#we are never trapped unless we choose to be

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

People seriously underestimate how manipulative men can be when it comes to women and pregnancy. Unless you’re a woman who has developed deep self-awareness, understanding, and some level of education or access to the realities of reproductive coercion, you’ll likely fall into the trap of thinking women just want to have a bunch of kids.

The fact is: many pregnancies are not the result of mutual desire—they’re the result of coercion.

Men often put women in positions where pregnancy becomes a tool of control, especially when they want to keep a woman in their life. We constantly hear about women “trapping” men with babies, but in my experience, it’s often the opposite.

When men desire access to your body in a way that’s about domination—about claiming and possessing you—they will, quite literally, impregnate you to tether you to them. Especially if they sense that you’re a woman who could leave, has options, or might threaten their sense of control.

The thing is, many men don’t give much thought to pregnancy because:

A. They won’t be the ones carrying the child.

B. They will never experience childbirth or postpartum.

C. They operate within a patriarchal framework that views women as naturally suited to domestic life—raising children, staying at home—while they remain detached from real, equal parenthood.

Let’s be honest: men absolutely coerce and manipulate women into pregnancy. And most of the time, they don’t care—at all—about the woman’s health, her emotional well-being, or her personal goals. In fact, they’ll override what she wants for her life and insist that her place is at home, raising children, even if that directly contradicts her dreams or potential.

The painful truth is: many women struggle to build their careers, maintain financial independence, or pursue their life’s goals simply because they were repeatedly pregnant. Back-to-back pregnancies—often unplanned or unwanted—can derail years of ambition and leave women in cycles of dependence and burnout.

And yet the dominant narrative is always, “Well, she should’ve done something about it.”

But we all know—deep down—men could do something about it too. They just choose not to. They choose not to wear protection. They choose not to engage in honest conversations about birth control. They choose irresponsibility—and then weaponize morality when the woman considers abortion.

Because the moment a woman contemplates abortion? Suddenly, the same man who was nonchalant about protection turns controlling, enraged, and even violent at the thought of her “getting rid of his child.”

It’s a fiasco. A deeply rooted, systemic one. And most people simply don’t have enough understanding, language, or literacy around it to even begin facing the truth.

I really hate “liberals” trying to get one up on conservative women who have a lot of kids by saying they have a breeding kink. First of all, they’re clearly saying it because they see these women as religious and “prude-y,” missionary-sex-with-the-lights-off types, and are saying this sexual thing to make them uncomfortable, and second, it’s not even true. There’s no breeding kink, there’s just misogynistic, religious indoctrination. Way to turn a necessary conversation into just a lewd sex joke about these women.

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. IV: 1944-1947

[pomegranatelifethis]

Sister

The Wayne Manor was a fortress of brooding intensity, except for one glaring anomaly: you. Y/N Wayne, younger twin to Damian Wayne by a measly two hours, were the antithesis of everything the League of Assassins had tried to forge into your brother. Where Damian was disciplined, you were lazy. Where he was stoic, you were a walking smile. And where he thrived on pain and perfection, you’d rather nap on the couch with a bag of Cheetos.

It was the first day of summer, and the Gotham heat was already unbearable. The Batfamily was gathered in the Batcave for a mandatory training session, orchestrated by Bruce Wayne himself. You, however, were sprawled across a rolling chair, spinning lazily, your Robin suit half-unzipped to reveal a tie-dye T-shirt underneath.

“Y/N, get up and join the sparring session,” Bruce’s voice echoed, stern but tinged with the exhaustion of dealing with you for sixteen years.

You grinned, kicking your feet up on a console. “Pass. My muscles are on vacation. Besides, I’m morally opposed to sweating.”

Damian, mid-kata with a katana, shot you a glare that could curdle milk. “You’re an embarrassment to the Wayne name. Get up before I drag you.”

You blew a raspberry, unfazed. “Try it, Dami. I’ll cry, and then Alfred will make you feel guilty with his disappointed eyebrow.”

Tim Drake snorted from his computer station, while Dick Grayson, ever the peacemaker, tried to mediate. “Come on, Y/N, just one round. It’s good for you.”

“Nope!” you chirped, popping a Cheeto into your mouth. “Pain and I broke up years ago. We’re not getting back together.”

Jason Todd, leaning against a stalactite, laughed. “Kid’s got a point. Why suffer when you can eat snacks and vibe?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, you’re a Wayne. You need to be prepared—”

“For what? A villain who challenges me to a nap-off? I’d win.” You winked, and even Damian’s scowl twitched into something less murderous.

Despite your antics, Damian was fiercely protective. He’d never admit it, but the idea of you getting hurt—or even mildly inconvenienced—made his blood boil. You were his twin, his responsibility. The League had trained you both, but you’d rejected their ways, choosing laughter over lethality. Damian, though, saw you as a fragile flower in a world of thorns, even if you were more like a weed that thrived in chaos.

As the training session wrapped up, you skipped out of the Batcave, humming a pop song. Damian followed, because of course he did. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“To the kitchen. Alfred’s making cookies, and I’m gonna steal the dough.” You flashed a mischievous grin.

“You’ll ruin your appetite,” he muttered, but he trailed you anyway, like a grumpy shadow.

In the kitchen, Alfred was indeed baking, his apron pristine despite the flour everywhere. You leaned over the counter, batting your eyelashes. “Alfred, my favorite human, can I have a teensy bit of cookie dough?”

Alfred’s eyebrow arched, but he handed you a spoonful. “Only because you asked politely, Miss Y/N.”

Damian scoffed. “You’re spoiling her.”

“Says the boy who hides her from every mission,” you teased, licking the spoon. “I’m not a baby, Dami.”

“You’re reckless and weak,” he shot back, but his tone softened. “You need to take this seriously.”

You rolled your eyes, hopping onto the counter. “Lighten up, twin. Life’s too short to be so… you.”

That night, after everyone had retired, you sneaked into the library, a place you rarely visited unless you were hiding from chores. You weren’t looking for anything specific, just bored and curious. That’s when you found it: a dusty, leather-bound book tucked behind a shelf, its cover etched with strange symbols.

“Oooh, spooky,” you whispered, giggling. You opened it, expecting boring Latin or something equally dull. Instead, a puff of golden dust exploded in your face, making you cough. “Gross! Who booby-traps a book?”

The room spun, your vision blurred, and the last thing you heard was your own voice muttering, “Well, that’s not good.”

---

When you woke up, everything was… big. The library floor loomed like a football field, and the bookshelves towered like skyscrapers. You tried to stand, but your legs felt weird—short, furry, and way too many. You glanced down and screamed, except it came out as a high-pitched *mrrrow!*

You were a cat. A small, fluffy, black-and-white cat with big, bewildered eyes.

“Oh, come ON!” you tried to say, but it was just more meowing. You scampered to a mirror, your tiny paws slipping on the polished floor. The reflection confirmed it: you were adorable, with a white patch shaped like a heart on your chest and whiskers that twitched with every emotion.

“Okay, Y/N, don’t panic,” you thought, pacing in a circle. “You’re a cat. This is fine. You’ve handled worse. Like that time you accidentally set off the Batmobile’s alarm.”

Your first instinct was to find Damian. He’d know what to do, even if he’d lecture you for eternity. You bolted out of the library, your new body surprisingly agile despite your human self’s aversion to exercise. The manor was a maze, but you followed the scent of Alfred’s coffee to the kitchen.

Damian was there, sipping tea, looking as grumpy as ever. You leaped onto the counter, skidding into a bowl of fruit. Apples rolled everywhere, and Damian’s eyes narrowed.

“What is this creature doing here?” he demanded, glaring at you.

“It’s me, you idiot!” you yowled, but it just sounded like an angry cat. You swatted at his hand, and he recoiled.

“Disgusting beast,” he muttered, reaching for you. You dodged, because if Damian caught you, he’d probably lock you in a cage “for your safety.” Instead, you jumped onto his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek to get his attention.

“Stop that!” he snapped, but he didn’t push you off. His eyes softened slightly. “You… remind me of someone.”

“Wow, rude,” you thought, but you purred anyway, hoping to charm him. It didn’t work. He set you on the floor and called for Alfred.

“Pennyworth, there’s a stray in the manor. Remove it.”

Alfred appeared, eyeing you with curiosity. “She’s rather charming, Master Damian. Perhaps she wandered in?”

“She’s a nuisance,” Damian said, but he kept glancing at you, like he sensed something familiar.

You decided to lean into your new form’s potential for chaos. You knocked over Damian’s tea, sprinted across the counter, and dove into a pile of flour Alfred had set out for baking. The kitchen erupted in white dust, and Damian’s shout of “YOU LITTLE DEMON!” was music to your ears.

--

The next few days were a blur of mischief. As a cat, you discovered you could get away with almost anything. You shredded Jason’s favorite leather jacket, blaming it on “natural instincts.” You hid Tim’s USB drive under the couch, watching him tear the manor apart looking for it. You even napped on Bruce’s Batcomputer, leaving a trail of fur that made him sneeze for hours.

Damian, though, was your favorite target. You’d sneak into his room, knock over his sketchbooks, and curl up on his pillow, knowing he’d be torn between kicking you out and secretly finding you cute. He named you “Shadow,” which you found hilarious since it was so close to your actual codename, Dusk.

But Damian was also the most suspicious. He’d stare at you, muttering about how your eyes were “too intelligent” for a cat. He even set up a camera to catch you doing something “unnatural.” You thwarted him by batting the camera off the table, because screw surveillance.

The rest of the Batfamily was smitten. Dick cooed over you, calling you “the cutest vigilante ever.” Tim built you a tiny cat-sized Batmobile, which you promptly used to chase Alfred’s vacuum cleaner. Jason fed you scraps of his burgers, declaring you “the only sane member of this family.” Even Bruce, the stoic Batman, let you nap on his lap during briefings, though he’d deny it if anyone asked.

Your human absence, however, was causing problems. Damian was frantic, tearing through Gotham to find you. He interrogated everyone, from Alfred to the mailman, and even hacked into your phone, only to find it dead in your room. His overprotectiveness was in overdrive, and you felt a pang of guilt every time you saw his worried face.

You needed to turn back, but the book that caused this mess was written in a language you couldn’t read (not that you could turn pages with paws). You tried to communicate, but your attempts—scratching “HELP” into a table or meowing Morse code—were dismissed as “cute cat behavior.”

---

By mid-summer, you were enjoying cat life a bit too much. You’d discovered you could sneak into the Batmobile and hitch rides to Gotham, where you’d terrorize pigeons and steal fries from food carts. But your antics were drawing attention. A local news outlet dubbed you “Gotham’s Mystery Cat,” and suddenly, every villain from Catwoman to the Riddler wanted to claim you as their mascot.

Catwoman, in particular, was obsessed. She scooped you up during one of your city adventures, cooing about how you’d be her “perfect partner in crime.” You hissed and clawed, but she just laughed, petting you until you begrudgingly purred. Damian, who’d been tracking you (because of course he was), showed up in his Robin suit, demanding your return.

“She’s not yours, kitten,” Selina purred, holding you up.

“She’s not yours either!” Damian snapped, and you could’ve sworn he was jealous. He snatched you back, cradling you like you were made of glass. “Stay away from my… cat.”

You wanted to laugh, but you also felt a surge of warmth. Damian might be a pain, but he cared. A lot.

Back at the manor, you decided it was time to get serious about turning human again. You sneaked into the Batcave, where Tim was analyzing the book. He’d figured out it was tied to an ancient curse, but the reversal spell required a “willing heart” and a “sacrifice of pride.” You had no idea what that meant, but you were pretty sure it involved groveling, which you hated.

You pawed at Tim’s keyboard, trying to type a message. All you managed was “IAMYNFIXME,” but Tim’s eyes widened. “Wait… Y/N? Is that you?”

You nodded frantically, purring for emphasis. Tim cursed, calling for the others. Within minutes, the Batfamily was assembled, staring at you like you were a science experiment gone wrong.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Dick asked, scratching your ears.

“Because she’s an idiot,” Damian said, but his voice cracked with relief. He picked you up, holding you close. “You’re never leaving my sight again.”

---

The reversal spell was tricky. Bruce and Tim deciphered that the “sacrifice of pride” meant admitting vulnerability, something you and Damian both struggled with. You, because you hated looking weak. Damian, because he was, well, Damian.

In the Batcave, with the family gathered, Tim read the spell aloud. You sat in a circle of candles, feeling ridiculous as a cat. The spell required you to “speak your heart,” but since you could only meow, Damian had to do it for you.

He knelt beside you, his face a mix of embarrassment and determination. “Y/N… you’re my twin. My responsibility. I’ve always protected you because… because I’m scared of losing you. You’re not weak, even if you skip training. You’re strong in ways I’m not. I’m… sorry for underestimating you.”

You stared, stunned. Damian, admitting he was scared? That was the sacrifice of pride, all right. You felt a tear slip down your furry cheek, and you nuzzled his hand, purring softly.

The candles flared, the room glowed, and suddenly, you were human again, sprawled on the floor in your tie-dye shirt and Robin pants. “Well, that was a trip,” you croaked, grinning.

Damian tackled you in a hug, then immediately shoved you away. “Don’t ever do that again!”

The Batfamily erupted in laughter, relief, and teasing. Dick ruffled your hair, Jason handed you a burger, and Tim promised to burn the cursed book. Bruce just nodded, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

---

The rest of the summer was less magical but just as chaotic. You went back to your lazy, smiley self, but you made a small effort to train with Damian—not because you liked it, but because you wanted to show him you could. He, in turn, eased up on the overprotectiveness, though he still hovered like a grumpy hawk.

You and the Batfamily had countless adventures: stopping a Penguin heist, pranking Tim with glitter bombs, and convincing Alfred to let you throw a manor-wide water balloon fight. Through it all, you realized how much you loved your dysfunctional family, even if they drove you nuts.

On the last day of summer, you and Damian sat on the manor’s roof, watching the sunset. You leaned against him, munching on Cheetos. “So, twin, admit it. You kinda liked having me as a cat.”

He snorted. “You were a menace.”

“But you loved me anyway,” you teased, nudging him.

He didn’t reply, but his arm slipped around your shoulders, and that was answer enough.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Hello Dimitri!

I really love your works - especially your yandere oc's and jjk content!- I was wondering if I can put in a request for a poly yandere of Geto and Gojo with a bottom male reader? I want to know how this relationship works when they were in their teens and now that their adults (Geto still choose to be a cult leader, also he does not die. My poor heart cannot handle the heartbreak of Geto dying and leaving Gojo and reader behind ). You can make it sfw or nsfw which either one you like! :)

Ps. Sorry for the long request, it is my first time requesting (0///0)

Two psychos is better than one right?~! (Yandere Geto suguru x male reader x yandere Satoru Gojo) ❀˖°

WC:. 5.7k

Tags: fluff-smut, threesome, spit roasting, poly satosugu, trio friendship, friends to enemies to lovers blowjobs, p in a sex, male on male oral, handjobs, ass eating, anal creampies, Yandere themes, dark content x male reader, dub con, non con, manipulation, drugging, Gojo just gaslighting reader

About: satoru and suguru become friends with male reader ending up in an obsession leading to Geto leaving, even after you split ways with him, he stays watching you from afar despite their separate paths they stay holding their obsession leading to trapping you.

A/N: this is a bit of a longer fic compared to others I’ve I’ve wrote, I put all my effort into this one! After some long writers block I’ve made it back around into writing again <33

Before the Riko incident you became a transfer at jujutsu high, you weren’t really strong nor weak, you were the prime balance of an average guy who just wanted to be in the middle- as long as you helped others then that was fine by you, being well known seemed overrated anyway.

You never thought you’d get between the infamous duo, they were tight knit after all, they were all any jujustu student aspired to be and after all you were just a boy looking to make it through the academy without any complications

If you would’ve known the outcome of transferring to this school you would’ve stayed far away, how did you even enter their lives? You were put on their team as a balance, you were put there to be guided and who was better to guid you than you once upper class men Satoru?

You were put on their missions, it started simple, the three of you going against curses together but you noticed very quickly that your friendship meant more to them than what met the eye. The friendship you thought of as normal or even just knowing them out of same interests turned dark far to fast.

What stool out at you the most was during a mission when you were saving a civilian from a low level curse, after a hour the fight was over and you were clean from any wounds, the man just ran up to you muffling his words between tears grabbing your hands.

“thank you—I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up!”

The man hugged you and the next thing you knew you tilted your head and suguru was already pulling him off of you pushing the man away harshly throwing him to a wall of a near by store.

“What do you think you’re doing suguru?!”

You quickly ran forward to him pulling him away from the civilian leaving the man running off terrified, your hands reaching up to his uniform shaking him back and forth while yelling at him. All Geto seems to do is stare blankly like he didn’t care what you did in the slightest.

“He touched you [name], nobody should get up close and personal, unless it’s me or Satoru”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You two aren’t my damn keepers, we are friends Suguru- just friends!”

You look at him offended with your lips pressing in a thin line shoving him back and letting him go, walking off pushing past a confused Gojo leaving him tilting his head looking back at Geto with a ‘what did you do?’ Face.

The next few days to pass you avoided Geto like the plague, only being around Gojo when he wasn’t near Suguru.

Sitting in a café during the weekend with Gojo lifting your drink, the feeling was off and you weren’t the biggest fan of how Gojo kept staring over at you but your dad was pushing you to be more like other boys your age, that’s how you ended up calling Gojo on the water day morning after the incident with Geto.

“You don’t have to avoid him Y’know [name]?”

Gojo breaks the silent looking at you with his eyes rolled forwards under his glasses watching your every move when you take a bite of whatever pastries you made him buy you.

“He’s just so damn possesive Toru- it’s like he thinks I’m his property..it’s just weird”

Gojo just gives a shrug, of course he would. Always sticking up and vouching for Geto like he was some sort of fan boy. What did you really expect? Gojo knew Geto before you, they had an uncanny close relationship and knowing all you know now looking back on it that’s the reason Suguru didn’t mind sharing you with Satoru.

“I think you’re overreacting, he was probably just worried about you, I’m sure he did in in good intentions”

“Yeah, whatever you say Toru”

You shove down a few more bites while Gojo takes a sip of his tea, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched but you always feel that way. Gojo kept trying to bring the topic back to Geto, trying to persuade you two to make up and apologize but you were just creeped out with his actions.

“Come on? He’s our friend [name] you don’t wanna be the one to put a wedge in our trio right?”

Gojo did his best to speak sweetly to you. Trying to convince you, and if that didn’t work then he’d just whine and make you feel bad til you felt like you just had to forgive Suguru. You didn’t wanna be the reason your friend ship fell apart with them right?…

The next day was a Sunday and Gojo had practically done everything but force you to meet up with Geto. Gojo had used the fact he and Geto were on a mission looking after a girl as the perfect opportunity to finally get you three together.

You hear your phone ringing whilst you lay sprawled out in bed, it’s a Sunday morning after all, it’s the last day of your week to sleep in until next weekend.

“Hello Toru..why’re you calling me so early?..”

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come and hangout at the beach today? Me and Geto are gonna be watching after this girl for our mission and I really-really want you there [nicknaamee]”

You just let out a small sigh and groggily open your eyes up begrudgingly mumbling back out to Satoru when you hear his whiny voice on the other end of the phone pleading and going high pitch on the nickname he gave you”

“Fine I’ll come but don’t let him act creepy Toru”

After that day at the beach things fell right back in line, you and Suguru had made up, and Gojo was happy, after all his best friends had made up.

Then it went and happened, some assassin had killed who they were protecting- or so Satoru told you. You weren’t there the day it had happened, you were on another mission with your upperclassman Nanami. Suguru wasn’t the same after that point, he hardly talked to you or Gojo- he would just silently space out staring at you.

Then summer hit and when he had came back he wasn’t the same at all, he was cold and distant and snapped at you over the slightest things. If you spent more time with Satoru than him then he’d give you the cold shoulder until you apologized despite your lack of knowing what you did wrong.

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this Suguru?”

You walked along side Gojo after school one day following after Geto, your eyes were wide and your lips pressed firm.

“Hey! Where are you goin?!”

Gojo ran faster than you walking forward more when Suguru stops and turns facing Gojo, their argument starts leaving you chiming in every few seconds standing next to Satoru, by the end of their fight Suguru just turns forward to walk away.

“Suguru wait! What the hell are you doing?”

You stand in utter disbelief for what was happening right in front of you— this couldn’t be happening? Your friendship was splitting up right before you and suguru, the boy that was eerily close around you was leaving you now.

You didn’t think you were going to be that affected over the loss but it left you confused on how you felt.

The days following that incident the team had drifted apart but you and Gojo had a newfound closeness but you couldn’t shake the feeling of always being watched, it felt like all eyes were on you even when you were walking through your dorm, that must just be the paranoia that comes with being a jujustu sorcerer right?

By the time you had graduated from Jujustu high, Gojo was already number one, you were happy for him of course as any friend would be. Eventually by the ripe age of twenty you take up a teaching job at jujustu high after a long time of Satoru pestering you to take the job with him.

“If I take the job will you just shut up Toru?”

“Of course I will! I promise [nickname]”

You eventually get tasked over the same team as Gojo, which you found strange. Not that Gojo didn’t totally pull strings to make them place you two together. The teams you were mentoring were names Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi, the boy that Gojo had been watching after ever since he fought with his father- you think he’s the son of that assassin that killed Riko.

The Jujustu world became hectic, not that it was new but it became crazier than usual especially after finding out that Yuji boy had ate one of the king of curses fingers— how was he even alive after that?

Over the years of being a Jujustu sorcerer you had seen and dealt with many things and you couldn’t deny you never thought you’d see Suguru again, not after what he did to his parents- you had just assumed he was gone for good. For some odd reason Gojo never seemed too concerned it felt as though he knew something you never did.

You remember earlier in the day hearing Satoru asking you to take the subway with him later after classes had ended, something about this new place he wanted to take you too and knowing Gojo and his Expensive tastes you had just expected another luxury restaurant so imagine the confusion on your face when you see a old Japanese style parlor.

You walk right in behind Gojo, following confused seeing the dark colored interior and dim lights, non sorcerers walking out of the place wearing matching robes.

“What is this place Toru?”

“It’s just a parlor ran by an old friend”

The way he hummed those words with a smirk made you feel uneasy, this place felt cultic, the purple walls and candles lit around the halls leading towards a pair of Japanese styled double doors, Satoru opens them ushering you inside. Your senses feel different in this room, it smells sweet and all you can do is feel fuzzy inside, were you being laced?

When you come to again you open your eyes half way seeing two figures hovering above you. Softness is all you can seem to feel right now, you’re laying on something soft, maybe a pillow? It’s fluffy and all you wanna do is close your eyes and succumb again, your body is weak and you only muster up enough strength to open your eyes when you feel a hand undoing your pants.

Your eyes roll around a little in their sockets before focusing in on the two figures, they look like yin and yang- one has white hair, it’s Gojo…is that—

“Suguru?”

His name sounds pathetic when you slur your words looking up at him letting out a little whine seeing his robes, where has he been and why was he dressed like a messiah. What was happening? All those thoughts are postponed when you feel hands pulling your cock out of your boxers.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you [name], god you know how hard it is to not be able to touch you? To not hear my name from your mouth? It’s torture sweetheart”

“Awe suguru! You told me the cameras I put in his apartment were close enough?”

Satoru and Geto conversation while kneeling before your body, one of them on either side of you with Suguru’s hand on your cock playing with the soft flesh and teasing it. Your body felt too many things to let your mind properly think.

“You’re alive?”

Those words come out shakily with your body shuddering feeling the warm palm of his hand under the base of your cock pulling a few strokes while Satoru leans down more sliding your shirt up your body, lifting your arms up and discarding it while you lay on your back in the parlor. Your eyes seeing candles lit around the room next to a picture of Geto— this was a cult.

“Of course I’m alive? Why wouldn’t i be [name]?…you know me and Satoru will never leave you”

“Look at him Suguru, he’s so loopy, I told you that gas was too strong~”

Your cock pulses in his hand with your nipples erect from the cool air, your body heating up and your cock starting to leak precum.

“What’re you two doing?”

The words fall weakly while you lay on the pillows with your eyes circling in on Geto the whole time he touches your cock, your eyes rolling over to Gojo when he coos words to you talking you through it while your hands tremble pulling at the pillows.

“What we’ve wanted to do since day one [name]”

Suguru hums, leaning in more stroking your cock a little faster and moving his way between your thighs before craning his neck backwards whispering out something to Gojo. Gojo groans and pouts, taking his hands off your body and getting up walking off and out of the room leaving you and Suguru alone.

When Gojo comes back he’s holding a bottle of strawberry flavored Lube, Geto let’s go of your now hard cock and turns you over on your stomach, Gojo tossing Suguru the lube while he squirts the lube all up and down your crack, sitting the lube aside and squishing your cheeks together over and over making the lube smear around in between your cheeks.

“All I can think about is how you’ll taste, I hope Satoru don’t get mad I eat you up first”

Geto leans down kissing your arch and holding your hips sliding them down to your ass cheeks and slowly pulling them apart while grinning up at Gojo, watching the white haired man undoing his slacks and pulling out his cock, Gojo slaps his tip to your lips still soft.

“Toru please-“

“C’mon, suck it hard f’me?”

Before you can respond Geto has his faced buried between your cheeks eating you out like your his last meal, his tongue sliding up and down your crack and back down to your rim.

When your lips part to gasp, Gojo takes that as his chance to shove his cock down your throat making your lips wrap around him gagging and tearing up laying on your stomach with Satoru’s hand reaching down to grab a handful of your locks making you tilt your head back and look up at him.

“How’s it taste [name]?”

You can’t seem to muster a word, feeling Geto’s tongue going flat against your rim and pressing its way inside you while he reaches one hand under you to grab back ahold of your cock, Suguru starts stroking you in time with his tongue while aiming your cock down towards the pillows in jerking motions like he was milking you.

Gojo and Geto share gleaming looks, they were on cloud nine finally getting the intimacy from you they had longed after for years. Gojo thrusts his hips forward slowly making your cheeks bulge with every motion, his cock now fully hardened in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making vibrations around his base when you wail out.

“Poor baby is all delirious isn’t he Satoru?”

Geto smile against your flesh, pressing sloppy wet kisses to your rim rolling his own eyes back at the taste of strawberry and you on his tongue leaving a satisfaction in his stomach with his cock hard under his robes being pressed to his hip.

Gojo keeps stroking your hair before starting to lift your head by your hair and bob your mouth up and down on his cock making you deep throat him to the point your face was buried in his white pubes.

“Sugu—tworu ple~”

Your words come out choppy around his cock. You speak with your mouth full feeling your throat hurting and the hot tears in your eyes streaming down your cheeks being used by the two men unable to put up a fight due to the drugs in your system keeping you weak between the men.

The feeling of Geto’s tongue swirling around your insides makes your head go fuzzy again, you just wanna close your eyes but you can’t because yours are locked on Gojo’s bright blue ones, have they always been as blue as they are now? The look of pleasure on his faces makes knots build in your stomach knowing you’re the cause for his half closed eyes.

“Oh you’re so close aren’t you? Don’t even gotta answer I can tell [name]”

Geto can tell by the way your rim greedily puckers around his tongue and the amounts of precum oozing from your tip that you’re on the verge of your orgasm. His hand keeps working you between your thighs leaving your legs trembling laying on your stomach when a wave of heat floods your whole body making you moan around Gojo’s cock.

Your tip starts to swell angrily under Geto’s thumb, when his tongue laps your prostate it pushes you past your breaking point making you lose it, cumming all over the pillows, staining the purple fabrics with an off white stain making Gojo look down at you with his signature smirk.

“Mhmf— he’s a fuckin squirter Satoru”

“Suguru you should just feel how he’s gagging on me right now-“

They talk about you like you aren’t there, using you for their own pleasures you feel Geto pulling his face from your cheeks with one last lick pulling his tongue out of you leaving your s/c ass all sticky from a mix of spit and lube.

Geto starts lifting up his robes pulling them up over his head throwing them to the side with a smile, wearing black boxer briefs with a prominent bulge inside them with a dark patch of black hair trailing down his abdomen giving Satoru little to the imagination.

Suguru slides his fingers under his boxer waist band pulling them down his thighs allowing his cock to spring forward and press to his stomach.

“I would ask if you’re ready [name] but you probably shouldn’t speak with your mouth full~”

His voice is cold and mocking not giving a damn about Satoru face fucking you like a fleshlight. Suguru pulls your slick cheeks apart again thrusting his cock up and down your crack getting himself lubed up with the mixed substances.

Gojo reached his thumb down tracing over your full cheeks, watching how your throat bulges more and more the deeper he pushes himself inside your mouth fucking your eyes to reverse watching how they looked away from him and into the back of your head with a teary face that could arouse any man.

“I need-air tworu~”

Your drool running down your chin with your cock half limp between your thighs from how Geto jerked you off leaving you already feeling empty. Suguru reaches his hands up and grips your hips tightly nudging his cockhead against your rim watching while it stretches wide in a sad attempt to fit him, his cock feels like it’s tearing you in half.

“Fuck!~ hurts Suguru—“

You gasp when Satoru pulls his cock from your mouth leaving you fishing the purple pillows clenching up around Geto while he lazily pushes in, he doesn’t pay mind to it hurting you, he rubs small circles on your hips before bottoming himself all the way inside you with your rim leaving a little blood in with the lube from being stretched so much you tore.

“Shh, now you know you can take it can’t you [nickname]”

Gojo drops your head letting it fall forward with your teary face in the purple pillows, your lips all swollen and your throat feeling like razors doing nothing but keeping you from screaming anymore. Your voice is weak and all you can do is hold the pillows and let out little squeals around Suguru.

“Suguru- pleasee—“

You get shut up again by Satoru’s cock, he doesn’t tap his tip to your lips like last time, he forced his whole cock back down your drool filled throat making a slobbery mess running down your face while you reach one hand back trying to push Suguru’s hands off your hips.

“Don’t even try it [name] you know better, god you’re still as feisty as the last time I seen you”

Suguru reached one hand forward holding both your wrists tightly leaving promising red marks while he slowly thrusts his hips forward pushing your face more into Satoru’s groin when Suguru starts to fuck you from behind holding you and binding you with his hands keeping you all defenseless but at this point with the way his cock is sliding against your inner walls you can’t even properly think.

“There you go [nickname] you’re so good at this aren’t you? I think he was made for two cocks Suguru”

Gojo’s blindfold hanging around his neck with his large hand around the back of your head holding it in place while he rocks his hips forward making his veins start prodding against the roof of your mouth more showing you he was close.

“Hmfh!~ Toruu”

You whine wanting to reach your hand down and start touching your cock, you needed to come so bad but you couldn’t do anything but depend on them to make sure you got off. Suguru’s cock pressed against your prostate milking your insides with his base stretching your channel to fit his cock like he was trying to mold you.

“Does our boy wanna come that bad?”

Geto asks you with a fake confused tone fucking you a little harder holding your hands behind your back with one hand using the other to reach down and lift your left thigh up forcing his cock inside you at a deeper angle making you feel every vein and curve to his cock.

“Mh hmm-!”

You’re so far gone you can’t bother to care about every messed up thing these men are doing to you, all your mind can process is ‘needa come’ your back arches and you start trying to bob your head under Satoru’s hand trying to earn good graces from him when you look up at him with your wide eyes batting your lashes back and forth like a doll.

“Oh what’s this? I think he’s starting to be a good boy Satoru, you think we should let him come?”

Suguru asks Satoru with a smug smile holding your thigh tight fucking your insides raw with your rim all puffy and wrapped around his cock split open wide now accepting him with ease with the room in the parlor filling up with lewd squelches from the mix of lube and his spit making wet sounds when his hips hit your ass cheeks.

Plap-plap-plap, the sounds silently echo throughout the room while you just stare up at Gojo with a full mouth before feeling his load shoot down your throat spilling all over the back of your throat and running down the roof of your mouth leaving the pungent taste on your lips.

“I think we should let him come Suguru- he’s been actin nice hasn’t he?”

“I think you’re right Toru~ good boys deserve rewards after all”

Geto let’s your arms go reaching back down between your thighs starting to jerk your cock like he did before, fucking you rougher with his chubby cock head pulsing and twitching on your prostate putting a strong pressure in your stomach threatening to break over at any moment.

Satoru’s cock slips out of your mouth letting you finally breath and gasp for air while Gojo stares down at your face stroking his soft cock hard again and aiming it at your fucked out face watching you get pounded from behind by Geto.

“Close- just a little more- suguru pleasee~!”

You start letting out whiny moans and sounds you never new your voice could make when his thumb runs right across your slit, staring up at Gojo the whole time with your teary face ruined and covered in tears and drool with your hair messy from Gojo’s pulling. Geto keeps going bucking his hips forward harshly rutting himself into you going deep as he can pressing his balls to your backside feeling your rim spasming ready to orgasm around him.

When Suguru flicks his wrist holding the base of your cock it sends you over the edge arching your back under him clenching around his cock and holding onto the purple fabric beneath you, orgasming so hard your ears start ringing making everything in the room feel surreal when you come in Geto’s hand.

“There he goes Suguru- oh that’s such a beautiful face you’re making [nickname]”

Your come floods over Suguru’s thumb and spilling onto the pillows under you making you wail and cry at the nearly dry orgasm being pulled from your cock having you stiffening up under the two men with your nose scrunched in a over stimulated pleasure.

“I’m getting close [name], gonna flood these insides”

When Gojo hears those words he starts stroking his cock faster at your face watching his two best fiends fucking eachother with you laying all out of it and fuzzy from the drugs having you limp under Geto when he lets your thigh down to mount you more fucking your motionless body making you feel how his cock nudged you on its own before his flood gates break.

“O-oh hng~ suguru-“

The words come out high pitched and louder than the last when his come floods your anal cavity, the warmth surrounds your prostate in a hot sensation leaving you feeling all bloated and full from his seed, your hole instinctively starts to clench and unclench around him milking the rest of his load out of him while Gojo lets out a groan watching the whole scene play out before him.

“Here it comes [nickname]”

Those words were the only warning that Gojo gave you before his orgasm shoots across your face all over your nose and lips running down your chin, mixing in with your spit and tears leaving you completely ruined from the two men, with two loads in your tummy and another on your face leaving you spent.

“I can’t take no more Toru~ Suguru I can’t-“

“But you gotta [nickname] ! I haven’t even got to feel your hole yet~”

Gojo lets out a whine while Geto lets go of your cock and pulls out of your ass, using his thumb to push any come that oozes from your hole back inside you while he rotates with Gojo letting Satoru get right behind you swapping places, god! At this rate it was gonna be a real long night.

“Toru- I can’t take it”

You droop your head down feeling his hands flipping you over back into your back on the pillows feeling your come stained pillow fabric pressed to your skin making you cringe, Satoru lifts up one of your legs placing it up on his shoulder nudging your sore rim with his cock while Suguru adjusts himself now facing at your head pressing his cock against your come stained lips.

“Don’t lie, we know you can take it [nickname], you were made to take it baby”

“He’s right baby, we know you can handle it”

They don’t take your weak response as an answer, Gojo slowly pushes his cock into your already stretched hole, sliding in easily from Geto’s come and lube. Your chest aiming up at the air arching splayed on your back with your cock red and soft unable to harden from being milked to many times by the men.

Suguru pushes his cock pash your lips delving it into your wet cavern. Your throat bulges again from your now full mouth, your whole body aches and hurts but all you can do is lay still and take it. Gojo gives you no time to rest before he lifts your other leg up in the air holding you in a mating press while jackhammering into you.

“Fuck Suguru, you’re right his hole feels so fucking good”

Geto hums in response shuddering a little when your canines graze over a sensitive vein on the underside of his cock making him reach his hand down choking your throat a little bit as a warning making your fission blur from the lack of oxygen and the way Gojo was fucking you, reaching more spots than Suguru if that was even possible.

“Ah- careful with your teeth baby, don’t chew on it. Suck it”

Your thighs start trembling pressed to your chest with Gojo dipping his face down and burying his face into your pecks like a madman, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. His hips roll forwards lifting and reaching down to pull your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with your moans being gagged by Suguru’s cock.

“T’muush~ too stuffed Suguru~”

You roll your eyes back into your head looking up at Geto above you with your nose pressed to his balls from the angle he was fucking your mouth at leaving Satoru’s cum all smeared across your face like a sticky mess. Your cock half limp and tender against your inner thigh while it rests on your stomach leaking a little puddle.

“You sucked Satoru off fine, I think you can handle me too [name], now don’t start acting defiant again on us”

The way Geto spoke to you made you whine sadly unable to fight either of them, the drug still in your system and the way they were trying to consume your body whole left you mute sucking on his cock while Gojo pressed his chest up against yours making your toes curl up when he thrusts forward and nails your sweet spot head on.

“Don’t be so mean to him Suguru, he’s just about used up S’ all”

Satoru coos out to Suguru while he makes the pillows dip under the shared weight of him on top of you, Geto’s come swirling around your insides and trickling down your thighs around the base of Gojo’s cock while Gojo bites down on your nipple again only pulling his mouth off of your flesh to speak.

“I’m getting close [name], do’ you want it down your throat or face?”

Geto asks looking down at you feeling his balls drawing up against your cheek signaling he was close to his peak. Gojo on the other hand didn’t care about Suguru’s orgasm, he was too busy trying to chase his own inside your stomach. Your rim starts burning and stinging from being used and gaping around a cock for so long leaving you in painful pleasure.

“On m’ face~”

You whimper out quietly just not wanting to have to taste another load or feel more come inside your stomach. Reaching one hand down whining when you start to touch your cock, it felt like touching a stiff rod, your hand slowly moved up and down it crying to have to pull another orgasm but you needed to come so bad.

“You can’t do that [nickname] you gotta come from me or Suguru, so no touchin yourself”

Before you can respond or complain Satoru has his free hand slipping off your hip and down onto your cock, quickly swatting your hand away from it. His strokes aren’t gentle like yours were, his are fast and unorganized like his thrusts are. Gojo takes his mouth off your nipple and shoves his face in your neck while Suguru keeps fucking your mouth, his thrusts slow down pulling out of your mouth with his cock jumping on its own.

“There we go [name] see what you do to us?”

Your ass feels sore and red from hips slapping against them over and over but before you can complain a hot load shoots all over your face spilling into your eyelashes and into your mouth making you taste his come, he tasted sweeter than Gojo, his semen more thick and less opaque than Satoru’s.

“I’m getting close Sa-Toruu~”

Your voice cracks from a sore face fucked throat, your lips are all sticky and cracked in the corners from opening your mouth too wide, your lips part and ho agape making an ‘O’ shape when Gojo bites at the crook of your neck licking over the red marks he’s leaving on your S/c skin.

Your abdomen starts feeling hotter and more tense making you sweat underneath Satoru when his cock teases your insides making your legs feel like jello up in the air with your knees bent over his shoulders. By the way Gojo was tensing up and the muscles of his shoulders stiffened beneath your finger nails you could tell he was about to come.

“Me too- you’re just milking it out of me [nickname]”

His hand works harder and faster against your cock making you groan starting to orgasm shaking and crying with hardly any semen able to spill from you. Your tip starts leaking barely any pre come, you begin orgasming dry making Geto smile above you happy to know they had milked your body dry, Suguru reaches his hand down stroking your cheek while Gojo plows you between your thighs making the room spin through your eyes.

Soon the feeling of warmth in your gut hits you again letting you know Satoru had just found his release inside you, his semen seeping out of you overflowing your hole leaving the thin strings of his come running down your thighs and staining the pillows beneath the two of you.

“Toruu.. I’m soo sore-“

You whisper out under him reaching one hand up to his neck and grabbing his hair with your other hand still on his shoulder. Rolling your eyes forwards looking up at Suguru with your insides flooded and your face ruined- god you can’t handle these two insane men- They’re something else!

[bomber-grl]

Main 6 - Cuddle Headcanons

PAIRING(S): Asra Alnazar x Gn!Reader, Julian Devorak x Gn!Reader, Nadia Satrinava x Gn!Reader, Muriel x Gn!Reader, Portia x Gn!Reader, Lucio x Gn!Reader

.

Cuddling positions are practically never ending with Asra. They love to just be close to you and doesn’t have much of a preference.

However, there are some cuddle positions that are preferred after a long day of existing.

One of them is him laying on your chest. Usually this is your way of helping them unwind, especially when you massage his scalp and play with his hair.

Other than that, just hearing your heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of your chest comforts them, even after all that’s happened.

Then there’s the time when he just wants to show you that he loves you.

This usually prompts them to start kissing you all over your face and you end up falling into his arms, all bundled up by the warm blankets.

Honestly overall, they just love to cuddle in bed with you and whatever position you two end up laying in

Even if it isn’t always the same position you wake up in

Also bonus points if you end up letting Faust cuddle up with you two, she does get cold sometimes yknow

Which she most likely always does end up doing

In Nadia’s route, it’s noted that there is only once bed in the shop so it’s likely Asra and you share it even when you’re not cuddling

So most times he’d fall asleep from exhaustion near you, with faust slithering on him

Probably hugs you around your waist too

And if you try to strike a “sexy” pose he’ll laugh and play along

The worst

Ofc he’s not actually the worst Lucio still exists but the way he cuddles at times is a hit or miss

Especially since most times he ends up sprawling his limbs out wherever they can, usually ending up on top of you unless you spoon him.

When it’s actually enjoyable to cuddle with him, most times he enjoys being spooned or mutual holding.

We all know how self deprecating he is so might as well show him how well he can be loved, even if you’re shorter or smaller, that’s no excuse

Just don’t mind his long limbs

Regardless of how you choose to hold him, he’ll always hold onto you back. Now on the other end of the spectrum where it’s damn near torture-

He has no regard for you- in his sleep at least

Like bro is genuinely squishing you with his limbs, and you can’t even move them because you’re trapped 💔

He probably unknowingly hogs the blanket too since he’s slipped off the bed more times than he’d like to admit and has taken the blanket with him.

He has all his weight on it, making damn near impossible to get the blanket from under him, leaving you shivering and timbering in the cold

If you’d prefer to be the one held then he’d be more than happy to 😭 just be prepared for him to be pretty flustered by being the one “in charge”

He does apologize to you when he wakes up if he’s been squishing you, etc etc though

Mother

She definitely one of the LI that are on the podium of best cuddlers. she holds you so warm and tight it’s honestly the best.

She is not the type to be all that physically affectionate, which is honestly a bummer because her hugs and cuddles are the best ever.

Often times at the end of an exhausting day as countess, she loves to spoil you and hold you in her arms.

She’s more than happy to massage your scalp or shoulders, even feeding you some fruit would be sufficient

Sleep wise, she’s as elegant as she is when she’s awake. Her hair is somehow perfect (must be the rose colored lenses talking-) and she’s not a blanket hogger of any kind

She’s really considerate even in her sleep and she’ll randomly wake up in the middle of the night and look for you

If you’re not covered by the blanket, she’ll tuck you in and go back to bed.

Either that or she’ll also hold you in her arms depending on if she believes that you want your space.

Now, if you’re more a sprawler, always falling off the bed, or just not that pretty of a sleeper she find it super endearing

She’ll literally get up from her cozy place on the bed to help you back up. Even going as far as carrying you if that’s what would be more comfortable.

Now, we all know Nadia prefers to be the one “in charge” she prefers to pamper and that’s alright.

But, if you prefer to also show her your affection that same way she’ll be more than happy to oblige- although it’ll be done with a blush.

When cuddling Muriel is super gentle and is hyper aware because of his larger stature, making him scared at the possibility of hurting you.

Which, you have to reassure him would never happen because you’d be happy to be crushed by him

With your constant reassurance and how often you tend to flop yourself on top of him, he eventually just gets used to it.

Cuddle wise, he’s usually big spoon for obvious reasons, he’ll hold you against his chest too along with Inanna being sandwiched by you both.

Again, you tend to be the one laying on him and when he chooses to sleep on his back, you’re laying on his chest and just absorbing his warmth.

I think it’d be obvious, but Muriel would also enjoy being held aswell. When you confront him with the idea he’s flustered because not only has he never considered it but he’s so touch starved.

If you have him lay his head on your chest, being held in your arms or even go as far as have him be little spoon, well his blush is out of this world.

If anything, he’s just happy that you’d want him to feel loved, as if you being around him isn’t enough

It isn’t

He’s basically beet red and he just accepts the affection ,laying there with you because again, he loves it.

Whenever/ if he tries to argue and say that he’s too big or whatever just say that you want him 🔛🔝 of you and just watch him squirm and get so flustered that he forgets

He ends up inevitably bringing it up again, so just cuddle the man

Sleep wise, Muriel is also really considerate. He tries not to take as much space and if you end up subconsciously tugging a blanket that he’s on, he’ll immediately move to give it to you.

Treat him well.

Yes, yes, yes, just yes

She’s the absolute best person to cuddle with, she’s such a cuddle bug and honestly neither of you guys have a preference most times and so it ends in just cuddling however.

Most times it’s either of you on the others chest. Mostly it’s Portia that enjoys having you rest on her and she enjoys playing with your hair or just massaging your scalp.

She’s more than happy to be the big spoon if that’s what you prefer, maybe she’d even tease you for being so “bold” as to ask.

Ironic considering that the instant that you insist on coddling her she’s flushed from head to toe.

Literally almost literally every time you two cuddle she’ll always put a leg over you.

Just a quirk of hers that you’ve noticed and a definite plus is how warm she is which causes you to cling to her.

Which definitely warrants some teasing for clinging onto her like some koala. She finds it endearing though and is definitely worth is since she ends up peppering kisses all over your face

W

Is it really cuddling with Portia if you exclude Pepi? No, no it’s not

Pepi is so cute!! It’s a well known fact and she’ll always end up crawling and making her way through the bundle of blankets to rest her little self in between you and Portia.

Sleep wise, Portia is also a hit or miss 😭

She’ll either cling to you in her sleep while also being considerate so it’s not bothersome

Or she’ll sleep lazily and drool a bit, causing her to be a bit embarrassed once she finally wakes up.

The worst motherfucker to cuddle with, EVER (up to interpretation whether it’s said with love)

Not likely)

Like he sleeps in either of two ways and neither of them are necessarily the best.

The first way is him being all lovey dovey and cuddly with you while the second one makes you wish death (again) upon him.

The first one is admittedly really nice. He’s in your arms and just being the needy, clingy bastard we all know Lucio to be.

It’s not so nice because of how this doesn’t change even during the summer time. You’ll definitely end up getting a heatstroke because of him clinging onto you one day.

That’s just the first way though.

The second way is him being sprawled out all over you without a care in the world.

His limbs are so freaking heavy too, it’s not like you could escape even if you desperately wanted to.

Worst part? He steals the fucking blanket all the time

Literally refuses to let go of his weirdly tight grip on the blanket in his sleep, leaving you shivering and timbering all night.

And then he has the audacity of getting mad at you for pushing him off the bed.

Smh

That’s all i have on this fucker

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. call it the end ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis it’s been months since the livestream that altered your relationship with daniela and the members take matters into their own hands to rekindle your guys’ relationship.

disclaimer: pt3 of “you get me so high” (fluff version), slight angst, fluff, here’s pt2 - angst version see…sorta inspired by parent trap but i actually cannot remember that movie for the life of me so it might actually not be…inspired by parent trap 😭😭😭

currently playing: call it the end - rosé

the fallout isn’t loud.

you don’t scream. you don’t block her. you just stop giving her pieces of yourself.

you stop waiting for her texts. you start sitting farther away in rehearsals. you leave before she can find you backstage.

you stop looking at her like you’re still hoping she’ll choose you.

and she notices.

it’s in the way her voice wavers during vocal runs when you don’t meet her eyes. in the way she stays behind after practices, watching you walk out of the room without turning back. in the way her laugh rings hollow now, like she’s trying to convince herself she’s still happy.

the others notice too.

manon sees it first. she’s always watching.

lara sees it in your posture.

sophia’s the one who says it out loud, during a late-night takeout run when the three of them are waiting for their orders.

“okay,” she says, staring at the pickup counter. “is it just me or do they both look, like, dead inside?”

“it’s not just you,” lara sighs. “i heard crying in the bathroom after rehearsal two days ago. don’t know which one it was, but...”

manon peels the wrapper off her straw. “it’s both of them. they’re just miserable in shifts.”

“you’d think after all this time they’d get over themselves and talk,” sophia mutters.

“they’re not gonna,” manon says. “not unless we do something.”

lara raises an eyebrow. “like what?”

manon shrugs. “i dunno. trap them in a room until they work their shit out?”

sophia looks way too into the idea. “no wait…seriously. like... do it old-school. lock the door. no one leaves until someone cries.”

manon glances at lara, who’s already nodding. “they’re useless. it’s time.”

—

they do it after practice.

manon times it perfectly. she pulls dani aside and says, “hey, can you grab my jacket in the second vocal room?” sophia asks you to check for her phone charger in the same place. lara pretends she forgot her speaker.

you both walk in, separately, at almost the same moment.

you freeze when you see her.

she freezes when she sees you.

then the door slams shut behind you. click.

locked.

you whip around. “what the-?”

manon’s voice is heard from the other side. “you’re welcome!” “we’ll be back in an hour!” you hear sophia yell out, followed by lara. “don’t kill each other!”

then silence.

daniela is sitting on the edge of the platform riser. she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week. you stand by the wall, arms crossed, heart pounding in your ears.

at first, neither of you say anything. the air is thick. full of unsaid things. heavy with the weight of everything that never got to be love.

finally, daniela breaks the silence. her voice is small, careful.

“why have you been ignoring me?”

you laugh, but it’s cold. “you can’t be serious.”

she winces. “i mean- i know you’ve been mad. but… not like this.”

you look at her slowly, exhaustion pooling in your chest.

“you said you were straight,” you say. “on a livestream. with me right next to you. and you acted like what we had, like i, didn’t mean anything.”

daniela opens her mouth, but you hold up your hand.

“you don’t get it,” you continue, voice trembling. “i gave you everything. i let you into parts of me i’ve never let anyone near. and you didn’t even hesitate to shut it all down.”

tears prick at your eyes, and you hate how easy it is for them to fall now.

“you laughed. you laughed and said you were straight like i was just another joke to you. like i wasn’t someone you were crawling into bed with every night.”

daniela flinches. she’s crying now too.

“i wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“well you did,” you say, voice breaking. “and you never apologized. you just left me to figure it out alone. i was humiliated, dani. i didn’t want to be your secret. i wanted to be your person.”

daniela stands up. steps closer. desperate now.

“you are my person,” she says. “i just, i didn’t know how to say it. i was scared. everything in me was screaming to say something but i panicked. and then when you stopped talking to me i thought maybe you were just... done.”

you wipe your face. “i was trying to protect myself. because loving you hurt. because you made me feel like i was something to be ashamed of.”

her voice cracks. “you’re not. you never were.”

“then why didn’t you fight for me?”

“i didn’t know how,” she says. “but i want to now.” you hesitate. it’s still raw. still so broken in places.

“you really think it’s that simple?” you whisper. “that you can just show up now and everything will be okay?”

daniela drops to her knees in front of you. her hands shake as she reaches for yours but doesn’t touch, just hovers.

“i love you,” she says. “i love you so much it makes everything else feel smaller. and i want to try again. out loud. publicly. with you. if you’ll let me. if you can still let me in.”

you look at her. really look.

she’s not hiding anymore. not even a little.

and finally, finally, she whispers, “we don’t have to call it the end.”

your walls don’t fall in one go. but you let her take your hand. and you let yourself hope.

—

the next few days feel different. lighter. real.

you don’t talk about it with the others, but they know. you walk a little closer to each other again. daniela doesn’t reach for your hand in secret anymore.

you laugh at her again. you let her touch you in front of people. you even let her kiss your cheek backstage, once, when she thought no one was looking, but manon definitely was, and she winked like a menace.

you don’t say the word “together” out loud. but it lives in the space between your smiles.

a couple days later, you’re doing a chill livestream with daniela, manon, and lara, promoting gnarly, answering questions, teasing each other.

it feels like it used to. better, even.

daniela reaches across you to grab a hair clip from the table, and says without thinking, “love, can you pass me that notebook?”

you go still.

manon and lara freeze too. wide-eyed.

daniela doesn’t even blink. she’s completely casual. like she didn’t just drop the word love in front of tens of thousands of fans.

you glance at her, stunned, then you smile. huge. real. “of course, my love.”

and you hand her the notebook without breaking eye contact.

manon immediately makes a fake gagging noise. lara dramatically falls back onto the couch, muttering “i’m gonna be sick.”

daniela just grins. you laugh.

and this time, no one hides. no one runs.

maybe this is what it means to start again. not from scratch,

but from something earned.

a/n: idk which version i like better 😣 anywhooo this concludes ‘you get me so high’ thank you to everyone who was, for some reason, interested in this also idk why..but when i was writing this, i started thinking abt parent trap. i haven’t watched that movie in YEARS so i went by memory 😭😭😭

[miwiheroes]

Mike Wheeler and his Promise

"It means something that you can't break. Ever."

A huge part of Mike Wheeler's hidden character arc is set up in season 1, episode 2 with this scene right here. It's pretty much the motivation behind many of his actions towards El and Will, can be a partial explanation for his internalised homophobia and explains why he seems like to have a saviour complex.

Narratively, promises are made to be broken. When writers decide to make a promise 'important' and emphasise that this promise cannot be broken, ever, it will always come back to bite that character in the ass. Promises are either made to be broken in stories like these, or they are made to make a character feel trapped. Promises are rarely ever used in a romantic fashion unless the character cannot keep their promise or they feel like they are forced to.

What makes it really seem like Mike and El are a doomed couple to me is that the writers chose Mike to say: Ever.

No word is misplaced in writing a script. There is no such thing as an unintentional line in Stranger Things tbh, and this word in particular means two things:

Mike will always keep his promises throughout time.

Mike will keep his promises no matter if circumstances change, no matter if his feelings change.

There is no reason for this line to be in there other than to foreshadow the fact that Mike will eventually have to eat the words from his naive 12-year-old self. He will eventually regret promising something, but he'll feel like he can't go back. Ever.

The domino effect Promise begins:

*Smiling* "And we can go to the Snow Ball."

*Smiling* "Promise?"

*No longer smiling* "Promise."

This promise was made in order to foreshadow that it doesn't come true right? Because that is often what happens to promises narratively, and of course, it can't come to be because they get separated and Mike thinks she's died.

But.... the promise does come true.

So instead, this promise was made, narratively, to trap Mike. While this seems harsh of course, this young Mike has no idea that what he has just promised to himself is not only to go to the Snow Ball with El (which was a promise made to comfort her here, to make her feel like she will survive). He doesn't necessarily seem happy about making this promise. He seems more... indifferent. Knowing that this is something he just has to do.

Yeah, because this is definitely the actors' expressions and lighting and scenery you want for a first kiss, right?

So not only has Mike promised to go to the Snow Ball with her, he has also promised to save her, he has promised to be with her. And he can't break this promise, ever.

Even when his feelings change:

The writers separated Mike and El and put Mike with Will in season 2 for a reason. They used it to build up a good development of Mike and Will's dynamic of course, but it was also to change Mike's feelings.

It eventually becomes apparent to the viewer that Mike has resigned himself to not finding El. In season 2 episode 2, the last time we see Mike on the walkie, he walks away. Music swells and El looks onwards. Instead of looking happy, she seems disappointed that her bond with Mike is not as strong as she thought.

Mike, after his talk with Will in the same room, has begun to give up.

And over time, he figures out that maybe... maybe finding and choosing to Will's friend is the best thing he's ever done instead. Once he figures this out, he cries, he's not loud, he's not angry. But it's at least the thing to bring Will's message forward.

Then El comes back, and Mike feels like a liar.

I've never really figured out why Mike shouts 'LIAR!' many times towards Hopper when he's clearly projecting as he starts to cry. Until now. It's the guilt that he didn't keep his promise. The promise he had made back when El had almost died, back when El had clearly thought promises could never be broken. EVER. Even when feelings change.

Of course he'd felt pissed at Hopper. Hopper was the one to keep El safe, not Mike, which is not the thing he had promised.

When El returns, Mike says:

"I never stopped looking for you."

Woops, Michael, that's a bald-faced lie, and you know it. But he also knows what a promise is, something that can't ever be broken.

Mike is now committed into this relationship. He's ready to keep El as his girlfriend for many reasons, but the next commitments he makes (i.e. saying 'I love you') are not intentional.

In season 3:

Saying 'I love her' happens on accident, she's never meant to hear. The next time he's asked about it, he fumbles and wants to deny ever saying it. But when El says it back, he realises... oh shit. I really am in this now. I can't escape, even though I know my feelings are different.

In the famous words of Hopper. "I don't want things to change." "[I want] to go back to how [we] were."

Throughout summer, before the Mindflayer, his relationship with El was easy, it was fine. He could deal with this because he can still go to movie theatres with Will and his friends and El can't go out in public. His relationship isn't real, and the fights they have are just 'silly, stupid fights'.

But then she says she loves him too and now what? He realises this is real, he can't go back on what he's said again. Because no matter what, a promise can't be broken.

Now:

He has to reject childish things and pretend to be 'normal' (but only around El).

He has to keep away from Will, who has the potential to break his promise to El forever.

He still can't say 'I love you' because of this great big commitment, this potential for change, and El clocks him, despite his best efforts to keep up the same relationship he was trying to have in season 3.

When he no longer has the threat of this great big PROMISE looming over him, when he feels that El has no broken up with him through that note signed 'From, El', he now suddenly has the ability to act close to Will. When he's confident that El's safe and that they just need to get back to Hawkins, he's able to express how he really feels.

He can finally, finally work with Will without feeling guilty.

That is, until El's in danger again. Until Argyle reminds him of the ramifications of his girlfriend being missing, reminding him of the promise that he's always made.

That's when this intimacy with Will suddenly feels taboo again:

The next time he needs to make a commitment towards her, it's through pressure. The bottom line is, Mike likes being a hero, he wants to be a saviour, but he was never ready for it to feel like this.

When Will reminds him that he's the heart of the Party in Surfer Boy Pizza, he believes that it could never be Will that needs him, but that Will's telling him that it really is El that still needs him. And that she always will.

So he holds her hand, exactly like he did back in season one, and makes his Promise again, this time, knowing that he's trapping himself.

Now, instead of a naive kid, he's a teenager, he's changed, despite not wanting to. He's resigning himself to a life without truly being able to express his feelings. He's not just some kid going to the Snow Ball with a girl that he cares about, he's promising to love her, knowing he's trapped himself in this promise again.

After all, he's already promised to save her, and if he thinks saying 'I love you' will save her, he's gotta do it no matter his true feelings right?

In season 5, someone, someone needs to tell this poor boy that he does not need to keep his promise. El needs to tell him about her growth, what she has learned from her time at the lab---that is, that she does not need Mike to love her, which she seems to have understood. She has already accepted that her lover won't arrive at the train station.

And Mike should realise that saying 'I love you' did not in fact save El. It was the reminder to fight, that Max is in trouble, that there are more important things, bigger than their relationship, that allowed her to escape the vines.

So when Mike hears that he no needs to keep up this promise, that he no longer has to hate himself for being a 'liar' to someone he cares so much about, that he can open himself up to happiness and understanding again, he'll probably feel pretty complete.

What do you think?

[marie95disneygirl]

Good analysis. And it annoys me that only the people who hated the original Tangled movie seem to hate the series as much as I do, even though it should be the fans of the original movie because the series ruins all the characters, messages of the tale and the romance.

This almost convinces me that most fans of both the movie and the series don't have enough analytical thinking capacity either to see the differences and the problems. Most of these people can't look deeper and assume that Flynn is just another bad boy who turns good for a girl even though in the movie it was clearly stated that his whole Flynn Rider personality was just an act, a defense mechanism to survive and Rapunzel just helped him return to his real personality. And these people just accept that his backstory was retroactively rewritten and that the show pretended that the Flynn Rider act was his real personality because they apparently never really understood the campfire scene. Just like the people who hate the original movie.

These fans were also okay with Rapunzel regrowing her hair and cutting it off herself because they never understood the climax either and instead agreed with the haters of the original movie about things that were never problems in the first place. In my opinion, Tangled had one of the best climaxes of all the Disney movies.

Fans of the series and haters of the original movie also seem like the same people to me. They just don't understand that the original message of this fairy tale and the Tangled movie was that love can liberate you from abusive parents. That’s why The Little Mermaid (and the original tale of Petrosinella) still resonates. Because they tell the truth: love can be an escape from abuse, not a trap. A husband doesn’t make a woman weak. And choosing marriage doesn’t mean giving up freedom — sometimes, it means finally finding it.

Disney rewrote the truth of the fairy tales to serve a modern narrative that says marriage is always oppression for women — unless it gives them power, a crown, or a throne. And it broke something sacred in the process.

And yes, I am fully convinced they should have broken up Rapunzel and Flynn for good after that terrible series. But they didn't because modern Disney refuses to fully choose a side, they try to please everyone and often please no one in the process. They pandered to these "progressives" by framing marriage as a prison for women but still kept Rapunzel and Flynn as a couple because romance sells better. That's the main reason why modern Disney infuriates me so much. I mean, I would have of course completely hated it if they would have went that route (denounce marriage as an institution and have the heroine become the Evil Queen) but the series made me hate them so much as a couple that I really would have preferred a break up. And then I would have also had more respect for Disney for being brave. But things being what they are, I think Disney are such cowards who are only after money, that's why they refuse to fully choose a side.

And yes, if they made the Tiana series, they would also completely destroy Tiana and Naveen's romance but would still keep them as a couple, maybe break them up for one episode and then have them get back together right away without communicating. I'm so glad we were spared of that series and I'm also kind of glad that Disney abandoned hand drawn animation, because that means we won't get an awful PATF 2 or more direct to video quality sequels of the older movies with this pseudo progressiveness. I don't think any sequels from Disney could be good nowadays. And I think the reason is that people can't see that all the problems started with Frozen.

I’ll always treasure the original Tangled. But for me, the story ends with the wedding short. If people force the series as canon, then I’ll believe Flynn died and that the version in the series is just a body with his memories — not his soul. Because the man I saw in the movie deserved better than the story he was given in that show, just like movie-Rapunzel.

Ariel Is a Far Stronger and More Feminist Character Than Series-Rapunzel—and It’s Time People Acknowledge That

I decided to also write a defense post about Ariel, my favorite princess.

It honestly frustrates me to no end how Ariel is constantly mischaracterized as "weak" or "anti-feminist" when in reality, she’s one of the strongest, most independent princesses Disney has ever created. She had an abusive and controlling father who tried to crush her dreams and limit her world—and she still found the courage to fight for freedom, for love, and for her own voice. And yet, Ariel is so often torn down, while series-Rapunzel is bizarrely praised for treating love like a prison and her partner like a burden.

Ariel wanted to live on land long before she met Eric. Her dream of freedom and exploration wasn’t driven by romance—it was hers alone. But when she did fall in love, she was allowed to embrace it fully. She saw marriage as liberation, not a cage. She never once treated Eric as her enemy, or as someone holding her back. In fact, her love gave her the strength to break free from her toxic family dynamics and finally live life on her own terms. That is empowering. And that is exactly what the original Rapunzel/ Petrosinella tale was about too—a girl escaping an abusive parental figure through love and marriage, not in spite of it.

But somehow, Disney decided to completely trash that message with series-Rapunzel. Suddenly, marriage is framed as a prison, and Rapunzel—a girl who spent 18 years locked in a literal tower—has nightmares about being with a man who would literally die for her. Instead of escaping an oppressive environment, she stays with her abusive parents because they’re “her real family,” while pushing away the one person who actually supported her and gave her a way out. And people applaud this? Call it feminist?

Ariel was also traumatized—she lived under constant fear, was gaslit by her father, and punished for being different. But she never turned that trauma into cruelty. She never lashed out at Eric, never used him as an emotional punching bag, never called marriage a trap. Meanwhile, Rapunzel in the series treats Flynn like a villain just for loving her. And yet, people constantly excuse her toxic behavior because she’s “traumatized”—while simultaneously blaming Ariel for wanting to escape her father’s control and painting her as “selfish” for leaving. Why is Ariel’s rebellion villainized and Rapunzel’s coldness glorified?

Not only that, but series-Rapunzel only stops fearing marriage after she learns Flynn is secretly a prince. So we’re just okay with that? We’re okay with her subconsciously believing he isn’t good enough until he turns out to be royalty? That’s classicism, plain and simple—and it gets even worse when you remember her so-called “best friend” mocks Flynn for his poor background and Rapunzel says nothing.

Meanwhile, Ariel fell in love with a human prince while having nothing to offer him. She was voiceless, homeless, and desperate—but still believed in love and fought for it. She didn’t care about class, about status, or about control. She just loved him, and believed that love could save her. And you know what? It did.

And the best part? Ariel doesn’t go back. She’s not punished for choosing love. She doesn’t get forced to stay under the sea with an abusive father just because of blood ties. She’s allowed to leave, to grow, to change, to live. That is what real empowerment looks like—not staying stuck in trauma, not rejecting love out of fear, not mistreating your partner because you haven’t healed.

Ariel is stronger than series-Rapunzel. Full stop. She didn’t let trauma turn her into an abuser. She didn’t need someone to be rich or royal to love them. She chased her dreams, fought for her freedom, and still had enough heart left to believe in love. That is not weakness—it’s power. It’s strength. It’s real feminism.

Honestly, it’s a miracle Disney didn’t use the Hans Christian Andersen ending for the live-action remake—because punishing Ariel for loving a man would have fit too neatly into their new narrative: that women can only be strong if they reject love, softness, and vulnerability. But Ariel proves them wrong. She always has.

Ariel will always be the strongest and most feminist princess to me. And no amount of revisionist writing or false empowerment will ever change that.

[aeniiverse]

FLIRTING SHOULDN’T BE THIS LOUD

Synopsis — You never meant to fall for Giselle. In fact, you were pretty sure she was just a walking fire hazard with a soft spot for chaos, gas station snacks, and frog memes. But somewhere between her fake serenades, vintage bike crashes, and wildly public declarations of love, you find yourself kind of…maybe…very much down bad.

Contains — fluff, Excessive use of pet names, Cringe levels may spike during public serenades, Unhinged romance energy, Slight injury risk due to rental bike chaos, Characters are dangerously down bad, No emotional preparedness for frog hoodie proposals

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

A/N — Hi! Okay so like disappeared for a while, and might for a longer while idk TT

The universe had a funny way of choosing its favorites.

You noticed this most when you were sitting two rows behind Giselle in class, watching her laugh at something stupid her friend said while the entire room tilted slightly in her direction like even gravity was kind of into her.

She was the kind of girl who got away with saying things like “I didn’t study but I still got an A” without anyone punching her. The kind of girl who showed up to school late, with coffee in one hand and an apology you somehow forgave before she even said it. Teachers liked her. People liked her. Even the vending machine liked her. it once spat out two KitKats when she only paid for one.

You didn’t dislike her, of course. You just didn’t get her.

And that was exactly what drove Giselle insane.

Because Giselle, reigning champion of chaotic charm and queen of unintentional thirst traps on her Instagram story, had been flirting with you for the past three weeks.

Or! she thought she was flirting. You, apparently, were just “really nice” and “maybe a little dense” according to Ningning, who had been keeping track of Giselle’s tragic attempts in a Notes app titled “Giselle vs the Brick Wall (Y/N).”

Today was no different.

You were at your locker, calmly placing your textbooks in by size and subject like the mild perfectionist you were, when Giselle swooped in like a dramatic tornado of vanilla perfume and chaos.

“Y/N!” she greeted you like she hadn’t seen you literally forty-five minutes ago in bio. “Crazy question. Be honest, if I were a frog, would you still think I’m hot?”

You blinked. “I mean. I guess you’d be a pretty frog?”

She clutched her chest like you’d proposed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You gave her a polite smile. “You’re welcome?”

Giselle, in her brain, was batting a thousand. Compliment? Secured. Heart rate? Elevated. Eye contact? Brief but memorable.

You, in your brain, were wondering whether you remembered to submit that chem assignment.

“Anyway,” she leaned against the locker next to yours, clearly not planning to leave, “I was thinking. Saturday. We should hang out. Just the two of us. Like a date but, you know, casual. Unless you want it to be a date. No pressure. Total pressure. Whatever you want.”

You shut your locker, thoughtful. “Oh. Are you trying to do the introvert adoption thing?”

“The what?”

“You know. That thing popular people do when they adopt a quiet friend so they can feel mysterious by association.”

Giselle stared at you, dumbfounded. “You think I’m trying to adopt you?”

You shrugged. “I mean, if you want to interview a few other quiet candidates, I totally get it. There’s this girl in calculus who doesn’t even talk to the teacher—”

“No, no, no. Y/N.” Giselle laughed, then immediately tried to recover. “I’m not trying to make you my emotional support introvert. I’m literally asking you out.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence. You stared at her. She stared back. Giselle was mentally shaking you by the shoulders.

You tilted your head. “Like, out out?”

Giselle almost slammed her head into your locker. “YES. Like… date. Romance. I bring you flowers and pretend I don’t stalk your Instagram every night kind of ‘out.’”

“Oh.” You paused again. “Do you want to see my cat?”

Giselle opened her mouth. Closed it. Took a breath. “...Is that a yes?”

“I think so,” you said.

Giselle walked away grinning so wide she nearly tripped over her own feet. Meanwhile, you stood there still trying to process whether the interaction meant you now had plans Saturday or if she just really, really liked frogs.

You met again at the cafe downtown, the one with the weird chairs and overpriced drinks that Giselle insisted was “aesthetic.” She got there first, naturally, in a cropped hoodie and cargo pants that should’ve looked lazy but instead looked like a Pinterest board. You arrived in your “nicest” hoodie, which you’d pulled out of the laundry bin and sniffed twice before deciding it didn’t smell that bad.

She greeted you with a grin and a wave like you hadn’t just seen each other yesterday. “Hey! You came!”

“You told me to,” you said, confused.

“I know,” she said, leaning her cheek against her palm. “Just didn’t expect it to work.”

You stared at the menu, pretending not to notice how she was definitely looking at you and not the options. “So… what are we doing here?”

“Getting coffee?” she offered.

“Right, right.” You nodded seriously. “Is this, like, a coffee coffee hangout or a flirty coffee hangout?”

Giselle choked on air. “I—what—Y/N, this is the date.”

“Ohhhh.”

“You forgot?”

“No!” You looked guilty. “I just thought maybe you changed your mind. Or maybe it was a social experiment. You seem like someone who’d do that.”

Giselle dropped her face onto the table. “Oh my God. I’m going to lose my mind.”

You reached for your wallet, unaware that you were unintentionally stepping on her heart every five seconds. “Well, I’m still here. So. That’s good, right?”

Giselle straightened, grinning with the slightly unhinged energy of someone whose crush just called her a frog and then invited her to meet their cat. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blinked. “You think I’m cute?”

“I’m literally on a date with you.”

“Oh,” you said, then paused. “Do you want to see a video of my cat chasing a laser pointer?”

Giselle nodded wordlessly, completely whipped, as you showed her a six-second clip of your chonky tabby skidding across hardwood. She cooed. “I love him. I would die for him. I’d go to war.”

“Please don’t,” you said seriously. “He wouldn’t survive without me.”

Giselle wanted to scream. Mostly because you said that with the kind of sincere expression that made her chest do weird gymnastics.

Later, as you two walked back toward campus, she slowed her steps, shoving her hands in her pockets and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“So,” she said casually, “was this a successful introvert adoption?”

You squinted at her. “Giselle.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you back now.”

She stopped walking.

“I mean,” you continued, “I’m not great at this stuff, but I think I do. Like, when you asked me if I’d still think you were hot as a frog, I got flustered and went home and made a pros and cons list about dating you.”

Giselle stared. “What was on it?”

“Pro: Very pretty. Con: Slightly unhinged.”

She laughed, loud and bright, and threw an arm around your shoulders. “That’s fair. I’ll take it.”

And you, oblivious no more, smiled like the sun had finally risen just for you.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but by the following week, you were officially Giselle’s girlfriend.

The news spread fast.

You didn’t post about it, of course. You didn’t even tell anyone. But it didn’t matter. Somehow the entire school knew. Ningning gave you a thumbs up in the hallway. Karina winked at you and whispered, “Nice catch.” Even the calculus girl, the one who didn’t speak, gave you a very solemn nod when you passed her in the library.

Apparently, dating Giselle meant inheriting her social reach like some kind of chaotic royalty.

And Giselle? Giselle was thriving.

She held your hand in the cafeteria. She texted you in all caps even when you were sitting right across from her. She started using dumb pet names like “muffin” and “my emotional support genius.” She posted blurry selfies of you with captions like “look at my baby being smart” even when the photo was just you blinking at a worksheet.

Still, it was… nice. Unexpectedly, annoyingly, stomach-flippingly nice.

Especially the way she’d look at you like she couldn’t believe her luck. Like she’d won some grand prize just by making you laugh. Like she was trying not to smile too hard whenever you called her “Giselle” instead of “oh hey, you.”

Your second date was on a Friday.

You expected coffee again. Maybe a movie. Something normal.

What you got was a very dramatic text message at 2 p.m. that said: “Clear your schedule. I’m taking you on a romantic adventure. Pack snacks.”

You replied, “Are we robbing a bank?”

She said, “Maybe.”

So naturally, you showed up at the park with a water bottle, some chips, and a vague sense of concern.

What you found was Giselle, standing next to two very beat-up rental bikes with a bouquet of gas station flowers and a pair of sunglasses that looked like they were stolen from a cartoon villain.

You stared at her. “We’re biking?”

“Yes,” she said proudly. “It’s romantic.”

“These bikes look like they were forged in the 80s.”

She patted one. “Vintage. Aesthetic. Shut up.”

You didn’t shut up. Not even when she nearly fell off hers trying to impress you by riding one-handed. Not even when she tried to race you and hit a trash can. Not even when she made you pull over because “there was a ladybug and it felt symbolic.”

By the time you reached the top of the hill overlooking the lake, she was panting dramatically, clutching her chest like she’d just climbed Everest.

You handed her a chip. She took it solemnly.

“This was worth it,” she said between breaths. “If I die right here, bury me in this hoodie.”

“Do you even know how to ride a bike properly?” you asked.

She gestured vaguely. “Mostly. In theory. Look, not all of us had stable childhoods with weekend park outings and safety helmets.”

You snorted. “I used to ride mine in circles in the driveway and pretend I was escaping the law.”

She blinked at you. “Okay, that’s hotter than it should be.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a chip at her. She caught it in her mouth and grinned like a dog who just learned a new trick.

After the sun started to dip, you sat side by side on the grass, sipping from your water bottle while she plucked petals off one of the flowers and dramatically asked, “Do you love me? Do you love me not?”

“You skipped five petals in a row.”

“I’m manifesting,” she said. “Let me have this.”

You looked at her, really looked at her messy hair from the wind, scuffed shoes from biking too fast, flower petals on her lap, and a sparkle in her eyes like she’d never been more sure of anything than the fact that she wanted to be here with you.

“You know,” you said slowly, “I think I like you more now that I know how uncoordinated you are.”

She gasped. “You like me for my flaws?”

“I like you despite your sunglasses.”

“I’ll take it.”

The next Monday, she took things to a new level.

You were minding your business in the hallway, waiting for class, when you heard the distinct opening notes of an Ed Sheeran song.

Your soul left your body.

Because there was Giselle standing at the end of the hallway with a portable speaker, an unbuttoned uniform jacket, and a microphone made out of a water bottle. Her friends stood behind her like backup dancers. Ningning was holding cue cards. One of them said, “SHE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU, DUMMY.”

You stood frozen.

Giselle launched into a dramatically off-key rendition of “Perfect.” She sang to you. She pointed at you. She dramatically fell to her knees and whispered into the mic, “This is for you, baby.”

You wanted to crawl inside a locker and disappear forever.

“Why are you like this?” you asked once she jogged up to you, breathless and smiling like she’d just won a talent show.

“Because you’re mine now,” she said simply. “And I wanted everyone to know.”

“I think the janitor knows.”

“Good. I want him to come to our wedding.”

You groaned, dragging her away by the sleeve, while everyone around you clapped and cheered like they’d just witnessed a public proposal.

Later that day, you were sitting together under the tree near the track field, your legs pressed against hers and your head tipped onto her shoulder. The world around you was loud, but she was quiet for once. just idly playing with the hem of your sleeve, occasionally bumping your knee with hers like she couldn’t stand to not touch you.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m, like. Really down bad.”

You turned to look at her. “That’s not news.”

She looked fake offended. “Okay, rude. I was trying to have a moment.”

You smiled, letting your fingers drift to hers. “Have your moment.”

She squeezed your hand. “You make me soft. I hate it.”

“No you don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t. But don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

You leaned in, kissing her on the cheek so quickly she barely had time to register it. She froze.

“…Did you just kiss me?”

“I did,” you said casually.

“I’m gonna scream.”

“You’re already screaming.”

She covered her face. “Ugh. I knew dating you would be dangerous. You’re turning me into a blushing loser.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder. “It’s mutual.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then she whispered, “So, hypothetically, if I asked you to wear matching frog hoodies, would that be pushing it?”

You didn’t even flinch. “What color?”

Giselle beamed.

Maybe the universe really did have a favorite.

But this time, it was you.

[maxillness]

🇩🇪 || Dinner? || MS7 x engineer!fwb!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, fwb, oral (f), fingering

Wordcount: 1.1k

Request: Michael in his prime at Ferrari and maybe a little fwb situation with an assistant or an engineer?

I know the request said fwb, but I love happy endings (unless you look at my tiktok), so did they end up in a committed relationship? Yes

Tag list: @isurvived3-11andimproud

Michael had won again, no surprise there

She walked up to his drivers room after she knew he had showered and changed. She knocked on the door softly, waiting for him to open up

“I told you to just walk in” He chuckled as he let her into the room

She turned around, walking closer to him, pushing him softly up against the wall “You won” She smirked slightly

“Nice observation. Good to know your eyes still work” He chuckled slightly

She stepped closer to him, trapping his body between hers and the wall, her hands working on his belt “Let me reward you” She said softly

He grabbed her wrists softly, pulling them away from him “As much as I like you on your knees, I’d rather have dinner with you tonight” He sighed, caressing the skin on her wrists with his thumb

“Dinner? Why? You never want dinner” She asked surprised

“Would you? My treat” He looked at her with the softest eyes she had ever seen. He never looked at her with that soft eyes, not even when he was needy

“I mean- sure” She shrugged slightly

“Good. Thank you” He leaned down, kissing her softly

She would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy the dinner, it was really nice, but she couldn’t help but be worried

He chose food over sex. He never chooses food over sex, not with her anyway

“Why are we at dinner, Michael?” She asked, putting her fork down beside her plate, looking up at him where he had stopped all movement of his body

“Can’t we just eat together?” He asked with a slight shrug

“Not when you chose it over sex. You never do that, and we never eat out together” She explained, her voice slightly worried

“You make it sound like I never treat you right- which you can tell me if I don’t” Now it was his turn to be worried- worried she felt used

“You treat me good, Michael- I’m just worried when you start doing things you never would’ve in the past” She had noticed it more recently, how he would start treating her more like a girlfriend than a fuck buddy

Leaving little gifts in her hotel room, or actually giving her them up front. Treating her to more snacks between sessions, sitting and talking to her more often than starring her down from the other end of the garage

“Look, I like this… Arrangement that we have but, I don’t want to just see you on race weeks, I want to see you everyday-“ He took her hand into his, his rough thumb caressing the back of her soft hand “-I want to wake up with you in my arms everyday, not just Monday morning after a race. I want to see you in my kitchen, preparing dinner because I can’t cook” They both chuckled slightly “I want to have you, y/n”

“You’re insane… For thinking I don’t want to have you too” She smiled softly

He was silent for a minute before he spoke up “You still want me to choose sex over food?” He asked with a slight smirk

They barely entered the hotel room before both their hands were on the other, kisses messy and wet- not that they cared in the moment

Her dress was quickly on the floor before he softly pushed her down against the bed, his head lowered between her thighs, kissing up and down the skin

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down her legs, throwing them to the floor as well

She tugged at his hair softly, encouraging him to go closer to where she needed him the most

She gasped softly as he pressed his tongue against her clit, flicking it softly, his hands holding onto her thighs, keeping them open

She moaned softly when he slowly pushed two of his fingers into her, setting a soft pace as she got adjusted

He sped up his fingers and tongue, curling his fingers so he hit the spot that made her body shake, her vision blurry and his name falling off her tongue like a prayer

“Fuck- Michael- please. ‘M close” He knew by the way her walls were clenching down around his fingers and her thighs shook around his head

A few curls of his fingers more, and she came on his fingers and tongue, her body shaking and her throat sore from moaning too loud

She whined when he pulled away and out of her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after having wiped his fingers on her inner thigh

“Please… I need you” She panted, her voice husky

“A little needy, no?” He chuckled, removing his shirt and throwing it to the floor

“Have you seen yourself in a mirror recently? Why would I *not* be needy?” She was still panting heavily as he got rid of his jeans and briefs

“No, but I have seen you, and mein gott” He kissed up her stomach, up between her boobs, over her collarbone, up her neck and to her lips, kissing her softly

She moaned softly into the kiss, hooking her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, her arms around his neck, keeping him close

His head fell into the crook of her neck, both moaning softly when he slowly pushed himself inside of her

One of his hands were on her hip, the other arm bent by his elbow, holding himself up as he set a slow pace, getting her adjusted before he started moving faster

Her nails dragged down his back, leaving red trails on his skin, her moans getting louder while her back arched up from the bed

Her mind were too fucked out to cipher the different languages of praises that were spilling out of Michael’s mouth between kisses on her shoulder

“‘M close” She managed to get out between her moans

“Come for me, Liebling” He moaned softly, his thrusts getting sloppier and out of rhythm

A few sloppy thrusts later, and she was almost screaming his name, her walls rapidly clenching down around him as she came, her body shaking as well underneath his

A second later, he came, his hips stilled, spilling his cum into her, her name spilling out of his mouth in a quiet moan

He softly laid on top of her, both their breathing heavy and their bodies glazed with sweat, their messy hair sticking to their foreheads

”Ich liebe dich” His words were mumbled into the skin of her neck, but she heard them alright

“I love you too” She smiled softly, kissing the side of his head, caressing his back softly

[archivallyminded]

Dating Easy Company in 2025 Would Be Like…

💼 Winters

You're dating the most competent man alive, which is both comforting and exhausting.

Brings you flowers, but they're always seasonal, hand-picked, and arranged by color palette. Almost irritatingly perfect.

Says “I’ll pick you up at 6” and actually shows up at 6.

Has never texted “lol” in his life. Doesn’t know what it stands for. Probably assumes it’s code.

Keeps a running list of your favorite meals in a tiny notebook he won’t admit exists.

Will never post you on social media. But everyone knows he's taken.

Pros: Chivalry. Boundaries.

Cons: Has absolutely said “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” and meant it.

🥃 Nixon

You thought you were just flirting with the guy at the bar who had sad eyes and good jokes. You were wrong. You’re in love.

Takes you on 2 a.m. walks and reads obscure history books in bed.

Sends texts like: “Thinking about you. Also the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.”

Lets you wear his robe. You never give it back. He pretends to mind.

Pros: Thoughtful chaos. Witty with his wounds. Cons: Has 8 types of whiskey and only one functional emotion.

😐 Speirs

You didn’t choose to date him. You made extended eye contact and now you're in a relationship.

You basically left the door open and he never left.

Sends exactly one text per day to check in on you: “?” Somehow it means “I love you.”

Buys you a knife “for protection.”

Also carries one for you.

"Isn't this illegal to carry?" "Not unless you show it to the police."

Overprotective, but lowkey about it, unless someone pushes it. Then he's across the room in two seconds.

Once picked you up from work and stared down your boss.

Doesn’t talk much, but will say follow you anywhere like he’s ordering a coffee.

Accidentally-on-purpose sends you a thirst trap photo then denies ever trying to send it.

Pros: Loyalty like gravity. Deadpan devotion. Surprisingly great cook. Cons: Communicates in Morse code and murder energy.

🐶 Lipton

You mention a bad day once and he brings you snacks, your favourite blanket, and gently worded life advice.

Your parents adore him. Your friends think he’s made of sunlight.

Keeps a shared calendar and color-codes it on his tablet so your schedules are lined up.

Once bought you a plant and then felt guilty when it died.

Posts you constantly. “Look how beautiful my partner is" despite the boys teasing him about it and you begging him not to. Pros: Stability. Affection. Emotional fluency. Cons: Nothing. He is the benchmark. Marry him.

📱 Luz

Your relationship is 50% memes, 50% -"Are we being ironic or deeply in love?”

You start as friends; you accidentally hook up when you're laughing so hard you fall on top of each other.

Insists on “us” selfies where he makes faces and you try not to laugh.

The only one who knows how to use Snapchat.

Texts you at 2 a.m. with things like: “What if birds aren’t real but you are? 😳”

Actually deeply observant. Knows when you’re down and distracts you on purpose.

Took you on a date to IKEA and turned it into a fake domestic fantasy in one of the demonstration rooms and with a stuffed animal as a fake baby. You almost cried before he tossed the stuffed shark back into the bin and accidentally hit a child.

Led to a chase through the Ikea demonstration rooms and several "HAVE YOU SEEN THESE PEOPLE" posters up around Ikea.

You now have to go to the Ikea two towns over in order to get anything because an overreactive parents wants to press charges.

Calls you “babe” and “General.” Both feel right.

Always fills up the car with gas. Pros: Chaos with a big heart. ADHD-coded love notes ("Officially diagnosed, bayyyybayyyyyy."), a rotating stock pile of increasingly more stupid and hilarious bumper stickers. Cons: You have no idea if he paid the electricity bill or not and you force him into automatic billing so you don't have a heart attack every month.

🐍 Toye

You’re dating a grumpy old soul in a 30-year-old body.

Will fight for you, with you, or instead of you. Pick your poison.

Acts annoyed when you kiss his cheek. Secretly lives for it.

Owns two hoodies. You steal both. He complains, but lets you keep them.

“I’m not soft,” he says, while tucking a blanket around you and kissing your forehead.

Pros: Ride or die. Secret cuddler. Will deck someone in your name.

Cons: Pretends Taylor Swift is overrated but knows all the words and has a favourite era ("Reputation, obviously.").

🦿 Guarnere

Calls you “babe,” “honey,” “doll,” and “sergeant,” all in one sentence.

Flirts like he’s in a black-and-white movie.

Picks you up and spins you around if you so much as smile.

Surprisingly romantic. Candlelit dinner in the garage with pizza? He delivered.

Definitely got into a physical altercation with someone who insulted you on Twitter.

Unironically loves mafia films.

1000 percent supports Luigi Mangione ("HE WAS THE BEST GUY AROUNDDDDD" "What about the murder?" "WHAT MURDAAAAH").

Pros: Energy. Heart. Loyalty.

Cons: Will 100% bring a speaker to the park and blast Sinatra. Lives for shitty Italian-American representation like your local community theatre's production of "Jersey Boys" where the Frankie Valli actor is ten times too old and can hardly hit the high notes.

🎧 Malarkey

The actual definition of a "dog boyfriend," but less of a "golden retriever" boyfriend and more of a springer spaniel.

Texts you “u up?” at 10 p.m. but it’s just to show you a playlist he made called “Songs That Remind Me of Ur Face" with a stupid smiley face attached.

Always down for a drive to nowhere with the windows down and sad music playing. Unironically loves Lana Del Rey.

Brings you snacks, coffee, and a rock he found that “looks kind of like a heart.”

Makes a full Spotify playlist for your first kiss. Shares it. Title: “holy crap i like you.”

Watches rom-coms and pretends it’s “for the memes.” He cries every time.

Favourite is "You've Got Mail."

Pros: Soft hands. Big hugs. Bigger feelings. Cons: Will make your entire relationship into a playlist and sob over it until you tell him to knock it off and force him to go on a "emotions walk."

💅 Perconte

You’ve never been exfoliated this emotionally in your life.

Shows his love by giving you a skincare routine and yelling if you don’t stick to it.

Buys matching water bottles. “Hydration is sexy, babe.”

Will literally throw down in Sephora if someone is rude to you.

Hates Sephora kids ("They always ruin the samples- no respect. Absolutely no respect.").

Ends up teaching the kids proper exfoliation after they mistake him for 28 and say "You look so good for your age."

Posts you on Instagram like: “Get yourself someone who makes your pores and heart glow.”

Surprises you with breakfast and a “face mask date.” He wears a stretchy headband. You fall harder.

Unironically loves Lululemon. Is more of a Lululemon Sephora girlie than any white girl you've ever met.

Pros: Skincare sugar daddy. Rides hard for you. Smells amazing.

Cons: Will judge your shampoo.

🥺 Babe Heffron

Human cinnamon roll. Cries if you look too pretty for too long.

Writes you little notes and leaves them in your bag like “You’re my favorite person.”

Nervous to hold your hand at first. Now does it constantly, like it’s oxygen. LOVES hand holding, even if it gets sweaty after a while and you have to shake your hand out.

Enjoys forehead kisses more than actual kisses.

Brings you flowers “just because.” Doesn’t realize you’re crying.

Asks if he can kiss you every single time. You say yes. Every single time.

Looks at you like you hung the moon. He means it.

Pros: Pure. Gentle. Hugs like home.

Cons: Cries during SPCA commercials.

🕯️ Doc Roe

Soft-spoken and emotionally confusing until one day he just… lays his soul at your feet. You die internally.

Carries your favourite snacks in his bag without telling you.

Touches your wrist to check your pulse like it’s a casual excuse to hold your hand. Your heart skips.

Won’t say “I love you” out loud for months, but he’ll pull you behind him when crossing the street.

ALWAYS walks on the outside near the cars.

One night he kisses you like he’s afraid the world might end. You realize he’s been in love with you since day one.

Pros: Quiet protector. Heals everything he touches.

Cons: Will not talk about his own feelings unless you really ask.

🗡️ Joe Liebgott

Says he doesn’t care about anything, but memorizes your coffee order by week two and brings it to your workplace.

Always swears when he compliments you — “Fuck- you look good."

Will snap at the world, but kiss you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear between blinks until you reassure him.

Calls you dumb affectionately. Tells you he’s the dumb one when your feelings get too quiet.

Acts like your hand in his is no big deal, but holds it like it’s keeping him here.

Gets loud with other people. Gets quiet with you.

You catch him staring at you during a dumb movie. He shrugs and says, “What? You’re the best part.”

One night, after a fight with another guy who was being rude to you, you hear him whisper, “I don’t know how to be good, but I do know how to love you.”

And he does.

Pros: Fierce loyalty. Cuts the world down to protect your peace. Would financially support you without even asking if you wanted to stay at home.

Cons: Will implode if you say the word “vulnerable” too directly.

[tryandbehappy]

Many people messaged me saying that June used Nick, and you know what? When I watched the show, I felt that too at times. But it always kind of got balanced out by the fact that she did seem to suffer for him, she did miss him, she felt something. Sure, she never really thought about him—what it was like for him, what would happen to him, and so on. Her love was very possessive, but in a way, there was something beautiful (?) in that once.

And if the story had ended with the right emotional arc and closure, it could’ve been incredibly powerful. Because he could’ve taught her what love truly means—that love is forgiving someone even when the world judges you for it. That would’ve been such a beautiful message.

Because love is really about accepting someone fully, weaknesses and all. It’s not loving a superhero when they are good—it’s loving a person with his flaws, through the hardest moments. When everyone is against you, when no one understands your relationship—and you don’t care, because you love them. When you put them first in places where you never thought you could put love first. That is love.

But in the end, what we got made it feel like… she really was just using him all along. Like it was only ever convenient for her to have someone on her side with power in Gilead. Someone who could help her. And she just kept using him—until it stopped being convenient.

And then Nick said it. God, that line—it hit so hard. I still can’t believe they made him the villain in that moment, and not her. When he said, “You never cared what I had to do to help you, unless it suits you.” That is so deep and perceptive.

And yet they portrayed her as the poor victim, fooled by love, and him as the bad guy. God, how stupid is that? The whole story feels ruined now. Every moment where she asked him for help now just reads like manipulation. Like she was only ever in it for herself.

She never truly valued him. And he was absolutely right when he said he was nothing to her. He felt that—he knew it—because he saw her choosing everyone but him, again and again, without even trying to choose him.

And that’s what hurts the most. Because now she just looks like an ungrateful, selfish bitch. Even if she didn’t love him the same way—how could she be so cruel to someone who always loved her and helped her?

And then they dare to say he’s the bad guy? They put him in videos with villains? When the real villain is June—after she used her personal gladiator over and over, drove him straight into a death trap without even caring what would happen to him, and then threw him away and crushed his heart, leaving him with no path but to disappear into the dark.

All the while, she was out there saving every true villain in the show, giving second chances to monsters, but not the one person who truly loved her and stood by her.

God, how twisted is that. I absolutely hate what they did

[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Sooo... Who could guess I am a big hater of how SJM made all of Rhysand's effort to change his Court, useless? 😁😁😁😁

Here we also dive a tiny bit into the past of miss gurl let's hug her collectively

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, 2% book following I'm destroying the original story atp, mentions of PTSD, mommy issues, daddy issues, lots of trauma, mentions of war, Rhysand 😚

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 10: Cold

A few weeks had passed when the Night Court finally sprang their trap. Azriel’s network had been flawless, and Lucien’s deception had worked perfectly. Tamlin’s forces, along with a significant number of Hybern’s soldiers, had walked straight into the ambush.

The battle had been quick. The Illyrians overpowered them with precision, and before Hybern even realized what was happening, their troops were bound in magic-dampening chains, kneeling before the Night Court’s generals.

Tamlin’s soldiers had cracked easily. Cowards, the lot of them. They’d spilled everything they knew. From Hybern’s plans to their next movements, even details about where the rest of Hybern’s forces were hiding. Hybern’s soldiers, however, had been harder to break. They were loyal. But not unbreakable.

You were still absorbing the news when Rhys brought you to the interrogation chambers. You expected Azriel to be inside, coaxing the truth out of them in his cold, merciless way. The way the rumors had been tailored for him around the Continent. But instead, you were met with a sight that startled you: Azriel standing in the corner, silent, unmoving, while two other spies worked in his place.

You frowned as you stepped closer to Rhys. “Azriel isn’t doing it?”

Rhys crossed his arms, his violet eyes scanning the room. “No. I didn’t want him to.”

You glanced back at the spymaster. He was listening, his shadows curling around him like a second skin, but he wasn’t the one delivering the pain.

Rhys sighed. “Azriel has done more than enough in his life. The things my father made him do…” His jaw clenched. “He doesn’t need to relive those memories. So, many decades ago, he trained a small group of trusted individuals to handle the worst of it. They are mostly from the Hewncity, they like what they do. Azriel only steps in when he wants to. Mostly when it’s personal.”

You blinked, processing that. “So, all this time… I thought Azriel was still the one—”

“He listens,” Rhys cut in. “He gathers the information, watches through the shadows. But he doesn’t have to be the one with the blade in his hand anymore. Unless he chooses to. We decided to let this information out for… you know, reputation and the likes of it. It's easier to fear only one person and not expect more.”

Your throat tightened. The idea of Azriel being forced into that life again, forced to become the weapon Rhysand's father had trained him to be… You were grateful. Grateful Rhys had made sure he never had to relive that unless he wanted to.

Rhys must have noticed the shift in your expression because he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Come,” he murmured, “let’s get some air.”

☆

He winnowed you to a quiet clearing in the forest, far from the war camps, far from the screams echoing in the underground chambers. A picnic had already been set up. Rhys must have planned this beforehand.

He sprawled onto the blanket, arms behind his head, watching you as you settled beside him. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The sounds of the forest surrounded you, birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze.

Then, softly, you asked, “What other changes have you made?”

Rhys turned his head, his violet eyes locking onto yours. “You mean besides making sure I don't become my father?”

You nodded. “You’ve been High Lord centuries, Rhys. And I know you’ve changed things, especially reading all the reports we've been receiving the past months. But I want to hear it from you.”

His gaze softened. He reached for your hand again, threading his fingers through yours. “Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll tell you.”

As the evening sky stretched into twilight, the peaceful sounds of the forest surrounding you and Rhys settled into a comfortable rhythm. Rhys' eyes stayed on you as you relaxed beside him, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“I’ve been High Lord for over three centuries, and in all that time, I’ve tried to push for changes that matter. The end of wing clipping was one of the first steps, but it wasn’t easy. Some of the old males that used to do the clippings are still alive, so it's harder to convince the newer generation that they're wrong. Some still hold onto that hateful tradition, the belief that clipping female wings makes them.more obedient. But I’m hunting them down. Slowly, but surely, those who do it for pride are being removed from positions of power.”

You squeezed his hand in acknowledgment, and he continued, his voice steady, thoughtful. “As for the warriors... I've made it clear that every male and female has a choice. No one is required to fight if they don’t want to. Of course, most of the males still take pride in their warrior status, but the decision is theirs. And now the females have the same freedom.” His gaze softened as he looked at you. “It's important for everyone to know that their worth isn’t tied to what others expect them to be. You’ve seen it with Feyre. She didn’t have to fight, but she chose to. I want everyone to have the same choice. Even if that means changing centuries of tradition.”

You nodded, appreciating the way he spoke with such conviction and care. “I’ve seen that in action already,” you said softly. “I've received letters from the commander of the female division. The fact that she's able to learn and decide for herself… it’s really different from how things were before.”

Rhys smiled, leaning back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him. “And there’s still more to come. Every war camp is getting more investment, more resources, but they have to follow the rules. If they don’t, they lose it. This is how we’ll ensure we keep some semblance of order in place when everything is so chaotic. Plus, we’ve been working on mapping fatherless and motherless children. Cassian’s past doesn't need to be repeated, most of those kids don't have the same strength or luck. We can’t let them grow up without guidance, without structure. The future depends on how we raise these kids.”

His words were a weight, a reminder of the trials and tribulations he’d faced over the centuries and the legacy he was trying to build for the future. You could feel the love and hope in his tone as he spoke of the children.

“And what about the Court of Nightmares?” you asked, the mention of it bringing a slight frown to his face. You’d notice the changes there based on how polite Keir tried to be in his reports, the subtle shift in how things were being run.

“That’s a more complicated matter,” Rhys said quietly. “The Court of Nightmares... it’s still a dark place, but it’s not the nightmare it once was. Yes, there are still terrible people there, but there are also many good ones, merchants, artisans, people who have nothing to do with the cruelty of the court’s history. Those people are protected, but the ones who still live in the shadows, pulling the strings of violence, they know the rules. They lock their games inside the mountain and leave everyone else out of it. Let them play their games as long as they stay there. We play along, obviously. They know we are not the cruel crazy people they see there, but at this point I think they just enjoy the show. They think they are degrading me but the whole act turned out fun for me too.” His jaw tightened as he spoke, but his voice was calm. “The important part is that we’ve made it clear. If someone crosses the line, it’s dealt with. There’s no tolerance for cruelty against innocents anymore.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again. “Velaris, though... it’s completely different. When did you open it for the rest of the Court?”

Rhys' smile returned, more fond now. “Velaris is a city that represents everything we’re working toward. Open, free, thriving. It’s only open for the Night Court citizens right now, but we’re slowly working to integrate it with the rest of Prythian one day. We trade with every city, every faction, bringing in the resources we need and giving out what they want. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

You could see the pride in his eyes when he spoke of the city. “There’s still a lot to do, of course,” he continued, “but I’ve tried to do my best. To change things where I can. It will take time, but I believe we’ll get there. And it helps to have you by my side. To know that you’ll be here with me as I keep pushing forward. And also, a few Lords were getting mad at me for not having a wife and ensuring heirs. I guess that's a problem I can solve in a few years too.”

You breathed out a laugh but didn't deny him. You met his gaze, the sincerity in his voice settling deep within you. The weight of his words, the burden he carried for centuries, was something you understood now more than ever. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead as your fingers lingered on his skin.

“You’ve done more than enough, Rhys. And I’m here, always,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with a pride that mirrored his own.

Rhys’ eyes softened as he stared at you, a smile curving on his lips. “I know. And that’s what keeps me going.”

The sun had set, casting long shadows over the blanket as the quiet of the forest embraced the two of you in peaceful contentment. You leaned into his side, letting the stillness of the moment wash over you, grateful for the changes that were being made, for the future that was being shaped, and for the love that had flourished amidst the chaos.

Rhys’ expression softened as he looked at you, his violet eyes searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The two of you had been sitting in silence for a while, the peacefulness of the moment lulling both of you into a comfortable quiet. But then he spoke, his voice gentle and earnest.

"Tell me about your childhood," he asked. "What was it like for you, before all of this?"

For a moment, you hesitated, the memories rising like a tide, bringing with them a heaviness you didn’t always like to face. But Rhys’ steady gaze gave you a sense of safety, a quiet encouragement to speak your truth.

You let out a breath, looking at the few stars above, feeling their stillness against the turbulence inside. "It was... hard," you said finally, your voice low. "My mother... she was a very dictatorial person. She had this vision of who I was supposed to be, who I had to become. Sometimes, it bordered on cruelty."

Rhys’ brow furrowed, but he said nothing, just letting you continue.

"She hated that I was half-blood," you said, the words bitter in your mouth. "She made sure I knew that every single day. It wasn’t just that I wasn’t pure fae, it was like she couldn’t stand the reminder of what I was. My father’s blood in me was something she despised, and she would say terrible things... about how she wished my father had never made her pregnant, that I was a burden she didn’t want, that I was ‘the mistake’ she’d never planned for."

You swallowed thickly, pushing down the emotions that tried to rise. Rhys was still listening intently, his expression both pained and supportive, urging you to go on.

"She tried to 'fix' me," you said softly, the word ‘fix’ carrying all the coldness it had been intended with. "She wanted me to be perfect for whatever purpose she saw fit. Training me in everything. Music, art, history, fighting, hunting, speaking… everything. I had to be the best at all of it, at everything. She wanted me to be some sort of weapon. A perfect, molded piece to be used for war, politics, balls, anywhere I could be useful... but never to be anything for myself. She wanted me to disappear into the shadows of existence, to never be seen for who I truly was. She never wanted me to be just a half-blood, just an accessory to whatever plan the world had for me. No… she prepared me to not be overpowered but, at the same time, not grab the spotlight."

You fell silent, the weight of the memories threatening to choke you. Rhys reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle, the touch grounding. His voice was steady when he spoke again.

"You had to carry all of... all of those expectations and cruelties?" he asked softly, his voice filled with disbelief, as though he couldn't quite imagine the depth of what you’d endured.

You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest growing heavier as the words spilled out, as if they had been waiting to be spoken for far too long.

"I was never allowed to be myself. I had to be everything for someone else, never for me. I was trained to be a tool, something to be used in whatever way would serve her... and when I wasn’t perfect, when I didn’t meet the impossible standards she set, she’d remind me of how worthless I was. A mistake. A half-blood." You shook your head, the frustration from years of it building in your chest. "I never knew who I was meant to be, only what I was supposed to do."

Rhys was quiet for a moment, the weight of your words settling between the two of you. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but firm, tinged with an anger you knew he held for anyone who had treated you that way.

"That’s not who you are," he said, his tone resolute. "You are not a tool. You are not a weapon for someone else’s cause. You're more than all of that. You always have been."

You met his eyes, feeling his sincerity wash over you like a balm. A small part of you, a part that had long tried to be buried, wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was more to you than what you'd been trained to be.

"Sometimes I don’t know who I am," you whispered. "Not really."

Rhys’ expression softened, and he leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "Then let me help you find out," he said, his voice gentle but insistent. "You don’t have to be anything for anyone anymore. You can be whatever you choose, whoever you want to be. I’ll help you figure that out, one step at a time."

The sincerity in his voice struck deep. For the first time, the idea of being more than what had been drilled into you began to feel possible, like a faint but steady light in the darkness.

"I’ve seen what you’re capable of," he continued. "Not because you were molded into it, but because you are already so much more than what anyone has ever told you. You are strong. You are smart. You have a heart that is bigger than most. A human heart."

You held his gaze, the walls around your heart finally beginning to crack, just a little. For the first time, it didn’t feel like you had to hide, or be perfect, or be something you weren’t.

"I just want you to be happy," Rhys said, his voice soft now, as he placed his hand on yours. "And I want you to know that you don’t have to be anything for anyone ever again. You only need to be you."

You squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of his words, the warmth of his promise. You could feel the quiet relief spreading through you as the weight of your past began to shift, if only just a little.

"I’ll try," you said softly, the first glimmer of hope beginning to take root.

Rhys smiled, his gaze never leaving yours, his fingers brushing over your knuckles in a tender gesture. "That’s all I ask. You don’t have to have it all figured out. But I’m here, and I always will be."

In that moment, with the stars above and the night stretching around you, the weight of your past seemed a little less heavy. Maybe, just maybe, you could start to carve out a future that was all your own.

As the words about your mother lingered in the air, the complexity of your feelings weighed heavily on you. You exhaled softly, a faint sadness in your eyes, as you looked at Rhys. "She was cruel, yes. But at the same time... I think she always wanted what was best for me, in her own twisted way. She pushed me hard, sometimes in ways that made me feel small, but I know she believed it was for my own good. She wanted me to be perfect, to be everything, so the others wouldn't have a reason to put me down because of my blood. In a strange, broken way, she cared for me."

Rhys' gaze softened, his expression understanding. "I can relate," he said quietly, the pain in his voice evident. "My father... he was cruel too. But in the end, he thought he was doing what was best for me. It didn’t excuse the way he treated me, but it made me understand, in a weird way, why he did what he did."

You nodded, the sorrow mingling with a strange sense of understanding. "I grieved for her, you know? Despite everything. I loved her, even if she was everything I feared and resented. Losing her... it was hard."

Rhys reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek. "I understand. It’s complicated, but that’s what family is, isn’t it? It’s love and pain all wrapped up together."

A sudden thought made you smile, and you leaned in closer to him, brushing your lips against his cheek softly. You wanted to show him, in your own way, that everything he had done, everything he was, meant something to you. "One kiss," you whispered softly, as your lips brushed against his cheek. "For every little thing you’ve changed in me. For every way you’ve made me feel seen."

His eyes softened, and he let you continue, not speaking but understanding your intent. You kissed his forehead, your lips lingering there a moment longer. "For every way you’ve made me feel heard, even when I was lost in my own pain."

You trailed a kiss to his lips, gentle at first, a simple brush of affection. "For making me believe I could have a future," you whispered against his lips, before moving down to his neck, pressing another soft kiss there. "For making me feel safe when the world has always felt so dangerous."

Your hands reached to his chest, brushing against the fabric of his clothes before planting a kiss over his heart. "For showing me that I can trust again, that I don’t have to hide who I am." You moved to his ear next, your lips tracing its edge. "For being patient with me, and showing me that my heart has worth."

Finally, your lips touched his hand, your kiss delicate and full of admiration. "For everything you’ve done for this world, for your people, for the ones you love. For proving that it’s never too late to change and to fix things."

Rhys watched you with a soft smile, his eyes dark with emotion. And then, as if drawn by the same desire, he began to kiss you back, his lips pressing gently against every part of your body that he could reach. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your lips, your neck, and every place where he had witnessed the strength of your spirit, places where you had shown him who you really were, free from expectations and from the past.

His voice was low, almost a growl, as he whispered against your skin. "One kiss for every part of you that refuses to let the world break you. For every time you chose to be yourself, no matter the pain."

The warmth of his touch, the softness of his words, and the tenderness of his kisses filled you with an overwhelming sense of connection, like something deep inside of you was finally being healed.

Eventually, the two of you broke apart, both needing to breathe, though you remained close. Rhys chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair as he looked down at you. "You know," he said, his voice filled with affection, "we’ve spent so much time kissing that we’ve forgotten about food."

You laughed, a sound that felt foreign and free coming from you. "I suppose so," you said with a teasing smile. "But I think I could go without it for a while."

Rhys shook his head with a smirk, pulling the food toward you both. You sat back, letting the laughter linger between you before the conversation shifted to more mundane matters. But even as you ate, you were keenly aware of the intimacy that had passed between you.

And as you sat together, sharing a meal, there was one unspoken rule you both knew you had to honor. Neither of you passed food to the other, there was no accidental sharing that might ignite the bond between you too soon. You both knew that the moment would come when you were ready to accept it, to claim it fully, but not yet.

For now, it was enough to simply be in each other's presence, to share small, beautiful moments that built a foundation for something even deeper. And that, for the time being, was all you needed.

☆

Cassian had returned from Illyria a few days ago, vibrating with excitement, even if the situation wasn't the best. Rhys had told you Cassian always came back from the camps with his energy renowned. The moment he stepped into the training ring where you and Rhys were lounging, his sharp gaze landed on you. He walked with his usual swagger, but there was something else in his expression, a certain hint of curiosity.

"So," he drawled, arms crossed over his chest. "I hear you’ve been trained. Ever fought before?"

You raised a brow, amused. "I have."

Cassian smirked. "Then I think it’s time for a test."

Rhys chuckled beside you. "Cassian, I don’t think she needs to prove—"

But Cassian ignored him, already stretching out his arms, rolling his shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. I just wanna see where you're at. We’ll keep it simple. Just me and you."

You stood, stretching a little, rolling out your wrists. "Fine."

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, leaned against the railing of the training ring, his shadows curling around him. "This should be interesting."

Cassian grinned, twirling a practice sword between his fingers before tossing one your way. You caught it easily, spinning it once in your grip.

"Alright," Cassian said. "Come at me."

You tilted your head. "Are you sure?"

Rhys let out a low laugh, recognizing the glint in your eye, but Cassian only grinned wider. "Give me your best shot."

You didn’t hesitate. You surged forward with speed that Cassian hadn’t expected, forcing him to block at the last second. The force of your strike sent him back a step, and his grin faltered slightly. He adjusted, attacking with a quick sequence of slashes that you dodged with practiced ease, deflecting each one with a sharp clang of metal against metal.

Rhys and Azriel watched intently as you fought, their amusement turning into intrigue. Cassian grunted as you landed a hit against his ribs, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to prove a point. He barely had time to react before you twisted away and struck again, forcing him on the defensive.

"Alright," he muttered, shaking out his hand. "Maybe I underestimated you a little."

You smirked. "You think?"

Azriel finally spoke. "What if we made this more interesting?"

Cassian looked at him, then at Rhys. "You want in?"

Rhys grinned, standing. "Why not?"

And just like that, the game changed. Now it was Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel against you. Rhys had barely raised a hand before you attacked. You moved fast, too fast to what they were used to. You feinted toward Cassian before shifting at the last second, sweeping Azriel’s legs from under him. He caught himself with his wings, barely avoiding a full fall. Cassian lunged, but you anticipated it, twisting under his arm and elbowing him in the ribs before blocking Rhys’s incoming strike with the flat of your blade.

"Mother above," Cassian muttered, rubbing his side.

You danced between them effortlessly, your fighting style sharp, efficient, and familiar.

"She’s almost fighting like an Illyrian," Azriel noted, breathing slightly heavier than usual as he dodged another hit. His eyes narrowed. "Where did you learn that?"

You deflected Cassian’s sword and flipped back to create some space. "My mother trained me," you said simply.

Rhys shot a look at Cassian. "It makes sense. She wanted her to be prepared for anything. And since Illyrians are known as the best warriors, why not use their techniques?"

Cassian exhaled, rolling out his shoulders. "Alright. But there’s one thing we haven’t checked yet."

You raised a brow. "And that is?"

Cassian suddenly lunged forward again, this time using his wings to gain extra speed. You barely managed to sidestep, but then Azriel was behind you, and Rhys cut off your escape.

Pinned. Or at least, that’s what they thought.

At the last second, you dropped low, sweeping your leg out and taking Rhys’s feet from under him. He grunted as he hit the ground, and before Cassian or Azriel could react, you winnowed behind them, kicking Cassian square in the back before grabbing Azriel’s wrist and twisting it behind him, forcing him to yield.

Silence. And Rhys groaned from the ground. Cassian turned, rubbing his spine, while Azriel simply let out a long breath, clearly impressed.

"You have got to be kidding me," Cassian muttered.

Rhys, still flat on his back, just laughed. "I think we just got our asses handed to us."

Azriel gave a small nod. "Definitely Illyrian training."

Cassian narrowed his eyes at you, then let out a low, appreciative whistle. "I’d love to know who exactly trained you because I need to hire them for the camps."

You sheathed your sword and smirked. "You’d have to raise them from the dead for that."

Cassian shook his head, but a grin spread across his face. "Alright, alright. I admit it. You’re terrifying."

Rhys finally sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "That was unexpectedly humbling."

You grinned, offering him a hand. "Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll go easy on you next time."

Cassian laughed. "Oh, I like her."

Azriel just gave you a long, considering look before murmuring, "I think we all do.

You stretched your shoulders, rolling out your wrists as you met Cassian’s gaze. He was still catching his breath from the last fight, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"Another round?" he asked, tilting his head.

You smirked. "Unless you’re scared."

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, I like you even more every second." He cracked his neck, stepping back into position. "Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see what else you’ve got."

Azriel and Rhys exchanged glances before shrugging and taking their places beside him. Three against one. Again. You lunged first.

Cassian blocked your initial attack, but you moved too fast for him to counter, slipping under his defenses and landing a sharp elbow to his ribs before twisting away from Azriel’s incoming strike.

As you moved, you spoke. "My mother had an estate near the Illyrian Steppes," you said, ducking under Rhysand’s outstretched hand. "She used to help females who ran away from the war camps."

Cassian grunted as he barely dodged your next hit. "Your mother?"

"She was cruel," you admitted, spinning away from Azriel’s shadows. "But she wasn’t evil. She saw what was happening to the females, and she decided to help them."

Rhys aimed a kick at you, but you sidestepped effortlessly. "And how does that tie into you knowing how to fight like this?"

"There was a male," you said, stepping into Cassian’s space and sweeping your arm up to block his next attack. "One of the few who actually helped those females escape. My mother made a deal with him, he would train me, and in return, she would continue helping those who fled."

Cassian’s brow furrowed as he adjusted his stance. "So he taught you the Illyrian way?"

"Not exactly." You ducked under Azriel’s punch, spinning behind him. "He taught me how to beat Illyrians."

That made them all pause for a fraction of a second. You took advantage of that hesitation. You winnowed behind Cassian, kicking the back of his knee to force him down before using his shoulder to launch yourself up and over Rhysand, landing lightly on the balls of your feet.

Cassian cursed. "What do you mean ‘beat Illyrians’?"

You smirked. "You fight full force, power, brute strength, reinforced defenses." You dodged Azriel’s blade with ease, twisting around to block Rhys’s next move. "But I’m smaller. Slimmer. That means there’s less of me to hit."

Rhys narrowed his eyes. "So instead of matching an Illyrian in force, you use speed?"

"Speed, angles, redirection," you clarified, sidestepping Cassian again. "I don’t hit where you’re strongest, I find your openings and hit where you’re weakest."

Azriel suddenly changed tactics, dropping his stance to try and grab you from below, but you saw it coming. You twisted mid-air, using his shoulders as leverage to flip behind him, landing softly.

"That male trained me to exploit Illyrian weaknesses," you continued, parrying Rhys’s strike. "Your wings, too big to move quickly in tight spaces. Your center of gravity, higher because of your muscle mass. Your attacks, strong, but predictable. Illyrians fight like battering rams."

Cassian grunted, rubbing his ribs. "And you fight like a fucking dagger."

You grinned. "Exactly."

Azriel, to your surprise, let out a quiet chuckle. "No wonder we can’t pin you down."

Rhys shook his head, amusement in his violet eyes. "I think Cassian just found his worst nightmare."

Cassian groaned. "Remind me to never underestimate you again."

You smirked, adjusting your stance. "Don’t worry. I’ll remind you every time I knock you on your ass.”

You barely had time to recover before launching into another round, dodging Cassian’s relentless strikes as you explained further.

"Illyrians are powerful, but after learning your ways it becomes predictable," you continued, parrying Azriel’s blade before flipping over Rhys’s sweeping kick. "Your wings are an advantage in the sky, but on the ground, they slow you down. If someone knows how to use that against you—" You feinted left before slipping behind Cassian and jabbing at the soft spot near the base of his wing. He hissed and stumbled forward.

"Shit," Cassian muttered, shaking it off. "That’s a dirty move."

"You should teach it to your soldiers," you countered, stepping back. "Better they learn it from each other than from an enemy on the battlefield."

Azriel, observing, nodded in approval. "What else?"

You dodged a punch from Rhys and continued, "Illyrians tend to overcommit to an attack. You strike with force, assuming your opponent will buckle, but if they evade too fast, your momentum leaves you wide open. Instead of lunging full force, feint more often, leave room to recover if you miss."

Cassian frowned. "We usually don’t miss."

"You usually don’t fight someone like me," you shot back with a grin. "And you probably won't for a while. But someone will figure this out one day. Better to be prepared."

Cassian smirked, clearly impressed. "I’ll make sure the war camps hear about this."

Rhysand was about to respond when a voice echoed across the training ground.

"RHYS! CASSIAN! AZRIEL!" All four of you turned as Morrigan sprinted toward you, her golden hair wild, her face twisted with urgency. "Hybern attacked Adriata" she shouted. "Tarquin is begging for help”

For a single heartbeat, everything was silent.

Then Rhysand was moving. "Get the others," he ordered. "We leave as soon as possible.”

☆

The moment you arrived in Adriata, the scent of blood and smoke filled your senses. What should have been a thriving city of shining white stone and flowing canals was in ruins. Buildings collapsed, homes burned, bodies — Summer Court soldiers, civilians, and Hybern’s invaders — littered the streets. The sea raged against the shore, as if mourning the destruction.

Azriel barely took a second before vanishing into the shadows, his siphons glimmering as he gathered intelligence. Rhys turned to you, his violet eyes dark with fury.

“Assess the battlefield,” he ordered. “Tell me where we hit first.”

You scanned the chaos before you, breaking it down into patterns of movement, weaknesses in the enemy’s formation. Your mother could be as cruel as she wanted, as restraining as she could, but she always taught you how to find your enemies weakest points.

“Hybern spread their forces too thin trying to claim multiple areas at once,” you noted, pointing to a key road where a large group of soldiers were forcing civilians into a corralled area. "They're using that plaza as a control point. If we take it, we cut them off from their strongest foothold."

Rhys nodded, already barking orders. “Darkbringers! Secure the plaza and eliminate all Hybern forces. I want no prisoners. The rest of you, clear the civilians and get them to safety!”

A low murmur rippled through the ranks, Night Court wasn’t known for aiding other courts. But when Rhysand’s power flared, swallowing the battlefield in darkness, the hesitation vanished. The army surged forward, weapons drawn.

You turned to another front where Hybern’s forces were moving toward the palace. “Az, I need your spies to take out the commanders. Without orders, their soldiers will fall into chaos. They are killing machines, but they don't use their brains as their own.”

A flicker of shadow, and he was gone. Then you saw Tarquin, standing at the city’s edge, trident in hand, watching your forces winnow in. His face was wary, unreadable.

But then he heard Rhys’s voice booming over the battlefield. "Take Hybern down. Protect the civilians. Leave no survivors among their ranks."

Tarquin’s surprise was brief. Then, with a roar, he raised his weapon, and the sea itself answered. A wave crashed into the docks, swallowing Hybern’s reinforcements whole. Just then the battle truly began.

You darted forward, slicing through Hybern soldiers as the fight spread. You moved through the fray like a ghost, reading the battle as if it were a book laid open before you. Hybern’s forces fought with brute force, but they were slow. Sloppy. You took down a general with a precise strike to his exposed side, then winnowed just as an arrow flew past where your head had been.

A soldier lunged at you, sword raised, only to be blasted into oblivion by a dark tendril of power. You turned to see Rhys hovering above, his wings spread wide, darkness writhing around him as he cut through enemy ranks like a god of death.

Not far away, Azriel emerged from the shadows, blood dripping from his blades, his expression unreadable as the enemy commanders fell.

Then Cassian’s forces arrived, Illyrian wings blotting out the sun. The tide of battle shifted. And Hybern was about to regret ever setting foot in Adriata.

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @ireadsstuff @oiolabomdia

[petaltexturedskies]

Touched bottom again. Decided to liberate myself. We are never trapped unless we choose to be.

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. IV: 1944-1947

[baltears]

im obsessed w how the different seasons explore different ways women can try to cope w abusive men

s5 spoilers!

beck -> hes normal! (no hes not. this is the simplest one bc the relationship is the most shallow, he was 100% masking the whole time he was with her up until the end and she was just whistling past red flags in a very typical and normal way for someone who's never been in a relationship with a habitual abuser)

love -> hes just like me! (true - BUT he's still judgmental of himself deep down and in denial about his behaviors atp, and he's a misogynist, so he'll be even more judgmental of you.)

marienne -> he has trauma like mine! (true but also what makes him unsafe bc he didn't respond to it with a real and sustained effort to recover. i do think it's worth noting that she was kinda last in first out as far as joe's gf/victims went, she was resistant to the relationship initially, ran as soon as she had evidence of serious red flags, and managed to just barely escape him bc she has gone through some substantial recovery and has reconnected the most to survival instinct, so was able to respond relatively functionally to the life or death situation he put her in)

kate -> he can choose be good for me! (he technically can but really no longer wants to - she might have recognized this if she ever paid close attention to what was happening, but she understandably chose willful blindness)

bronte -> i can fix him! (you can trap him into listening and then say the perfectly calculated thing in exactly the right way and it will be cathartic and emotional for him, but it's not a substitute for long term recovery that he has truly committed to and so there will not be any lasting change. i lovvvveee how bronte is written btw like truly such a masterful depiction of someone who WOULD be ok with joe not bc she's ok with murder but bc like beck she is in a moment of extreme personal confusion, looking for connection and identity, & does have a side of her that feels similarly to him in terms of wanting 'bad people' to suffer – but ultimately she recognizes that he is a misogynist and not interested at all in doing the right thing bc he's detached completely from caring about reality)

its just such a clever and empathetic fucking show because Of Course traumatized people want to connect with other traumatized people, of course we can and often will empathize with figures like Joe if we come from a background of trauma. I feel empathy for Joe throughout the entire show. But irl empathy will not necessarily protect you from someone who is unsafe and people cannot be saved unless they choose to save themselves. As heartbreaking as Joe's suicide attempt was (for me) to watch and as misguided as I think it was, that was his last real effort toward trying to save himself and trying to stay connected with reality and do the right thing. The self who knew deep down that hurting others was wrong was who died that day, because Joe could not separate the idea of doing wrong things from the idea of being a wrong person, and his survival skewed his reality completely bc he's a person who believes in patterns and the universe telling him things and he thought not dying meant he was being told it was all okay (bc not dying = "I'm a good person"* = everything i do is justifiable). it all comes from such a real place but the harm he does is so real too and that's the dilemma of his character. you can feel such kinship and connection with someone else and that can be very real but it is not a shield. if they don't see you as a human being and are no longer accessible to repeated reality checks, it's not your job to reach them and it can never be fully safe for you to try. and misogyny is not a sleeping curse you can wake someone up from, they have to want to work through it themselves.

*remember this is a false binary, like everyone else he was always a neutral person choosing to do bad things sometimes and good things other times

[that-hippie-user]

Without hypnosis, how would you encourage someone to become a diaper-addicted bedwetter? What’s the best argument you could make to win them over?

i'd like to answer this in the form of a ramble. no hypnosis, no traps, no triggers. literally just a lesson from me to you. click below if you're curious.

some folks describe the world we're in as one that tries to fit you into a mold, to shape you a desired way.

but a mold is a very simple process, pour liquid substance into a vessel with the desired shape, let it solidify, and its done. taking an otherwise shapeless thing and giving it shape in a very easy way.

life is not a mold, but an extruder.

a length of meterial is sent down a tube, which itself gradually shifts from the original shape, to the desired one.

the process is gradual, the material shapes itself almost as if it were meant to, but it's being guided to that shape by the tunnel its in.

you werent given a role from the start and made to fit it, you were gradually acclimated to that role until it became normal.

its the small things. being corrected on how you sit, or how loud your voice is, or telling you to stop tapping your feet, or saying particular interests dont fit your role.

i used to naturally cross my legs, i had an interest in pink, i loved made for dvd cartoons like strawberry shortcake or tinker bell. turned out i was transgender, and the role of "boy" was one i was shaped to be through peer pressure.

now, what does this have to do with diapees?

put simply, you NEVER had a say in potty training.

kids often have no say in a lot of things, its taken for granted that a kid needs guidance if they're gonna be safe in this world. but potty training is a universal lesson.

how did YOU react at the time? to being told you have to "graduate" from diapers. were you agreeable? upset? did you try to rebel? it doesnt matter, all roads lead to you being potty trained.

its so deeply ingrained in our society its practically a core foundation. think about this for a moment, KINDNESS is not mandatory. sure, as a kid you're taught to share and care, but how many people do you know who carried that into adulthood? in fact, in a capitalist sense, kindness is a weakness to the goal of profit.

so, we live in a world where you CANNOT under ANY circumstance choose to be diapered, unless you "need" to, like, if there is no alternative. and yet you can live life as the biggest jerk in history and you're not even guaranteed a reprimand for it.

and yet... everyone ALSO agrees that being a kid is the best thing in the world, and you should enjoy it while you can because it wont last, you cant go back to that.

and that much IS true... but you CAN go back in some ways.

oh sure, you WILL grow up. lessons get learned, fears develop, motor function improves, your body gets taller and stronger, and your brain naturally develops as it goes, that much is ALL true...

but... you CAN still wear diapers... in fact, it almost seems like you're gently encouraged to? cuz like... every store with a pharmacy has a nearby section for adult diapers, they got ENTIRE ISLES of diapers. in every size you'd need.

because as much as society tries to tell us diapers are meant to be left behind, we cant deny that sometimes they are necessary, stores NEED these if they can have them.

and if thats the case... if systems are in place for people to wear diapers... what exactly is wrong with using them?

and furthermore, its probably the ONE holdover from childhood you can always go back to.

no matter how big you get, you cant change one universal fact. diapers exist, they have an intended function, and you CAN use them, if you are brave.

and if you do? you're being a TRUE rebel, moreso than most really. you're doing the ONE thing adults must NEVER do, the thing that potty training was MADE for.

if you wear and use diapees, you are choosing to reject an instinct of adulthood in favor of your own personal rebellious joy, and that is BADASS.

and why shouldnt you? if gender is a social construct, then so is growing up. you CAN redefine what it means to you. you can decide for yourself what it means.

and if you do... you ALSO have the option... to take it FURTHER.

because you know... training like that can be UNDONE too.

not fully, mind, your body now has the ability to know when it needs to go, that much stays.

buuuuut. your ability to hold it CAN be undone.

;3 and thats not even hypnosis, all you have to do is use your diapees! X3 im not joking, peeing yourself outside of a bathroom scenario gives your body and brain permission to do it elsewhere.

UwU and with time... it gets harder to hold it. ;3 how long does it take?

3 WEEKS

3 weeks of continued diaper use is all it takes to lose control.

but why? why lose control? what point is there is making you wet yourself? (or mess if thats your thing. X3 its certainly mine!)

because if using diapers is rebellion, then unpotty training is FREEDOM

its the ultimate middle finger to the training you were given, a sound rejection of the thing you were taught is most important.

and once you reject that... the skies the limit!

do you have any idea how much CONFIDENCE it takes to willingly make yourself a puddlepants?

if you're willing to do that, no force on this earth can stop you. gender? redefine it as you please. fashion? you wear diapers for underwear, wear whatever you want. hobbies? passions? do what you like! ;3 not like bathroom breaks can stop you anymore.

so go nuts! have fun! live life on YOUR terms.

diapers are fun, diapers are soothing, diapers are freeing, and diapers are YOURS to wear.

be free, be a mushtush!