#this seems a reasonable way to handle anything that has spent any time at work in a hospital

[pickapea]

posts that make you remember that american healthcare has close to no hygiene protocols

I’ve told this story ten thousand times and I will tell it for the ten thousandth and first: whenever I think about wearing a costume to work on Halloween, I remember the time I saw a doctor breaking what must have been devastating news to a sobbing patient while the doc was dressed as a ketchup bottle.

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

[heich0e]

"i won't be able to see you for a while."

the tokyo streets slip past outside your window, but your eyes aren't quite following the scenery. you feel a little dizzy thanks to the wine satoru kept pouring over dinner—filling only your glass, as usual. it was a vintage you could never have dreamed you'd get the chance to taste only a few short months ago; a luxury so distant that you'd never once even thought about what it might be like to try. now it lingers on your tongue, stains your lips slightly, feels familiar in ways you still struggle to reckon with.

you tilt your face towards the man sitting beside you in the back of the car that's taking you home.

"a while?" you ask him curiously, though that's perhaps not the most important query.

satoru hums, smiling a little to himself as his fingers press against the pulse point on your wrist. he's been toying with your hand ever since you left the restaurant, but you've hardly paid it any notice.

satoru's touch used to be limited to the spectacle. his hands only reaching out for you when someone was there to witness it. at one time, satoru would have changed cars before his driver took you home. at one time, he would have dropped your hand the moment the door shut behind you. but he doesn't now.

you've grown strangely used to this, too.

"are you going away for work again?" you ask him when he offers no further elaboration. it's not that you're particularly concerned with where he's going, or why, or for how long. satoru's life always has been, and always will be, solely his own. you're no more his keeper than you are his true fiancée—and the funds that will be deposited into your bank account by the time you make it home this evening are testament to that truth.

but you ask because it feels like the natural thing to do.

though very little about anything you do with satoru ought to be considered natural.

"no," the blonde answers, with that troublesome lilt of mirth in his voice that always seems to precede something unpleasant. you don't ask any more questions in an attempt to ward it off.

soon you reach your destination, the rest of the car ride spent in silence after your brief but relatively benign exchange earlier in the drive. you glance out through the window towards your apartment—a building so utterly unremarkable that the sumptuous interior of the restaurant you visited that evening feels palatial by comparison.

satoru's not allowed to walk you to your door anymore. his harsh, obnoxiously unfiltered criticism of your building—of your home—each time he so much as caught a glimpse of the interior had grown so grating, you'd barred him from entering any further than the entrance to the lobby.

instead, his assistant nanami is the one who silently escorts you to your unit door each night, at satoru's unyielding insistence. he'd been surprisingly terse about it when you'd initially attempted to dissuade him, reminding him (more than once) that you make the walk to your own door every day alone and have thus far lived to tell the tale. but the options he firmly presented in reply—the only two you knew you had to choose from—were either to be escorted by nanami, or let him walk you there himself. you knew that there would be no reasoning with him otherwise, sensed it in the way he held you so fixedly in his stare that day, so you chose nanami.

now each night after satoru accompanies you on the ride home after your engagements, his stoic, well-mannered assistant dips in a polite bow at your door and wishes you goodnight before departing once he knows you've made it safely inside.

behind the wheel up front, nanami slips out from his seat, exiting the vehicle and coming around to your door to open it and let you out. the door cracks open as he pulls the handle, but all of the sudden it comes clacking closed again.

satoru is leaning over you—his weight, his warmth, the sheer breadth of him a little staggering from this close up, especially so unexpectedly—holding the door firmly shut by the handle. he stares at you down the bridge of his nose, unblinking.

"i'll see you... when i see you," you breathe out, surprisingly meek, as you sit frozen in your seat beneath him.

satoru says nothing, just watches you curiously. there's a glimmer of something that swims behind his eyes—that look he gets where you can't help but be reminded of a child playing with a new toy—that makes you shift nervously.

"you really don't want to know?" he asks you, and he's so close you can almost taste the words on his lips.

this is too near, even by his peculiar standards. satoru's hand is still wrapped tightly around the door handle to keep it closed. his body pinning you into the corner of the backseat.

you can't help but feel on edge when you're trapped like this with nowhere else to go.

"know what?" you ask him. your head is still spinning from the wine, but it's almost worse now. maybe it's only just really beginning to hit your bloodstream.

"where i'm going," satoru goads, "how long i'll be gone."

you swallow thickly. "that's none of my business."

"of course it is," satoru replies, feigning hurt. "we're engaged. it's a fiancés right to know where their partner is and what they're doing, any time they'd like."

your brow pinches in confusion. you have no interest in knowing those kinds of things, much less feel any right to know them, given the circumstances. your bewilderment leaves you at a loss for words.

"my rut's coming, you see," satoru explains, his lashes fluttering softly as he says it. it wouldn't feel so strange if his lip weren't curling up in a smirk all the while. "so for the next week or so i'll be... indisposed."

your mouth feels dry.

"oh," you manage to say, though it's not really anything at all.

one of satoru's brows quirks curiously at the sound.

"it wouldn't normally be an issue," he continues, though you didn't ask him to. "but this will be my first rut i've spent alone since i presented, so i'm not sure how long it will last."

your lips part in shock.

"alone?" you sound every bit as astonished—as scandalized—as you feel. an alpha of satoru's rank spending his rut alone is unheard of. "what about the omega servic—"

"i would never pay for those kinds of services."

satoru's tone is uncharacteristically cold as he dismisses the mere notion of it. even as a beta, you know that omega services are perfectly legal, and are strictly regulated nowadays—but upon further reflection, you're not all that surprised by his seeming revulsion towards the idea. a family as powerful as the gojo clan likely has their own reserve of omegas, each one of the highest pedigree, to attend to the needs of their unmated alphas. hell, the most eligible omegas in the country would willingly accompany him if he were to ask. you avert your gaze under his cold stare, you feel a bit silly for even suggesting—

"i have no interest bringing any omega into my bed."

your eyes snap up to meet his.

that little glimmer is still there, behind the impossibly clear blue of his eyes.

"will you take suppressants?" you find yourself asking next. still meek.

satoru's face screws up in disgust.

"that garbage is toxic," he sniffs indignantly. "snake oil like that wouldn't work on me anyway."

you remember learning about this in health class as a teen. remember how shocked you were to learn that the efficacy of suppressants decreases depending on how strongly someone's secondary gender characteristics present. it's always felt a bit backwards to you—shouldn't the strongest, least-controllable members of the population be the ones there's the most interest in subduing?

and an alpha as high ranking, as dominant, as satoru is every bit the example.

"no," he sighs, and suddenly any trace of irritation or sterness dissipates as though he's released it along with his breath. his weary tone is too thickly affected to be sincere. "i'll just have to suffer through it on my own."

from the corner of your eye, you can see nanami shift where he stands and waits outside the door, and all at once you remember where you are.

you turn your body away from satoru, angling yourself (as much as you're able) towards your exit.

"well, good luck," you attempt to sound encouraging, but the words still come out slightly ill-at-ease. you reach for the door handle, hoping satoru will get the message and release it so you can take your leave. "let me know if you need anything."

satoru's hand doesn't move.

"do you really mean that?"

you flinch a little as his lips brush the shell of your ear. he's pressed up against your back now—the planes of his chest firm against your shoulder blades as he drapes himself over you.

you're frozen again, your hand still outstretched towards his at the handle—poised in midair. the lights from outside the car glint tauntingly in the diamond on your ring finger.

his breath is hot as it breaks against your throat.

your chest feels uncomfortably tight.

"would you really help me if i were to ask?"

[cloudwisp]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. his favorite coat has gone missing, and he bets you have something to do with it. 1.3k wc.

You came to miss Wriothesley these past two weeks—so terribly much that you decided a small change in his morning routine was due to keep him from leaving your cozy little apartment so soon and make his return back to the Fortress before the sunrise.

He’s been working double-time recently, something about Fatui spies on his territory so you were patient and understanding while he handled the urgent matter to get it under control. But you quickly came down with an extreme case of the lover’s yearning syndrome because you haven’t spent any proper time with him.

And no, the few fleeting moments you’d both share where he carefully scoops you up in his arms when he comes back to you in the middle of the night, and him pressing a tender kiss to your forehead murmuring good morning to you before he disappears again hardly counts. But you suppose the underworld doesn’t run itself and you had to make do with what you were given until it’s no longer enough.

When comes the promised sunlight streaming through the windows laying a warm caress on your cheek, you peek behind your comforter at the sound of Wriothesley moving around in your home. He’s already handsomely dressed, except for the large missing coat which he’s searching for now. And he doubts it ran away on its own from where he last tossed it onto a nearby chair when he lets himself in. His suspicions are further confirmed when he catches a glimpse of you playing pretend in his peripherals.

There’s a knowing smirk on his face as his weight dips on the edge of the bed, and he watches you shift in your sleep in a cute mess of limbs with the blanket following your movements. “Sweetheart, do you have any ideas where my coat has gone?” He reaches out to push away the stray strands of hair from your eyes, and he’s a little amused at how you’re playing coy when you give him the same sleepy hum like you usually do.

Oh, aren’t you so adorable. Stealing the Duke’s coat and stowing it away somewhere safe because you just want him all to yourself, don’t you? Even if just for a few more measly minutes you’re more than happy to cherish every precious second, until you decide you want more of course. And now he’s running late, what’s he gonna do with you?

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea who the culprit is.” Even as he teases, there’s a gentle fondness in his gaze at your endearing display. Though that seemed to rouse you out of your peaceful slumbering state, and your eyes slowly flutter open offering him another hum with a tilt of your head.

“What’s this talk about culprit so early in the morning?” He chuckles softly, but he can reserve a moment to appreciate the soft glow of the morning light casting over you. He missed this and he missed seeing your beautiful smile that matches the warmth of the sun, even if there’s a bit of mischief along the curve of it.

“The culprit as in, I have my reasons to believe you’re the mastermind behind my coat’s disappearance.”

“What makes you think I had something to do with it? Didn’t we learn anything from the collection of law books Clorinde gave you where you need to provide evidence if you’re accusing someone?” You’re toying with the fabric of his tie and your avoidant gaze only adds to your guilty-looking form. He sighs in amusement, you are making this way too easy for him to see right through you—and he actually likes the fact that you’re one terrible liar.

“Call it a hunch,” he replies with a small tug of his lips. “Besides, there’s only you and I here so the evidence points to you. Now, will you tell me where it is, darling?”

“Oh, alright.” Since he asked so nicely. You pull yourself upright, crossing your arms over your chest with your teeth gently biting down on your index finger with furrowed brows as you try and recall where you had last seen it. “Hm, seems we have a little problem. I just can’t remember where I placed it. Maybe a kiss would help jog my memory?” There’s a teasing glint in your gaze as you look back at him with innocent doe-like eyes, but there’s no denying the smirk on your pretty lips.

Wriothesley’s laugh is soft and affectionate, unable to help himself at your words. So that’s what you’ve been scheming, wasn’t it? Cute. He didn't account for the fact you'd admit to your crimes so quickly. But there’s never a dull moment with the love of his life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way when you have a talent for small surprises.

“Time is ticking~ And Your Grace has places to be, doesn’t he?” He feels the clement pull of his tie and you eagerly close in on the distance between you and him as your warm breath fans over his skin.

“A kiss, you say? You drive a hard bargain.” He murmurs teasingly and his hand settles on your hip, giving you a light and playful squeeze. “And where shall I give you the kiss then? Here, perhaps...?” He presses a quick chaste kiss to your forehead. “Or here?” He says now while kissing your nose, and you giggle when he peppers two more on either side of your cheeks.

“Or even here…?” He draws back slightly, the pad of his thumb running over the supple flesh of your bottom lip. With the brush of his knuckles against your skin, his hand moves to the back of your neck as he leans in once more and gently coaxes your lips with his own in a blissful exchange. At the pleasant feeling of your smile against the kiss, his arm encircles your waist and he easily hoists you onto his lap and steals your breath away with a growing fervor when he’s reminded of how you taste.

It’s familiar and sensual and intimate. He exhales breathlessly with flushed cheeks when you both have to part to fill your lungs back with air and you notice the soft upward quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips as he rests his forehead against yours. He could never blame you for wanting a little bit more love because he has been missing you just as much, even when you think you were the only one with longing feelings for more meaningful and quality time with him.

And believe him when he says that he’d much rather have you right here where you are sweetly wrapped up in his arms to hold and kiss all day long if he didn’t have pressing matters that require his attention. But fortunately for you, the Fatui case was nearing its end and you’ll have him all to yourself to do with as you please and he intends to spoil you endlessly for being so incredibly patient with him.

“You are quite the handful. Just couldn’t resist, now could you?” He leans in for another lingering kiss. “I appreciate the thought of you wanting to keep me here with you a bit longer, but you know you could’ve asked… Or did you just want to make trouble?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and takes your sheepish laugh as your guilty admission and affectionately nips at your jawline.

“I’m just doing what I do best—which is keeping you on your toes.” You say with a playful quip, a bit mesmerized when you stare into those stunning blue eyes of his. “Oh, right… before I forget, your coat should be outside hanging from the balcony.”

[eggedbellies]

Thank @bunoven64 for this one, folks!

Title: The Reunion Wordcount: 2787 Kinks: transformation, tit expansion/ass expansion, milf, hucow, cow transformation, lactation, breeding, cum inflation, lesbian. Synopsis: Jacob has spent more time than he'd like to admit trying to plan a good school reunion. However, when only two people decide to show up, he decides it's a good enough time to get revenge for how shit they were to him back at school.

The music was on, a soft muzak that was inoffensive enough to work as nothing more than background noise, avoiding any weird silences. A table was set against one wall, covered in the standard nibbles – carrot sticks, chips, little sandwiches and cakes. Yes, it was all perfect – a few banners, paper plates, CLASS OF ‘96 dangling from the ceiling. The reunion had been Jacob’s idea. After so long since they’d finished school, considering the fact they were in their thirties now, seemed like a great idea to all get back together. It was only as he’d been sending out invites that he’d really remembered just what a shitstorm that schooling had been. Half of these people he was sending out invites to had been complete assholes to him whilst he was growing up. And sure, he bet a bunch of them had matured and bettered themselves, but honestly? He didn’t give a shit. This was going to be the best opportunity he’d ever had to get some petty revenge.

Sure, he’d been an awkward nerd when he was a kid. More interested in science than anything else, only that had gone on to be a great boon for him – utterly smashing through his university education, Jacob had been working officially for a lab for a good few years now. Making good money, sure, but also working on his own ideas how that he had access to the laboratory that could actually handle what he had in mind. Yet as time shifted closer to the planned date, he was getting more and more rejections. Damnit all, after all the time and effort he’d put into this… some people just never responded to his messages and invites. Others said they were busy, couldn’t get there, out of the country, babysitting, a dozen other stupid fucking reasons… and then, finally, he had a clear yes!

Two of them.

Well, that would make his revenge easier, even if it would be more obvious… but he couldn’t help but smile at the names that were floating in the ‘coming’ section. Amy and Zoe. God, he remembered them – they had taken great pleasure in taunting him. Amy was maybe a little kinder than Zoe, but he definitely remembered the mockery and laughing, the teasing, taunting. They’d gotten hot early, after all, and ruled the school. A quick browse on their profiles online had showed that they hadn’t changed much – both of them were still stunning. He scrolled past pictures on the beach in Ibiza, all skimpy bikinis and blonde hair, clutching colourful cocktails in clubs… Zoe’s were a little more under control, at least, but still… he could feel himself half hard just looking at those images. In his mind, he ran over the serum that he’d been working on… yes. It would be so fucking perfect.

Stirring the pink punch he’d made, mostly fruit juices, a few good glugs of vodka and a splash of sugar syrup, he grinned, pouring himself a tall glass – before reaching into his pocket, sliding out a small silver case. Clicking it carefully open, he searched through before finding the correct vial, checking the label, then tilting it carefully into the bowl. It vanished inside – with any luck, the bitterness would be lost in the alcohol. A few more good stirs, and he took a tiny sip of his own glass. They’d never know.

The doorbell pinged, and Jacob looked around, trying not to grin too widely. He’d called for smart-casual, wearing a comfortable tee with smart jeans, a nice watch, smart shirt open over top. His hair had been carefully styled, too, so he was confident that he looked nice – showing off the muscle he’d gained, the way his jaw had chiselled in, and the arguably much more attractive man he was since he’d come into himself. Opening the door, he gestured widely; it was Zoe, the taller of the two who’d agreed to come, dressed in a smart black and white dress, shallow heels, her blonde hair hanging straight and smooth. Wow. As stunning as ever, of course; his smile was a little more genuine now.

“Hey! Wow, thank you for coming,” he said, brightly, gesturing in, “Come grab some punch, have some snacks, you’re the first one here.” “Hello! Jacob, you look fantastic,” she replied, with a beam, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she stepped in, “I didn’t know you lived all the way out here! You have a gorgeous house,” she effused, glancing around, as if surprised there was nobody else there yet. He didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on his framed accolades, a picture of him with an award, a sad lack of any sign of partner or family… not that he hadn’t been thinking about it. Especially recently. His eyes lingered on her fine form, although she was lacking somewhat when it came to her butt and tits… still, carried herself confidently to the point it was easy to miss.

“Oh, thanks, yeah,” he said, with a light laugh, “I work in bioengineering -” he was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell again, turning to open the door and reveal Amy. She was just as stunning as ever, of course, hair up in messy waves, a bright beam on her face, a skimpy, neon pink jumpsuit just about covering her body, ridiculously high heels, and clearly wearing some kind of push up bra because her tits were threatening to explode out of her top. Oh, fuck, this was going to be so very delicious. “Amy! Oh, so nice to see you, thanks for coming, come on in, come in come in -” he gestured, and she tottered over the doorjamb, leaning in to give him a surprisingly glittery hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Zoe!” she exclaimed, spotting the other. Whilst the two caught up, he moved to the side of the punch bowl, careful to make sure his own glass didn’t get mixed up with the others. Carrying them over to the girls, he barely absorbed any of the conversation – letting them talk, accepting the glasses with a smile, eyes fixating as they started to drink them. He was polite enough as was needed, picking up on little bits of information – both of them were single, no kids, Amy still a party girl, Zoe working in an office… he tucked all of that away for later thoughts. And it made his plan seem so much fairer…

As time slipped by, nobody else arrived, but that was fine. Oh, yes, it was fine. The punch was having it’s effect. Both of the women had a bright flush high in their cheeks, and had been getting closer and closer. Two glasses deep, and then they were kissing, moaning softly on the couch as Jacob watched. He was flush himself, rock hard, his pants uncomfortably tight against the pressure of his cock… but he had to bide his time, just a little bit longer…

“Hey, girls,” he said, finally, unable to wait any more. “Why don’t we take this upstairs? I have a cali king…” at their blank looked, eyes a little glossy, strings of saliva between their mouths, he couldn’t help how his grin twisted. All those insults, all those nights hating himself, all the teasing… oh, yes, he was going to be so kind to them both, considering how shitty they’d made him feel. “It’s a really big bed.” he explained, realising his words might be a little too smart for their aphrodisiac blunted brains. That was all it took, though, to draw them upstairs; and it was true, his bed was huge, taking up the majority of the room. The girls fell onto it, hands groping against each other’s skin, sliding up dresses to get underneath, and of course Amy wasn’t even wearing underwear as the pantsuit was torn open… he licked his lips, desperate to get some relief, but he had to keep his eyes on the prize. After all, he didn’t want them to be pissed when they came down from that aphrodisiac high, no.

He was going to make them feel so good they’d never care again.

“Hey, Amy, do you wanna try something cool?” he said, breathlessly, reaching in for his little silver case. The vial he’d earmarked for her was in his fingertips, now, as she giggled coquettishly, looking over at him, tits hanging loose now that Zoe had undone her bra. “What is it?” she asked, blinking her eyelashes at him – she was definitely more out of it than the taller woman, who was staring at Jacob, eyes sharp enough to be cautious. Making out with another woman was one thing, but strange vials?

“It’s going to make you feel so fucking good,” Jacob said, quietly, “You know how you always wanted bigger tits?” “I was meant to get a boob job,” Amy pouted, “But I had to spend the money on a car, ugh!” it wasn’t like her tits were lacking, but he always remembered her talking about how sad it was that Daddy wasn’t letting her sink all her money into some silicon. And now …

“I can give you the real thing.” he said, holding out the vial, “Down in one. It’s a bit bitter, so just swallow it all.” “Amy…” Zoe said, slowly, “Are you really gonna drink that?” she tilted her head, smooth hair slightly messier from where Amy’s hands had been tangling in them. “What if it’s like… bad..?” she giggled, struggling with her words, starting to grind on her own hand, the aphrodisiacs and heat built up in her body making it hard to focus on what she was saying. “Trust me,” Jacob said, softly, “I’m a bioengineer. This is what I do. I make this stuff. It’s fully tested and safe. I just want you to feel good.” he smiled, sliding his hand down to his cock, now, starting to stroke himself, already drooling pre. Amy and Zoe’s eyes were drawn to it, but he didn’t care. Amy looked at the vial, then shrugged, cracking it and downing it. Almost immediately, she gasped; head dropping back as she moaned, grabbing ahold of her tits.

He hadn’t, admittedly, managed to take it to human trials yet. But it was a great source of pride – and more fuel for his rock hard erection – as she fell back, massaging her nipples as the breast flesh began to swell. She was already a C cup, plenty big, but it was fantastic – oh, yes, fuck, she was moaning like a whore as she twitched, grabbing and massaging and pressing, going from a handful to bulging over the sides, and then more. She was flushed across her face, down her chest, legs twitching wide. Taking the opportunity, just as turned on as Jacob seemed to be, Zoe dived in, starting to lick and spread Amy’s lips. She howled in pleasure, both from her tits growing and the sensation of a tongue against her clit, ballooning from C to D and then up to a G cup before they slowed, sitting heavy as she massaged the sides.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Amy moaned, eyes shut, lost completely in it. Jacob leaned in close, now, throwing off the last of his clothes before kissing her roughly, stroking over her tender new tit-flesh with his big hands. She shuddered, utterly lost in it all. Fuck, he wanted to cum on her… pulling back, Jacob kneeled on the edge of the bed, stroking his cock a few rough motions before he arched his back, moaning as he came hard. Splattering her new tits with his seed, he caught his breath slowly, looking at her twisting form.

Zoe, her face covered in slick, peered up at him now, glazed eyes.

“Do you want yours?” he asked, a little breathless, wiggling the penultimate vial in her eyes. She hesitated, and then reached out, snatching it. “I always thought you could do better with bigger tits. A fatter ass. You’d make a good mother, wouldn’t you?” Jacob whispered, “I’d love to see you all full and knocked up…” she moaned, flushing, “Perfect breeding cow, hm, Zoe?” he asked, and then she was swallowing the vial. Amy was still squirming around behind him, but he only had eyes for Zoe, now, as the changes started with her. Tits starting to expand, swelling, rocketing up in size – tearing the black and white dress she was wearing, which hadn’t been shifted nearly as much as Amy’s clothing. She squirmed; Jacob cracked the last of the vials, swallowing it himself. It was a much more subtle drug, this one, but he had tested t his one before, knew exactly what was coming. And it was going to feel so much better, doing it inside her instead.

The ache in his lower belly and balls burned, nothing visible on the outside, but he could feel himself churning away. Oh, yes, he was going to make a mother of Zoe… reaching out, he helped remove the last bits of her torn clothing. She was squirming – not just her tits, although she was grasping at them desperately, massaging, as the rest of her wraithlike body began to thicken. Hips were widening; her butt and thighs stating to thicken up, making her into a proper busty milf. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her closer to him, spreading his fingers into the thickening flesh on her upper legs. Yes, wonderful – from slender to a perfect figure. Made for breeding. Her eyes were glazed over in the pleasure of it all.

Stroking his cock was almost unnecessary, as he was already hard again. He didn’t doubt he would be, watching this sexy show, but the drug he’d taken was getting to work. Lining up carefully, he slid inside her hot, wet folds, feeling her twitch and tense around his cock. Leaning up, torso against her twitching tits, he kissed her roughly, and Zoe kissed back just as eagerly, legs lifting up around his hips. Feeling her swelling and shifting below him, around him, was a whole new kind of bliss. Let alone the wet noises and moans as Amy fingered herself, watching the pair of them as they fucked.

He drove his cock in and out like a piston, lost in the music of Amy’s moans, the way her hips rocked up to meet him – already he was so close. He’d done this to her, changed her from the uptight, cocky bitch she had been once to a perfect milf for him – and she was so lost in it. Yes, he’d given them a great gift at this union – not only a perfect body that they’d been craving all this time, but he was going to give her everything she’d wanted… a family, after all… “Fuck, Zoe -” he moaned, “I’m so close -”

“Breed me,” she gasped, “Please, Jacob – fuck – mooooo -” she broke off into a low, and he barely even registered it, leaning in to kiss her fat tits, drawing a nipple into his mouth as he rolled back.

It took a great amount of strength, but he tugged her up, balancing her on his hips as he bounced, a few more rough juts, gravity drawing her onto his cock and then he was finally coming. He sucked extra hard against her nipple, eyes shut, face buried into her beautiful fat cow tits, as his cock throbbed, and throbbed, and throbbed. His cum kept flooding into her – he felt the weight shifting, her moans nothing more than hot, heavy cow moos, accepting her place as a perfect breeding cow, it seemed. He reached up a hand to stroke over her belly, feeling as it started to round out, packing her with his hot cum. Unexpectedly, hot creamy milk began to drool into his mouth, then spurt. Swallowing eagerly, Jacob looked up at Zoe above him – seeing the horns curling from her head, the big soft ears, and the deep brown eyes. Oh, shit. Maybe he’d put a little too much cow into the mix – she was still mostly human, of course, but – oh, fuck. No wonder she was pouring milk down his throat, lowing softly, lost in the feeling.

Exhausted, Jacob laughed softly; as Zoe slowly shifted off his cock, drooling cum from her twitching hole, she slumped back herself. Amy wasted no time leaning in, lapping the cum from her friend’s lips, draped over Jacob’s legs. Oh, fuck. They were both so beautiful… tits so big she was laying part on them, and Zoe’s little tail twitching, hand stroking over the cum packed orb of her belly… yes. This had been an excellent reunion. Jacob couldn’t wait for the next one.

[rabbitsrants]

SHINICHI KUDO IS TOO MUCH

guys, i'm currently working on the "reasons why shinran is one of the most brilliantly written romances of all time" masterlist and i came across this part of the manga:

chapter 44

AND I AM LAUGHING MY ASS OFF

shinichi is absolutely RUTHLESS in this chapter. correct me if i'm wrong, but this has to be his angriest moment throughout the entire series? i don't remember him acting this way in any other chapter 😂 like... shinichi is the type of guy who saves murderers from suicide, it's a well known fact that he values human life more than anything, HE'S A DEEPLY IDEALISTIC PERSON, YALL, THAT'S THE MAIN TRAIT THAT DEFINES HIM AS A PERSON and he straight up tells this dude (whos about to slit his own throat btw) TO GO AHEAD AND KILL HIMSELF

this is the most unhinged i've ever seen him 😂

now, let me be serious for a second. obviously, shinichi strongly suspected that the culprit wouldnt go through with it - he spent the entire case trying to cover up his murder after all, that's not something a suicidal person does. still though. the fact that shinichi was willing to risk it says so much about his love for ran. cause that's what his rant is about. the culprit tried to kill ran on multiple occasions and almost succeeded a couple of times. if there's one thing that shinichi can not handle, it's ran being in danger. he'll lose his composure every single time and he will lash out, even at innocent people who are just trying to help:

chapter 640

this man is so devoted to ran, it hurts.

that's why im so shocked everytime the fandom implies that ran is an irrelevant character who doesnt contribute anything to the story. if (for whatever reason) ran stopped being in the picture, the story would end right then and there.

people seem to forget that shinichi has prioritized ran over cases on numerous occasions (that aspect of their relationship deserves its own post tbh, i'll hopefully get to it in the future), he completely loses his mind everytime there's even the slightest risk that she might get hurt and this case right here? chapter 44? that's the wildest shit shinichi has ever said 😂 the part about justice was spot on and very in character for him, but the rest? it was brutal... and very unlike him. which is shocking, considering that ran was completely unharmed. do me a favor and let that sink in: the end of chapter 44 was merely his reaction to the thought of losing ran - he completely lost his shit. now, if ran actually stopped being in his life? shinichi wouldn't just lose his temper, he'd lose himself.

for the record, this isnt me implying that he would go rogue or whatever. the reason why shinichi is so angry in chapter 44 is because ran is okay and tangible, so he still has something to lose. but if she was gone? if she stopped being his life? he wouldn't be angry, he'd be inconsolable. if the level of anger displayed in chapter 44 and 640 is what we get when shinichi simply worries about ran's safety, just imagine the level of heartbreak that we would witness if he genuinely lost her.

shinichi loves and needs ran so much, it's unfathomable for most people, including me. everytime i think i cracked the case and finally figured out how much shinichi loves ran, he proves me wrong. and while i think that most cold cases are a tragedy, i think im coming to terms with leaving this one unresolved. after all, love is the most mysterious force in the universe. and always will be.

visit the shinran library for more

[rayclubs]

Thoughts on the Zoldyck family dynamics because I'm normal and fine and normal.

Their grandfather is law. He seems to handle the most dangerous contracts, he oversees the kids' training, but he doesn't seem very personally involved - as in, he doesn't interact with them directly and doesn't appear to be interested in what they do at all, unless it's work-related. I think he's one of those set-in-their-ways old people who's had a long streak of valuable achievements throughout their life so they think themselves infallible. I think Kuroro would have obliterated his ass but he would die before he admitted it.

Now, Silva, being the father figure of the family, is compensating like all hell. Literally no other reason for a man to be this tits-out gigantic, but Zeno is still the head of the family, and that deals major damage to Silva's ego. In way of self-validation, he arranges this distant yet carefully controlled relationship with his kids, and he likes being seen as the Cool Dad, but only very rarely, so that every crumb of his attention is sought after with utmost devotion. I don't actually think he hates Zeno or anything though, I think he kind of secretly also wants to be validated by him but it's just not happening because Zeno doesn't give enough of a fuck.

Kikyo is not a presence in the Zoldyck family business. She's also supremely mentally unwell. She's generally well-treated but often neglected by her husband, she's not as successful at her job as the men of the family due to having to split her time between assassinations and child care, she feels unfulfilled as a result and does it have any functional coping mechanisms for it. Like Silva, she seeks validation from her kids. Unlike Silva, she cannot build herself a Cool Mom profile that the older kids would respect, so she dotes on the younger children instead.

Illumi is the oldest child, so he was trained by either Zeno, Silva, or both, personally. He's diligent but untalented. He has a lot of discipline but very little main character juice in his veins. Due to his father's policy of keeping his kids at a distance, as well as his mother's overbearing control, most of the actual parental responsibilities regarding all the younger kids were pushed onto Illumi. He was a bit too young to get overly attached to Milluki in this manner, but he feels very protective of Killua both because they're fairly close as brothers, and because Illumi views his younger siblings as his responsibility. If anything were to happen to one of his brothers, it would be seen by the rest of the family as a failure on Illumi's part. However, due to being the oldest child, he actually spent the most time with Silva, so he lacks the puppydog instinct the man so fervently instills in all the other kids. Illumi is not looking for validation. He's terrified of his parents and grandpa.

Milluki is the failure of the family. He's desperate to please but neither talented nor diligent. His grandpa views him as moderately worthless, his father is too emotionally constipated after involving himself with the parenting of Illumi to even notice Milluki, and Illumi was too young when Milluki was born to become a substitute mentor figure for him. Milluki thinks Killua is stealing the attention he so desperately wants. How, you'd think that since Illumi is papa's boy, then, logically, Milluki would be mama's, and fucking hell he wishes he was, but his anime figurine collection is too cringe, and remember - he's desperate but not diligent. He's obedient but not clever. He can't pick up on social cues and emotional signals. He wants to do what his mom wants from him but can't meet her unpredictable tastes and unstable moods. She mildly dislikes him.

Killua is the prodigy. Illumi loves him, Silva can't wait to emotionally manipulate him to make himself look good, and Zeno pays attention to him but doesn't bother all that much with parenting him - all for previously established reasons. Kikyo tries to dot on him but he's only talented, not diligent - like Milluki, he can't give her what she wants. Unlike Milluki, Killua has a spine. He already has Silva's and Illumi's approval and validation, so he's not running after his mother looking for affections. He kind of starts doing his own thing after he meets some folks outside the family and they introduce him to the concept of free will.

Alluka is transfem and her father hates that whole ordeal viscerally. Like Milluki, she's neither talented nor diligent. Unlike Milluki, she has evil autism ontop of it all. Zeno and Kikyo wish she didn't exist. Milluki senses the similarity between them and doesn't actively dislike her but he's too busy chasing after everyone's approval to actually be a good brother to her. Illumi was so beyond traumatized by the time she was born, I'm actually fully convinced he removed her from his memory entirely or he would go insane. Killua likes her because she's weird and epic, she likes Killua because he's exactly the same.

Kalluto is finally a mama's boy, and holy shit does he play into it. She dresses him up and does his hair and kisses his forehead and calls him a sweetie, and he just wants to go outside for one (1) day. Silva likes him fine but he's still riding the high from Killua looking at him with admiration in his eyes once so he leaves the matter to Kikyo and Illumi, as per usual. Illumi loves Kalluto in a similar way to how he loves Killua, but Kalluto is more protected and far, far more obedient, so Illumi isn't scared for him nearly as much. Milluki thinks Kalluto is annoying, but Kalluto is emotionally intelligent enough to avoid conflict and not provoke any hatred. Killua thinks Kalluto is a stupid little baby and Kalluto honest to god does not care. Kalluto likes Illumi, is indifferent towards Silva and Zeno, tolerates and at times even loves Kikyo, and is too young to properly remember Alluka. Thank god the spider adopted him.

Thanks for reading, 'ight cheers.

[cool-fancier]

The Interrogation

Synopsis: The BEBE members, who believed you were in love with Bada, put you to a lighthearted but serious interrogation. Despite their probing questions, you managed to handle the situation well and were warmly welcomed into the BEBE family by the end of the evening.

You were watching TV in the living room one evening when you heard the front door swing open and an uproar of happy voices. The timing of the BEBE members' arrival couldn't have been worse. You tried to brace yourself for the coming interrogation as they entered the room with exaggerated grins on their faces.

Lusher, who constantly seized leadership roles, was the first to speak. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Kyma said, hiding her curiosity under a joking tone. "Yeah, why is Unnie these days usually so happy? Has anything happened?"

Tatter leaned in closer while speaking in a low, frightening tone. "I heard that Bada Unnie has a secret admirer. Is that true?"

Minah, with her mischievous smile, added, "And we've noticed that you and Bada Unnie have been spending a lot of time together lately. Any particular reason for that?"

Cheche, the master of subtlety, simply raised an eyebrow and said, "You know, secrets have a way of coming out eventually."

Sowoen, the youngest but not to be underestimated, joined in with a sly grin. "So, what's going on? Are you and Unnie hiding something from us?"

You tried to keep your cool as you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. Their questions came fast and relentless, each one more absurd than the last. Your worries were beginning to get the better of you as it became obvious that they were onto something.

The unofficial leader of the BEBE group, Lusher, leaned forward and narrowed her eyes amusingly. Let's see if you can survive the Real BEBE Inquisition, Y/N!"

You smiled anxiously as you wondered what sort of inquiries they had in store for you. "Okay, I'm ready."

Kyma, who is always the observant one, smiled mischievously as she spoke. "Tell us, when did you first realise that you had a crush on our Unnie?"

Being taken aback by the directness of the question, you reddened. "Well, you know, it was kind of a gradual thing. We spent a lot of time together, and one day, I just couldn't stop thinking about her."

Tatter raised an eyebrow with her no-nonsense demeanour. "And when did you two become more than friends?"

The memory made you smile involuntarily. "It happened during one of our dance practices. We were rehearsing a particularly intense routine, and then, in the heat of the moment, we kissed."

Minah and Cheche exchanged knowing glances, and Minah teased, "So, it was a steamy dance practice that sealed the deal, huh?"

The youngest and possibly most inquisitive, Sowoen, spoke forward and grinned. "What's Unnie's most embarrassing moment, and do you have any dirt on her?"

You grinned, deciding to keep Bada from seeming foolish. "I promise I won't spill any embarrassing secrets. But I will say that your Unnie's most charming trait is her dedication to her work."

Bada couldn't resist but add something after seeing the questions with amusement. "Wait a minute, are you guys interrogating my girlfriend or trying to scare her away?"

Lusher laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, Unnie, we're just having some fun here. We're giving Y/N unnie a warm welcome to the BEBE family."

Bada amusedly shook her head as she leaned closer to you. "Y/N you have survived the BEBE Inquisition. You can now consider yourself a part of the crew."

The evening carried on with more joking and cheerful conversation, and you were touched by the friendly welcome you had got from Bada's friends.  They not only showed concern for Bada, but also showed a talent for maintaining a fun and relaxed atmosphere.

[acourtofthought]

Elucien's don't cling to the Elucien bond for the sole reason that they share a bond.

We cling to the bond because Lucien:

Was willing to risk traveling to the Night Court without magic to ensure she wasn't being harmed.

Has never entertained the thought of being intimate with another female since his bond snapped into place

Is sacrificing his own happiness to give Elain the space and freedom to deal with her traumas as she sees fit, including returning to her fiance.

Befriended Elain's father, a man who was extremely important to Elain.

Was completely devastated at seeing the state Elain was in at the House of Wind.

Went out of his way to think of things that might help her even when her sisters blocked their interactions.

Still has eyes for only her two years after their bond snapped even though she's not ready.

Has sunshine in his veins when Elain said she needs sunshine.

Is not a violent male when we know cruelty bothers Elain.

Was willing to accept the blame she placed on him for her wedding not working out even though it wasn't his fault.

Controls his instincts and leaves Graysen unharmed because he knows eliminating threats to his bond is not the right thing to do.

Because both Elain and Lucien love nature.

Because they're both really good at talking to people.

Because they both enjoy parties.

Because they are both very affectionate towards their loved ones.

Because they both understand what it is to be underestimated by friends and family.

The bond is just an added bonus between these two and while someone shouldn't blame readers for believing the author wasn't going to screw over two main characters by having them suffer a poorly matched bond that will always follow them, the bond isn't the reason Elucien has been written as having endgame perfection.

In ACOWAR, Graysen was Elain's choice but he wasn't right for her as he was unwilling to accept who she had become. She spent months mourning his rejection.

In ACOSF, Az seemed to be Elain's choice of hookup but he wasn't right for her as he did not believe her capable of handling the darkness of the Trove, gave her no credit for any of the brave moments she had during the war and he hadn't thought of how to be with her beyond the sexual fantasies he pleasured himself to. Elain returned his gift and we have zero evidence she mourned him.

Choices change as we grow and thinking Elain's choice, at 24/25 years old ends with Az is stunting her characters growth.

We don't want with her with Lucien because of the bond. We want her with Lucien because he remains the only male who has tried to do right by her time and again even though she hasn't been ready to address their bond.

Lucien is getting nothing out of being the good guy but he does it anyway.

Who wouldn't want someone like that for a FMC some of us love and when the author has also told us nothing compares to a well matched bond the question should be who could want anything else for her?

[miniscule-meow]

Isabell and the Lads (16)

Masterpost Wordcount: ~1.9k

Warnings: angst First Part | Last Part | Next Part (eventually)

The days slip by pleasantly. It’s all much nicer than she could have dreamed that it would be. She isn’t worried about finding her next meal, or the upkeep of her supplies, or staying hidden. Nothing. She spends most of her time reading on Zeke’s e-reader, while the humans do… whatever it is they do. Zeke is mostly found doing schoolwork or sewing. More often than not, it’s the latter, he always seems to have projects that are behind schedule. Marcus on the other hand is a little less predictable, to say the least. Somedays, he’ll sit at his desk and write, other days he’s playing video games others he spends just scrolling on his phone. For the most part, she’s left to her own devices. She’s not constantly ogled or studied or toyed with. Sometimes they chat with her, it’s…. just nice. And she’s been watching movies. Full length movies, all the way through. Not just in little snippets as she passes by, not muffled through the wall. She never imagined she would have such luxuries. Movies, books, food. Really, anything she could ever think of, the humans just bring it to her.

They’re really not so bad. As much as her mind tinges with apprehension at the sight of something so massive, that spark of caution has quieted over the past few days. They’re just so kind, and patient. Even when she thinks she might have pushed them beyond the stretches of their generous hospitality, they just remain so…. Reasonable.  

Marcus still manages to startle her every now and again. He’s so unpredictable. Oftentimes, he’ll just scoop her up without warning. This never fails to jumpstart her pulse and cause every instinct in her to scream. Thankfully, her ribs aren’t quite so tender anymore, but his rough handling has left its mark. Her old bruises have begun fading to pale greens and yellows, but they’ve been replaced by a constellation of new blues and purples spread across her whole torso. She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just not very careful.

Before she knows it, she’s taking her stitches out. This task she does on her own, out on the counter. Despite the developing bond between her and the lads, there’s simply no chance she’s letting a human attempt something as delicate as snipping the threads from her leg.

Paralleling the first time she was giving herself surgery in their kitchen, Marcus offers her a drink. Then he remains hovering over her, grimacing, yet unable to look away. Zeke is not far off, averting his eyes, pretending to be terribly busy with something else. He must be squeamish, she decides, watching him glance over then quickly look away for the third time now.

Thankfully, removing the stitches is far less painful than putting them in. Afterwards, she bandages her leg back up, and Marcus takes her to the living room to pick out a movie, while Zeke cleans and disinfects the kitchen counter.

The next day is another one spent with Marcus. Zeke has classes and work, so he’s out for pretty much the whole day. She’s set up on Marcus’ desk as he works. It’s not all that different from how a day with Zeke would be spent, though this desk has much more clutter decorating its surface. The repetitive clatter of his typing falls into background noise, just like Zeke’s sewing machine would. It’s pleasant enough to accompany her reading.

Hours later, he heaves a sigh, slapping his computer shut with a resounding thud that tears her away from her book.

“Alright,” he announces, pushing himself away from the desk, “break time.” Without any other warning, his hand reaches out, collecting her up in his fingers. A startled squeak escapes her as she’s whisked into the air. When he has her where he wants her, she’s balanced on just two fingers, with his thumb pressing against her back. His other fingers curl around her gently. He carries her out of the office and down the hall. This has started to become a pattern between them. He’s gotten more comfortable with her, so he’s been bolder with how he picks her up. Today is the worst it’s been so far, as she’s left looking straight down at the ground below.

"Marcus!" She calls, her voice wavering. The ground is impossibly far away. The only thing keeping her from plummeting down to the carpet below is this human's two fingers.

She tries to twist around to look at his face. From what glimpses she can get, she can only catch the underside of his jaw. His fingers shift, rolling her over onto her back, a single finger pressing into her midsection to hold her to his palm. They're in the kitchen before he glances down at his hand.

"Are you cold?" He asks, his brow pinching together slightly.

"N-no?"

"You're shivering." His other hand descends on her, a single digit running alongside her arm. She cringes away but there is nowhere for her to go. "If you were cold you could have just said so. I would have gladly warmed you up." A grin spreads across his face, his tone becoming dangerously playful.

"No, I'm, I'm not cold! I-It's-I- I'm just--"

"What, are you scared?" He teases.

"Yes." She admits quickly, before she can catch herself.

"Yeah?" He leans closer. He thinks this is a game. This realization does nothing to quell the dread welling inside of her. "What are you afraid of?" If she could disappear, she would have completely dissolved by now.

"You." She says quietly

"You're... Afraid of me?" He laughs. She told him she was afraid, and he's laughing. Her fear must have been evident on her face, because his smile falters. He adjusts her in his palm, cupping his hands around her now. "You know I won't hurt you." It's a statement. When she doesn't respond he says again, more urgently, "you know I won't hurt you, right?" A question this time. Uncertainty flashes through his eyes, all traces of mischief has drained from his face.

"Y-yeah." She squeaks the word out, he doesn't look convinced.

"No, no, what do you mean? Have I hurt you?"

"I.. you're just.... You're not always um.. careful." She's barely able to get the words out. "It's.. um. It's really scary to just... Be picked up really quickly like that. A-and then"

"Hey," his tone takes a deeper, more serious edge. As if he's realizing now for the first time that he'd be capable of injuring her. "Answer my question. Yes or no; have I hurt you?"

She doesn't want to answer this. She can't answer this. But she's being held in the palm of his hand. His massive face looms directly over her. She has no choice.

"Yes," she nearly chokes on the word. He goes deadly still. Suddenly, the anxiety constricting her throat spurs her into a fretful chatter, like she could fix this somehow. "I well, So, so, I mean... when you pick me up it... Like, it's um... it doesn't feel good. I guess. And.... well I mean I- it could just be that I bruise really easily. So its- I mean it's not a big deal. It's-"

"I've- hey," he cuts her off, "I've given you bruises?" Isabell shifts uncomfortably under his scrutiny as his hands tremble around her. "Let me see."

She hesitates, but still seeing no way of avoiding it, she slowly lifts her shirt to show him her ribs. He lets out a small gasp upon seeing the smattering of blues and purples spread across her middle.

"Oh shit. I did this to you?" His fingers press forward, pushing the hem of her shirt up so he can get a better look at her side, and at her back where most of the purpling splotches have blossomed over her skin. "This is from me?"

"Hey! St-stop! Marcus!" She fights his titanic fingers in an attempt to keep herself right side up, in an attempt to keep a scrap of her dignity, in an attempt to keep her shirt on. "Marcus, please" her voice breaks pathetically over the word and all at once, he stops.

"Shit. I'm sorry. Shit! I just wanted to-"

She needs to get out of here.

What kind of idiot borrower would trust a human? How could she actually let herself feel comfortable here? What did she think would happen? Did she think they would really treat her like an equal, beyond when it was convenient for them to do so? Did she think she would ever really belong here? Betrayal and shame and the neverending waves of fear crash over her.

It doesn't matter that her leg is hurt. It doesn't matter what he's saying. It doesn't matter that she knows this human, that it's just Marcus, that's he's overwhelming but well meaning. It doesn't matter. The only thing she can see are the massive fingers surrounding her. The only thing occupying her mind is the bone trembling need to escape. As soon as his fingers withdraw, she pushes away, tossing herself over the side of his hand. She'll hit the counter hard, but she'll be able to push through it.

Her ears ring as he shouts. His hands fumble around her, catching her up between his monstrous hands again. She scrambles, trying to slip away before he can get a firm grasp on her, but it's no use. It's never any use, not with humans. He's too big. She's too small. End of story. She's jerked backwards, and in a blink, she's caught in a fist. She's pressed down agaisnt his fingers, his thumb forcing her chin up. Surely, he can feel the frantic thrum of her heartbeat as it rattles against her ribcage. His vice grip compresses her chest, making it impossible to draw deep breaths. Not that she'd be able to regardless, her panicked breathing is shallow and sporadic.

"Are you crazy?!" He shouts. She flinches, unable to free her arms and cover her ears. "You cant just- wh-what was the plan? You- That would be like me jumping of the roof? What the hell dude?"

She can't think. She can't speak. She can't breathe. She's even too scared to cry. The panic and the fear that's shooting through her veins culminate into one long static hum that rings in her ears and flows through her like ice. Suddenly, she's watching the scene unfold from behind her own eyes, it's too much.

Marcus blinks down at her, fear and regret and frustration all painted plainly across his face. He sighs heavily, pulling her into his chest.

"I... I'm sorry. I keep fucking things up." He mumbles, his words reverberate into her. The rapid beating of his heart betrays his nerves. When he finally pulls her away again, he's moved back into the office. He sets her down back on her shelf. She stands there, limbs numb, yet trembling. "I'll be back with lunch." He doesn't look at her when he speaks.

It isn't until he's walked away that she's able to dash into the safety of her room.

He brings by a small bit of food on a napkin that he places outside her curtain. She brings it in, only after she's certain that he's walked away.

He isn't even at his desk. And his laptop is gone, he must be finishing his work elsewhere in the house.

She isn't hungry anymore. The thought of eating just twists her stomach. She just lays down on her bed, burrowed under her blankets, trying not to think about how fragile the divide is between her shelf and the rest of the apartment. That curtain isn't going to stop the humans from grabbing her however they want, whenever they want. Don't think about it.

Eventually the numbness wears off, and she turns her face into her pillow and sobs.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

It’s Takeba and Yamagishi today. Aki too, of course– but that’s a given at this point. Shinjiro hasn’t done the math or anything, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Aki is actually spending more time in his hospital room than the dorm these days.

Takeba starts off by trying to apologize that she couldn’t visit sooner, but Shinjiro waves her off. It’s not like she’s obligated to visit him. Nobody is, though Aki would probably argue with him about it if he ever tried to say that out loud.

Takeba brushes off getting brushed off, smiling and rolling her eyes with theatrical flair, and starts telling him about a new recipe she’d tried her hand at recently, and how she’d roped Arisato into playing guinea pig.

Yamagishi looks troubled today, for some reason. As Takeba proudly relays Arisato’s verdict on her cooking (raised eyebrows and a nod, and saying ‘yum’ out loud, which coming from him was roughly the equivalent of jumping onto the table and shouting praise at top volume), Shinjiro keeps glancing over at Yamagishi, wondering if she’ll actually speak up. Eventually, Takeba also notices.

She squirms a little in her seat, uncomfortable with suddenly being the center of attention.

Understanding dawns on Takeba’s face. Whatever Yamagishi wanted him to hear, Takeba already had, apparently.

The words and the tone he actually says them in are so mis-matched it’s almost hilarious. There’s no bite at all in his voice, even though usually he finds this kind of waffling deeply annoying. 

The thing is, though, that he just doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed– ever, to any degree– with Yamagishi. This soft-spoken slip of a girl who couldn’t hurt a fly doesn’t deserve that.

She takes a deep breath. Shinjiro wonders if what she has to say really is that intimidating, or if he’s the intimidating one. He knows how he looks to most people. Sometimes he even leans into it. 

But Yamagishi being scared of him… doesn’t feel right. It feels pretty shitty, actually. She’d been skittish in the normal shy-person-dealing-with-a-stranger way when he’d first come back to the dorm, but that had pretty much evaporated within a week. She’d acted perfectly comfortable around him since then.

There’s really only one thing that’s changed that would explain why she was suddenly nervous around him again. Aki said that nobody thought any different about him after learning the whole ugly story, but–

Well. That’s about the last thing Shinjiro expected to hear. All he’s been getting are lectures and apologies since he woke up. Where the hell would any kind of thanks be coming from?

She pauses and rubs at one eye with the edge of her sleeve. Oh god, if she starts crying, he absolutely will not be able to handle it. He wonders vaguely whether the windows in this room can be opened. 

Takeba puts a hand on Yamagishi’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze, which seems to work like a charm to calm her down.

How the hell is he supposed to respond to that?

Shinjiro is once more at a loss for words. Over the month he’d spent running with the team again he’d watched Yamagishi become far less meek, but this is still the first time he’s heard her sound downright stern. 

Okay then. He’s been underestimating her. After growing up with Miki, you’d think he really ought to know better.

Yamagishi beams at him and he has to look away. Takeba and Aki are both snickering to his side; Takeba is at least making an effort to be kind of subtle about it, but Aki doesn’t even bother. Shinjiro does his best to ignore them, which doesn’t do a damn thing to deter them. 

Ugh. It makes him actually wish for a fresh delivery of school work from Kirijo, if nothing else so he would have something to pointedly focus on instead.

Still, despite his annoyance, he can’t deny the candle-flame glow of pride he feels for Yamagishi and her growing confidence. Aki’s Senpai-fever really is contagious, apparently.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

I get that Helluva Boss and Hazbin don't and aren't planned to have much overlap, and for the most part I appreciate that separation and the way that it makes the world seem that bit larger.

The one exception being this: I am convinced that Angel Dust and Fizzarolli are at least acquaintances, and quite possibly friends.

No, listen, hear me out.

Angel supposedly died in the forties. We don't know exactly when he was picked up by Valentino, but I think it's fair to assume he's been working in Hell's sex work/stripping/porn scene for at least a few decades before he joins the Hotel.

Fizz's backstory is obviously more detailed. We know that he was either born in the Pride Ring or came there at a very young age, because he was already working there as a circus performer when he was a kid.

By the time Helluva Boss starts, however, he's obviously moved on to operating primarily in the Greed and Lust rings, as Mammon's star performer and Asmodeus's boyfriend platonic PA who he occasionally has totally unemotional bang-sessions with.

In between these two points is the accident, which seems to have happened when Fizz was in his late teens. The last time he saw Blitz before that night in Ozzies.

So, here's where the only concrete canon 'evidence' for my theory kicks in: in Oops, Blitz claims that he and Fizz have “been in each other's relative vicinity twice in the last fifteen years” (referring to Ozzies and just now when they bumped into each other in Greed).

However in The-Mammon-Episode-With-Too-Long-A-Title, everyone can't stop talking about how Fizz has consistently won Mammon's clown pageant every time he's entered. For the past ten years.

That gives us five whole years of Fizz's life that are completely unaccounted for. We know that he started this period off in the Pride Ring with his circus destroyed and a brand-new permanent disability to get used to, and ended it in Greed working for Mammon, but we have no idea what happened in between.

So, here is where evidence ends and rampant speculation begins.

As a former child performer, Fizz is unlikely to have had much experience doing anything else. In fact, given that they were travelling with the circus, it seems unlikely that him and Blitz would even have ended up with a steady education.

Blitz obviously managed to found his own business after the accident, but Blitz had been dreaming of doing just that since he was a young child, and it was his Dad who was actually handling the business-side of the circus, so I don't think he's a fair comparison. Fizz probably spent his early years assuming he'd just keep performing forever, and so it makes sense that he'd go back to that.

On the other hand, Fizz had just lost all his limbs, and would have been having to adjust to his prosthetics. (Most likely lower quality prosthetics that he ended up with later, since those seem to be a gift from Ozzie.)

His clown act was mostly physical. Acrobatics require a sense of balance and spatial awareness. Balloon animals and juggling require fine motor control. Literally replacing all four of your limbs— even with magical Hell-prosthetics— is going to cause issues with all these skills, at least temporarily.

So. What industry in the Pride Ring is related to entertainment, but doesn't necessarily require any complex acrobatics, and would most likely welcome a fresh amputee with severe facial scarring? (For fetish reasons, if nothing else?)

I'm not saying Fizz would have done sex work, since he seems so uncomfortable with the idea, but stripping? Maybe doing some soft core porn? I could see that. He's clearly not too fussed about adult entertainment in general, because he's totally okay performing at Ozzies.

He's also probably insanely handsome by imp standards. Like, dude ends up becoming a major sex symbol throughout the rings and has the embodiment of Lust falling madly in love with him. (Plus, as a kid and teenager, he got more attention as a performer than Blitz— the guy who briefly dated a succubus pop-star and now has an ars-goetia prince begging him for a pity-fuck at every opportunity.)

So, given all that, and given his future success, it makes sense that he'd have been popular. Which immediately puts him in range of one of the Pride ring's other hugely popular adult performers: Angel Dust.

And I could see these two getting along. Since Angel is more of a sex worker whereas Fizz is more of a performer, and since Angel would probably be mainly catering to sinner demons and Fizz to hellborn (though no doubt there'd be some overlap), chances are they wouldn't be in direct competition with each other.

They have similar senses of humour and similar personalities. They both like small, cute animals. They both genuinely care about the quality of their performances, even in circumstances where they might not be expected to. They both have a tendency to mask their emotions with sex-related jokes.

Plus there's the fucking angst potential of Angel befriending Fizz when he was an independent performer, and then watching— helplessly— as his friend starts talking about this new job offer with Mammon.

Like people have already made posts about how Angel might feel watching Fizz's performance in Two Minutes Notice and comparing it to his own situation with Valentino, but fuck imagine it from the other end of Angel watching his friend fall into that situation.

Trying to talk him out of it during the initial love-bombing phase and getting told he's just jealous. Not even being able to visit Fizz when it all goes wrong because sinners aren't allowed to leave the Pride Ring.

Also, as a secondary detail, imagine Angel Dust finding out that his new friend's life-changing injuries were caused by Blitz, seemingly a pretty well-known figure in the Pride Ring.

Imagine Blitz finding out that Hell's most famous porn actor has genuine beef with him and having absolutely no idea why.

(Millie, Moxxie and Loona— based on the Verosika thing— all assume it was a bad breakup, despite Blitz insisting otherwise.)

[buckymorelikefuckme]

how to marry a millionaire | chapter two

mafia bucky x spoiled brat reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism, thinly veiled threats (??) if i missed anything pls let me know my brain is fried

a/n: f i n a l l y... she is here. thank you @cultofcarter for reading through this for me :) as always, any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

masterlist

“You've been an absolute delight this evening. Thank you for accompanying me.” He stands, coming around the table to offer his hand to you.

You accept it gratefully, your skin tingling from the contact as you rise from your seat. “Are you sending me home already?” you question, meeting his gaze straight on and ignoring the displeasure you feel when the warmth of his hand retreats.

Dinner had been, predictably, delicious. The conversation throughout was much more pleasant than you anticipated. He's got great banter, and you laughed more than you ever have on past dates. Honestly, he's so charming that you’ve almost forgotten you should be a little wary of him. You're hardly even putting up a front anymore.

He tilts his head, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip as he contemplates. “I’m not sure you're ready for more yet.”

“This is hardly the first time I've been through this song and dance, James,” you say coyly, tracing your index finger down the lapel of his suit jacket. “These sorts of arrangements are perfectly normal.”

He’s silent for a moment, watching you with unreadable eyes. You try to maintain eye contact, but it’s so intense you find yourself breaking it, glancing away to the empty room.

Everything about tonight has been nowhere near what you expected, especially James. You've dealt with enough men in your life to feel as if you know exactly how to handle them. Yet, with him, you feel like a complete novice. He’s totally unpredictable.

It’s unsettling.

It's exhilarating.

“I think you're confused about what's happening here,” he informs you. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. Your heart stutters in your chest and you have to physically force your shoulders to relax. “I'm not a fucking sugar daddy,” he states coolly, his expression still frustratingly blank. “I’m not interested in sharing and I’m not looking for something casual. If we’re to continue, we will be exclusive. I’ll still spoil you like crazy, don't worry about that, but I’m not going to throw money at you and not gain anything in return. The same way you know what you want, I know what I want. So you better decide now. It’ll be your only chance.”

Jesus. You know you should be terrified, because that was not a threat, it was a promise, yet for whatever reason it's got desire swirling in your core.

“You make it sound like you'll own me,” you mutter faintly.

His grin is all teeth. “Oh, sweetheart,” he starts, condescending, his grip on your chin tightening. “That's exactly what I mean.”

There is not even a hint of dishonesty in his eyes. You're not sure if that’s better or worse. The fact he's even giving you an opportunity to decline seems like it's a rare occurrence, so you actually take a moment to consider your options.

On the one hand, you're almost entirely positive his other work consists of illegal activities. You have no doubt that he’s done some truly nefarious things and that thought settles in your stomach like a heavy stone. His hands are definitely dirty. He’s a dangerous man, and there’s no way he hasn't made some enemies. The risks are substantial.

But, on the other hand, you have had a fantastic preview of what his money can get you. He's spent more on you in one day than some of your past sugar daddies have spent during the whole relationship. He's made it abundantly clear that he has more money than he knows what to do with. If you choose to agree to his stipulations, you could very well be set for life. Call you greedy, or even selfish, but you have every right to be spoiled beyond your wildest dreams as much as the next person.

It's with that in mind that you take the smallest step closer to him, craning your neck to hold his stare, his hand loosening and dropping. You slide your palms around his waist.

“May I still call you daddy?”

He grins wider, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You fucking better.”

Your chin drops slightly so you can look at him through your lashes.

“And do I still have to go home?”

“Well, I suppose that depends,” he hedges. “If we leave here together, I can no longer promise any type of restraint from me. I've used all of my willpower through dinner to keep from taking you on the table.”

Biting your lip, you hold back the needy noise that almost escaped. “I fail to see how that would be a problem,” you reply breathily.

You feel his hands slide down until they reach your ass. He squeezes roughly and you’re not quick enough to stop a gasp from slipping. His expression tells you he liked hearing it, liked knowing he could put a crack in your pristine, iron-clad composure.

“Then, I guess you better follow me to the car,” he says, landing a smack on one of your ass cheeks.

He threads his fingers through yours and begins walking towards the kitchen, pulling you along with him in the process. You do your best to keep up with his long strides, but you struggle to match his pace. Your heels do not make up for the height difference between the two of you. His legs are longer than yours, no matter what. He's a tall bastard. He's quite large, in general, actually. And according to him, that includes his cock, though you'll be able to determine if it's true or not very soon. Just the thought sends a rush of heat through you.

The employees in the kitchen all scramble to clear the way for James when you enter, their eyes trained on the floor as he marches by. Clearly, they know exactly who he is and what he's capable of and are not keen on getting on his bad side. They must've been in the middle of cleaning, you think, because there are rags on the stainless steel counters and a huge sink full of soapy water with pots and pans draining on the counter next to it.

“Dinner was perfect, gentlemen,” James announces as he passes. “Thank you for your time.”

Nobody responds verbally, but you see their shoulders slump in relief.

“You can take tomorrow off,” he adds, smiling when excited murmuring picks up after you've turned a corner and entered a narrow hallway. There's another overly tall, beefy man standing next to the door. “Anything I should know about?” James asks as you both approach.

“No,” the man replies, curt.

James nods. “Thank you, Steve. Is Sam ready with the car?”

“Yes. I assume the girl is coming with you.”

“The girl has a name, asshole,” you interject before James even has a chance to open his mouth.

The man, Steve, cuts his eyes to you. “With all due respect,” he starts, and you can already tell he means no respect, whatsoever, “I was speaking to my boss. Not his arm candy.”

You scowl. “Regardless, I would appreciate not being talked about like I’m not here, you overgrown guard dog.”

James snorts. Steve stares at you for a beat, then cracks a smile, shaking his head.

“You've met your match, Buck,” he states.

“It would appear so,” James agrees.

Steve pushes open the door and the three of you walk out into an alleyway where four black SUVs are idling. Steve tugs on the handle to the back door to one of them and beckons you and James to get in. The doors lock as soon as he closes it.

“I take it your date went well,” says the man in the driver seat.

“Better than anticipated,” James replies, winking in your direction. “Take us to the estate, please, Sam.”

Sam gives James a salute and shifts the gear into drive.

“The estate?” you inquire as the sparkling city lights pass by.

James hums. “Yes.”

“Still trying to impress me, huh?” you tease.

“Of course,” he replies easily. “Can't have you getting bored.”

“Cute,” you claim.

He huffs a laugh. “Nothing about me is cute.”

“That's debatable,” you retort.

Sam lets out a quiet snicker that changes into a cough when James clears his throat pointedly. You giggle, leaning into James’ arm.

“Oh, c’mon. Don't tell me the big, bad, scary man isn't allowed to be cute once in a while.” When all you get in response is an eye roll and a clenched jaw, you sigh dramatically. “Okay, fine. You're not cute.”

“Thank you,” he says loftily.

“Big baby,” you mumble.

His hand, which has been comfortably resting on your bare knee, squeezes hard enough that you jerk in surprise and barely bite back the protest on the tip of your tongue.

“You ought to be nicer to me.”

His voice is low and his eyes are dark with warning. You’re suddenly struck with the understanding at that moment that you're not necessarily promised anything here, not yet. One wrong move could land you on your ass, or worse, so it's in your best interest to keep a man like him happy. With that thought in mind, you make a mental note that too much teasing is off limits. For now, at least.

“Sorry,” you respond quietly. You let your palm glide across his thigh. “Let me make it up to you?”

He eases his grip slightly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Considering we’re headed for the highway, I imagine we have some time to kill,” you observe.

“Smart girl,” he praises, letting go of your knee entirely and reaching for the hand on his thigh, directing it to the considerable bulge in his slacks.

You cup him through his pants and realize he's not even hard yet, which makes the size of what you're feeling even more mouthwateringly impressive.

“Wanna blow you,” you request, meeting his eyes. “Please.”

“You're not worried about having an audience?” he wonders, nodding towards Sam.

“It wouldn't be the first time,” you confess with a cheeky grin. “And I doubt it'll be the last.”

James matches your grin then gestures to his pants. “Go ahead, doll.”

You're extremely grateful for the spacious floors in the backseat as you lower yourself to your knees and maneuver your way between James’ legs. These luxury SUVs are top notch for a multitude of reasons, but this is always one of the main ones for you.

You waste no time in undoing James’ Italian leather belt, the button and zip on his slacks following, then lower the band of his boxer briefs to pull his cock out. You wish you could say you're surprised, but the fact he has a perfect cock isn't all that shocking. The length of it alone is worthy of praise, but it's the girth that makes your cunt clench around nothing. He's going to feel fucking divine inside your pussy, but for now, you'll settle for getting your mouth on him. You wrap your lips around the head as you stroke him, getting him as hard as possible, swiping your tongue across his slit.

“So pretty,” he compliments. You glance up at him coquettishly and he smiles. “Yeah, yeah. You know.”

You hum around him, pleased, and he sighs as he settles more into the seat. You take another inch of him in your mouth, slowly working your way down his above-average length. As much as it pains you to admit, even to yourself, you can't deepthroat. It's not for lack of trying, or anything. You've just unfortunately been graced with an unforgiving gag reflex. God had to keep you humble somehow. So you'll have to make up for it, take as much of his cock as you can and work the rest with your hands.

Normally, you're the type to give sloppy head, but since you're both in nice clothes, you keep it fairly tame. James doesn't have any room for complaints either, considering the way his mouth is slack and he's got his head tipped back. He's letting out these clipped, quiet noises, like he's trying to hold them in, but it just makes you work harder to get more out of him.

You slowly pull off his cock, and when you reach the tip you lightly graze your bottom teeth along his frenulum. His hips spasm and you smile when his eyes quickly find yours. They're blazing, pupils blown and just a touch glassy. Holding his gaze, you dig your tongue in his slit, and the way the vein in his neck pops is so satisfying that you keep doing it for several more seconds. You take him back in your mouth, stroking him with one hand and using the other to play with his balls. His breathing picks up, his chest heaving with it, yet he still only lets cut off sounds slip past his lips.

It's when you let go of his balls, moving your fingers down a little further to put pressure on his perineum, that he finally groans. Deep, guttural, and music to your ears. After that, all bets are off. You go from bobbing on his cock to stroking it at a brutal pace and sucking on his balls, back and forth, all while continuing to massage his perineum. And to your absolute delight, James is putty in your hands. He still tries to cut off his noises, but he's mostly unsuccessful.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grits through his teeth, fingers digging into the leather seat below him so hard his knuckles turn white.

You’re understandably proud of yourself, but your jaw is starting to hurt, so it's time to bring this blowjob to an end. Stroking his cock even faster, you hollow your cheeks and put suction around the head, rubbing his perineum harder. His hips begin shifting, his noises going slightly higher in pitch, breaths coming out in harsh pants. You look up at him with watery eyes and he whines, ass coming up off the seat about an inch, his jaw locking, and then with a drawn out groan, he comes.

You moan as his cum fills your mouth, swallowing all of it as you help him through his climax. He twitches with aftershocks and grunts with overstimulation, but you wait for him to weakly push at your head before you let go of him.

With one last lick to the red head of his cock, you murmur, “Thank you, daddy.”

He laughs, a breathy, disbelieving sound, and wipes a hand down his blissed out face.

“I don't know what kind of stars aligned for us to meet, but I’m sending all of my thanks to whatever deity that made it happen.”

You giggle, pushing yourself back up into the seat beside him as he sluggishly puts his cock back in his boxers and rights his trousers. He's practically boneless where he sits and you know you've done a fantastic job at making up for your thoughtless teasing to him.

“Once we get to the estate, I’ll take care of you, doll,” he promises with a lethargic grin. “Wanna get you spread out on a bed.”

“You won't get any complaints out of me,” you assure.

For the rest of the ride, you and James chatter about anything that comes to mind. Sam, who'd been totally silent before, pipes in when prompted and you're pleased to find he's got a sense of humor that rivals yours. It feels like hardly any time has passed when the car is turned into a driveway with an iron gate. Sam punches in a code on a keypad and the gate opens.

When you're able to get a good look out of the windshield at the looming home ahead of you, your jaw drops. It's fucking massive. You faintly register James snickering next to you, but your attention is better drawn to the mansion you're pulling in front of. You're still gawking when Sam comes around to open the door for you and James. Your “thank you” is quiet and mumbled and not all that polite, but like. C’mon.

“It's nice, huh?” James asks.

“That would be a fucking egregious understatement,” you retort, head tilted up to take in all the grandeur.

He steps up behind you, his front pressed all along your back, nose nuzzling your neck and ear, hands settling low on your hips. “I do believe I promised to lay you out on my bed.”

“That you did,” you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m a man of my word,” he says. “Always.”

Of that you have no doubt.

“I suppose you should take me inside then,” you reply.

Without another word, he links his hand with yours and leads you inside. You barely make it over the threshold before he's swept you off your feet, literally, and carries you up the stairs, grinning at your giggles.

You'll get a tour of the place in the morning, you guess.

[burst-of-iridescent]

Hello! (First I wanted to say I'm sorry if you've answered this before, and if so could you please direct me to it in your response?) but I was wondering what you thought of Zuko's betrayal toward Katara in The Crossroads of Destiny, if it felt in character or not for him, if not, how do you think it should have been written differently? On the same note, what are your (specifically Zutara related) thoughts on Season 3? Is there anything you would have written differently, and if so, how? Personally, I always felt dissatisfied with S3 in general, although it was still overall enjoyable. I don't even personally dislike kataang, but maiko disgusts (and I mean REALLY) disgusts me.

i know there are many who argue that zuko's choice in CoD was character assassination, that it was meant to torpedo zutara, that it was too sudden etc etc... but personally, i've always felt that it was both in-character and necessary for zuko at that point in his arc.

i can understand how on first watch it seems like too much of a turn-around, given how zuko's arc seemed to be heading, but i think this ignores two things: firstly, that the path to redemption isn't linear and secondly, the real context of the choice that lay before zuko in CoD.

it's one thing to give up on chasing the avatar and accept a quiet, humble life in ba sing se; it's another entirely to actively turn traitor yourself and work against your nation and your family. part of the reason zuko was able to reconcile himself to being lee the tea shop server forever is because it was essentially a path of passive neutrality: he was helping neither the avatar, nor the fire nation. it was the best option available to him, a grey area that allowed him to find some measure of peace without forcing him to pick a side.

azula's coup, however, destroys any chance zuko has of ever going back to that life. he's been dragged right back into the conflict, and this time there's no question of staying out of it. one way or another, he'll be forced to fight, and the only choice left to him is who his enemy will be. azula, his own sister, offering him everything he's ever wanted? or aang, the boy he's spent years hunting, who embodies everything he's been taught to oppose?

and so naturally, when confronted with a dangerous unknown, he chooses to go back to what's familiar and what he spent most of his life believing he wanted. remember that zuko is also a victim of a lifetime of abuse and indoctrination in a moment of extreme psychological stress, and it's no wonder that he picks what he sees as safe and easy (zuko isn't actually safe in the fire nation ofc and he knows that, but it comes back to the case of the devil you know vs the devil you don't), though he himself is aware deep down that it's the wrong choice.

from a character perspective, zuko also needed to go back to the fire nation to realize how much he's changed, and that the home he'd always yearned to return to didn't actually exist, and probably never had. had zuko actually gone with the gaang in the book 2 finale, i think a little part of him might have always wondered about the what-if of it all. ultimately, i think it strengthens zuko's redemption for him to backslide and then actively make the choice to change and still try to do better, further proving the show's message of how it's never too late to do the right thing.

the only thing i would have changed is how zuko's arc in the first half of book 3 is handled, because while i do get what the writers were going for, i think it was a wasted opportunity to get insight into the war from the fire nation's perspective. it would've been cool to see zuko learning about the gaang's exploits and slowly putting the pieces together about who was likely responsible for it, allowing us to see the effects of their actions from the other point of view.

book 3 was definitely the most unsatisfying of the series, because the season as a whole is the least cohesive and well-planned of the three, and coming on the heels of the near-perfect book 2, the disparity is even more obvious. it's somewhat masked by the fact that it does have some of the best individual episodes of the series, which is probably why many people overlook how weak the season is as a whole.

i actually wouldn't change anything zutara-related other than letting them have ONE conversation and a hug post-agni kai (as they deserved) because that entire arc was just *chef's kiss*. my problems with book 3 stem almost entirely from the finale and aang's overall arc, but that's probably too long to get into here so tldr: less magic pointy rock, lion turtle, and half-assed relationships, more letting go of katara, confronting grief over air nomads, and found family with hints of an actually well-developed romance for the future.

sigh, to think of all we could have had.

[secretsofthewilde]

Sorry to hear you have a shitty brain day :( but I'm glad my little comment helped! I'd love to hear your thoughts about Marie.

Oh you mean Miss Marie cheekbones Winter?

She came, constantly served looks, was that bitch (derogatory), and yet somehow had me distraught over her final episode. Basically; Marie hot. acquitted of all crimes.

Actual critical thoughts on her below - I went on much longer than intended, whoops!

Okay like all characters in this show there is just so much I could talk about when it comes to her, but I think I’ll just try to do a general overview of how I felt about her while watching the show and how it makes me view her now.

Full disclosure: I haven’t rewatched her seasons yet so this is based off of my memory of those seasons and how I feel about them now.

Marie is an interesting character to me because (much like Kaz) I couldn’t stand her during her first two seasons. While I was able to acknowledge how great Susie Porter was in the role (and how gorgeous she looked) in her first two seasons, I just struggled so much to empathise with or even really care about her due to her unhealthy relationship with Allie and my utter disdain for the Marie/Will subplot – which I still think could have been handled better as it comes across as somewhat lazily written imho. Season 8 however very quickly changed that for me, and now I’m able to look back at her previous episodes with a lot more grace towards her.

I think Marie is a really complex character that gets a lot more hate than I think she necessarily deserves. Susie Porter herself has even said that the amount of hatred her character got ended up really getting to her, and I can understand why when I see the way some people speak about her.

I think it would be fair to say that I hated her in season 7, but I think that’s the intention of the writers. While we have moments of seeing her be tender and caring for others, it's really hard to tell what is genuine and what's more manipulation on her part during those first seasons. While I am now of the opinion that Marie does genuinely care for and love Allie, at the time I remember hating seeing any moment with her reassuring or comforting Allie because it all seemed to be just self serving on her part. And the thing is on retrospect a lot of her actions during those seasons still is self serving on Marie's part. Understanding that she loves Allie now doesn't change the fact that she absolutely was still manipulating the people around her during those two seasons.

Essentially during seasons 6 & 7 the only positive-ish attributes we can really assign to Marie is that she has a very strong maternal nature, will do anything for her son, is obviously intelligent and adaptive (which makes her good at manipulating), and is good at social networking/climbing. The problem is that these also work as reasons why we might hate her in those seasons; her son is most-definitely a rapist so we aren't made to sympathise with her grief over him, and the other traits all double as reasons why she's a threat/why she's able to rise so quickly as an antagonist.

Season 8 absolutely surprised me with the way they handled Marie, by having her go through a redemption arc that occurs separate from the characters who have history with her, and I think it was the right choice to make. If we had spent significant time with Marie going to Allie and trying to make amends to her then it would feel like she was trying to be forgiven without having actually earned it. It would make it feel like whenever Marie did something good it was insincere, and only done for the sake of her appearance/manipulation. Instead we get to see her interacting with other characters and constantly trying to do the right thing, without seeking or expecting validation or approval from her past victims because of it. Season 8 also clearly shows us that her maternal side isn't just a manipulative persona, but a key part to her identity. She consistently aims to soothe and comfort those in her unit when they're upset, and it feels like she does genuinely care for them. In the past seasons you wouldn't see her interacting with someone like "Kath" without assuming she is doing so for some personal gain/future plan, but in season 8 their interactions and the care she expresses are obviously genuine. We also get more of an understanding of her relationship with sex imho and while I still think her relationship with Will was written a bit sloppily, seeing her with Lou does at least help solidify that Marie's relationship with sex and grief is very warped.

I love that Marie was able to grow and become a better person in season 8, even if her ending was gut wrenching for me. While her death definitely falls into the category of redemption/self sacrifice tropes, the reason it doesn't come across as cheap or poorly executed is because we saw her throughout season 8 make choices to try do the right thing by the women around her, and not for the sake of being forgiven/redeemed by them, but for her own sense of self. A lot of the time now we have to see in film/tv writers deciding to do a last minute redemption by having a villain sacrificing themself at the end and revealing actually they were just misunderstood this whole time. With Marie it's a slow process that feels real - while certain characters are upset about her death we don't suddenly see them praising her as a misunderstood hero. She was a flawed individual, who spent her last year trying to make amends for her past sins and I think that's really beautiful. It's not up to the audience to decide if she had earned or deserved Allie's forgiveness prior to her death (as we should leave the victims to decide that for themselves) but we are of course able to decide if we believe that she did enough to redeem herself to us viewers. And for me personally? She did.

I think Marie is a great example of the key message of the show – every person is flawed and is capable of both good and bad actions, and instead of condemning people for their past mistakes we should give them an opportunity to learn and try to do better. Because at the end of the day the prison is meant to be a place of rehabilitation through found community, not punishment.

I hope you enjoyed this raw brain dump brought to you by poor sleep and task avoidance. As always, everyone may feel free to drop an ask related to something I've said in this reply, this show in general, or anything you think I might wanna yap about.

[voloslobotomyservice]

get to know your tav!

tagged by @auspex-author and @lolthslover (thank you!) sorry it took me so long!

meet Divya (she/her), asmodeous tiefling, way of the four elements monk

what is your tav’s…

favorite weapon? her hands (both in unarmed strikes and spells)

style of combat? a mixture of spells from a close-ish distance and throwing punches/kicks. also more defensive? she didn’t learn combat before becoming tadpoled, as she never really wanted to be a fighter.

most prized possession? considering she had no possessions when she lived in the church, she had nothing but the clothes on her back for around eight years.

deepest desire? to become a monk at the temple of ilmater in the city of baldur’s gate.

guilty pleasure? she was not allowed to partake in any guilty pleasures while living in the monastery, but now she can do things like eat a cookie or drink wine or mess around with Wyll without feeling too much religious guilt afterwards.

best-kept secret? before she went to serve in elturel’s church of ilmater, her mother revealed to her that she was not her father’s child. that is why she lacks the tiefling’s signature infernal eyes.

greatest strength? she stays cool, calm, and collected in the face of danger. always thinks before she acts, and tries to limit her damage to others around her.

fatal flaw? she has spent so many years taking on the pain of others, that she doesn’t know how to truly grapple with her own. from elturel’s descent into avernus, being shunned from her church of ilmater, becoming separated from her family, and now being tadpoled, it’s a surprise that she’s about to keep her head on straight. this does eventually boil over, though, and Divya is unable to handle her heavy emotions on her own. (maybe I should write about it? hm yeah that would be fun)

favorite scent? whatever cologne Wyll’s wearing

favorite spell/cantrip? fist of unbroken air. bad guy always go wheee.

pet peeve? when people don’t try to understand the pain some people go through or just dismiss it entirely

bad habit? tends to pick at her nails if she’s anxious/stressed, usually paired with trouble falling asleep

hidden talent? not a talent, but her thumbs are double jointed. gave Shadowheart quite the scare when she first showed them off.

leisure activity? the Forgotten Realms equivalent of tai-chi and yoga, she uses these practices to ground herself and find inner peace

favorite drink? a monk? drinking? you can’t be serious! arabellan red

comfort food? her mother used to make this delicious lamb stew. Gale has tried to replicate it, but hasn’t succeeded yet. mostly because lamb is hard to find.

favorite person(s)?

Wyll: not only is he handsome, but he seems to have a good head on his shoulder and a positive attitude (for the most part). He will also (usually) think before he acts.

Karlach: though they are fairly polar opposite when it comes to their personalities and the way they handle combat, opposites attract, and they work very well together.

Gale: his knowledge intrigues her, she enjoys having long conversations with him about whatever he’s thinking about at that moment in time simply because it’s entertaining.

favored display of affection? quality time, for sure. it’s one of the reasons she and Wyll get as close as they do — he’s always in her party 😉 also physical affection, but preferably behind closed doors or behind big boulders because she gets embarrassed easily

fondest childhood memory? the first time her parents took her to the church of ilmater

anything else you’d like to share?

Divya is a little socially awkward. only speaking to others about their pain and sorrows for around eight years has left her with little to say when her party members come by and have a chat. she is a much better listener than talker.

Her biggest insecurity is her vitiligo. Growing up, the other children in school would call her a cow, which also made her insecure in her body image. She doesn’t eat too much because of it, and up until the events of the game, had most of her body covered to hide her pale spots. If anyone asked about her face, she’d say she was a victim of an acid attack.

She and Darcy, another tiefling tav of mine, were friends when they were children. Darcy is four/five years older than Divya, so she was only eight when Darcy was kidnapped from Elturel. She often wonders if she’ll ever see her friend again.

The Church of Ilmater in Elturel cast her out after the city’s descent into Avernus. They did not want anyone resembling devils in their halls.

Wyll is the first person she has ever been romantically involved with. Here are a few fics about their relationship:

To A Wild Rose - Wyll (successfully) rizzing up Divya

Just A Kiss - Divya and Wyll’s first kiss shared at the camp party

Show Me How - Wyll gives Divya some… pleasure (nsft)

Tagging @rolansrighthorn @dustdeepsea and @my-favourite-zhent give me some tea on your tavs!!! (only if you want to tho uwu )