#where I got no idea sometimes I think I get it but then someone else comes along and says the total opposite so REALLY no idea lmao

[mapleandgingeroatmeal]

Alright! Rosie got the last one. Now it’s my turn. 

First off, credit where credit's due, I actually agree with you on the origin comic for the most part. Adding that first traumatic return to the backstory really undercuts the catharsis of the moment Veth finally returns to Yeza in Xhorhas and he embraces her unconditionally after all the built up tension of not knowing if he was going to, imo. This is the last place we agree unfortunately.

However, I have to tell you that nobody was actually misunderstanding you before. They got what you were saying, they just disagreed with it. It is such a gross misreading of the text to say that there is something fundamentally similar about how the two of them left their respective children behind. Sure they both did, but beyond that surface-level detail every piece of context that comes after is nearly opposite. Liliana made her own independent  choice to leave a place of safety, love, and security to fulfill her own needs without her child. Veth was kidnapped and tortured and in a moment of extreme duress made the ultimate sacrifice to allow her child to escape without her.

The “Hag thing” (and GOD I can’t believe we’re re-litigating this again) does not actually prove anything about Veth accept that she’s human and experiences temptation. She didn’t take a violent action. She thought about it briefly and experienced extreme guilt immediately afterwards. If anything, that proves how deeply UNLIKE Liliana she is. When presented with a very similar choice to knowingly sacrifice potentially hundreds of lives for the sake of solving her immediate personal problem, Veth makes the opposite choice that Liliana does. She prioritizes the safety of the world. She does so a SECOND time with Halas in the happy fun ball in fact. Don’t you think Liliana would have made both of those deals in a heartbeat?  

The argument that Veth should have done more to be immediately at her husband and son’s side feels to me to be deeply rooted in this very misogynistic idea that to be the best mother possible a woman must be entirely present with her whole self for a child no matter what. What do you think would have happened, comics aside, if Veth had come home as a goblin to a town that hated the way she looked? Would You have just hid her in the basement for the rest of her life? And Luc was with the goblins too, you know. Would you want her to try and parent him using the face of the creatures who tortured and starved him? It would have done nothing but retraumatize both of them. There was never really any choice there. She made every effort she could to parent from a distance, anyway; remember the first act she makes once she has some real money in Zedash is to send it home to Luc. She also works her hardest, as you even said, to do everything in her power to get herself back as soon as possible. Would you rather her sitting meekly at home hiding in the basement, living a life of fear and secrecy, in a body she hates, hoping that some day her husband or someone else will wander by and save her?

I don’t even know what to say about the parenting stuff. Is she a dreadful parent because sometimes she goes and does other things? Because she’s not quiet and gentle and sweet with Luc? Because she’s occasionally honest about how difficult and exhausting parenting a traumatized teenager can be, especially if you have an indulgent streak out of guilt after missing years of his childhood to tragedy and circumstance? Because if you think those things make you a dreadful parent than I’m telling you now that more than half the moms in this world are going to deeply disappoint you. 

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[middlingmay]

Coach Bucky and Gale, alone in the locker room... (3.5K)

Shoutout to @johncleven who sent me a fic request for something set in a locker room and let me run wild with it. I know this isn't what you originally had in mind, but I hope you like it all the same!

A fun romp of a fic set in my Footballer!John AU. This comes after the last installment at Christmas, after John takes up his position as head coach of a veteran's charity football team.

Summary: Football coach John Egan and his report boyfriend, Gale Cleven have some fun roleplaying in the locker room after hours.

Enjoy! Wordcount is over 3.5K so I've put most of it under the cut. Get's a li'l filthy, just to warn you.

.

It was a quirk of John's, collecting vintage football strips. But unlike most collectors, he favoured the shorts over the shirts. People hired experts in hunting down shirts all over the world with this misprint, or that stitching from this year, and that particular game. But not John.

"It's too much pressure, Buck." He'd told Gale once when he questioned his oddity. "You have to keep them pristine and perfect, and God forbid you touch 'em without gloves. And do you have any idea the kind of pretentious assholes who collect football shirts? You think I want to be part of their circle jerks? No thank you."

So he collected the shorts instead. The earlier the better. The black 1997-'99 home shorts of FC Bayern Munich with the red splash and white stripes. The high cut of the white Aberdeen away summer shorts with the Umbro diamonds and geometric detailing of 1990-1992. The 1980s Manchester City burgundy set with white and blue stripes, and the classic bold red block shorts with the yellow liver bird of Liverpool, used from the 1970s well into the '80s.

Which sat very high on the thigh. They were several sizes too small for John to ever wear, but on Gale they sat perfectly. Just below his belly button, pressed tight against the toned muscle and trim fat of his middle. Snug around the groin, and they left most of his long, muscular legs on display.

It meant that he felt every bit of John's size eleven sneaker covered in an expensive, sturdy, matte black leather where it sat perched on the bench between Gale's spread legs, brushing against the skin and hairs of his thighs and the soft clutch of the underside of the silk-soft shorts.

"What the hell do you call that today?"

Gale curled his toes in his boots and clamped down on his muscles to stop himself from wriggling close to the pressure of John's foot. With one foot on the floor and one foot on the bench between Gale's legs, John loomed over Gale. His elbow rested on his knee and he looked down at him, almost fatherly.

Dressed in those vintage shorts, true to the shamelessness and carefree fashion of the '80s with how short they fell below the crease of his thigh, and a skintight compression shirt that protected players against chafing and perspiration, Gale felt simultaneously starkly aware of his body, and much smaller than John than he actually was.

He normally resented any implication towards delicacy and softness, but sometimes, just sometimes, he didn't mind when it was with John. Gale had to fight and claw and scrap for everything he got in life, even his relationship. John's steady determination to take care of him with every inch Gale allowed was a relief sometimes, an opportunity to let go and hand off the reins to someone else, and trust they weren't going to derail his hard fought and hard-won life.

John shifted his foot until Gale felt the pinch. His eyes fluttered shut and his teeth left purpling dents in his lip.

"I said, what was that today, Cleven? Because it sure as shit wasn't anything I told you to do."

"I'm…I'm sorry." Gale wasn't sorry at all. How could he bring himself to regret a single thing that had led to him here under the mercy of John's heel and his gaze.

"Coach."

"John."

"You say, I'm sorry coach."

He shifted his foot away from the crook of Gale's groin, and not even Gale's desperate clutch on the back lip of the bench kept him from lurching forward for the hem of his pants in a desperate grab to bring him back.

But the foot hit the ground in a disappointing clack.

"You let me down today, Cleven."

Gale's stomach lurched. Thick, calloused fingers skirted along his jaw, and anchoring balm in the face of John's disappointment. They settled under Gale's chin and forced his head up at such an angle, it stretched the front of his throat and made it difficult to swallow back the build-up in his mouth.

You, Gale wanted to swear through a mouthful of John's leather belt. And maybe John read it in his wide, wet eyes and parted lips. Because he tssked anyway and put a whole two feet between them.

"I think you need a lesson in focus." John crooked two fingers, his other hand propped on his hip. "On the floor."

Gale looked down. The floor was shiny and smelled of lemony chemicals. Freshly cleaned.

"Gale. Get on the floor."

Gale slid off the bench onto his knees and sat back on his haunches.

But John still wore that sad frown and twisted purse of his lips. It made Gale want to collapse into those thighs which no amount of fine tailoring could slim down, and beg John what he wanted to stop looking at him like that, so he could just give it to him.

"Down further." John stepped back and Gale slapped clumsy hands against the rubberised flooring as he swallowed up John's retreat until his was pressed stomach down, leaning up on his forearms. His legs kicked up, entirely without his asking. Like a school girl prostrate before her crush.

John took two careful steps closer. One heavy sneaker slipped into the space between his forearms, where his chin might be if he laid face down on the floor.

"Further."

Gale almost wished he hadn't foregone the boots and knee-high socks as he lowered his legs back to the floor and the chill of the floor seeped in and cooled the tense muscles. Only John's sneaker protected Gale's face from the same fate. Gale swept his palms to press under his shoulder and leaned down and down until his mouth and his nose hovered above the leather.

John would be cross if he drooled all over it. He swallowed back a mouthful.

John didn't say anything, but Gale felt the weighted burn of his stare on his nape, the flex and shift of his shoulders and hips as he settled into position, the curve of his ass that felt like it was only just hidden under the shorts, despite the tiny, entrapping pair of briefs he'd been made to wear under them.

Goosepimples erupted up his arms and down his legs, all the little hairs standing on end.

"How about we start with twenty?"

Gale slipped for a moment and grinned into the floor. John did love an excuse to see Gale get physical. He adjusted his form, set his wrists under his elbows, rolled his shoulders back and pressed up. He held it for a sec, letting John admire the line of him. He always waxed lyrical about the lines and angles and juts and refined strength in Gale's body, so he flexed his heels up and down under the guise of perfection his push-up position. He made a show of making sure his ass wasn't sticking out and held himself high up on his arms to show of the strength up his forearms, biceps, triceps.

He heard the tiniest thump of John's toes tapping inside his sneakers. And just as Gale started to lower himself down to complete his first push-up, John lifted the tip of his foot and stuck it under Gale's jaw tilting his head up.

It was a long stretch, and an uncomfortable distance for his eyes to look up. But it was worth it when he saw John gazing down at him, square jaw tight and eyes burnin'.

"Count 'em."

"One." Gale followed John's foot back down.

For the first ten, John simply watched him, sharp and critical like he did his players when they'd performed less than their best and John knew it. It powered Gale's body and his ego like little else and sent him tearing through the next ten with ease.

At fifteen, John started to loop his body, and Gale's rhythm slowed and fell in time with his steps, burning his muscles up a little more than the quicker pace he had before.

"Eighteen. Nineteen." At the top of number twenty, John lifted his foot and pressed it against the thin, barely-there material of Gale's shirt. It was a light touch at first, the simple weight of John's foot. Then he pressed harder. And harder. Until Gale could feel the skin of his back pinch and his muscles had to push against the downward force of John's sneaker.

"You said twenty," he gasped as he tried to hold against the unspoken order to lower himself back down. "John—"

"Coach."

"Coach! You said twenty. You said twenty."

"But look at you," John crooned and Gale didn't have to look at him to know exactly which of his smiles he wore right now. "Not even out of breath. Not a lick of sweat on you. Do it. Again."

With a final push John brought Gale down onto the floor with a grunt. He kept his foot on his back, making Gale press on through the weight. As he rose and fell, rose and fell, his skin rubbed against the hard sole of his sneakers, interspersed with slivers of metal, specially designed for walking around football pitches as he coached. he felt the skin ruddy and redden, fancied he could start to make out the pattern of the treat by the time he got to twenty again, and was so distracted when John's heel slipped into the curve of the small of his back, Gale didn't get chance to muster a single shred of resistance when John pushed him down to the floor again.

"Ah, God." His erection twitched and pulsed against the floor. He couldn't stop the helpless, tiniest thrusts against it searching for the barest modicum of relief. John was so gentle and good to him all of the time, but when he got like this, focused and a little mean, a little physical? Gale never stood much of a chance at any kind of stamina.

"Hmm." John toed a rough line down the small of his back and over the crease of his ass. He sunk his heel into the meat of it, and Gale nearly bit through his lip. The copper was bittery sweet. "We're not doing this right if you're enjoying it so much."

He shifted his foot and it rucked up the short hem of the shorts and Gale felt John's sneaker against the bare curve of skin that peeked out of the briefs.

"M'not. I'm not, coach. I promise."

"It's no good?" That fucker. That smug-faced tricky little bastard. It was heavenly. Hurt in all the right ways and had the back of Gale's eyes burning just as much as his muscles and the heat in his belly. But he couldn't let on or it would ruin the game, and John would stop.

So he clamped his mouth shut, and locked his muscles until the shook from the effort of not rolling between the twin resistance of the floor and John's foot pressing on him.

"Again."

After the first two push-ups, Gale doubted he was going to survive this. The push against John's foot had it massaging his ass and slipping over the seam of him; whilst the press down against the floor jolted against his cock begging for any kind of touch. Twin agonies derived to drive him out of his mind.

His arms were shaking by the time he got to five.

John tutted in false sympathy. "You don't look too good, Cleven. You need to stop? Learned your lesson?"

Like hell.

He pushed down and up, down and up. Then he heard John sit on the bench behind him. And he slipped his foot down further, trailed the hard curve of the toe of his sneaker down Gale's ass, round over his thigh, and all the slow slide under until it pressed against the crowded pouch of his briefs and where he strained under the shorts.

He pushed in hard.

"Oh, God. John. John."

"If I have to tell you one more time…"

"Coach! Fuck, I…"

"You're not done." John's voice was rough and Gale shivered at the only evidence he had that John was just as affected by this as he was, lounging on that bench, watching Gale from behind as he made him rut against his foot like an animal. In his mind he pictured the wide sprawl of his thighs, the strained fabric of his beautifully tailored, navy blue dress pants. The shine of his lips where he licked at them as he tried to catch his breath.

"Keep going, or you can pack your shit up and get the hell out of my locker room."

Gale barely swallowed a whine and pushed down, his arms shaking with the effort not to collapse. John made him push his foot down as he went, and kept the pressure on as Gale pushed himself back up. No relief. No reprieve. Just a constant, blinding pressure as he shook and forced his way through push up after push up. His cock was no longer dripping so much as it was leaking. John's foot rubbed and pressed and wiggled against him. Started dragging back and forth in little pulses and Gale couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers that fell from him with every exertion. His pace picked up, even through the sweat that curled around his forehead, off his hair and splattered on the floor.

The simmering heat in his belly started to bubble and forth. His moans were getting louder, his form sloppy, and behind him John rumbled straight from his chest,

"Fuck that's it, baby. Almost there."

Gale choked on his own spit and a little felt out in a sliver of drool as John pressed against him and stimulated him in earnest now.

"Coach. Coach. I—Jesus. Fuck, I…" Gale was babbling. Nonsensical and desperate pleas to the man above and behind him. For it to keep going, For it to end. For anything he deemed fit to give him.

He gave him it all. Whether from Gale's pleading or his own painful impatience, but John pressed his foot against Gale so hard, that he felt the sensitive skin of his sack pinch like the knife needed to cut through the knot it pierced through Gale's pitiful last defences. He collapsed onto one elbow as his other hand plunged down to clutch John's ankle and keep it there as he rode and rode out his pleasure. The minimal space left inside his tight briefs flooded with sticky heat, and kept flooding. Gale wasn't in a locker room, but somewhere above and outside time and space as he chased the trembling heat and frothy exaltation of his orgasm as far as it would go.

By the time he came back to, his mouth was blabbering against the floor, and he shook from head to toe.

A noise came from John, a little wounded, but like the good boy he was he stayed still. They weren't done.

"You—" his voice shook and John cleared his throat. Shifted it lower and calmer and more in character. But even then he couldn't quite shake the tremor. The softness. "You've got something of mine. Give it back."

The shorts. He meant the shorts. Gale gazed stupidly, on his belly, down the line of his body, realising he'd have to move to get them off.

"One minute, coach, please. Just one. I can't," he gasped through sharp breaths and spittle, "I can't."

"You can. And you will. Give."

Gale cursed and let out helpless little noises as he worked the shorts over his hips, his sensitive cock brushing against the unforgiving floor. Once under the curve of his ass, gale managed to flop over, and wiggled and kicked his legs, but the shorts were too tight, and wouldn't budge. One look at Gale sent his head thumping back against the ground. His eyes blazed with heat and he looked like a starving man staring at his favourite meal.

"I will leave you here, if you don't give me those now, Cleven."

Gale heaved himself up, the idea of being out of John's sphere right now too much to risk. Shaking hands shoved the shorts down his legs and over his feet, and he threw them in John's direction, before leaning back on the palms of his hands, panting.

John felt all over the slippy fabric, inspecting for any signs of wetness or sticky texture, but there were none. Gale's brief had seen to that.

"Good," he murmured, surprised and pleased and Gale flooded with a different kind of warmth when he added, "You did good, Cleven. You did exactly what I wanted."

He let a tentative, exhausted smile twitch across his face.

"But now I want those, too."

John nodded at Gale's crotch, nostril's flaring. His briefs. Wet and damp and squidgy with his release. They were uncomfortable and messy, and—

"I want them. Give them here."

Gale couldn't look away as he sat up straight, slipped one thumb and then another under the waistband and slowly peeled the ruined briefs off himself. Gale looked at John and John's looked at his prize, as Gale peeled them down one leg then another, trying not to get himself any messier than he already was.

Gale held the briefs in his hand, pinching the dry fabric of the waistband between two fingers. He looked between then and John.

"This what you want? Coach?"

Before Gale could tease him, John's hand snapped out and clamped over his wrist, and hauled Gale's whole body into the space between his legs. From the floor, Gale's head fit perfectly in the crook of John's thighs, and he let his head fall there against the ample padding of one of them, and stared unblinking as John yanked the briefs out of his grip, and unfastened belt, buckle, button and zip with one hand. He drew himself out, and thank God Gale was already on the floor, because the sight of John drawing himself out of his pants and wrapping Gale's briefs full of his some around his cock and using them to jerk off would have brought him to his knees.

It looked painful. Hard and swollen and red and straining. Gone too long without attention, love, worship. Gale licked his lips. His hands twitched to touch, and John noticed.

He smirked down at Gale as he denied him. "No. You just sit there and watch." He groaned through a twist of his own wrist. "Maybe—maybe next time you'll— l-listen. Fuck. Then I might let you touch."

Gale's head felt heavy against John's thigh, and his long fingers white-knuckled their grip on the fabric on John's pants. John worked himself at speed, the tenons in his neck straining, his chest heaving.

"Fuck, your panties are so wet."

Oh my god.

"And all for me?"

Gale nodded weakly. His trembling hadn't subsided. Even when he wasn't touching him, John had him riding that edge of overstimulation.

John was almost there. The muscle in his thigh was twitching and his stomach clenched under the crisp white shirt he wore. His grip on himself tightened and a well of absolute filth fell from his lips the way it always did when Gale edged him and he finally got close enough to the edge to feel it.

"Look so fucking good on that floor, Gale. Under my foot and doing what you're told? Shit. Shit. What else would you do for me? Huh? Fuck. What else would you do?"

Gale took a risk and pressed a line of kisses down John's inseam. Just as he reached the apex of his thigh he looked up at John through his lashes and said, "Use you. To get what I want."

John's free hand snapped to Gale's hair and yanked. Gale gasped as his throat was exposed and he heard John curse and moan and felt him thrash through the throes of his orgasm. "Fuck. Fuck. Buck!"

It took minutes before John's hand turned to petting him instead. Gale looked up to see John weakly removing the now sodden briefs and gingerly setting them on the bench next to him.

He made grabby hands down to Gale. "Get up here."

Gone was the clip of Coach Egan. In his place, the attention-greedy and devoted Bucky.

Gale let himself be pulled up and gathered onto John's lap. His curly head dropped to Gale's chest and his arms wrapped all the way around Gale's waist. Anchoring and soothing both, and Gale scraped his fingers through John's curls and smelled the sweet scent of his hair.

Eventually John pecked sweet kissed against his cloth-covered chest and rested his chin in the valley between his pectorals. His eyes were bright with contentment whilst Gale's were heavy and sleepy and sated.

"Was that what you had in mind?" He asked, almost shy. John and Gale were adventurous in bed before they got together. They'd never been shy about exploring new things in their relationship. But those occasions when Gale wanted John to take the reins, Gale knew he worried about pushing too hard or swinging too far out of their dynamic for Gale's comfort.

"Mhm," Gale murmured against his forehead. "Though buy bigger briefs next time, Jesus. Damn things nearly cut off the circulation."

John rubbed a soothing hand over his flank. "I couldn't risk it, Buck. They had to keep everything…contained."

"Oh, so you can risk my cock but not your vintage 1980s Liverpool shorts?"

John's silence was far more indecisive than Gale would have liked.

"Boy—" Gale moved to get off, but John clamped down and pinned him there.

"I'll buy bigger next time; I'll buy bigger next time," he giggled into Gale's neck. "You bring a chance of clothes?"

Gale nodded to his backpack in the corner.

"Get dressed, and we can go home."

But Gale didn't budge. "We can't leave the place like this, John." Drips of both of their slick had escaped the confines of the briefs and were dotted across the floor and the bench. A sizeable puddle of Gale's drool also lay there where his mouth had panted and watered as John put him through his push-ups.

"Buuuck." John whined like a child.

"You remember what the cleaners said?"

"Come on!"

"If they find one more unexplained bodily fluid in here, you're goin' to have a strike on your hands. You want that? You want to be the one to clean up after Crosby? Or explain to Brady why he can still smell Bubbles' socks the next day?"

John flinched at the thought of an irate, upset Brady.

"You get dressed, I'll get the mop."

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[reticent-fate]

part 11/26ish

anyone remember those scales with the springs in 'em? all i ever see these days are digital scales but those things made the best noises. i think i've seen some kitchen scales that still use spring mechanisms, but it's been a while.

technology is weird.

from the beginning

[cynicalmusings]

actually, because of that secret secret i just read, i’m going to post this thought before i forget about it, actually — for the last few days i’ve been turning over the idea of dan heng x reader where the reader, a chef or at least competent cook, joins the express and works as chef to save everybody from himeko’s… creative dinner plans (inspired by the recent event)… and there’s something about the effortless, easy confidence with which you navigate the kitchen which dan heng admires. it’s an art form of its own, really.

(plus, as i mentioned, everyone loves you because you’re there to step in and lend some guidance when himeko decides it’s her turn to cook…..)

[exopelagic]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME BURROWS END WASNT FREE

[hyah-through-hyrule]

My crops would be so watered if I could just love a main/popular character for once

[euclydya]

every now and then when we say something in-sys we DO still hear Allan's voice but barely so

and sometimes. they're like "QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I'M DEAD??" when,

We never DID explicitly tell anyone that, and

He is dead? He's literally a ghost. He honest to god legit for realsies died in 2019.

and he's like..,,,, "oh right! lmao sorry I forgot, carry on" JDJSMSKDMFCN??

[ariyadaivaris]

I think (I posted about it earlier) that Dragon losing to Mox and then getting murdered about it is a step along the path to cement Darby as the top babyface by having him avenge Bryan. Like I don’t see this as the end of The Overall Story they’re telling, just as a series wrap for Danielson, and from that perspective I think it makes a lot more sense

i can see that, i do think laying it out like that it makes sense. that's similar to something i've been talking about with a buddy of mine who thinks this storyline is going to cement wheeler as a top babyface (or potentially heel if some other shit goes down, top guy either way) in much the same way. its definitely not the end of the overall story! i think your idea about this being darby's coronation has a lot of bite to it, that boy's been getting PUSHED for a hot moment. your insight is much appreciated (as always!)

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[butt-puncher]

I wish that I was more

[mangostarjam]

you've been touching him a lot since he got back.

itoshi sae doesn't do anything about it — doesn't dissuade you from tugging at his sleeve or sliding his jacket zipper back and forth while you talk. doesn't comment or bring your attention to it.

but he watches.

you've been around him a lot since his plane landed, making up for all the time he's spent abroad, as if your daily chat threads haven't been enough. most of the time it's just the two of you, the way it used to be. sometimes his brother is around, though thankfully it doesn't seem like you've gotten any closer to rin since sae left.

other times there's a group, mostly your friends, a mix of guys and girls who don't seem to know what to do with themselves around him. sae is used to this — fame brings strange things to light — but you treat him as you always have, except for the touching.

you don't touch anyone else.

it makes him think.

sae has his reasons. he's never let your relationship get past that line, drawn in the sand. he's a professional football player on the other side of the world, and you have a life here. you have friends (even though you still call him your best friend), you have a job (that you complain about all the time), you have family (that can't be bothered to ever congratulate you on anything).

it wouldn't be right — to make you leave. to take you away. not when he needs to focus on being the best in the world.

(he is the best in the world. all those years ago he showed the U-20 team in japan the difference between them, the way the most they could hope for was dating a gravure model. sae never cared about that aspect. he already had you.)

he lets you touch him, but he doesn't touch you back. he keeps you at arm's length — where you're safe.

and then you ask him to be your wingman.

someone else — touching you? kissing you? having you? unthinkable. sae steps out of the shower and barely dries off before pulling on his briefs and pants. steps into his room and there you are, sitting on his bed, looking good, if a little sad.

he considers telling you to get your passport updated and catches the way your eyes trail down his form. maybe this conversation would be easier if he's wearing a shirt — your gaze is too heated, too distracting. you probably think you're being sneaky, hiding your feelings as best as you can, but sae knows you.

and your casual touches are ocean waves washing that line in the sand away.

sae walks towards his closet when it happens again. your finger in his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks. "what?"

"you were ignoring me," you say. "i asked if my outfit is okay."

your outfit is more than okay. "i would have told you to change if it wasn't."

"if you're going to be my wingman, shouldn't you hype me up?" you huff.

sae feels his jaw clench at the reminder. "no," he says, and his tone comes out cold. you don't seem to notice, falling back on his bed and testing every bit of self control in his grasp. "this is a waste of time."

he goes to pull on a shirt before he does something drastic. you're saying something, but it hardly matters when his flight leaves if you'll be on the plane with him. you've covered your eyes with your forearm, so you miss the way he pauses at the foot of the bed, teal eyes drinking in your form splayed out so defenselessly.

sae climbs over you silently, knees nudging yours apart, hands planted on either side of your body. "this is a waste of time," he repeats, watching with amusement as you take in his position. a blush sweeps across your face, but you don't push him off. that's a good sign, at least.

"what, you think i'm not worth being a wingman for?" you ask. silly. you have no idea.

and then you reach for his belt loops again, as if that's a totally normal thing to do and not something that drives him a little nuts every time. sae prides himself on his control, though, so he doesn't lean down to kiss you just yet.

"tell me," sae says, "have you become this touchy with all your friends since i've been gone?"

"n-no?"

it's cute, how wide your eyes get. sae leans down a little closer. feels your breaths on his lips. still doesn't kiss you — yet. "then i won't be your wingman. you don't need one."

"why not?"

do you know how breathless you sound? sae considers his apartment in spain, how he'll need to make sure the bedroom doesn't share any walls with the neighbors. the way you sound is all for him and him alone.

"because you have a boyfriend, now."

(companion piece to this)

[xo100]

A summer to remember - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando, Y/N, and their daughter Isla enjoy a perfect summer vacation filled with love, beach fun, and yacht adventures.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2388

୨ৎ

It was a beautiful summer morning, and the sun was already casting its golden glow over the peaceful coastline. The soft sound of waves lapping against the shore could be heard through the open windows of the cozy villa where Lando Norris, his wife, and their one-year-old daughter, Isla, were spending their vacation. It was a much-needed break from Lando's hectic Formula 1 schedule, and he was determined to make the most of every second with his little family.

Inside the villa, the sweet scent of fresh pastries filled the air as Y/N was busy in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the three of them. Isla was sitting in her highchair, her big, curious eyes watching her mom move around, while her tiny hands held onto a small stuffed bear that she never seemed to let go of. Lando, fresh from a shower, entered the kitchen with a content smile, his heart swelling at the sight of his two favorite girls.

“Morning, love,” he murmured, stepping up behind Y/N and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “You’re up early. Didn’t think we’d need to be up so soon on holiday.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back into him as she flipped a pancake. “Well, someone woke up hungry,” she said, glancing over at Isla, who was babbling happily to her bear. “Besides, it’s too beautiful outside to waste the day.”

Lando hummed in agreement, his chin resting on Y/N's shoulder as he watched her cook. “You’re right. What’s the plan today, then? What amazing adventure are we going on?”

Y/N turned her head to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought we could start with a beach day. Just us, some sand, and the ocean. Maybe build a sandcastle with Isla. She’s been dying to get her hands in the sand.”

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up at the idea. He loved the thought of spending the day on the beach with his family, especially if it meant seeing Isla’s face light up with excitement. “That sounds perfect,” he said, stealing a quick kiss before letting her go. “But I think we should add something extra later. How about a yacht ride this afternoon? I’ve already got one booked for us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “A yacht? Seriously, Lando?”

“Of course,” he replied with a cocky smile, giving her a playful wink. “Figured we’d sail off into the sunset like in the movies. You know, champagne in hand, wind in our hair… or at least, your hair. Isla and I don’t have much of that,” he teased, running a hand through his slightly damp hair for emphasis.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re too much sometimes, Norris.”

Lando winked. “And you love it.”

Isla, hearing her dad’s voice, squealed excitedly, her little arms reaching out towards him. Lando’s expression softened instantly as he scooped her up from the highchair and spun her around, her giggles filling the kitchen. “There’s my girl!” he said, holding her close and pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “Ready for a fun day with Mum and Dad?”

Isla giggled in response, her tiny hand grabbing onto Lando’s shirt, holding on as if she never wanted to let go. Lando’s heart melted, as it did every time he looked at his daughter. She was the perfect mix of both him and Y/N—her sparkling eyes and infectious laughter were all her mother, while the little dimple in her cheek and the mischievous glint in her eye were pure Lando.

-

After breakfast, the three of them headed down to the beach, which was only a short walk from the villa. The sand was warm beneath their feet, and the ocean stretched out in front of them, glittering under the morning sun. It was the kind of picture-perfect day that made it hard to believe anything else existed beyond this little slice of paradise.

Lando carried Isla on his hip, holding her tiny hand as she stared wide-eyed at the ocean for the first time. Her mouth formed a little "o" of wonder as the gentle breeze tousled her soft hair. “Look at that, Isla,” Lando said, pointing towards the waves. “Isn’t it beautiful? Just like your mum.”

Y/N, who had been spreading out a blanket, glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Lando’s words. “Flatterer,” she teased, though her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. No matter how long they’d been together, Lando always knew how to make her heart skip a beat.

Once everything was set up, Y/N and Lando took turns playing with Isla in the sand, helping her dig little holes and attempting to build a sandcastle that mostly ended up in a pile of mush, thanks to Isla’s enthusiastic hands. Lando pretended to be frustrated as Isla gleefully knocked over the little towers he was trying to make. “Isla, love, I’m trying to build a masterpiece here,” he said in mock seriousness, though his grin gave him away.

Isla just giggled, grabbing another handful of sand and letting it slip through her tiny fingers. Y/N watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. There was something so pure and beautiful about the way Lando interacted with their daughter. He was playful, patient, and so incredibly gentle with her, like she was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she was. Both of them were.

-

After a few hours of playing in the sand and dipping their toes in the water, it was time for Isla’s nap. Y/N and Lando packed up their things and headed back to the villa, where Isla quickly fell asleep in her crib, her little face peaceful and content.

With their daughter sound asleep, Y/N and Lando had a rare moment of quiet together. They sat out on the terrace, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. Lando stretched out on the lounge chair next to her, his hand lazily tracing circles on her leg. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice low and relaxed. “Just the two of us for a bit.”

Y/N smiled softly, leaning back in her chair as she gazed out at the ocean. “It is,” she agreed. “It’s nice to just… be. No distractions, no schedules. Just us.”

Lando turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with that familiar mix of love and admiration that always made her stomach flutter. “You know,” he said quietly, his fingers gently brushing her skin, “I don’t think I tell you enough how much I love you. How much I appreciate everything you do for Isla and me.”

Y/N’s breath caught slightly at the sincerity in his voice. She turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart swelling with emotion. “Lando…”

“No, really,” he insisted, sitting up a little. “I don’t say it enough. You’re incredible, Y/N. The way you love our daughter, the way you take care of us… You make everything feel so effortless, and I just—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away, smiling softly at him. “I love you too, Lando. More than you know.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that made her forget about everything else. In that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, the world fading away.

-

Later that afternoon, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Lando, Y/N, and Isla boarded the yacht that Lando had arranged. It was a sleek, beautiful boat, and as they set off into the open water, the breeze ruffling their hair, it felt like something out of a dream.

Isla was fascinated by the gentle rocking of the boat, her little hands gripping the edge of the railing as she watched the water with wide eyes. Lando stood behind her, his hands on either side of hers, keeping her steady while whispering little words of encouragement. “Look at that, baby girl. Isn’t it amazing? Just like flying, huh?”

Y/N watched them from her seat, her heart swelling with affection for the two of them. There was something so undeniably sweet about seeing Lando with Isla. He was a natural father, always knowing how to make her smile, always there to comfort her when she was upset.

As the yacht sailed further out, Lando eventually scooped Isla up and carried her back to Y/N, sitting down next to her and cuddling Isla between them. The three of them sat together, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon, casting a golden-orange glow over the water.

“This is perfect,” Y/N whispered, resting her head on Lando’s shoulder as she cradled Isla in her arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

Lando smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Me either,” he murmured. “This… this is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart swelling at the love in his eyes. “You mean that?”

He looked down at her, his expression serious but filled with so much warmth. “I do. You and Isla… you’re my world, Y/N. Everything I do, it’s for you two. And I’ll never stop loving you, not for a second.”

Her breath caught at his words, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and sweet.

The kiss lingered, sweet and unhurried, the weight of Lando’s words settling between them like the most beautiful promise. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling as the world seemed to pause for just a moment. Isla, nestled between them, was quietly playing with Lando’s fingers, completely content in the embrace of her parents.

“I love you, too,” Y/N whispered, her voice full of emotion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

Lando smiled, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “I know, love,” he murmured. “I feel it every single day.”

They sat there for a long while, the boat gently swaying with the rhythm of the sea, as the last rays of sunlight danced on the horizon. Isla eventually dozed off in Y/N’s arms, her tiny body relaxing completely, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only sound breaking the peaceful silence.

Lando looked down at his daughter, his heart nearly bursting at the sight. He reached out to lightly stroke her hair, his touch so gentle it was almost reverent. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he said quietly, his voice filled with awe. “How did we get so lucky?”

Y/N smiled down at Isla, her heart swelling with love for the little girl in her arms. “We did get lucky,” she agreed softly. “She’s everything.”

Lando’s gaze shifted from Isla to Y/N, his expression softening even further. “You’re everything to me, you know that, right?”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I think you’ve told me that about a hundred times today.”

“Well, I mean it. Every time,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her again. “You’re stuck with me, Norris, so I’m gonna remind you as often as I can.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Y/N whispered against his lips before kissing him back.

As the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky fading into a soft twilight, they decided to head back to the villa. Lando took Isla from Y/N’s arms, cradling their sleeping daughter as they made their way back to the dock. The boat ride back was quiet, peaceful, the gentle hum of the engine and the lapping of the water lulling them into a contented silence.

-

When they reached the villa, Lando carefully carried Isla to her room, tucking her into bed with the same care and tenderness he always showed. Y/N stood in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her face, her heart full as she took in the sight of Lando, who had once been the carefree, fast-driving boy, now a devoted father and partner.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to Isla’s forehead before pulling the blanket up around her tiny body. He stood for a moment, just watching her sleep, his heart filled with a deep sense of contentment. Finally, he turned to Y/N, slipping his hand into hers as they quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

Once back in their bedroom, Y/N flopped onto the bed with a happy sigh, stretching her arms above her head. Lando followed, lying down beside her and propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. “So,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “What’s the verdict? Best day ever?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement. “I’d say it’s definitely up there,” she teased. “But tomorrow might just top it.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what do you have planned for tomorrow?”

Y/N shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “Whatever it is, as long as I’m with you and Isla, it’s already perfect.”

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, full of the love and promise they’d built over the years. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N curled into Lando’s side, her head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

“Thank you for today,” Y/N murmured, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. “It was perfect.”

Lando kissed the top of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair. “You don’t have to thank me, love. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. For you and Isla, I’d do anything.”

With that, they fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves outside their window lulling them to sleep. As Lando drifted off, his heart full and his arms wrapped around the woman he loved, he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And as the stars twinkled above, casting their soft light over the peaceful villa, one thing was certain: this summer, this moment, would be one they’d cherish forever.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! I’m currently writing part three of baking cookies! I hope to finish it soon and upload it soon!

[neverendingford]

.

[thinkinonsense]

forgive if it’s a bit scatterbrained but hear me out… some sort of reverse corruption w old man!logan >///< i just feel like he won’t be the type of guy who’d immediately be into having a thing w young!reader. i feel like he won’t even take it seriously at first or there’s def gonna be more resistance from him, he’d probably feel initially repulsed by the idea of even beginning to think of them that way given how young they are. but reader is bold bold, so they’re gonna keep pushing and pushing until they’ve got him where they want him. but even if she’s practically sinking down on him, logan is still probably gonna be like “fuck’s wrong with you, huh? old enough to be your fucking grandfather, kid. c’mon, you don’t really want this.”

poor old man’s just too decent for his own good :(

old man!logan x young bold fem!reader *mdni

logan couldn't stand you. how young and ambitious you were; how you couldn't just take no as a fuckin' answer. you thought it was cute but logan found it rather obnoxious. you were persistent with your attraction towards the older man; frequenting the only bar in town that logan was still welcomed in.

"what are we drinking tonight, lo?" your voice was a siren song that he wished he could turn off.

"whiskey." he mumbles against the glass.

the mean glare he sent your way would've made anyone else run in fear, but not you. instead smiling up at him with bambi eyes. at first, logan thought you were just dumb, not picking up on his signals but as it turned out, you're just stubborn.

every friday night, you sat on the stool next to him. you should've been flirting with guys your age by the pool table but no, you would rather get rejected by the old man who drinks alone. at one point even the bartenders started to think that you two were together which logan quickly shut down.

"c'mon, at least let me pretend that i'm yours," you whine, swirling around your second fruity drink tonight.

"you don't want to 'be mine', kid," he said in a stern voice, similar to one you would use on a child who won't behave.

"aaand...why not?" you ask him, crossing your arms and already getting pissy. "don't gimme that bullshit about you being 'too old' either."

"has anyone ever told you that you're-"

"pretty? hilarious? tight? yeah, a few times actually."

logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. he tries to give you some sympathy but there's only so many times that you can burn your hand on the stove until you learn your lesson.

"look, cherry..." logan sets his glass down. you adored when he called you, cherry because that meant he was paying attention to you and what you drank, always having to top it off with a cherry. "i'm probably your grandfather's age-"

"don't care." you interrupt him, leaning forward to stare into his eyes and run a hand through his hair. "your grey hair is so hot, lo. should let me pull on it sometime."

logan was finding it more difficult to resist you. almost letting out a groan when you pull slightly. logan could smell your arousal forming; clouding his vision.

"why don't you throw your panties in someone else's direction, huh? i'm sure those boys over there wouldn't mind." logan snarls, getting fed up with your attitude.

it wasn't that he didn't find you attractive, quite the opposite really. maybe if he was younger or you were older then he wouldn't mind your flirty personality so much but that's not the way that the world works. logan is -whether or not he wants to admit it- old and he didn't have time to put up with your whiney shit.

"okay." you shrug, getting up from the barstool.

logan doesn't believe that you'll actually go talk to those boys. in one minute your ass will be back here annoying him. he was sure of it.

then ten minutes passed and giggles were still falling from your lips. nothing the guys said was actually funny but you played it up to look better. there was one guy who you actually didn't mind talking to; both of you went to the same college and shared the same major. for a second, you'd completely forgotten about the man burning holes into your side.

the two of you talked for a while, exchanging stories while you leaned against the pool table in your tiny cut-off shorts. logan watched those boys gawk at you; staring everywhere but your face.

"i know right! her class was horrible! all she did was-" your words fell short when someone grabbed your upper arm, attempting to pull you away from the guy, who you think his name was josh, or john, or jake? you couldn't really remember and you definitely didn't care.

"c'mon kid, i'll give you a ride home." logan growled in your ear.

"oh, it's okay!" you chirp like a little bird at him. "think i'll find another way home tonight."

it's just a facade, logan told himself. you were just trying to prove a point. always stubborn.

"i'm not messing 'round, kid-"

"leave her alone, old man." the kid interrupted, giving logan a push.

logan snarls, about to teach this boy a lesson but you are faster; heel-kicking him in the nuts. the boy hunched over, allowing you to be ear level with him.

"fuck off." you spit, angrily before walking away.

logan looked at you completely dumbfounded. he had no other choice than to follow you blindly outside of the bar. he found you leaning against his truck; under the dim street light, logan would've misplaced you for some angelic figure.

"mind takin' me home, lo?" you ask him, for once not acting like some horny little rabbit towards him.

he nods, fishing out his keys. you give him directions to your apartment. the silence in the car makes you think logan's mad at you for real this time. you pushed it too far, embarrassing him and yourself this time. logan wasn't this dirty old perv who would actually give you the time of day, and maybe it was time for you to face that reality.

"i just wanted to say sorry for everything." your voice is low and quiet. afraid logan won't even acknowledge you. "i know that i should've left you alone a long time ago. you wouldn't want someone like me anyway-"

the car came to a dead halt in the driveway. logan turns to face you and you fear the worst; afraid he will yell at you.

"do you seriously think i wouldn't want you?" he asks. "you haven't left my mind since the day we bumped into each other at the bar and i spilled my whisky down your shirt. remember that, cherry?"

you nod, carefully. that day was imprinted in your mind. your friends and you were celebrating your birthday when logan bumped into you at the bar on accident. he frantically apologized for ruining your white shirt which you suggested for him to lick you clean. it had been so long since someone had flirted with him that he didn't know how to react.

"i'd never seen someone look so pretty and sticky at the same time." logan's hand gently caresses your cheek.

"could've seen it more often if you had fucked me like i wish you would've." the words fall out without pressure, making logan smirk. no matter how much you tried, you were desperate for him.

"you've got one dirty fuckin' mouth, cherry."

"it gets dirtier than that."

"hmm... don't know if that's possible."

"i could show you if you like."

the offer hangs hot in the truck. logan leans back into his seat, asking for forgiveness on what he's about to do. three light taps on his thigh and you crawl right into it.

"atta fuckin' girl, cherry." he groans as you grind against his crotch and bite on his neck.

"also for the record, the only person i want to have my panties is you, logan." you purred in his ear, referring back to your earlier conversation at the bar.

"i know, sweetheart. i know." he chuckles, watching you kick off your shorts and underwear.

once your back in his lap, you unbuckle his belt and wait eagerly for him to have his way with you. yet, logan doesn't offer anything.

"if you want to fuck an old man like me then you need to get used to doin' all the work, cherry." he says, half-joking. "can't keep up with an eager little thing like you."

you knew his game. to scare you off by acting like an asshole but you didn't mind doing the work to get what you want.

"fine with me." you smile, hands inching towards the glasses that hang on his button-down. "can't forget these, want you to see what you do to me."

logan groaned when you pulled him out of his pants, pumping him a few times before aligning him to your entrance. he was a bit bigger than you would've guessed, only making you wetter. just as you are about to sink down onto him, logan stops you, holding your hips in the air.

"fuck's wrong with you, cherry? you still want this, huh?" he taunts you, only getting a whine from you in response. "such a desperate little thing."

"p-p-please, logan." your hips wiggle against his tight grip. "want you... need you."

without another word, he lowers you down onto his length. both of you moan at the adjustment. your nails claw at logan's shoulders and you feel him twitch inside of you at the pain.

"happy now?" logan groaned, watching you bounce up and down on your own. his hands stayed on your waist, squeezing at the fat of your hips. "got what you fuckin' wanted."

"mhm..." you nod along dumbly agreeing to whatever he says. too busy trying to get his white button-down off of him. frustrated, you break open all the buttons.

once his chest was exposed, you litter it with kisses and dark bruises. for the first time, logan was happy that his healing abilities were slowing down so now he can admire your artwork longer. you grab both of his giant palms bringing one hand to your chest and taking the other thumb into your mouth, licking the pad of it before moving it down to your clit. tracing circles in a way that made your head fall back with your mouth wide open.

"do you always get this wet for older men or is it just for me, sweetheart?" logan asked, fist full of your hair.

"j-just you, lo..." you gasp.

logan's lips found your jaw, kissing up to your chin before capturing your lips. he wasn't a fan of fruity drinks but he loved the taste they left in your mouth. your backs against the wheel lazily and logan can tell that your orgasm is approaching.

"don't give up now, cherry." he teased. "you were doing so good, being a perfect little slut in my lap. what happened to her?"

you were too fucked out to say anything back and he knew it. logan finally took pity on you and started pistoling into you, listening to every pretty curse word that fell from your trembling lips.

"where do you want me, sweetheart?" logan grunts in your ear, pulling at the lobe as you come down from your high.

"inside, please."

that's all logan needed to hear to spill inside of you. the warmth indescribably flooded you. the two of you collapse in each other's arms, collecting yourself for a few minutes.

"told you, i'm a good fuck." you told him, looking up at him with messy hair and an unapologetic smile.

"didn't doubt you," he says, mirroring your smile as he moves some pieces of hair from your forehead. maybe logan could see you being a permanent person in his life.

"and to think..." your words drift off as you start to move again, feeling him get hard again inside of you. "we are just getting started."

[angelsheartts]

୭ JEALOUSY ˚. ᵎᵎ ~

#pairing : lucifer, adam, alastor, angel dust, husk, valentino, vox, x gn reader.

#cw: jealousy?, +18 in valentino's/vox's part, suggestive content ig, cuss words lmao.

#notes: u guys don’t know how much i wanna know why lilith made a deal with adam, and how could she even fumbled lucifer.

⋆.ೃ- LUCIFER .

i don't think lucifer gets jealous easily, at least, but if he is jealous, he will surely become reallyyyy clingy and will try to show off. i mean, he's the sin of pride, after all.

being the partner of the king of hell really meant that there would always be people staring at you, even ones who had no shame at all and would flirt with you, sometimes even in front of lucifer.

"would you mind if I bought you a drink, sweetheart?" a powerful overlord asked you, making lucifer raise an eyebrow and look at the overlord with one of his annoyed characteristics expressions, and before you could even reply anything, lucifer had already bought you both the whole menu of drinks while clinging onto you. "do you think this is enough for you, (name)?" he asked, making the overlord stop bothering you both and making you gasp a soft sigh, knowing he did all of this with such an innocent face, as if he wasn’t getting annoyed just a second ago.

⋆.ೃ- ADAM .

his ego is too big for him to even consider the idea of being jealous, but boy, does he want to get rid of the fucking asshole who is talking to you.

even though you were adam's third wife/adam's first husband, you were nice to being around. not like your husband, who always made snarky comments about everything and everyone.

sometimes, though, people would flirt with you without you noticing, making your husband really irritated and dragging you away while flipping off the angel who initially flirted with you and making some snarky remarks about them. "(name), that bitch was literally fucking you with his eyes! you should have called me before, next time make sure to be around me, got it?" adam called out, making you giggle since his insults were sometimes so unexpected.

⋆.ೃ- ALASTOR .

alastor is the kind of guy who wouldn’t get jealous; maybe once an extermination you would see him acting a little possessive over you, but really, this guy knows your soul belongs to him, so why would there be a need to feel jealous?

actually, only your friends at the hazbin hotel where the only ones who knew about your relationship with alastor; it made sense, since he knew you could get in danger if someone else found out.

that didn’t meant that angel dust wouldn’t take the opportunity to flirt with you as a joke while trying to get a reaction from you. "(name), i think you would get pretty popular if you started to appear on my films" he said jokingly to you, while alastor just looked at him with his usual smile "i don’t think that (name) would want to get involved in that kind of stuff, angel dust, isn’t that right, dear?" alastor answered, kissing your cheek, and leaving you speechless since he mostly kept his affection for when the both of you where alone.

⋆.ೃ- ANGEL DUST .

for me, he may get jealous depending on who's hitting on you; if it’s some random imp, it won’t really bother him; he will just tell them to fuck off themselves and leave you alone, but if it’s someone like valentino, oh boy, he acts VERY different.

angel dust didn’t really like you being in the porn studios were he works, because he knows that valentino is waiting to say anything to you, and because he simply thinks you don’t belong in a place like that. he thinks you’re much better working at the hazbin hotel or wandering around the pride ring.

"(name), aren’t you a supportive one? you know that if you want, i could make you a star lik-" "val, we're on set soon" angel dust spoke, looking angrily at valentino. "well, looks like your little boyfriend doesn’t want me to talk to you; i’m sure we’ll have plenty of time the next time," valentino whispered, making you stand there awkwardly.

as you both were finally at the hazbin hotel, anthony asked you not to come next time, since he really didn’t want valentino talking to you ever again. "(name), you know i really don’t want to get you in trouble, and you know that outside of the studio we can do whatever the fuck we want, but still, thanks for the snack you brought." he said, smirking, and letting you cuddle into his arms like you always do after an exhausting day.

⋆.ೃ- HUSK .

husk would only get jealous or, well, mostly, frustrated if someone interrupted you both, like if you both are just having a wholesome moment and someone just steals your attention from him, he’s a cat after all AND will be grumpy afterward.

you were having a nice chat with husk while having a drink at his bar, but as he was explaining you something, alastor came along and asked you something between the lines of 'if you had seen charlie or vaggie' since he had to talk to them about some business about the hazbin hotel.

after alastor left, you turned to look at your partner, noticing how he had been growling this entire time. it wasn’t really loud, though. "tsk, that radio demon really needed to ruin the atmosphere," he said, making you give him a look "what? you know, i dislike the idea of him thinking that he can just do whatever he pleases with my stuff." hearing your partner's words, you knew you had to reassure him that even though alastor had interrupted you both, your attention was still set on him and no one else.

⋆.ೃ- VALENTINO .

he’s valentino, he surely and kind of obviously gets jealous whenever you’re talking to someone that isn’t him.

the workers in the studio know that since you worked there, you've only filmed with valentino; nobody questions why, and nobody really cares whatever reason their boss has to not let you fuck with others.

today, though, a worker intended to jokingly flirt with you. "(name), i think that if we make a video together, even the most pure souls would want to watch it" oh, well, that wasn’t even a little funny to valentino.

"such a slut for me, mmh? you really thought my sweet (name) would even think about fucking with you?" valentino smirked, while thrusting into you. he had his eyes set on the demon who flirted with you, not even caring about the fact that he was on set.

⋆.ೃ- VOX .

this man has the same jealousy problems, or even worse, than valentino. he's actually such an attention whore, so he obviously would despise everyone who tries to flirt with you.

actually everyone who works for the vees knows how jealous vox is, and that’s because this is a situation that often happens: if someone is even looking at you a little longer than usual, he will become insecure and try ANYTHING he can so he can have your attention on him. like i mentioned, he’s an attention whore.

today, the outfit that velvette chose for you might have made some people stare back at you. i mean he can’t judge them; you looked so fucking good in it, but hell does he want to have you all by himself, so what does he does? take you to his office so he can have you all by himself.

"(name)," he mutters while keeping his hands all over your body. "you knew what you were doing, huh? making everyone stare at your body, but i’m such a good partner for not making a fuss about it, right?" he asked, waiting for you to atleast praise him, 'cause like a already mentioned he’s an attention wh- lmao.