Will exchanged a look. It was time. That night, over pizza and root beer, Will sat the boys down.

“Guys, I play hockey for a job. That’s why I’m at practice a lot, why I travel for games. I’m with the San Jose Sharks.”

Charles’s eyes widened. “Like, the real Sharks? On TV?”

“Yup,” Will said, grinning.

“But you two? You’re already better than me. Got your mom’s heart and my moves.”

Theo smirked. “Cool. But we’re still gonna beat you in the backyard rink.”

Will laughed, pulling you into his side.

“That’s my boys. Now, who’s up for ice cream?”

As you watched them bicker over chocolate versus vanilla, you leaned into Will, his warmth your anchor. He was the best dad, the best husband, and your boys were growing up just like him, protective, passionate, with ice in their veins and love in their hearts. On the rink and off, they were yours, and you wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 16/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : angst, mention of harassement, not graphic just imply (not from Lando)

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 16 : SMAU

Text messages :

Lando:

I can’t sleep.

Every time I close my eyes I see your face from that night. How hurt you looked. How I did that.

Lando:

I don’t know how to fix it. I just know I want to.

Lando:

I didn’t trust you. And you didn’t deserve that.

You gave me something real and I let fear destroy it.

Lando:

I'm sorry. God, Ari. I’m so sorry.

Lando:

Just… if you never want to see me again, I get it.

But please don’t leave me not knowing where I stand.

Please don’t leave me like this.

Lando:

I keep thinking if I had just held your hand and listened that night… none of this would’ve happened.

Lando:

Do you hate me now?

Lando:

I’d understand if you did.

Lando:

But I really, really hope you don’t.

No Reply

@landonorris

Sometimes you only learn to miss someone once the silence starts to echo.

@f1updatesfan

 uhhh is Lando okay? 😟

@softlandoenergy

 he’s been posting like a sad playlist in human form lately 💔

@f1gossipqueen

 don’t attack me but this feels like an heartbreak

@carbonfiberballet

 remember that girl from the ballet posts?? 👀

@tangledupincurls

 he posted this and didn’t even caption it with an emoji. something’s wrong wrong

@gridgirldiaries

 🕯️manifesting healing for this poor man 🕯️

Texts messages :

Lando:

I will land in Paris in the morning.

I don’t even know if you’ll see this, but… I’ll be there.

I just want to talk. Just five minutes. I’ll wait anywhere you say. You don’t even have to look at me. Just let me say I’m sorry in person.

Lando:

Please, Ari.

Lando:

Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Message Not Delivered

Lando:

…no.

Lando:

You blocked me.

Lando:

You actually blocked me.

Lando:

I deserve it.

I’d block me too.

Lando:

But it still fucking hurts.

@landonorris (Instagram Story)

Song:

 🎵 “All I Want” – Kodaline

 “But if you loved me, why'd you leave me?

 Take my body, take my body

 All I want is, and all I need is

 To find somebody… I’ll find somebody like you…”

@f1softestboy

 okay but lando posting "all i want" by kodaline in complete silence...

@gridtearz

 he really said: no caption. no context. just pain.

@slowburnlando

 sir. who hurt you and why did YOU let them go 😭💔

@landowithluv

 I’ve been fine all week but that song choice?? during this phase of his life??

@burntballetflats

 this is 100% about the ballerina.

@f1moonenergy

 he’s not posting lyrics to be poetic he’s literally screaming for help in sad indie boy dialect

@f1gossipcentral

BREAKING NEWS ✈️ Lando Norris spotted at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris this morning.

The McLaren driver appeared noticeably somber as he made his way across the tarmac, despite being expected to remain in Brazil with friends for another week.

Fans at the terminal described him as “quiet, polite, but distant” and several reported he stayed seated alone for nearly 20 minutes after landing before being picked up.

No official statement from him, but many are speculating why the sudden detour to France… and why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days and if it's not related to a certain ballerina 👀

@lan_donothing:

He looks so cold and small wtf someone hug him 😭

@ballerinaburnbook:

nah this is about the ballerina 100000% he shortened his trip AND dropped that sad story

@maxpowered:

I thought he was living it up in Brazil with the boys?? He just ghosted the vibes.

@slowburnlando:

And the ballerina also came back earlier from her "solo trip" after her injurie

@pastelf1soul:

He’s not even TRYING to hide it 😩 Man is in is heartbreak era.

@gridgirldiaries:

Okay but imagine the girl walking through arrivals and seeing him like THAT 🥹

@f1rumourmill:

allegedly seen near Palais Garnier earlier today 👀Which… we ALL know who that links to.

@cherryribbons:

Hate how this saga has me acting like I’m in a sad indie film

@arianariverria

Back to Paris, back to dancing, back to healing

Comments have been desactivated

@royaloperahouse_official

It is with great gravity that we announce the immediate termination of our lead principal dancer, Marc Bertrand, following multiple internal reports of inappropriate conduct toward several female colleagues within the company.

An internal investigation is currently underway. While we are committed to ensuring privacy and dignity for the individuals involved, we want to make it unequivocally clear that the Royal Opera will no longer employ, endorse, or support Mr. Bertrand in any capacity moving forward.

We remain committed to fostering a safe and respectful environment for all our artists. Updates will be provided when appropriate.

@balletteaaa wait wasn’t he dating Ariana Riverria?? 😧

@dramatica.london they broke up like a year ago but he was still acting like they were together 💀 creepy af

@truthwhispers There’ve been rumors about him cheating and being rough w/ some of the younger dancers… maybe now ppl are finally listening.

@arianaxparis I’m just glad Ariana left the Royal Opera and went back to Paris. She looks so much happier now 💕

@teaandtoeshoes Kinda weird how they’re keeping it internal. If it’s harassment, why not take it to court?

@ballerinaroyal if Ariana was his ex and she saw this behavior up close… no wonder she cut ties and moved on. poor girl 😞

@stagelightshadow So basically they fired him but aren’t saying exactly what he did? Sounds serious if they’re cutting ties completely.

@danseparisienne People have whispered about Marc for years. Arrogant, entitled, always flirting with younger dancers. Glad it’s finally public.

@bravoballetqueen Ohhh so THIS is why Ariana left so suddenly 😮‍💨 I thought it was a career move but now it makes sense…

@londonspotlight Is it true that he kept telling press he and Ariana were just "on a break"? 💀 Dude was delusional.

@truthinspandex If even Royal Opera is letting him go this fast, it has to be serious. They're not known for moving quickly on anything.

@justice4artists Why isn’t there a lawsuit? If he harassed multiple dancers, they deserve justice, not just a quiet “termination.”

@rumeurrouge I heard he tried to get Ariana removed from a role after they broke up bc she didn’t want to go back with him… 😳

Texts messages

Lando I saw the news about Marc. Are you okay?

Lando You probably still have me blocked. That’s fair. I deserve it. But I’m sending this anyway. Just in case.

Lando I can’t stop thinking about how horrible this must be for you. I’m so, so sorry you ever had to deal with him.

Lando And I’m even more sorry that when you were with me, I let my own jealousy get in the way of understanding what you’d really been through.

Lando I thought you were still close to him. I didn’t ask. I didn’t listen. I just assumed. And I acted like a complete idiot in Brazil because of it.

Lando You deserved my trust. Instead, I gave you silence, attitude, and suspicion. I hate that I became someone who made you feel small. You’re the last person who ever deserved that.

Lando I don’t know what happened between you and Marc, and I don’t need to. I just wish I’d known then what I know now, that you weren’t okay. That you were protecting yourself.

Lando And even if you were okay… I should’ve supported you anyway. I didn’t. And I regret that more than I can say.

Lando I’m here, Ariana. Even if I’m not who you want anymore. Even if you never reply. I just want you to be safe. And loved. I hope you know you are.

Lando Always on your side. Even now. Especially now.

Seen by Ariana 2:11 AM

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1

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[moondustbaby]

The Cabin Knows

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

summary: A weekend lake trip with friends means bonfires, backflips, shared beds, and way too much flirting between you and your best friend. You’ve always been attached at the hip—but this trip might make it a little harder to pretend that’s all it is.

⸻

You call shotgun before you even get outside.

“You don’t even know who’s driving,” Rafe calls after you, lugging your duffel over one shoulder and the cooler over the other like he’s your own personal pack mule.

“I don’t care,” you yell back. “I’ve earned this seat. I’ve trained for this seat.”

Rafe sighs dramatically but tosses your bag into the back of Kelce’s car like it’s second nature, because it is. He’s already ditched his hoodie in the morning heat, tanned skin and that stupid silver chain glinting against his collarbone, and he looks absurdly hot for someone who’s about to spend three hours trapped in a car with snack crumbs and you.

Kelce honks once from the driver’s seat. “If you two lovebirds are done flirting, let’s go.”

“We’re not—” you and Rafe say at the same time, but Topper cuts you off from the backseat.

“Yeah, yeah, best friends since birth, totally platonic, we know the speech.”

Rafe just grins at them, leans in behind you, and mutters, “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand if you get scared of the winding roads.”

You flip him off and climb in. He climbs in right after you. He always does.

⸻

The lake house is straight out of a Pinterest board. Big wrap-around porch, old wooden dock, kayaks tied up along the shoreline. It smells like sunscreen and pine and cheap charcoal, and it’s perfect.

“This is so cute,” you say, stepping inside the cabin. “I’m gonna force all of you to play board games and drink sangria.”

Topper groans. “Please don’t make us do crafts again.”

“Don’t disrespect my homemade friendship bracelets.”

Rafe bumps your shoulder, grinning. “Mine’s still in my truck.”

Your stomach does the dumb thing it always does when he says stuff like that. Like maybe you’re not the only one who keeps souvenirs.

⸻

You end up sharing a room with Rafe. Of course you do. No one even questions it anymore.

There’s only one bed, but it’s queen-sized and familiar, and you’ve shared less.

You dump your stuff on the left side—your side—and flop down dramatically.

“I call the good pillow,” you announce.

Rafe tosses his duffel down beside yours. “Joke’s on you. I’m the good pillow.”

“You’re the hot pillow,” you correct. “You radiate like a furnace.”

He shrugs. “Built-in heater, baby.”

You try not to let that word echo too long in your chest. He always calls you that. You shouldn’t still feel it.

⸻

The first night, everyone drinks a little too much.

There’s a bonfire. Someone plays country music from a speaker that keeps cutting out. You sit on Rafe’s lap without thinking about it, his arms bracketing your waist like they belong there.

“Too many people, not enough chairs,” you say, even though there’s literally an empty camping chair two feet away.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” he says, and doesn’t let you move.

Kelce hands you a marshmallow. Rafe roasts it for you without asking.

You don’t talk about it. You never do.

⸻

By the second day, it’s hot enough to make the dock feel like a frying pan.

You and Sarah sunbathe while the boys throw themselves off the end of the dock like idiots.

Rafe does a backflip. Lands it. Immediately looks over to you, grinning, hands in his hair like you saw that, right?

You clap slowly. “Wow, so talented. Incredible form.”

“I deserve a prize,” he calls back.

“You deserve a towel.”

“You volunteering to dry me off?”

Sarah groans. “You guys have to know how you sound.”

You glance at Rafe. He winks.

So no. You’re not going to stop.

⸻

That night, you both crash into bed around 1 a.m. Rafe’s shirtless. You’re in your favorite sleep shorts and one of his old t-shirts.

You don’t even think twice before curling into him, cheek on his chest, leg thrown over his thigh. His hand rubs slow circles on your back like it’s muscle memory.

“You have fun today?” he asks quietly.

“Mmhm. This place is nice.”

“You’re nice.”

You lift your head to squint at him. “You’re drunk.”

He grins. “Little bit.”

You roll your eyes and drop your head back down. “I like you when you’re wine-drunk. You get flirty.”

“I’m always flirty.”

“Not with everyone.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.

But his hand keeps moving on your back. And neither of you move apart.

⸻

On the last morning, you wake up to Rafe trying to steal the pillow out from under your head.

“Give it,” he whispers, tugging.

“No,” you groan, holding it tighter.

You crack one eye open and squint at him. His hair’s a mess, his voice is scratchy, and he looks infuriatingly good.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you mumble.

It slips out. So casual. So automatic.

You don’t even register it until he goes still.

Then: “You love me?”

You freeze. “I mean—you know what I meant.”

He shifts closer, nosing at your cheek. “No, no. Say it again.”

You bury your face in the pillow. “I hate you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

You lift your head just enough to see him smiling like a menace. Like he’s known this all along.

You roll over and shove him onto his back. He laughs, pulling you with him.

You stay there. Tangled up. Warm. Happy.

Maybe there’s something to be said, later. Maybe not.

But for now, his hand is in your hair, your leg is over his, and the whole cabin is asleep while you pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

And for the first time, pretending feels a lot like the real thing.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: ugh i need a weekend lake trip with rafe and summer and shared beds and his stupid little chain and the way he calls you “baby” like it’s nothing. anyway. if you’ve ever said “we’re just friends” while wearing his t-shirt and sleeping in his lap, this one’s for you. bsf!rafe is my absolute favorite to write for so if you have any requests for him send them my way. 🤩

♥️ lani

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𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216 @rafesbabygirlx

[honeydippedfiction]

I need possesive Joe like instantly pleaseeee (“Tell me you’re mine.” “I don’t share.” “Your body is for my eyes only.”) maybe him and reader are in a situationship that's a bit toxic, but she also doesn't take his shit either (“Do you want me to see me try to make you jealous? Because I can do a lot better than this.” “It’s not my fault I’m so hot.” “Aw, baby, what do I need to do to prove I’m yours?” “I’ll wear whatever I want.” “Get off me.”). Or maybe i need to see a therapist...

Bestie we all love a bit of toxicity, especially here on this blog. I made this with LSU!Joe, I hope that's okay🩷

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

“Tell me you’re mine.” “I don’t share.” “Your body is for my eyes only.” “Do you want me to see me try to make you jealous? Because I can do a lot better than this.” “It’s not my fault I’m so hot.” “Aw, baby, what do I need to do to prove I’m yours?” “I’ll wear whatever I want.” “Get off me.”

LSU!Joe Burrow x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

There was never a version of LSU where Joe Burrow and Y/N weren’t going to collide.

He was him—the golden boy of Baton Rouge. Star quarterback. Game-changer. The kind of athlete who turned heads just by stepping onto the field. His jersey was sold out in the bookstore before the season even started. Professors knew his name. So did security guards. So did the line cooks at the campus dining hall. Joe had a swagger that could quiet a room and an arm that could command a stadium. Girls wanted him. Guys wanted to be him. Coaches treated him like prophecy in cleats.

And then there was Y/N.

A cheerleader, yes—but not the kind people expected to fade into the background behind pompoms and school spirit. She was all angles and attitude, sharp where others bent. Her presence was felt before it was seen. When she walked into a room, the air shifted—like even gravity paused to pay attention. Every flip she landed on the field was flawless. Every halftime performance was electric. And unlike some of the other girls, she didn’t care about the roster or the locker room whispers.

She didn’t chase players. She didn’t fall for the uniform. Which, naturally, made her the one Joe couldn’t ignore.

Their paths crossed often—too often for either of them to pretend it was accidental. Practices overlapped. Team functions blurred. Pep rallies turned into house parties, and house parties turned into whispered arguments behind closed doors. It started with banter, with the occasional stolen glance or smug compliment.

“Nice game, quarterback,” she’d toss at him after a win, her voice dripping with a challenge.

“Could say the same about your little stunt in the third quarter,” he’d fire back with a grin. “Almost made me miss the snap.”

The tension built fast—too fast. What was supposed to be casual turned complicated. What started as heat turned into something heavier, something murkier. Something they never dared to label.

They weren’t official. Not even close.

He hadn’t asked. She hadn’t offered.

But the way he’d show up at her apartment at 2 a.m. after practice, freshly showered, eyes tired but wanting—that said something. And the way she let him in every time, despite the games, despite the silences, despite the fact that he never stayed for breakfast—that said even more.

It was a situationship. Messy. Addictive. The kind of connection that burned hotter the more they denied it.

Sometimes, it was magnetic. Other times, it was volatile. It always danced the line between passion and chaos.

He liked to control things. She hated being controlled.

He liked her best when she was soft, when her defenses were down, when she let herself be vulnerable for five whole minutes. She liked him best when he was real—when the swagger dropped, when the mask cracked and she could see the boy underneath the legend.

But those moments were rare. Fleeting. Easily overshadowed by arguments that started too easily and ended too late. Still, they kept gravitating back toward each other. Like gravity. Like fate. Like fools.

And now—on this particular Thursday night—the tension that had been simmering all week was just about to boil over.

Y/N stood in her bedroom, surrounded by half-empty makeup palettes and the sweet scent of vanilla and cocoa butter. 

The golden hour sunlight poured through the narrow blinds of Y/N’s campus apartment, casting warm stripes across the floor and glinting off the edge of her vanity mirror. The apartment was modest—two bedrooms, wood floors, furniture they didn’t care enough to match—but it smelled like vanilla, cocoa butter, and the faint echo of coconut-scented body oil. Homey in a way most college apartments never managed to be.

A playlist thrummed lazily in the background, something upbeat and defiant—SZA, probably—bouncing off the white walls as Y/N danced around her bedroom in nothing but a cropped top and her favorite black mini skirt. It was a pregame ritual by now: music loud, gloss glossier, confidence sky-high. She wasn’t dressing for anyone in particular—definitely not for Joe—but damn if she didn’t look good.

She leaned closer to the mirror, lining her lips carefully. Her eyes flicked to the side as her phone vibrated on the dresser. A text from her best friend, Nia: Nia: “Pre-gaming at Lexi’s in 20. Bring that fine ass.”

Y/N smirked, typing back a quick “Bet”, then turned back to her reflection to assess the full effect.

The skirt hugged her hips perfectly. The top—cut just low enough to tease—clung to her curves like it had been made for her. She looked every inch the woman she was: confident, radiant, and absolutely untouchable.

And then the front door opened.

She barely heard the click before it slammed shut hard enough to rattle the keys on the hook by the entryway.

“Seriously?” Joe’s voice echoed through the apartment. “Why the hell is the door unlocked?”

Y/N didn’t turn around. She just rolled her eyes, uncapping her setting spray and giving her face a quick mist.

“Didn’t know you lived here now,” she called out, voice smooth, bored, sharp enough to cut glass.

She could hear the scowl in his footsteps before he even appeared in her doorway—heavy, fast, like he was already pissed off before he saw her. But once he did see her—really saw her—his entire demeanor changed.

Joe Burrow leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His LSU hoodie was slightly wrinkled, and his hair was messy like he’d run a hand through it one too many times. 

His eyes raked over every inch of her—starting at her thighs and lingering far too long on the way her top clung to her chest before snapping back to her lips. His brows pulled together, and she could already see it—the shift. The jealousy. The possessiveness.

And here we go, she thought.

“You wearing that out?” he asked.

It wasn’t really a question. More like a challenge. A warning.

She popped one hip, deliberately ignoring the fire behind his stare. “Yep.”

His gaze darkened. “You got other options.”

“And I chose this one,” she said coolly, turning to grab her earrings from the dresser.

Y/N didn’t even turn around. She kept her eyes locked on her reflection as she slid a hoop through one ear. “Didn’t realize I needed your approval.”

His voice dropped, lower now. More dangerous. “Your body is for my eyes only.”

That made her pause.

She blinked once, slow and deliberate, before finally turning to face him.

“You want to run that by me again?”

Joe’s jaw flexed. He wasn’t the yelling type—he didn’t need to be. His words were measured. Cold. Each one carefully loaded.

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I did,” she shot back, arms crossing under her chest. “And you’ve officially lost your mind.”

He took a step closer. “You don’t see the way guys look at you? They’re gonna be staring all night.”

“And?” she challenged, chin tilted. “Let them look.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think that’s cute?”

She rolled hers. “Get off me, Joe. I’ll wear whatever the hell I want.”

That set him off.

In two quick strides, he was in front of her—close enough that she had to back up, her spine bumping into the edge of her vanity. He planted one hand on either side of her, caging her in. His body hovered over hers, all tension and heat and frustration barely held together under cotton and muscle.

“Look at me,” he said.

She didn’t.

“Y/N.” His voice was a warning now. Not loud. Just sharp.

So she looked up, locking eyes with him—and damn if she didn’t hate how it made her heart trip.

His gaze burned into her, jaw tight, voice low. “I don’t share.”

She stared up at him, unbothered. Or at least, she looked it.

“And I don’t do leash-wearing,” she shot back. “You want to mark your territory, Burrow? Put a ring on it.”

He didn’t blink. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Her laugh was quick and mocking. “Oh, that’s what this is about?”

Joe’s expression didn’t change, but something in his jaw twitched. He hated when she laughed at him. Hated when she didn’t take him seriously.

Y/N just rolled her eyes again, her attitude growing stronger in response to his.

“Do you want to see me try to make you jealous?” she asked, lifting a brow. “Because I can do a lot better than this.”

With that, she turned away from him like he wasn’t even there, grabbing her brush and running it through her curls with slow, practiced strokes.

Joe didn’t move. Not at first.

Then, with a frustrated exhale, he pushed off the vanity and walked to the bed, dropping down onto the edge with a heavy thump. He sat there, forearms resting on his thighs, eyes tracking her every move like he was watching game tape.

She didn’t have to look to know his jaw was clenched, his brows drawn in, his ego bruising.

She smirked into the mirror, lips curling with satisfaction.

“It’s not my fault I’m so hot,” she said sweetly, still brushing her hair.

Joe let out a dry, humorless laugh and shook his head. “Yeah? Real humble.”

Y/N pouted at him through the mirror, exaggerated and mock-sincere. “Aw, baby,” she cooed, eyes locking with his in the glass, “what do I need to do to prove I’m yours?”

His gaze darkened, but he didn’t speak.

She turned back around, her lip gloss catching the light, and lifted a single brow.

“Well?”

Joe didn’t flinch. Just leaned back on his hands, eyes dragging slowly over her one more time, like he was both pissed and desperate to drag her back into his lap.

But for now, he just sat there, stewing in his silence.

And Y/N?

She was already picking out her shoes.

Joe hadn’t said a word since she turned her back on him.

He just sat there on the edge of her bed, jaw tight, arms crossed, like he was trying to hold something in—or keep something from breaking. The silence buzzed between them, loud in a way the music on her speaker couldn’t drown out. She could feel his stare burning into her back like a weight, heavy and territorial.

And still, she kept her cool.

She slipped on her heels slowly, dragging the moment out just to make him stew. Just to prove a point. She didn’t even bother hiding her smirk.

Joe’s patience finally snapped.

“You think this is funny?”

She straightened up slowly, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “I think you’re funny. Acting like this when I’ve been yours all this time and you haven’t even asked for it.”

He stood. Just like that. No warning. Just rose from the bed and crossed the room in a few long, deliberate steps, tension crackling with every inch he closed between them.

Before she could react, his hand caught her waist and pulled her back against his chest. His other hand slid up, palm splayed across her stomach, keeping her pinned in place.

Her breath caught.

“Don’t walk away from me looking like that,” he muttered, lips brushing her ear.

Her pulse stuttered. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

“I don’t like when other people look at what’s mine.”

“You don’t own me, Joe.”

“Don’t play like you don’t love it when I get like this.”

She turned in his grip then, facing him fully, their bodies brushing—her eyes narrow, his blazing.

“You think getting possessive and jealous is sexy?” she asked, voice thick with heat and sarcasm.

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“I think you do.”

Before she could fire off another quip, his mouth was on hers—rough, claiming, desperate in the way he always got when he knew she was two seconds from walking out. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him as he backed her toward the vanity again, her hips bumping the edge with a soft thud.

She kissed him back with equal heat, lips parting just enough to let him deepen it, but she wasn’t about to give in completely.

Not yet.

Her hands pressed to his chest, giving just enough resistance to keep him from forgetting who was really in control.

“You don’t get to act like you care when it’s convenient,” she breathed, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.

Joe’s eyes searched hers. “This isn’t convenience. This is me losing my mind thinking about you out there, looking like this, with people trying to touch what I already feel in my bones belongs to me.”

She let that linger for a second, her body still pressed against his, heat radiating between them.

Then her lips quirked, slow and wicked.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You like it.”

“And if I do?” she whispered, her fingers hooking into the hem of his hoodie. “What then?”

Joe dropped his forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“Then I’m not letting you leave this apartment tonight.”

She tilted her chin up, lips brushing his again, but just barely.

“Then stop talking and prove it.”

He kissed her again—hungrier, wilder, his hands tightening on her hips like he wanted to mold her into his body, into his will. She matched him, fingers tangling in his hair, her teeth nipping at his lower lip as he lifted her onto the vanity, his body pressed between her legs, her heels locked around his waist.

His hands roamed over her, possessive, claiming. Hers did the same. He broke the kiss long enough to pull his hoodie over his head, tossing it aside before his mouth found hers again, more frantic this time, like he couldn’t get enough. She felt the same, her body alive in a way it hadn’t been in too long, the heat between them building, building, the need for more coiling tight and electric in her veins.

“Stay with me tonight,” he breathed, his lips trailing down her neck, teeth scraping over her pulse.

She arched into him, her voice a breathy whisper. “No.”

His hands gripped her tighter, his breath hot on her skin. “I won’t ask again.”

She laughed, low and husky. “You won’t have to.”

He drew back suddenly, his eyes wild, his hair a mess. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.”

“Maybe?” he echoed, voice rough.

She nodded, her lips curving up, eyes never leaving his. “Maybe.”

He stared at her for a second, his chest heaving with every breath, the air around them charged with need and tension.

Then he was kissing her again, lifting her from the vanity with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed, laying her down gently, his body settling over hers. She could feel him hard and ready against her, and she rocked up into him, earning a groan against her lips. His hand slipped under her skirt, fingers finding her clit through her thong, making her gasp.

“Joe,” she breathed. “We don’t have time.”

He pulled back, his eyes searching hers, his fingers still working her over, her breath coming faster. “If you think I’m letting you walk out of here without a reminder of what’s waiting for you when you come home, you’re crazy.”

She shook her head, a laugh bubbling up. “Home. As if.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Mmm. I do.” She reached for his sweatpants, dipping her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around his cock. He groaned, hips thrusting into her touch. “But I’m not that easy.”

He stilled. “What?”

“I’m not coming home to you tonight.”

Joe's eyes darkened further, but this time in anger. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her throat, resting it there. "Y/N." His tone was a warning.

"Joe."

"You're mine. You know that. Don't make me have to remind you." He tightened his grip. She felt a thrill race through her at his words, at the possessive tone in his voice, at the way his body was reacting to her.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing hers. "If you don't come home tonight," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "you know what happens."

She arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh yeah? What happens?"

His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up again. "I'll come find you." He kissed her, slow and deep, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as his fingers continued to work her clit. She moaned against his lips, her hips rocking up into his touch.

When he broke the kiss, she was breathless, her eyes heavy-lidded. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered.

He smirked, his eyes blazing with heat. "Try me." His grip on her throat tightened just enough to make her pulse spike with need. 

She swallowed, her throat working against his palm.  "Is that a threat?"

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "It's a promise."

He bit her lobe softly, then pulled back, his eyes locked on hers. "Don't make me follow through."

She searched his eyes, seeing the intensity there, the determination. She knew he wasn't bluffing.

And she loved it.

°.✩┈┈∘┈🌙┈∘┈┈✩.°

Y/N was having a blast at the club. Her friends surrounded her, the music thumping in her chest, lights flashing overhead. She’d been trying to shake off the argument with Joe, the way his possessiveness had twisted in her chest, but as the night wore on, she found herself enjoying the freedom. The laughter, the drinks, the music—everything was an escape from the heat and the tension building between them.

She hadn’t even noticed the guy at first. Just a casual glance in her direction, a shy smile, and before she knew it, they were dancing. Nothing serious. Just a flirtatious back-and-forth that never meant anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t have.

But as she moved with the beat, her mind couldn’t shake the memory of Joe’s possessive tone, the way his grip had felt on her throat, how he’d marked her with every kiss. Part of her felt rebellious, like she was daring him to come after her.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, the vibrations pulling her from the moment. She glanced down at it, seeing a notification from one of her friends—an Instagram story.

She clicked it open.

Her heart skipped a beat as the image loaded: a video of her dancing with the guy from earlier, laughing and swaying with him in the crowded club. It was playful—no boundaries crossed—but the sight of her in the arms of another guy, especially after everything that had just happened, made her pulse spike.

She wasn’t the only one who’d seen it.

Joe had. And within seconds, he was already on his feet, moving with purpose. His jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. The jealousy that had been simmering under the surface since he saw the way that guy had looked at Y/N was now boiling over, uncontainable.

His mind raced, replaying the scene over and over—the guy’s hands on her waist, the way she was laughing, too carefree, too unbothered.

Joe’s grip on his phone tightened as he typed out a message to her, but before he could hit send, his mind snapped into focus. He knew exactly what he had to do.

Miles away, Joe sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling. Shirt off, chain still around his neck, his dark eyes locked on the glowing screen. The video looped. Her smile. That guy’s hand on her waist.

The muscle in Joe’s jaw ticked. Once. Twice.

He didn’t scream. Didn’t even curse. Just stared at the clip like it was telling him something he already knew.

That she was slipping.

That someone else thought they could touch what was his.

He opened his messages, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Typed, deleted. Typed again.

Having fun?

He erased it.

Too soft.

You think I won’t pull up?

Deleted again.

He didn’t need to ask questions.

He already knew what he was going to do.

His face smoothed into something colder, more certain. He slid on a hoodie, grabbed his keys from the desk, and sent just one text.

No punctuation. No fluff.

I warned you

Back at the club, Y/N felt the buzz in her hand before she even looked.

The words blinked up at her, simple and sharp.

Her heart stuttered.

It wasn’t the kind of message that made you roll your eyes and keep dancing. It was the kind that made your pulse quicken, your brain start running through everything you’d done in the last ten minutes.

And she knew.

He was coming.

°.✩┈┈∘┈🌙┈∘┈┈✩.°

The club pulsed with a life of its own, the thundering bass reverberating through the air, shaking the walls and vibrating every inch of her body. Y/N had been swept up in it all, lost in the rhythm, in the laughter, in the heat. Her friends had drifted off to the bar, leaving her floating alone in the crowd, surrounded by strangers and shadows. Her phone buzzed in her hand, the sudden vibration slicing through the haze of the night. For a second, she didn’t react. The music demanded her attention, pulling her deeper into its intoxicating embrace.

Another buzz. Her fingers swiped the screen, distracted. She glanced down and saw the message. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Don’t make me come find you.

Her pulse kicked up immediately, not just out of surprise but from something else. Something darker, more familiar. The kind of thrill she couldn’t shake—that rush. The one she always felt when Joe decided to make his presence known.

Her lips curled into a smile, though she knew she shouldn’t. It wasn’t fear she felt, not really, but that familiar, twisted excitement—the kind that came with pushing boundaries, with feeling the weight of his gaze even when she couldn’t see him. Joe didn’t do subtle. He didn’t do safe. He did intensity. He did possession.

And she liked it. More than she cared to admit.

Her fingers hovered over the screen as she fought the instinct to text back, to tease him the way she always did. But something inside her twisted at the thought. Not tonight. Not this time.

That push and pull. The way his words could make her stomach flip even when they should’ve chilled her to the core. Joe didn’t do subtle. He didn’t do boundaries. He did heat. Intensity. And she had been burning in it since the first time he’d grabbed her hand under the bleachers and whispered something reckless into her ear after practice. He was the star quarterback—untouchable, magnetic. She was the head cheerleader—visible, envied. Of course they were always near each other, always orbiting. But this wasn’t the fairy-tale version of that story. This was messier. Darker. Addictive.

A second buzz jolted her out of her thoughts. She glanced at her phone. This time, it was a call.

Joe.

His name was bold on the screen. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the green button, her heart hammering. She knew what would happen if she answered. He would drag her back into his world—the one where everything was a game, and he always won.

With a flick of her finger, she hit ignore. She didn’t need his control tonight. Not this time.

Her smile deepened as she tucked the phone back into her bag, turning her attention back to the guy she’d been dancing with. He was still grinning, oblivious to the storm gathering around her. His hand brushed lightly against hers, his arm wrapping loosely around her waist. The heat of his body felt like nothing compared to the storm inside her. Joe was still there—his presence, thick and suffocating, clouding her thoughts.

“You good?” the guy asked, his voice cutting through the music.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing lightness into her tone. “Just… someone who doesn’t know when to let go.”

He laughed, leaning in closer, too close, his breath hot on her neck. But Y/N barely noticed. Her thoughts were with someone else—someone who could take the heat of this night and turn it into something dangerous. Joe.

Every sway of her hips, every dip and twist of her body, was a defiance, a reminder. She wasn’t his to command. Not tonight. Not like this. Tonight, she was in control. Tonight, she would play the game her way.

But that was the thing with Joe—he always came when she pushed too far.

And that’s when she felt it.

A shift in the air. A heavy, electric charge that sent a shiver down her spine. Her body froze mid-move, a tingle crawling across her skin as a deep instinct screamed—he was here.

Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the crowded entrance. And there he was.

Joe.

Standing just inside the door, his silhouette outlined against the flashing lights. His face was hard, unreadable, but his eyes? Those eyes—dark, narrowed, locked onto her with a predatory intensity. She could feel his gaze as if it were a tangible thing, pressing on her skin, demanding her attention. His body was still, poised like a lion preparing to pounce.

His gaze didn’t move. Not once. Not when people brushed past him. Not even when the guy beside her leaned in again, oblivious. Joe’s jaw was clenched tight, his entire posture carved from tension. He wasn’t storming in. Not yet. He didn’t need to. The look said enough: I see you. 

Her heart thudded in her chest. Every ounce of confidence she had crumbled under that gaze. She hadn’t heard a single word from the guy beside her, hadn’t felt his hand on her hip, hadn’t registered the music around her. All she could do was watch Joe.

He wasn’t moving yet. Not yet. But she knew, deep in her gut, that he would.

The guy beside her seemed to notice the shift, his words trailing off as he sensed something had changed. He leaned in, oblivious, too drunk on the night to realize who he was up against. His hand brushed against her waist again. She stepped back, her eyes still on Joe.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

“No,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips. “I just…”

But she didn’t finish the sentence. Because Joe was moving now. His eyes never left hers, and neither did his steps. Slow. Deliberate. Cutting through the crowd like a predator. People parted for him without thinking, but he didn’t notice them. Didn’t need to. His gaze was locked, singular, as if the world around him didn’t exist.

Y/N’s heart picked up pace again, the thundering beat in her chest a contrast to the hollow emptiness inside her as she realized just how far she’d let this go. The guy beside her stepped back as Joe drew closer, no words spoken. None were needed.

Her phone buzzed again.

You’re mine. And if you’re not coming home to me tonight… I’ll come find you.

The words hit her like a cold wave. She didn’t smile this time. Didn’t feel the thrill. Something was different now. Something had changed. Her defiance was still there, but now, there was a cold weight pressing down on her—something that felt real.

She wanted to run. Wanted to tell Joe to go to hell and keep dancing with the guy beside her, who was still watching her with wide eyes, clueless. But she couldn’t.

Joe’s eyes flicked once toward the guy, sizing him up in an instant. And then, his gaze locked onto hers again. No words. Just that look. Possessive, unyielding.

This wasn’t jealousy anymore. It was a claim.

°.✩┈┈∘┈🌙┈∘┈┈✩.°

Joe was close now.

She could feel it before she saw him. The air around her shifted—thickened—as if the room itself recognized the danger. The crowd seemed to part for him like instinct, people stepping aside without even realizing why. Y/N felt her body tense, but not with fear. It was anticipation. A spark of something twisted and electric. Her breath caught in her throat, but her chin stayed high, jaw clenched in something that resembled defiance—because if Joe was going to bring the storm, she wasn’t going to run from it.

She never ran.

The guy beside her faltered, eyes flicking toward the sudden tension charging the air like static. “Yo, is that—?”

Before he could finish, Joe stepped into her space like he belonged there, like he had every right to erase the distance between them. And maybe, in his head, he did.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

Those dark, burning eyes of his locked onto hers with that look—the one that always told her exactly where she stood. You’re mine. That was the message. Raw, unspoken, and completely unwavering.

Y/N’s heart thudded hard in her chest, but she didn’t look away. Her lips curled upward into a mocking half-smile. “Didn’t think you had the balls to show up.”

Joe’s jaw twitched.

The guy beside her straightened a little, starting to piece together the very obvious tension between them. He opened his mouth again—probably to ask her if she was okay—but he didn’t get the chance.

Joe’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, firm and unflinching. The movement wasn’t violent, but it was decisive. Possessive. He tugged her forward with enough force that she stumbled a step, the heel of her boot scuffing the sticky floor.

“Come on,” he said, voice low, flat, and loaded with warning. “You’re done here.”

Y/N’s head snapped toward him, her tone instantly sharp. “Excuse me?”

Joe didn’t even blink. His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it got tighter.

“You heard me.”

“Let go of me.” She yanked at her wrist, but he held fast. Her voice dropped into a deadly whisper. “You don’t get to just show up and act like I’m yours.”

Joe leaned in, voice cool and steady, but the fire behind his words burned hot. “You are mine, and you know it. So quit playing.”

The guy—clearly out of his depth—backed up, holding his hands in a half-surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know she was with someone, man—”

“She’s not,” Y/N snapped, yanking again at her wrist. “We’re not a thing.”

Joe's laugh was low and humorless. “You really wanna play that game right now? After everything?”

Y/N’s mouth opened to throw something back, something biting—but the words never came. Because despite herself, despite the ache in her pride and the stubborn fire in her chest, there was another part of her—quieter but undeniable—that liked this. That liked him like this.

The side of Joe that didn’t ask. That just took. That made it clear she didn’t get to erase him with a few shots of tequila and a stranger’s hands on her waist.

So when he turned, still holding her wrist, and started walking, she didn’t resist.

Not really.

Her friends stared from across the room, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. One of them—Kayla—mouthed something at her, a silent Are you okay? but Y/N didn’t respond.

She didn’t know if she was okay.

Didn’t know if she was pissed or turned on or just drunk on the energy that came with being near Joe when he was like this—dark and wild and unapologetically territorial.

The crowd closed behind them as they moved, Joe cutting through the club like he owned it, like dragging her out of there wasn’t up for debate. And maybe it wasn’t.

When they hit the cooler air outside, the buzz of the club muffled behind the thick doors, Y/N finally yanked her hand back hard enough to break his grip. She spun on him.

“What the hell, Joe?”

He turned slowly, jaw flexing as he stared at her, unreadable. “What?”

“You can’t just show up and drag me out like I’m some toy you left behind.”

“You looked like you were enjoying being someone else’s toy just fine.”

“God, you’re such a—” She stopped herself, fuming. Her hands shook, half from adrenaline, half from the emotional whiplash. “You don’t own me.”

Joe stepped closer, crowding her space, his voice quiet now—but all the more dangerous for it. “You sure act like I do when you’re underneath me.”

Her breath hitched.

The silence that followed was heavy, electric.

He didn’t touch her—but he didn’t need to. His words pressed against her like a hand to the throat. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. That was Joe’s real power. The way he got inside her head. The way he knew her—all her buttons, all her triggers.

She hated it.

And loved it.

“You done playing?” he asked, voice low. “Because if you wanna keep pretending you don’t want me, I’ll leave right now. But don’t expect me to watch you give my show to someone else.”

Y/N swallowed, her pulse pounding like the music still echoing in her chest. She lifted her chin again, trying to summon the same sharp edge she always wore with him.

But her voice was softer this time. Not weak—just honest.

“What if I’m tired of this game?”

Joe’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. He leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched, his breath warm against her skin.

“Then let me remind you how it ends.”

And before she could come up with a comeback—or an excuse—his lips were on hers.

Not gentle.

Not asking.

Just taking.

And Y/N? She let him.

Because whatever this was—dangerous, toxic, consuming—it was theirs.

And she wasn’t ready to let it go.

Not yet.

[risingoftime]

WHERE HE WAITS | LOUSTACK |

I heard your hearts dancing ᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: Stack Moore is the man standing between Louis and Lestat. Blood, business, and something far more dangerous than desire.

The smell of New Orleans was different than Chicago. It was sweet with rot and jasmine, steeped in music and magic. Stack didn’t like it at first. The way it made his cigarette smoke hang longer. But the city grew on him, like moss, like a wound you stopped minding.

Tonight was different from most nights for Stack; Mary had just left him, and he was on the hunt for the vampire responsible for the dent in the food supply. He was following blood. Not fresh blood, old blood. The kind that clung to walls long after the body was gone. He’d been in juke joints, card rooms, even back alleys behind brothels. But tonight, the trail led him to a narrow street with no name, where the gaslights flickered like they knew something was coming. And there he was.

All dressed in his Sunday's best, like mourning never left him. Candlelight spilled from an open window, catching on the edge of his cheekbone. He looked less like a man and more like a question with sharp teeth to Stack.

"You following me?" Louis asked, not turning his head. Just spoke it softly, like he already knew.

"I don’t follow. I hunt." Stack didn’t blink.

Louis let out a slow, bitter laugh. "You think I’m a meal?"

Stack stepped closer. "No. I think you’re what’s been leaving bodies all over the city. Just wanted to see if the bloodsucker wore silk."

"And if I am?" Louis turned then, his eyes were dark like the night sky.

Stack’s grin curled. "Then maybe I’ll let you teach me something." They stood there, the tension between them like a loaded gun. Louis stepped forward, hands behind his back like he didn’t need them to kill.

"You’re like us. The only way I was able to figure it out was now. I could feel your presence from a mile away," he said. It wasn’t a question.

Stack’s voice dropped an octave. "Well, I ain’t go flaunting it around like you do."

"Then you haven’t been paying attention."

And just like that, the street seemed quieter, waiting to see who would flinch first.

Louis’s eyes dragged over Stack slowly, like he was trying to read him, and his expression shifted between amusement and disdain. "I’ve heard of you, you know," Louis said, finally breaking the silence.

"Stack Moore. The man turning sweat and sound into gold. You manage that juke joint down the street."

Stack raised a brow, a bit taken aback by Louis's knowledge of you. "So you’ve been tunin’ to the gossip."

"Yeah, it seems my brothels are rather quiet these days. Yours, on the other hand…" Louis let his voice trail off, his gaze lazily roaming over Stack's imposing figure again with an interest he hadn't had in a while. The frustration building within him, courtesy of Lestat, needed an outlet. This moment felt like the perfect escape for the night.

He took another step forward, now chest to chest, close enough that Stack could smell whatever cologne Louis wore; it was undoubtedly rich and expensive.

"… is anything but."

Stack didn’t step back. “Business booms where people feel safe enough to do what they like to do in the dark.” Stack let out a small chuckle at the innuendo. "I’m just good at what I do. "

"I don’t doubt it," Louis said softly, "I’d like to continue this conversation somewhere less… uncovered."

Stack has heard of Louis de Pointe du Lac as well. It was a mouthful for him to recount his name, the Black people here were so pretentious 'bout shit like names. Where Stack came from, you just hoped that you would wake up to live another day. Stack leaned in slightly, testing the tension between them. "This is where you lure men into your lair, pretty boy? Talk numbers and slip in a little neck?"

Stack ran a hand into his pockets to grab a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it with ease, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth before continuing. "Just to let you know, I don’t usually take invitations from men in prettier shirts than mine."

"You think I’m trying to charm you?" Louis smiled, faintly at what Stack was hinting at.

"I know you are," Stack said, lips curling. "But let’s get one thing straight. I like pussy."

Louis walked deeper into the alleyway, his back turned as if Stack’s declaration didn’t bother him.

"And yet," Louis said, not looking at him, "you still stalk me!"

"Curiosity’s a hell of a thing." Stack laughed more to himself, as flashbacks of that night last year. The last time we could watch the sun, the last time he was with his brother. If only he hadn’t been so easily swayed by Mary.

"Temptation’s a hell of a thing too," Louis added. Stack was now trying to be in step with him; this wasn’t the point of his finding Louis. He was supposed to be telling him to get off his territory, not striking up a conversation.

"I live just a few blocks from here," he said without looking back. "One drink! You owe me for lost revenue."

"Just so we clear, I don’t owe you nothin’, not a damn thing." Stack hesitated momentarily, habitually brushing his thumb over his belt where his revolver was. "You always talk business this late?" he asked.

"Only the dangerous ones."

That got a grin out of Stack. "You think I’m dangerous?" Stack continued matching his pace, not because he was curious or cautious. But because Louis wasn't what he expected, and it's been a while since he ran into someone similar to him in more ways than most.

"I know you are," Louis murmured, stepping closer. "I can smell it on you. Violence, ambition… the kind of hunger that doesn’t die easily."

Stack’s jaw twitched. "You ain’t exactly soft yourself."

Stack hadn’t expected the vampire’s house to feel like this. The inside of Louis' house looked like a museum. Filled with decor that seemed as old as time itself. Velvet red drapes covered the windows, and the self-portraits of Lestat and Louis bore into Stack's soul with their inhuman stares. Their gazes followed them like hounds on a scent, sharp and unblinking. Candlelight flickered against skin, and the wineglasses glinted like blood.

Louis stood near the fireplace, his presence a strange blend of elegance and quiet threat. Stack swallowed hard. Something stirred behind his eyes, resentment maybe? Or was it desire, confusion, or interest? He looked at Louis, really looked. The way his mouth curled around danger, at the elegance wrapped around centuries of grief.

"…Fuck it," Stack muttered. "One drink."

Louis handed him the glass, their fingers brushing. "Good," he said. "Just one."

They both knew it was a lie.

taglist | @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax @klssngss @sinnersappreciation @fadingbelieverexpert @carriemill @blankface333 @slugstarzz @king-cookiex @theelusivemidnighthoe @spicyscorpioo @xxx-aurora-swirls @riellarielle25 @z0mmba3 @remmickcherie @casarahsisland

[jamesdeanbby]

hi, could you please write anything with johnny cade x fem! jealous (possessive) reader? if you are comfortable/interested in writing that ofc 🙏

i love how pretty your page is and how much thought you put into the characterization 💕 characters’ personalities are always so on point

────۶ৎ i'm a jealous, jealous girl

something, something, the most jealous girl with the most squittish boy!<33

warnings : reader being jealous ig, canon typical classism.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: omg thank you sm!!!

It was a Friday night and the drive-in was packed, headlights flickering like lazy stars, cigarette smoke curling up into the moonlight. You were getting sodas, leather jacket slung halfway off your shoulder. A patch with a 'TS' stitched on it like a warning sign, Tim Shepard’s gang.

Johnny was waiting back by the hood of Dally’s car, all soft eyes and jittery hands shoved into his pockets. His hair was combed neat and he looked like a lost puppy every time you left his side.

And that’s when they came.

Two bold little 15-year-old greaser girls struttin’ over, chewing gum like they were God’s gift and twirling their hair like it meant something.

“Hey, aren’t you Johnny Cade?” the blonde one chirped, her voice like nails on glass. “You were in the paper after that fire, right? You’re kinda famous.”

Johnny shifted, squinting like he hoped they'd just dissolve into the asphalt. “Uh… I guess.”

The brunette popped her gum. “You’re cuter in person,” she said, stepping in way too close, her hand brushing his arm like she had a right.

Johnny blinked. Panic setting in. He looked around like he was searchin’ for you, like maybe if he concentrated hard enough, you’d just appear and drag him back to safety.

And oh, you did.

You saw it. The flirting. The little smirks. That one girl who touched him like she had a death wish.

You stormed over, boots hitting pavement like thunder, eyes flashing hotter than a cigarette burn.

“The hell is this?” you snapped, voice like a slap.

The girls jumped. One let out a nervous giggle. “We were just—"

“Just what, blondie? Trespassin’?” You stepped between them and Johnny, standing taller, colder, meaner. “This one’s mine, sweetheart. You touch what’s mine again, and I’ll rearrange your teeth so bad you’ll have to sip your milkshakes through your nose.”

They blinked. Stammered. Tried to act cool, but your eyes were cuttin’ through them like a knife through satin.

“I—I didn’t know—”

“You do now,” you growled, crossing your arms. “Now beat it before I give you somethin’ to cry about.”

They scurried off like rats under a porch light, and you turned to Johnny, jaw tight, fists still curled. Your voice softened, barely. “You okay, baby?”

Johnny stared at you like he was about to melt into the gravel. His voice was low, breathy. “That was hot.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smirk. “Damn right it was.”

Suddenly, Dally popped up from behind the car, laughing his ass off, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Holy hell, Cade. She wears the pants, the boots, and the knuckles in this relationship.”

“give me a break, man!”

[pazzi5351]

Ivy pt 2

I could hate you now, but if you could see my thoughts

Paige x Azzi

Word count: 1036

AN: did I start this WAAAAAAAYYYYY past my bedtime of 10:30? Yes. Yes I did. Will I finish it tonight? No, probably not. (Hi it’s tomorrow!)

————————————————————————————

The party was fucking stupid.

Or maybe Paige was just in a mood, but either way— she hated it. Hated the way Azzi was practically floating around the room, fixing a few curls in front of her mirror, applying lipgloss like she was meeting the love of her life.

Paige sat on the edge of Azzi’s bed, eyes fixed on the hardwood, pretending to listen.

“… and then, Michael was like ‘I’ll come pick you up.’ But I told him I’m not like that. Like, dude relax—” Azzi laughed, disregarding a pair of earrings and tossing them onto her vanity. “But I mean he’s cute for me right?”

Paige didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t even manage a fake nod this time.

Azzi noticed. She always notices. She paused, and walked across the room and sat next to Paige, her thigh pressed gently against the older girls. “Hey.” Her voice softened. “I know things between us have changed some,”

Paige slowly looked at her. Unsure of which version of “changed” Azzi had meant. The version that involved hushed giggles in the dark and touches that lingered far too long… or the version where Azzi talked about other people, other boys, like Paige wasn’t still holding onto the pieces of something they’d never named.

Azzi kept going, smiling softly. “But I’m still here. You’ll always be it for me, Paige. I don’t want us to change.”

Paige wanted to believe Azzi, she really did. But it wasn’t enough.

“If I’m ‘it’ for you, then you have to feel it too,” Paige whispered, looking down at her hands. “You know we’re more than friends Az.”

Silence.

Silence Paige knew the answer too.

Then, Azzi leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to Paige’s cheek— light and fleeting.

“I’ll see you later P,” she said, and just like that, she was gone. The door clicked shut behind her.

And Paige was alone.

Downstairs, the house buzzed with its usual life. Tim was watching something on mute in the living room. Katie was humming in the kitchen, flipping through a book. Jose and Jon were yelling from the basement about loading screens.

Paige stayed upstairs for a few minutes, letting Azzi’s absence hover over the room. She stared at the unicorn plush that sat on Azzi’s dresser from the fair. The same stupid unicorn from her dream.

She shook her head, standing. This was pathetic. She was pathetic.

She wandered downstairs to the kitchen for a snack, hoping to avoid any form of conversation. But Katie noticed she was off immediately.

“Hey, honey,” she said gently. “You alright?”

Paige shrugged, reaching for a granola bar. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Katie gave her the mom look. The kind that said ‘I can see through that’. “You sure hon?”

Paige hesitated. Then quietly, “I just— I just feel like there’s nothing more I can do. Like I’ve been showing up, loving her the only way I know how, and it’s still not enough. I’m still not enough. I don’t wanna mess up anything, but…”

Katie walked over and hugged her. “Sometimes, the right love at the wrong time still leaves marks. Go play with the boys for a bit, clear your head, they’ve been asking for you.”

Paige nodded, her chest tight. “Thanks.”

In the basement, Jose tossed her a controller without looking up. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, flopping onto a beanbag.

They played for hours. Paige wasn’t really into it. Her mind was somewhere else—back upstairs, back at the fair, back in a dream. If Azzi could see her thoughts, she’d see it too. Every memory, every almost, every kiss that meant more to Paige than it ever did to her.

Azzi didn’t come home until 2:14 a.m.

Paige heard the car pull in, heard the storm door creak open, heard the uneven shuffle of her footsteps. Then—her phone buzzed.

Az💗: come open the door I forgot my keey

Paige walked quietly to the front door and opened it. When she did, Azzi practically fell into her.

“Paaaaiiiiggeeyyy,” she giggled, her voice slurred, eyes glossy. “Oh nooo, you’re mad at me but you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me Paigey.”

Paige steadied her, brushing a curl from her face. “You’re drunk.”

Azzi grinned. “Only a litttllleee. I missed you though.”

She leaned in again, sloppily this time, hands moving down Paige’s sides, pushing her shirt up. Paige caught her wrists gently, but firmly.

“Azzi,” she said, her voice breaking just a little. “We can’t do that anymore.”

Azzi blinked at her. “Why not?”

“Because,” Paige started. “I love you. I mean it everytime. But I can’t keep being that person for you when I’m the only one that means it for real.”

Azzi pulled out of Paige’s grip. Stepping back like she’d been slapped. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t love you? You don’t think I know I broke your heart earlier talking about this fucking party?”

She was yelling now. Tears welling up in her eyes, mascara starting to smudge.

“You don’t think I feel it? Paige, I—” her voice cracked. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay? I don’t even know what to make of my fucking feelings, but don’t act like you’re the only one hurting.”

And then she collapsed into her.

Sobbing into Paige’s hoodie,mumbling into her, fists curled against her chest, and holding on to her like she was the only thing anchoring her world.

Paige just held her quietly. No more words shared between them.

She kissed Azzi’s forehead once, and only once, because she knew she wouldn’t remember it in the morning. And she whispered into her curls, “I love you, even if you can’t love me back right now, I hope you love me someday.”

Azzi fell asleep like that, tangled in Paige’s arms. Breathing uneven. Heart loud.

And Paige stayed awake.

Knowing tomorrow she’d have to pretend none of this happened. Knowing she’d wake up and put on her smile and be the best friend again. The easy one. The cool one.

The one who loved in silence.

But tonight—just for tonight—she let herself love her out loud

[urinarythreatinfection]

Wider View

Shanks x Woman!reader. Very suggestive. 589 words. Bottom Shanks. Outside POV.

a/n: can be read as transfem probably. posting early bc impatient

It’s a slow day for an adult store, the shop owner, bored, looks around. They already don’t have a lot of people that shop in person, but there is the occasional person or delivery person. Today though, nothing, and the sun has almost set. They perk up when the little bell rings as someone walks inside, finally something to do. “Welcome!” They say happily, which falters when they see a sudden 6’6 man walk in. Scar over his eye, muscular, even missing an arm. He looks like bad news. His blood red hair moves as he does, making them nervous. ‘He wouldn’t try to rob an adult store right? Maybe the register? Should I call someone?’ Their mind runs through options as he peruses around. He seems to sense their unease because he turns to them and gives a friendly smile.

“Hello! Do you have this in a bigger size?” He asks, holding up sexy red lingerie. So he is here to shop, and that smile didn’t look fake.

‘Is he getting something for his girlfriend? That’s bold.’ They think to themselves before answering. “Yes! It should be in the back, how big would you like?”

“An extra large, and if you have the stockings longer that would be good too.” He explains and the shop owner goes to the back.

‘He’s got a big lady, I guess he could handle something like that.’ They grab the larger size and go back, handing it to him. He looks it over, then goes to a mirror and puts it to his body. ‘He’s gay!?’ Their eyes widen in shock, the man unknowing as he smiles looking at himself. ‘I would’ve never guessed..’

Ring ring

“O-Oh, welcome!” They snap out of it and spot a woman.

“Yes, is my husband here?” She asks and then spots the redhead, who quickly hides the lingerie behind him. The shop owner’s heart tightens, is he hiding his sexuality from her? A secret gay lover? “Shanks, there you are!”

“Sorry, love, just buying some condoms.” He lies and she hums.

“Well okay, hurry up because I already made a reservation for the restaurant.” The shop owner looks away, they can’t watch this. Telling her feels out of the question too, he looks like he could kill them in seconds. Their eyes go back when she continues. “Oh, and buy more lube. I don’t think even a slut like you could handle getting fucked rough without it.” Their eyes widen when she gets closer to him, her hand trailing to his ass and giving a small squeeze. “And I’m not slowing down even if you cry~” He shivers with a shaky breath.

“Yes, love.” He says submissively and she smiles.

“Good boy, I’ll see you at the restaurant.” With that, she leaves and the man takes a moment to catch his breath before grabbing lube and condoms. He places the items on the register while the owner is frozen. They manage to tear themselves from their mind and ring the items up. While the man is giving the berries they make eye contact, and he suddenly gives a mischievous smile.

“I hope it surprises her as much as it did you.” His eyes go dark, and the owner is suddenly reminded of those demons in legend that feed off of sexual energy. “See you later~” He winks and leaves the store, leaving the store owner with a dropped jaw and flushed cheeks.

‘Well. I’m glad they’re happy.’ They think, but their world has definitely gotten larger.

I got too excited. Anyway, this can be read as transfem reader, but i didn't really know how exactly to tag that since ive never read about transfem reader stories. Anyway either fem with a strap or transfem no bottom surg. Taking everything in my body not to just post the rest. im a little nervous.. what if i hyped this and its trash.. its just a drabble.. gotta remember to keep my head on straight.

[ducksido]

Helloo! I've been binge reading ur work and GAHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHH!

if its alright can I request a Lili De Rochefort! Reader (she's from tekken btw! )

With either the overblot bois or with the first years? (With Idia) if it's alright? ehehe ^^;;

lets go overblotters

Overblot Boys x Lili De Rochefort!Reader

General Concept:

You, the elegant yet formidable Yuu, are known across NRC not only for your refined manners and impeccable fashion sense, but also for your deadly skills in combat. Whether it's a magical duel, physical confrontation, or ballroom etiquette contest—you're at the top. Some call you spoiled. Others call you untouchable. Either way, you're fabulous.

Riddle Rosehearts:

At first, he thinks you’re infuriating. You're always late, you act like you're above the rules, and you gently refuse to bow to his authority—but in such a polished, refined way that it makes it impossible to punish you.

Until he sees you take down an enraged monster in one strike—in heels.

“You’re reckless! But… effective. I… admit, your talents are admirable. Just don’t flaunt them so… excessively.”

You: “My dear Riddle, elegance and ability are meant to be admired. You wouldn’t hide a rose, would you?” Cue the vein popping on his forehead—and the blush right after.

Leona Kingscholar:

He was unimpressed at first. Another pretty, pampered noble? Whatever. But after you flipped Jack (literally) during a training demo, Leona had to reevaluate.

“Heh. You’ve got claws under that silk. Maybe you’re not as useless as you look.”

You: “Darling, I never look useless. You just weren’t paying attention.”

He smirks. Now he watches your every move—like a lion intrigued by a glittering blade.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul underestimated you once—and only once. You danced circles around him in a duel, humiliating him in front of the Lounge staff. Now he tries to get on your good side through… business.

“You know, I could offer you an exclusive partnership. We’d be quite the power duo.”

You: “Azul, I don’t sign contracts. I negotiate empires. But I’ll consider dinner.”

He's sweating—but also simping.

Jamil Viper:

You get Jamil. The act. The hidden sharpness. You recognize a fellow masked blade.

You both end up in a sarcastic, deadly pas de deux—matching in wit and intensity.

“You don’t trust easily, do you?”

You: “Neither do you. But you’re welcome to try and earn it.”

There’s a glint of mutual respect. Maybe even a smile.

Vil Schoenheit:

Rivals. Allies. Foes in fashion and finesse. You’re the only one who can match Vil in both looks and raw power—and he knows it.

“Try not to outshine me on stage.”

You: “Oh, Vil. I don’t try—I do.”

You’ve had full-blown beauty duels over lipstick shade choices. It’s intense. Epel watches from the sidelines like it’s a gladiator match.

Idia Shroud:

He didn’t know what to do with you. You’re like a video game boss—elegant, powerful, and terrifyingly pretty.

When you approached him in the lab, he nearly short-circuited.

“U-uh... p-p-please don’t kill me… Wait, why are you smiling like that?!”

You: “I just wanted to know if you liked this new outfit. You’re so cute when you panic~”

Now he refuses to open his door without checking the hallway first. You scare him—and he has the biggest crush on you.

Malleus Draconia:

You're one of the few people who treats Malleus like an equal—no fear, no reverence. Just elegance and charm. He’s intrigued.

“Most fear me. You don’t.”

You: “I’ve danced with demons, darling. A dragon? How refreshing.”

Malleus is enchanted. Literally. He offers to walk with you under the moonlight—and if anyone threatens you, they're ash.

[mummyemmatojames]

43. The Power of a Gentle Threat: Keeping My Little Boy in Line

Hello, dear community! Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, with another heartfelt update on our MDLB and FLR journey. One of the most fascinating aspects of our dynamic is how a simple, nurturing threat can work wonders to keep my sweet James in line. When he starts to get out of hand—maybe a sassy tone or a moment of defiance—I’ve found that a calm, firm reminder of consequences, delivered with love, is usually enough to bring him back to his good little boy self. Phrases like “Do you need a nap?” or “Is someone asking for a sore bottom tonight?” almost always do the trick, and I rarely have to follow through with actual punishment. Today, I want to share how these gentle nudges help maintain our dynamic, reinforce our rules, and keep James behaving like the darling boy he is. I’d love to hear how you use similar tools in your own dynamics!

The Magic of a Nurturing Threat

In our MDLB dynamic, structure and boundaries are key to helping James feel safe and cared for in his 10-year-old little space. But like any little boy, he can test those boundaries—maybe he’ll roll his eyes when I ask him to tidy his toys or grumble about his early bedtime. Instead of jumping straight to punishment, I’ve learned that a well-placed, nurturing threat is often all it takes to guide him back. These aren’t harsh or scary; they’re delivered in my soft Mummy voice, with a touch of playfulness or concern, to remind him of the consequences without breaking the loving tone of our dynamic. The beauty is that they work so well, I rarely have to act on them—my little boy is just too sweet to push too far!

How I Use Threats to Keep James in Line

Here are some of the phrases I use when James starts to stray, and how they help him snap back to his best behavior:

“Do you need a nap, little one?”: If James is getting cranky—say, fussing about putting away his Lego—I’ll tilt my head and say, “Oh, my little boy seems tired. Do you need a nap to feel better?” His eyes widen, and he shakes his head fast, knowing a nap means missing playtime. Just last week, he was dragging his feet about cleaning up, and this phrase made him scurry to stack his bricks, mumbling, “No nap, Mummy, I’m good!” It’s adorable how quickly it works, pulling him back to his cooperative little self.

“I think bed an hour early might help improve this attitude.”: When he gets a bit sassy, like talking back about his 7:30 PM bedtime, I’ll say, “Hmm, is someone telling Mummy they need bed at 6:30 tonight?” The thought of losing an hour of evening fun is enough to make him soften. Once, he was grumbling about bath time, and this threat had him in the tub within minutes, splashing bubbles and saying, “I’m being good, Mummy!” It’s like magic—his little boy heart wants to please me, and the threat nudges him there.

“Is someone asking for 10 minutes in the corner?”: If he’s pushing boundaries, like ignoring a rule about asking permission for snacks, I’ll raise an eyebrow and say, “Does my little boy want 10 minutes in the corner to think?” The idea of standing still, facing the wall, is so boring and humbling that he’ll backtrack instantly. Just yesterday, he reached for a biscuit without asking, and this phrase made him pull his hand back, saying, “Sorry, Mummy, may I have one?” His shy smile afterward melts my heart every time.

“Does someone want to go to bed with a very sore bottom or sleep on their front tonight?”: This is my big gun, saved for when he’s really testing me, like snapping during a shopping trip. I’ll say, “Is someone asking for a sore bottom before bed, or do you want to be my good boy?” The memory of recent spankings makes this threat hit hard—he’ll blush, look down, and mumble, “I’ll be good, Mummy.” It’s rare I need this one, but it’s powerful; he knows I mean business, and he’d rather avoid the hairbrush at all costs.

Why It Works So Well

These threats are effective because they tap into James’s desire to be my good little boy while reminding him of the structure we’ve built. They’re not about fear but about reinforcing our dynamic’s boundaries in a way that feels nurturing. Here’s why I think they resonate:

Little Space Connection: The language—calling him “little one” or “my boy”—keeps him anchored in his 10-year-old headspace, where he wants to please Mummy. Even when he’s acting out, these phrases pull him back to that vulnerable, cooperative place.

Clear Consequences: Each threat points to a specific, undesirable outcome (nap, early bed, corner time, spanking), which makes the stakes clear without needing to act. He knows exactly what’s at risk, and his imagination does the rest.

Nurturing Tone: I deliver these with love, not anger, often with a gentle touch like stroking his hair or a playful smile. This keeps him feeling safe, not scolded, so he’s motivated to comply out of love, not fear.

His Sweet Nature: James is such a good boy at heart. The threats remind him how much he values our dynamic, and he’d rather make Mummy proud than face a consequence. His quick apologies and shy smiles show how much he wants to stay in line.

A Recent Example

Last weekend, James was getting a bit cheeky during our grocery shop, whining about wanting something. His tone was sharp, and I could see him teetering on the edge of a meltdown. I leaned in, held his hand, and said, “Does my little boy need 10 minutes in the corner when we get home, or can we be a good helper for Mummy?” His face flushed, and he gripped the trolley tighter, whispering, “I’ll be good.” By the next aisle, he was asking politely for things and even giggling when I teased him about his “helper skills.” That moment showed me how powerful these threats are—no punishment needed, just a nudge to bring my sweet boy back.

The Rare Need for Follow-Through

I’m so grateful that these threats are usually enough, because I don’t enjoy punishing James. The few times we had to use a spanking  was hard on both of us, and I’d rather avoid it. The threats work so well that I’ve only had to send him to the corner once or twice, and early bedtime has happened maybe once in the past month. Each time, he’s been so apologetic afterward, cuddling close and promising to be better. It’s like the threat alone reminds him of our rules and his role, and his good little heart does the rest.

Reflections on Balance

Using threats feels like a delicate dance in our MDLB dynamic. I want to keep our connection loving and nurturing, not let it tip into fear or harshness. I’m careful to use these phrases sparingly, saving them for when he’s truly out of line, so they don’t lose their power. I also make sure to praise him when he complies, saying, “That’s my good boy, making Mummy so proud!” to reinforce his positive behavior. It’s a balance—firm enough to guide, soft enough to love. Seeing how quickly he responds, blushing and eager to please, tells me it’s working for us.

Questions for the Community

How do you use gentle threats or reminders in your dynamic to keep your little one in line? What phrases work best for your partner’s headspace? Have you found ways to make consequences feel nurturing yet effective? And for those whose littles are as sweet as my James, how do you balance discipline with all the cuddles and praise they deserve? I’m so eager to learn from your experiences!

Thank you for being such an amazing community as we navigate these little moments of guidance and love. Your support makes every step of our journey so special!

With all my love,

Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

[novas-corner]

OH DEAR GODS PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKED MY WRITING???? I hope y’all know I’m freaking out about this, it will get to my head (my apolocheese)

Anyways, a singular person asked for more… so… more it is!!

Again with all of this I know almost NOTHING about the game, I’ve missed out on a lot of lore since I am simply a card collector… and I’m very biased towards characters 😭‼️

Also this was NOT proofread properly (I’m doing this on no sleep at eight in the morning.)

Anyways, part 1 is here!

Also I’m basing their schedules around THIS post here!! (I think it’s official stuff? Idk)

Thank you for listening to me yap… back to being isekaid!!!! (I still do not know how to spell that)

Oh also there’s angst ish in here? Idk man I’m just writing out my thoughts at this point LOL

OH FUCK AN ISEKAI

Alright well sleeping was… a nightmare. All five of them argued until you eventually gave up and went to the couch. Damn boys, they’re gonna make your life trouble and you know it. But you gotta admit… five guys fawning all over you is kinda nice! The attention? Fantastic. They give you massages? UGH, so nice.

Well… you’ll need one of those mentioned massages tomorrow, you know damn well your back is going to be killing you in the morning.

You’re surprised to see Sylus walk into the living room, sitting next to you.

“You shouldn’t sleep out here sweetie, it’s not good for your body… what if I took you back to the N109 zone with me? You could sleep in a nice comfortable bed there and there would be much more space”

You groan, sitting up

“The only way I will do that is if you bring the other four with us. You need to remember that we are all not technically in our own universes since this ISNT the main storyline of the game. I don’t want them to be stranded here, I’d feel bad about that”

He sighs, but smiles down at you, pulling your head into his lap.

“Always thinking of others before yourself hm sweetie? Be a bit selfish sometimes okay?”

You huff, but relax into his embrace nonetheless.

“Yeah… I’ll try. Why are you up anyways? Couldn’t sleep?”

He’s running his fingers through your hair (or just rubbing your bald head, idk man) and chuckles down at you.

“Oh come on, I thought you knew all about us”

He’s teasing you… cocky mf-

“The N109 zone doesn’t have a day or night technically, so my schedule is a bit off from everyone else”

Oooooooh… riiiight… you had forgotten about that, honestly there’s probably so much you’ve forgotten. You never did read through the events or stories, just let them play in the background to get more pulls for banners… maybe you should get back into the story after all this blows over… or then again… maybe you won’t have to due to being with them all the time now.

“Right… I forgot about that… well I’m… tired. So I’m going to sleep- lemme move-“

You’re trying to shuffle off his lap to not disturb him, but he just rests a hand on the small of your back and tells you to ‘not worry’ and that he can ‘handle you sleeping for a bit’

…that’s sweet…

You’re relaxing into him almost immediately and drifting off, letting your slumber take over you.

What you don’t know however, is that once sylus is sure you’re asleep, he’s analyzing you, trying to see if this was all some ploy to not be caught for cheating… but it’s really a different person. What was once a person he knew was now just someone who knew him. It was a strange feeling, they had the face of the one he loved, they almost sounded like them too— they just spoke differently. It felt so right and yet so wrong to have you there… maybe he should have Zayne give you a physical checkup tomorrow, make sure you’re healthy and all.

Sylus tries to not care for you, after all… you’re not HIS, not the person he knew. But you acted the same in so many ways… hopefully this can all be fixed. For now though, he sits running his fingers through your hair as he reads a book.

~Timeskip~

It’s morning now and you groggily wake up to the smell of bacon. You’re sitting up, rubbing your sleep ridden eyes as a cheerful voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Oh! Sorry pips, did I wake you up?”

You’re standing now, walking over to Caleb with a yawn.

“Nono… I just woke up… whatcha making?”

He’s all smiles, you’re honestly not sure how he has so much energy at six in the morning but whatever.

“Just some bacon and eggs! Want some?”

He says with a grin, pointing to the plate of bacon and eggs. You pause, eyeing the plate.

“Were the eggs made first? I’m allergic and can’t really risk cross contamination… don’t wanna die today, y’know?” (I’m reminding y’all that this is ME written as if it’s YOU. We ain’t having eggs together homies 🫵🥲)

“Oh?? Uh… I think so? Maybe you shouldn’t eat them to be safe… I’ll make you something else!”

He’s saying while already looking for something else to make… at least they know where everything in this apartment is located, I’ve got no clue.

You’re trying to find bread and hear him mumbling something about how his version of you isn’t allergic to anything… guess that’s a difference.

He sees you rifling through literally every drawer and pats you on the head.

“You know you can ask for things… right?”

“Well- maybe I just wanted to see if I could do it myself, this is technically my apartment after all… but uh… where’s the bread?”

He’s laughing at you, pointing to the bread literally in the counter, you blind blind mf. Your shoulders almost slump in defeat as you pop some toast into the toaster and open the fridge. Huh… fully stocked… that’s nice, where’s the butter though…

As if reading your mind, Caleb walks behind you and grabs the butter for you.

“Here, it’s buried in there, you wouldn’t have found it alone”

You’re just kinda looking up at him, he’d got you cages in between him and the door- HE DID THE HOT THING WHERE THEY GRAB SOMETHING FOR YOU GANG. Ugh you forget that this is a game about flirting and they’re gonna be doing that.

“Oh… right, thank you”

You’re quickly scurrying away from him— and as everyone does, you get spooked by the damn toaster. That mf laughs at you AGAIN. Jerk…

Anyways you’re buttering your toast and watching as he plates his food, having made extra for the others… that’s sweet of him.

“I usually ask my version of you to work out in the mornings… so… would you want to join me for a morning workout after breakfast?”

You look up from your toast, a mouthful and crumbs on your face, he just smiles at you as you swallow your food and wipe your face.

“Mm- sure? Im not the strongest though so expect me to not keep up.”

Which gets you thinking… how in the hell are you going to do the job of the MC??? There’s no way you could deal with wanderers… would you being here jeopardize the job the MC has? Oh gods I mean you can technically rely on the guys for money but what if they get sick of you not being their MC. Not only that, is time passing back home? Will people realize you’re gone? Are you going to end up like an unsolved crime case?

“Hey… are you okay?”

His voice snaps you out of the despair trace you were in, you look up at him with wide eyes and see him looking at you concerned.

“Oh… yeah sorry I was just thinking… I’ll join you for the workout, it’ll probably take my mind off things.”

You’re trying to keep smiling, you’ve been obsessed with these men for months and they’re literally all here, you should just enjoy this in case it’s a dream, y’know?

He’d still visibly concerned but decides to drop it, finishing his food and grabbing yours and his empty plates, putting them in the sink to wash later.

“Well let’s go workout then shall we? You can sit on my back while I do pushups? Alright pips?”

OH BOY!!! You’re standing with a smile, nodding along and following him along to the door, pausing and looking down at your clothes.

“Ooooh wait I need to change my clothes first”

You begin to wander back to what you found out is your room, walking in to see Zayne buttoning up his shirt, and Rafayel and Xavier cuddled up in bed… well more like Xavier cuddling up to Rafayel but whatever they look kinda cute, y’know?

You smile at Zayne, he just nods to you, finishing putting his shirt on.

“There’s breakfast there, Caleb made eggs and Bacon, plus bread for toast”

You’re saying as you walk over to the closet, rifling through the clothes there. You know that MC has got to have something for a workout other than this damn hunters uniform… surely right?

Oh thank the gods they do. (I actually could not find one but I’m gonna guess MC has a workout outfit)

“Are you working out? Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

You turn to see Zayne, who is now hovering behind you.

“Oh! Yeah Caleb invited me to workout with him, I guess him and the me you know worked out in the mornings”

He just nods.

“Alright, enjoy that then, I’ll be back later, I’m going to try and stay with you overnight and whatnot to see if I can help figure out what’s going on, the rest of the men have also agreed they want to be around as well.”

You just nod, biting at your lip slightly. It’s sweet that they care about you enough, but you’re sure they’re only caring because they want their old lives back. You can’t really blame them though since you just want your life back too. Again, it’s nice to be here with men you’ve simped over… but you have friends, parents… ugh be positive damnit, we can’t be depressed all the time.

“Right okay…“

You’re trailing off, not really knowing how to proceed.

“The white haired man— Sylus I believe? He mentioned that I should give you a checkup at some point today. Would you rather visit the hospital during my lunch break or wait I til I get back?”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. Oh boy these mfs are in for a TREAT, they’ll never expect the amount of things wrong with me. Huh that begs the question, will my body function differently than theirs? I mean obviously I don’t have the protocore heart and whatever else… but is it different since they’re game characters?

OH MF YOU DIDNT ANSWER-

“Probably just when you get back, I’m not really sure how to get to the hospital after all.”

He just nods, patting you on the head and walking out.

“Sounds good, I’ll expect you to be ready when I get home then. Have a good day.”

HE’S SO STOIC???? I don’t know how to feel bout that but whATEVER YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING OUT.

You gather your clothes and move over to the bathroom, as you’re getting dressed you can hear Rafayel waking up and causing a ruckus over being cuddled by Xavier. God damn he’s loud…

You’re changed now and walk back to the living room, where Caleb is sat on the couch waiting for you.

“Ah! Finally pips! Felt like I was gonna have to search for you in case you had gotten lost!”

He’s honestly adjusted really well to the fact that I’m not the me he knows. I wonder if it’s a facade, I know damn well he cares a great deal for his version of me. STOP THINKING SO NEGATIVELY. DAMN.

Anyways you’re smiling slightly at his words, listening to him yap about what he’s planning to do for his workout, it’s just going in one ear and right out the other if I’m being real.

You leave the apartment and go to the gym that I guess the apartment has? (I’m making things up as I go at this point, things will just appear as I need them too)

He’s doing weights and stuff, you’re struggling to get through his tough workout (I’m crippled sorry gang, if I gotta struggle so do you 💔)

He notices this of course and slows his pace down, eventually stopping and patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey… you don’t need to do this y’know?”

You just sigh and look up at him defeated.

“Does your version of me do this every day? That bitch is ATHLETIC.”

He laughs at you and offers to just help him with his workout I stead, which you joyfully agree to, watching Caleb workout? YES PLEASE.

So now here you are, sat on his back and counting his pushups for him. Huh, suddenly the angst from earlier is gone as you watch his ARMS??? UGHHHH 🤩

He eventually finished that up though (UNFORTUNATELY) and just looks up at you… still on his back, making it just a lil bit hard to get up.

“Pips… you gotta move y’know?- I will just roll you over, you should know this.”

Oh we gotta know what that means.

“Hm? The ground is talking, how strange…”

You’re looking up at the ceiling with an almost expectant grin on your face, which he does not fail to realize. Well you asked for it.

Suddenly he has managed to roll you off him and have you underneath him. Don’t ask the logistics of it, just go with it.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, Christ it was fast— how in the hell did he do that???

He just chuckles and gets off of you, offering a hand out for you to take, which you do and he pulls you up. "l have to say, you don't act all that different, it's easy to forget you're not the same person I've known." OUCH????? OK ANGST IS BACK IG??? He's walking you back up to your apartment, the hand he used to help you up now wrapped around your shoulder "Oh?.. is that... a bad thing?" "I suppose it isn't! It makes you fun to be around!" "Ah okay..." You trail off, you know what you want to ask but... "What happens if you can't get... the other me back?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think to stop them, he almost freezes in his tracks but keeps walking, smile faltering slightly. "I'm... not sure..." "Would you stick around knowing I'm not the person you knew? Or are you just here to get them back?"

He doesn't know how to answer you, because of course he wants his version of you back... but would he just.. leave? He doesn't even know himself. "For now lets not worry about that, okay pips? I'm here now and that's all that really matters, we'll figure everything out eventually" You just nod, looking down and mumbling a small apology... well that's... sad. So anyways you finally make it back to the apartment, and head to your room to grab a basic outfit.

Xavier is STILL asleep- does this mf have narcolepsy??? Whatever, you grab your outfit and turn to go to the bathroom, you need a shower to think again, plus you smell like sweat.

The door to the bathroom is closed when you get there, you knock only to hear Rafayel telling you to come in. You walk in and OH MY STARS-

“OH- sorry didn’t realize you would be IN the bath- I can come back later I’m so sorry-“

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No no it’s okay, did you need something?”

He’s asking with a slight tilt to his head. Dear gods man he is sculpted like a god, probably because he literally is one- STOP STARING.

You manage to snap yourself out of it, face absolutely red and looking down at the clothes in your hands.

“Sorry I was just trying to shower and get dressed- I can do so later-“

He’s sitting up in the bathtub, motioning for you to come closer.

“You can come bathe with me if you’d like? I don’t mind sharing.”

SIR?????? You are red as a lobster and I fear he is reveling in this fact— HOW IS HE SO CALM ABOUT THIS????

“No- that’s fine I’ll just… see myself out… thanks for the offer though”

You manage to mumble out, looking anywhere but at him and finally turning yer butt around to walk out. You hear him chuckle behind you and call out to you as you shut the door, playful as ever.

“Your loss Mx bodyguard!!”

TEASING MF. Ok anyways we need to find somewhere else to change it seems. So you opt to just shut yourself in the little closet and get changed. Xavier is still asleep in bed, which is kinda cute, he’s out like a ROCK. Honestly and earthquake could pass through and not much would happen I fear.

You wander around the place, Caleb, Zayne and Sylus are all out somewhere, Rafayel is in the bath and Xavier is asleep. There’s… not much to do.

You’re tired though and you slept on the couch, so you find yourself walking over to your room and climbing into bed opposite to Xavier.

You pass right out.

—————————————

Gang I’ll be honest, you could FEEL it falling apart at the end😭‼️

In my defense, it’s almost eight in the morning and I have not slept.

I wrote myself into a bit of a corner too since there’s like… nothing going on ‼️‼️‼️

I also do not know how to write seggsy time so I had to QUICKLY 180 from that.

Anyways I have ideas for another part, if people don’t burn me at the stake for being a crap writer I might add another part to this disaster LMAO

Okok yap session is over, thank you for reading this !! 🤩

Tag list ?!?!

@lunia-likes-pomegranet

[hymless]

Can I ask for items to be Converted to Male Frame?

Ez answer. Yes! I understand not everyone wants what I want, so this is why I'm going to try & allow suggestions rn. But I do have a few rules, okay? If it gets out of hand, I will stop taking any.

Plz read Rules below cut. (I don't want to have a giant ass spam post on your dash)

Required:

1-3 items asked for Nicely

The LINK to those items OR the CORRECT name & Creator of that item. Anon or Not (Media is on in my Asks)

& Finally...

I AM NOT PERFECT, OKAY?

I DO NOT know how to do slider heels & squishy thighs yet. So, I will not be doing those items till I learn okay?

*No, I will not be doing: (As of RN)

- Slider Heel shoes - Squishy thighs - Shoes (As of Rn. I haven't tried them yet.)

Q) Are you open to taking suggestions?

A: Yes, I am! I know not everyone is going to want only what I want, so I am willing to do some suggestions. But there's a few rules with this.

Please only ask for 1-3 items at a time. I want anyone who asks politely to get a chance to wear what they dreamed for their sim. (Anon will be going off if I feel like someone is spamming requests. SO please be kind & don't ruin it for everyone. Much appreciate non anon asks, but I understand not wanting to be known.) I'm not sure on how many requests I'll get, but if things get crazy, I may not take suggestions for a minute. (But I’ll still probably write it down for the future)

PLEASE for the love of everything, BE SPECIFIC. Telling me "You should convert some items from this Creator" is VERY Vague. PLEASE tell me what item. Okay? I don't feel like going through every cc item they have to choose what I want, especially if I may not care for their items in the first place. It's not too complicated to say, 'I want this specific item by this creator.' Okay. Cool.

I WILL NOT be doing SUPER HIGH POLY items. Like super alpha cc. Those that are like 50k? & over. No, that’s way too much. My computer will literally pass. Good maxis match & <40k poly hopefully. If you don’t know the poly count, that's fine. I’ll probably check it b4 committing to converting.

I WILL NOT be converting items that work fine by unlocking it through S4S. Like hair, earrings, piercings, glasses, hats (actual hats) leggings & socks (not 3D ones, sometimes they work tho). Majority of the time those work by unlocking restrict opposite gender. So, I will not be converting those. This is really for clothes & accessories.

If it is a BRAND-NEW, paywalled item, you’re going to have to sit a minute. I can’t magically convert something if I don’t have access to getting it, alright? You'll have to wait until it’s free for me to post it too, so I don't get anyone biting me alright? Sorry <3

Be Patient! Do NOT rush me. You will get your item when it comes out.

Q: How Long does it usually take to get an item suggested?

A: It depends. If the item doesn't cause trouble, then I should get it done pretty quickly. BUT, do not still expect everything requested to be done in a day. I'm not rushing myself, otherwise things will be messy. & I'll more than likely be releasing it in sets. (of other items I've converted or what was asked for) But I will try to get asked for items done as soon as I can.

7. BE RESPECTUFUL to ME! I am still doing ALL of this in MY TIME. I still make my OWN CC. I DO NOT take any sort of donations for anything I do. So DO NOT be an ass to me & rush me for what I am GENEROUSLY doing for you. Sometimes I'm not going to feel like converting cc. I don't have to do anything for you, Got it? BUT I am out of the goodness of my heart & for our pretty boi lovers.

Q) What about a creators set?

A: Ehhh we will see. I'll keep note on it. Maybe if several ask for it, then I'll look into it. If its not too many items in a set, I'll more than likely do it. BUT if it's like 20+ items... I'll ask for you to pick certain items. Maybe I will do the whole set over time, but it's not guaranteed. It still take me HOURS to do some of these convo's if I have problems.

-Thank you for reading!

I will add onto this if things change

If you actually red this post & request an item, include eel in your ask for shits & giggles. I wanna see who actually got this far

[lune-moon-nuit]

Up until recently I’ve headcannoned that both Will and Mike realised they loved each other romantically in the end of s3 when Will leaves Hawkins, but then i started thinking that maybe Will realised the night he destroyed Castle Byers…?

THEN i saw a post where someone pointed out Will’s excited face and suspicious behaviour in the beginning of s3 when Lumax + Byler were at the cinema and Will realised he was seated next to Mike… there were some screenshots of the faces he made and that made me believe that he was aware of his crush all the way back then

What are your thoughts?

It’s complicated to pinpoint exactly when Mike and Will fell in love with each other, because nothing is ever explicitly stated in the show—so we can only make assumptions based on what we see on screen and the logic of the narrative. In my humble opinion, Will fell in love first, but Mike ended up falling even harder (not that Will doesn’t love him deeply too, but I’m not quite sure how to explain it).

Obviously, in seasons 1 and 2, they’re still children or early preteens, so the concept of true love feels distant. But I believe that even in season 1, Will was already feeling something for Mike—without really understanding what it was. As for Mike, I think he was genuinely caught off guard by what he felt when he saw Will dancing with that girl at the Snow Ball, especially after they had spent the whole season growing even closer through protection, danger, trauma, and emotional support. The fact that Mike is so emotionally vulnerable during his “do you remember the day we met?” monologue isn’t meaningless.

But I do think all the feelings Will and Mike developed for each other—especially in season 2—were completely unconscious at the time. Mike started to feel jealousy, and it unsettled him, so he repressed those emotions right away by getting together with El.

And then we reach season 3: Even though Mike is officially dating El and spending most of his time at Hopper’s cabin making out with her, the rest of his free time is spent going on so-called “double dates” to the movies with Lucas and Max… and Will.

The fact that Steve says “again” and the group finishes his sentence when he says something like “if you guys get caught, I’ll kill you,” along with Lucas automatically grabbing the food Will hands him from several rows back without even turning around, proves that these movie outings have happened more than once—they’ve become a routine.

Mike and Will watching a movie side by side (while Max and Lucas, the actual couple, are seated on a different row) clearly became a regular thing that summer. And the fact that they both blush, and that this is the moment when we first see Mike look at Will’s mouth in a meaningful way, is definitely not insignificant in my eyes.

With this daily ritual of seeing El—who mostly stays hidden away in the cabin for her safety—Mike maintains the image of “I was late because I was busy making out with my girlfriend, see, I have a girlfriend, I’m just like everyone else, LOOK, I’M STRAIGHT”… but at the same time, he shares these private (if not romantic) moments with Will at the movie theater.

It’s like he’s trying to have his cake and eat it too.

The balance he was trying to keep started to fall apart when he had to lie to El, which eventually led to their breakup. Once El broke up with him, he lost his “boy with a girlfriend” status, and from that moment on, he became obsessed with patching things up just to regain that balance— —but in doing so, he ignored and neglected Will, which brings us to the infamous fight in the rain.

I really believe that this argument was the moment when Will realized he had been in love with Mike all along. That would explain why he called himself stupid while tearing down Castle Byers.

As for Mike, it’s clear to me that the ending of season 3—specifically El’s love confession and kiss—was his moment of realization. He feels nothing when El tells him she loves him. He still feels nothing when they kiss. And even though his ego is clearly bruised when she breaks up with him, the moment she’s back in his arms telling him she loves him again… …he realizes that this isn’t what he missed, and this isn’t what he’s truly longing for.

So yes, to answer your question: I think they’ve always loved each other, but it remained mostly unconscious— —until the rain fight, for Will, and El’s love confession, for Mike.

Which means that, yes, there was already a lot of tension in that movie theater scene.

Not to mention that season 3 is literally the season about puberty (the Duffer Brothers themselves said it).

[yaoi-enthusiasts]

seven years - ch1: “i’ll see you again,” || t. fushiguro

❛ ❜ toji fushiguro x f!reader (on going)

❝ Growing up in the Zenin household was tough, you were only but a toddler when your mother took a job there as one of the house keepers, trying to pay off some enormous debt that her husband, your father had left her with. Even as a toddler alone, you learned to be on your own, learned how to wash dishes, pull weeds, sweep the floors, you became quick on your feet, until you were seven years old, and you took the attention of a specific green eyed boy. “How old are you,” It was hardly even a question, more of a statement, the boy looked bruised and very much worn out, the young boy, you felt a sense of comfort, it was at this moment, Toji Zenin became your light in such a dark place. ❞

cw ; mdni • 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. hurt/trauma. family trauma. consent. smut . anxiety. death.

word count ; 2.4k

additional tags ; sorcerer au. mutual pining. childhood friends.

main masterlist | next chapter | series masterlist

Growing up in the Zenin household was tough, to say THE LEAST. You were only but a toddler when your mother took a job there as one of the house keepers, trying to pay off some enormous debt that her husband, your father had left her with. Even as a toddler alone, you learned to be on your own, learned how to wash dishes, pull weeds, sweep the floors, you became quick on your feet, until you were seven years old, and you took the attention of a specific green eyed boy. “How old are you,” It was hardly even a question, more of a statement, the boy looked bruised and very much worn out, “Seven, Master,” You bowed to the young Zenin, “Do not call me Master, I am nothing like them,” he was annoyed, his cheeks slightly rosey, something that you grew to understand over time and with age. “I’m Nine, so I’m older,” he stated, standing confidently, “Well good for you,” You were quick with your speech, something you learned to bite back being in the Zenin house, but with the young boy, you felt a sense of comfort, maybe you could be wittier, if a seven year old even knows? “Ha, what are you up too?” The boy asked more interested rather then a statement, it was at this moment, Toji Zenin became your light in such a dark place. 

Years went by and you grew older, the Zenin family despite their calloused ways, help put you through school, your mother served them loyally until her passing, and leaving behind a daughter who could work as hard as 3 maid servants alone, the head of the clan felt a pang of guilt for taking away a Childs act of learning, all because of a debt that she never asked for, it was one of the few times, their act of kindness was given. You were seventeen, finishing your high school years earlier than most, saving your earnings you made at the estate, to go into a college, maybe then you’d finally be free, and see the world. 

“What’s got you in your small little brain of yours,” a man teased you lightly, snapping out of your daydream, you look up at the raven-haired man from where you were sitting on the grass, “Toji, you sure know how to bother me while I am resting,” You huffed, lifting yourself off, dusting off your kimono, “Aren’t you supposed to be training?” You placed a hand on your hip, and looking at him more seriously, “Calm down, I am only resting, don’t you know to not bother me as I rest?” A smirk on his lips, you could only roll your eyes. “Sit with me for a moment,” he gracefully pointed his hands to the ground, letting out a sigh, you decided, maybe it was okay to be a little selfish and rest more. “I heard you got into a school in Tokyo, a scholarship one at that,” Toji nodded, he was nineteen at this point, he had grown big, taller than his own good, and his body resembled something as a greek god, not as bulky yet, but for nineteen, you were always surprised by his strength, “Who will I toy around with now, none of the other maid servants are as sharp as you,” he leaned back on his elbows, looking out at the sky. “Toji, I think you’ll be fine. Maybe focusing on your training, rather then messing with me, would be much more suitable,” You were graceful in your speech, well rounded. “Tch, you don’t get it,” he poked your side, making you squeak out. “You grow as red as a ripe tomato, I will miss those rose petals that your cheeks become,” he had grown so much softer to you with age, it seemed as if his flirtatious ways was something natural for him.

Your departure was simple, the lady of the estate gave you your last earnings, along side extra for the travel, and when they left you to walk to the train, Toji was beside you, taking you there himself. “Can’t believe y’r leavin’,” a hint of annoyance in his voice, “I can’t stay here forever Toji,” you reasoned with the young man, feeling the pang of guilt in your heart. “We will be together once again, I know it.” Those were the last words he had said to you the whole walk to the station. You didn’t know how your departure would be once you both entered the train station, but as you were boarding the train, you felt a pull at your bicep, and then being engulfed by a big figure. “Don’t forget me out there in the big city, I’ll come find you soon enough,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he leaned down to have you as close as possible, tearing up, you hugged him closely back, then taking your leave, one last final wave through the train window, you were then gone, and Toji was alone again.  

Tokyo was much different than where you grew up, you didn’t wear Kimonos, you wore jeans, with crop tops, or skirts, your attire became much more relaxed. You focused on your studies, but you made the closest friends, having fun, drinking at the couple of parties you did attend occasionally, but you mostly enjoyed being inside your dorm with your roommates who had become your closest friends. For the first time, you felt like you had a family. 

24 years old was when you graduated college, earning your Masters in literature, you became a book editor shortly after your masters program was completed, and your interning was done. “Earth to Y/n, you need to pack,” Your friend and roommate Akari said after you dozed off into your thoughts. “I know I know, this is a headache, jeez,” You groaned as you continued to put your belongings into boxes, you had found your own studio apartment in a nice part of Tokyo, it was expensive, but with your new job, you were going to be just fine, you were excited to finally hold a place that you could call yours alone. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up,” Akari states as she pulls out a picture of yourself on your first year of college. “Jeez, I was seventeen here,” you peered at the photo, you were standing in your white kimono with little blue flowers, one that a certain young man had always loved for you to wear, you couldn’t recall the last time you had thought about the raven-haired man, had he become free? Did he ever complete his training? Had he thought about you?

“Um who the hell is this?” Akari’s eyes widened in surprise, looking over, you saw a photo one of the maid servants took on your last day at the Zenin estate, you were standing in your white kimono with the blue flowers, and tall Toji was right beside you in his all black attire, he was leaned into you slightly, not trying to tower over you, yet he still did. His face held a little smirk, while yours was your kind, and sweet soft smile. “Oh, that’s an old friend,” You smiled, rubbing your thumb over the picture. “Okay, old friend? He’s insanely hot, what the hell?” She laughed out loud, she was shocked to see you, of all people standing next to a man, you seemed to swear them off in every situation possible. “My mother was a servant for his family, him and I grew up together, he was my only friend,” you stated, putting the photo away in a safe spot, continuing your packing, “Well Mr. Hottie needs to come pick me up and take me to his estate, I can service him,” She vulgarly said, “Akari! Jeez, you’re so gross,” You laughed but looked at her concerningly, “Oh don’t be such a prude,” She poked, continuing to help you pack.

“Well I’m off, I have to study for the exam at the end of the week, I’ll try to come by once I’m done with exams,” Your friend waved you goodbye, as you now were in your new apartment with your boxes to unpack. Your mattress sitting on the floor, alongside boxes with furniture pieces to build, you had no idea how you were going to do it, but you’d figure it out. You took your time unpacking, leaving the building for last, but by the time you had finished the stuff prior, you were to tired to read instructions, so you opted to sleeping on the mattress on the floor, eating take out in your small little home. 

The next morning was bright, you woke up to the sun shining inside the apartment, it reminded you, “I need curtains,” You groaned, rubbing your eyes. You washed up, made a list of things you needed at the grocery store to fill your kitchen and fridge, you were grateful you had gotten much of what you needed in supplies before moving, so you were forking over your entire months salary, you had always managed your money smartly, something your mother taught you at a young age. Slipping on some jeans, and a sweater, you felt the bite of the breeze the day prior, it was already October. 

You walked down the street, enjoying the walk and the people passing by, you felt so grown, with a lingering feeling of being alone. You looked through the shops that you walked by as you got close to the market, observing the new area you now called home. A voice caught your attention, as you were walking to the market, “So you picked up her bag, to give it back to her? But you ran away because you thought this helpless 90 year old woman, was going to hurt you? Sounds like utter bullshit kid,” It was a voice you would not forget, not matter how much more grown the voice had sounded, a hint of maturity. Turning to your left, there he was, Toji Zenin, standing in his black kimono, and his hands behind his back like an old Japanese man. “Ill beat y’r ass the next time I see you purse snatching kid, get goin’,” he snapped, making the young boy run off, as he handed the older lady her bag.

“I didn’t take you as someone who helped old ladies who get their purse snatched by kids,” You said with your hand on your hip, and a big grin on your face. Snapping his head up immediately, he looked over at your casual figure, your curly hair was chopped into a little afro, and you looked alive, rosy cheeks, and your skin wasn’t so pale. “Well I’ll be damned,” He smirked, walking over to you, “Little bunny is grown,” He chuckled, “Well it has been 7 years,” you stated, continuing your walk to the grocery store, “What are you doing here?” You asked the raven-haired man. “I live here,” he stated matter of fact, “Pft, live here? Since when?” You questioned, stopping in your tracks, “As of a year ago, I work at a school,” he responded back, following you. “You? Toji Zenin? That’s a surprise,” you chuckled. “Uh, its Fushiguro now,” he corrected, making you look at him questioningly, “I was wedded a couple of years back, had a son, I took her name,” He stated, still leaving you filled with questions. “Let’s stop and eat, I’ll tell you more,” he smiled, guiding you.

“My wife died 2 years ago, my son, Megumi, he’s 3 now. I work at Jujutsu High, you know, the one��“ - “the one where they teach the curse technique and stuff, how’d you get in there?” You questioned further, “Met a rather annoying teenager, we got into a fight, because he’s a punk—“ - “Or you’re just a bully,” you chuckled, “Not a bully, anyways, my lack of cursed technique but my ability was something they hadn’t seen before, the principal offered me a position as a teacher, teaching students, and occasionally going on missions,” He explained, leaving you utterly shocked at the change, “So it’s just you, and your son?” You questioned, “Yes, he’s with one of the Sensei’s. I was doing some shopping today since I don’t get many times to come into the city for things,” You watched the way his mannerisms were, he was the same, but older, he wore an expression of a man who had seen so much, and was tired. “I’d love to meet him,” you smiled at the big man, “I’d like that,” 

Toji was kind enough to help you shop, picking somethings up for himself and his son, and walking you home. “What are you up to today?” He questioned, as you let him into your apartment, “Well I need to figure out how to build this furniture, I bought this tool set, but I’ve never lifted a hammer, nor a drill in my life,” You blushed awkwardly, “I got it, this is easy,” he stated, already opening the boxes, and beginning to separate the pieces. “I couldn’t ask you, don’t you have to get home?” You questioned concerningly, “It’s alright,” he reassured, leaving you to unpack your groceries, and meal prepping for your week. 

“Here’s a passionfruit,” You handed him the sliced fruit, he nodded, taking it, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I’m sorry I have you doing this, I really could have done it,” guiltily apologizing, “No you couldn’t have, I am really alright,” he stated, leaving you to your thoughts. “How’d your family take it, when you left?” You asked as you sat in front of them, “I was never wanted there to begin with, they bullied me for not having cursed technique, they stopped bullying me once I beat their ass though,” he chuckled at the memory, “You always choose violence as a way to express your discontent,” you shook your head, taking a bite of the fruit. Toji looked at you, in your comfortable form, “You looked healthy, beautiful,” He drilled into the wood, bringing the pieces together, you blushed instantly, he always was smooth with his words, “Well you aren’t so bad yourself,” You turned away, hiding your rosy cheeks. 

“Here’s my number, let’s see each other again,” you smiled as you handed him your phone, and he pulled out his. “I’d like that,” He leaned in, pulling you into his embrace, and his forehead sitting on your shoulder, he was much to tall for you, but he did not care, he enjoyed your embrace. “I will see you soon, rosy cheeks,” he poked at you, then leaving you to your thoughts. 

[sunaglazer3000]

Love can take you places

one

a lovely slow burn w suna x reader!

Suna Rintarou layed his cheek on his desk, a sucker between his lips. He spoke; “My brain did not understand anything, at all.”

You, y/n, didn’t look up from your desk, with your notebook still on it, glancing at your perfectly organized notes.

“Maybe, it’s because you didn’t even try. You haven’t even opened your notebook.”

“Exactly,” he said, as it proved anything.

It sort of did in a way.

This was how things had been, since middle school. Suna, being a hot menace with lazy green eyes, and a lot of interesting comments. You, pretended to be annoyed, while secretly loved his company.

You two, were like best friends. You were his girl best friend, and he, your boy best friend. Basically, like siblings. Everyone knew, you knew.

The fluttering in your chest whenever he leaned in a bit too close, meant nothing. The nerves, nothing too, or just teenage hormones. Not because you liked him.

Nope,

Definitely not.

Rintarou reached over and poked your cheek. You were flushed for a bit.

“You’re making that face again.”

“What face?” You asked, fanning your cheeks to cool yourself down.

“The stupid one where your thinking too hard.”

You rolled your eyes and replied back “Maybe, I wanna pass this class unlike you.”

“I do pass, just not with the highest score like you.”

“Idiot.”

He laughed.

Another period, pretending this feeling in your chest, meant nothing.

Suna didn’t usually walk home with anyone else.

Not because he liked you or anything, but just because.

He could walk with anyone else—People liked him; addictingly so. He was tall, funny when he felt like it, and had the face that made girls swoon; but he just ignored all that attention, like it meant nothing.

Whenever he waited by a locker or by a class was for you.

“Which, meant nothing” - Suna Rintarou.

He was just like that with you, and it was just a good, platonic friendship.

You were getting ready to go home, looking down at your phone, you were about to open the door to the stairwell, when you saw Suna waiting there for you, holding the door open.

“You free this weekend?” He asked.

You blinked, a bit surprised. You felt a bit of warmth in your cheek, but shrugged it off as nothing. “Why?”

“I found a new horror movie we could watch. Looks dumb, and you’ll scream again. I need to catch it on video.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You always invite me to make fun of me.”

“Exactly.” He replied, putting his hands in his hoodies pockets.

You shouldn’t be over thinking this, you always did this. You and Suna, weekend movie nights, shoulder to shoulder, on his couch; bickering over popcorn. Teasing each other.

It didn’t mean anything.

However lately, you found yourself obsessing over the little things—like how he split his gummy bears in half so you could have a bite. The suna everyone else saw, was only the side he showed. It was like—you got the full picture.

Which, obviously meant nothing.

“Sure,” you said. “I’ll come over, Saturday?”

“Perfect. I’ll make the popcorn, and I’ll have my phone ready for when you scream.”

You smiled without meaning to.

At practice the next day, you were sitting on the bleachers, headphones up, supposedly listening to music—you were watching Suna Rintarou spike balls at the far end of the court.

He wasn’t as flashy as Aran or Atsumu or as loud as the others after a point. He moved like he was calculating everything two seconds ahead, smooth and collected.

You shouldn’t be staring, let alone examining his movements.

“Here to see your boyfriend?” a female voice teased.

You turned seeing Kyouka, a second year manager, smiling teasingly.

“He’s not—he’s not my boyfriend” you spoke wayy too quickly.

Kyouka chuckled. “Mhm, just your best friend who walks you home often and invites you to basically everything.”

“You got it.”

She blinked, “That doesn’t prove your point.”

“It does, it’s what friends do.”

Kyouka smiled and walked off, not pushing you that far.

You turned back to your phone, replaying your music and refused to look at suna.

Lasted for ten whole seconds.

You gave in, and your eyes met his, he was already looking at you. He looked at you; with a what’d I miss? Expression on his face.

You shook your head, nothing.

Your brain was self-destructing; basically.

Later that night, you got back home. Suna had walked you.

You were sitting on your bed, staring at the ceiling fan, blowing air on your face. You tried to rationalize everything.

You didn’t like Suna, not like that.

You loved how he knew your weird food preferences, how he texted you memes at 2AM, and how you never had to pretend around him.

That didn’t mean you had any romantic interest in him. Right?

You groaned, sinking your head in your pillow.

Because the truth was, Suna did like you—just not like that. Not in the way you found yourself imagining at the worst times. Not in the way that made your throat tight when you saw him laugh with other girls or let someone else sit beside him.

He liked you in a way that felt easy and permanent. Like a sister.Like you were part of his family—familiar, always there, expected.

And you?

You were starting to like him in a way that made your hands shake.

But you’d never admit it.

Because once you did, you’d lose the one thing that mattered most.

And maybe that was love too. The kind that stayed silent, so it didn’t scare the other person away.

Next —> tba

wc: 3.5k —> 4.1k? including spaces

a/n: hiya it’s been a whileee! ill try and be timely with this next chapter btw!