#and only when we will see the world behind us

[kael-writ]

Sex work looks lots of different ways for different people in different situations. There are cam girls who entirely do their own work at home, there are strippers, there are people who do porn both indie and industry which can be very different, and there are full service workers who can work the stroll or out of a house. It can absolutely be a job that someone finds a lot of joy and freedom in. It can be a job where you do stay in poverty whether you like the job or not.

And at the worst of it is enslaved children, the most horrifying thing you can think of.

Retail is definitely not a good comparison for sex work. But there are other jobs that are. For example, being a nanny can be great. but some nannies are trafficked, enslaved. They can be horribly abused, like the worst abuse you can think of, including sexual violence. That's a little more comparable to the difference between a safe, protected, consenting sex worker and an enslaved sex trafficking victim.

You can draw more equivalencies in industries where there is more commonly trafficking, like farming, or there is more commonly a high risk, high level of coercion, high loss of bodily autonomy. When you have enslaved labor, especially child labor, that makes it a lot worse. Especially in a high risk job that harms your body like mining.

What is the biggest difference here? Consent. Consent consent consent. And to have that in sex work we have to be able to listen to sex workers who are telling us that they do consent, and listen to those who tell us they dont, and see the difference in their working conditions. And what's the biggest difference that makes sex workers able to have consent?

Paying them well, treating them with respect, legalizing and regulating the industry so they have protections.

Like in her book, "T Stands For Truth", Reyna Ortiz talks a lot about sex work. For the most part she liked it. She did actively choose to return to the stroll over a retail job. but she did have complex feelings about it too. You'd have to read the book. but one thing that struck me is that she compared cops to AIDS as her two biggest fears on the stroll. Because cops would rape her. They were empowered to do that because her work was criminalized.

I have no doubt that some sex workers in places where it's legal can still become traumatized from feeling coerced into sex. I feel traumatized from feeling coerced into sex I didnt get paid for that I probably couls have said no to. Coercion is a really fucked up feeling that's hard to process.

But when it's legal, those workers cant be threatened by a cop to get arrested for sex work. They can press charges if they get assaulted and its never easy but its definitely harder when sex work is illegal. They can unionize. They can talk more openly about their work and all that helps make it safer.

Shaming sex workers and making it illegal doesnt stop them from doing that work. It only makes that work more terrible, and more likely to involve full enslavement.

The best way to fully end any coercion in sex work regarding workers who do make that choice would be universal basic income and having all immigrants have a right to be documented citizens.

And then we have to take on the task of ending sexual enslavement, which is honestly pretty fucking daunting when we have 2 US presidents and a UK prince to be known for years to be guilty of raping child victims for years with impunity. We have to majorly systemically take down patriarchy and rape culture, and really strongly focus on listening to and supporting victims - which does require feminists supporting consenting, happy sex workers to never leave trafficking victims behind.

We have to be listening to the voices of consenting and happy sex workers, and we have to be listening to coerced and miserable sex workers, and we have to be listening to enslaved trafficking victims - across the world, across diverse backgrounds, across the spectrum of work and experiences.

"It's so fucked up women have to do sex work to survive" so trueee it's so fucked up we live in a capitalist society where you need to do work you don't want to do just to be alive. I'm so glad we're talking about ALL the jobs that are forced onto people, especially women, that are full of harassment. Thank God we're not just focusing on jobs that are already heavily stigmatized and shaming women for doing what's necessary to survive, even though every single person has to do that but for some reason it's immoral when it's a stripper instead of a fast food employee

[berkianscallop]

🌾Hijack Week

Day 1 - August 3rd🌾

prompt: 'Childhood Friends'

Fic and sketch by @berkianscallop

The sun had been hiding behind the mountain peaks for a while now, dyeing the sky indigo. The air was crisp and the swallows were calling and chasing each other, one last dance before going to sleep.

Jack caught a glimpse of Hiccup sitting cross-legged near a small cliff on a grassy bank. He sat down beside him huffing and rested his hand on his.

"Hey."

"Hey," Hiccup hinted a smile, looking at him for a second.

Jack cleared his throat, then suddenly smiled, speaking softly.

"Remember when we used to climb that hill as kids and see who could roll the fastest down the valley?

Hiccup smiled, wrinkling his nose a little, remembering the golden light of the sun alternating with the dark brown of the earth at wind speed until it made him nauseous, the taste of grass in his mouth.

"I remember it all too well."

Then Jack pointed to an undefined spot to the west, beyond the larch forest. "And over there, instead, at the abandoned fortress. We pretended we were knights who had to protect the princess from the dragon."

Hiccup's eyes promptly shifted in that direction, giggling. He realized that if not for Jack, his childhood probably wouldn't have been so adventurous. And risky.

"Yeah. And why did I always have to be the dragon to be hunted in the end?"

The boys looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Jack sighed as he looked up at the sky, his eyes indecipherable. Hiccup would have spent hours studying them, to find out what mystery they concealed.

"I miss it. I miss those moments. When we were... Free. We could do anything, without anyone-"

Hiccup's smile faltered slightly. His mind went back to that morning, to the communal oven in the neighboring village. To the farmer's skeptical expression when he discovered them hugging each other. To Jack, who recoiled immediately and avoided him for the remainder of the time.

He lowered his gaze to their hands, only to clasp his best friend's between his fingers.

"I know, but... Look at what we've become. We didn't choose this, Jack. This-" Hiccup raised their hands so that Jack could look at them too, "I wouldn't change it for anything in the world."

Hiccup noticed that Jack's eyes became glazed. He felt a sudden knot in the pit of his stomach and stammered.

"F-for you it's the same... Right?"

Jack then sighed, stretching his arms around Hiccup's shoulders.

"You know it is. It's just..." Jack clasped his hands on the boy's furcoat, sighing again. He whispered, "Sometimes I wish I were invisible."

Hiccup's eyes went wide. He had never heard Jack talk like that before. He sensed a tightness in his heart. Almost as if Jack had felt it too, he pulled away from the embrace.

"Sorry, never mind. I probably breathed in too much smoke this morning," He tried to lighten up with a nervous laugh, but deep down he knew Hiccup wouldn't let it pass. And, almost as if he had read a prophecy, he saw a twinkle in Hiccup's eyes as he began to speak, his hands on his hips.

"Well, would you look at that. A second ago the boy I love was here, right next to me, and now... Where might he have gone?"

Hiccup stood up and tapped his pockets, as if he had lost his keys, looking around.

Jack rolled his eyes, letting out a giggle.

"'Alright, alright. I get it. You can stop now-"

"JACK! DO YOU HEAR ME?" Hiccup shouted cupping his hands at the sides of his mouth, hearing his own echo spread through the valley.

Jack stood up suddenly, panicked. "Hiccup shh! Keep your voice down!"

Hiccup poked his head out of the cliff, putting a hand on his chest.

"Sometimes I think I can still hear his voice."

Jack launched himself at him and they both ended up on the grass, laughing and wrestling as they did as children. Before long they found themselves holding hands, and fists became caresses.

"You are impossible."

Hiccup looked at him softly, resting a hand on his cheek. He murmured, as if he did not want anyone other than Jack, not even the wind, to hear him.

"Those in the village... Gods, The whole world even! They can think whatever they want about us. It's enough for me to know that we're together. That we're a team, no matter what may happen."

Hiccup placed their hands on his chest, looking resolutely at the boy.

"You can always count on me, Jack."

Jack then smiled slyly, thinning his eyes, watching both of the boy's green irises with a sigh.

"I love you, Straw Head."

Hiccup's stomach jumped and his cheeks became more colorful. He leaned close to the young man's lips with a smile, whispering.

"Prove it."

And Jack didn't let himself be told twice. He closed his eyes and kissed him softly for a long time, their hearts beating almost in unison under a sea of stars.

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Sorry if something sounds weird, English is not my first language, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! 💚

This small fic could very well take place in the universe I'm working on, so I'm very curious to know what you think! :D

[snugglebug-mj]

Soul bound (Rewritten) Saja boys x Fem! Isekai! Reader

one soul bound to another is normal, one soul bound to two is rare but One soul bound to five is unheard of until now. One human girl bound to five demon boys what a crazy adventure.

one minute you're sitting at home watching Kpop demon hunters the next you're inside the movie.

~chapter 1~

Finally a weekend off, chores done, fridge stocked, rain expected all weekend and no plans of leaving the apartment, is the perfect time to lounge around the apartment in comfortable clothes and watch TV shows or new movies and eat ice cream.

Today was the first time y/n was able to watch Kpop demon hunters, it's been out for a few weeks now but y/n had been too busy to sit down andwatch the new movie. She had to admit it was really good.

Y/n danced in her kitchen humming your idol as she cooked her some ramen noodles as rain tapped on y/ns windows.

While y/n danced and hummed in the kitchen with her attention on her noddles, her television glitched with five characters smiling before disappearing.

As y/n put her noddles in a bowl the power flicked off then on making y/n look up at her lights. "Time to get the flashlights out" y/n chuckled as she made sure the stove was off before turning around.

Only to come face to face (chest) with a large chest y/n Yelped dropping her ramen as she took a step back bumping into the stove.

Standing in front of her was demon Abby with a cocky smile, standing beside him was Jinu, standing behind them leaning against the cover was romance, mystery and Baby.

"We found you our dear soulmate." Jinu said stepping closer to y/n before he gently curled a claw under y/ns chin. Y/n quickly moving away from Jinu all the boys watching her move away.

"Soulmate-?" Y/n started before flinching when arms wrapped around her waist and weight on her shoulder. Y/n saw Mystery chin on her shoulder, Mystery had teleported behind y/n to keep her in place.

"You've seen the movie, you've seen how we die, we need your help and you'll help us. We want a happy ending and you'll help us get it." Baby said as his golden eyes stared at the girl in front of him as he drank her hot sauce

"How did you even get that?! When did you move?! And what do you mean soulmate those don't exist!?" Y/n asked utterly confused baby just smirked at her.

Romance walked closer to y/n before gently booping her nose. "Soulmates do exist my dear, they are just really rare. Luckily for you, we've found away to you" romance said with a smile. Y/n glared at him unimpressed, Abby leaned down head on romances shoulder "now that we have you it's time for you to come with us." Abby said also booping y/ns nose.

"What?" Y/n asked trying to struggle but mystery's arms tightened around y/n, growling slightly.

"Don't worry my dear we'll take care of you and we'll see you soon." Jinu said before snapping his fingers y/ns vision with pink that faded to black.

Y/ns apartment now empty noddles spilled all over the kitchen floor, TV glitching as the rain hit the window.

~the world of kpop demon hunters. 20 years before the movie.~

Bobby walked down the street as rain fell heavily when he heard crying. Bobby slowly walked down an alleyway getting closer to the source of the crying. Bobby stops at a box umbrella above him as Bobby stood still looking down at a baby in a grey onesie with a note damp on the baby's chest crying and shivering.

Bobby quickly crouched down and picked up the baby who stopped crying. Bobby held the baby to his shoulder as he opened the letter.

'Her name is y/n and she was born on (Birthday)' was all the letter said.

Bobby felt baby y/n cling to him trying to get warm, Bobby smiled slightly "don't worry kiddo I'll take care of you. My name is Bobby I'll be your dad now." Bobby said hugging y/n.

~y/ns thoughts~

' those jerks kidnapped and teleported me into a movie and turned me into a child but Bobby found me and wants to be my dad I might be ok with this... I'ma still kick their hides when I meet them again.' even though y/n was in the body of a baby but she had the mind of her normal self.

[doiliedaze]

Turn it Off

Warnings: band manager! reader, rockstar! vi, fucks you in her hotel room, service top! vi, vi has a christina piercing, y’all use to date, y’all want each other back, argument turns make-up turns makeout, coochie ate (r! receiving), pussy drunk! vi, floor sex, yearner! vi, mean praise??, smau

Genre: smut

A/n: I don’t even remember the last time I wrote for vi so that’s a problem 🤨 this is inspired by turn it off by paramore! Finished this at 5 am cause I couldn’t sleep till it was done🙏🏿

The imagine for this fic

───────┈ · ·

Working with an ex is always hard, especially if you’re still in love with them…and if they write love songs about you!

The breakup feels pointless, if she needs anything she runs to you, help her un-bind her chest, constantly inviting you to the studio and ignoring groupies. Makes you regret your decision sometimes, but not all the time!

You hate how drunk she could get, how she’s “all about pushing the limits”, not being up front about her emotions all the time. It gets tiring having to almost pull her teeth to get her to be open! That’s what happens when you date a client though; when do you stop being the boss?

At least that’s what she’d say.

You’re watching behind stage as the performance wraps up and the bad rushes off stage after “quick byes” and “love you’s” to the fans. Swiftly the routine begins, overseeing everything and making sure they can smoothly get onto the tour bus and back to the hotel, you guys will be fly out to London tomorrow.

Sharp, sweet and detailed is your go to with these fuckers, just ready to disobey.

Per usual, the transition is smooth and you’re headed to do checkups wanting to make sure everyone is okay and in good spirits before heading to bed yourself.

Of course you leave her for last, delaying any cocky remark or asshole comment. Can’t stand her bad girl persona.

Softly you knock on the door, acrylic nails digging into your palm because of your tightly clenched fist. Counting under your breath so you can give yourself the excuse if she took to long so tonight’s sleep could be easier.

Sixty seconds is all you’d give her but as you turn on your heels the door opens.

“Hey baby” she rasps, voice tired and soft. How it always falls on your ears on a good day.

“Stop calling me that” you whisper, still loud enough for her to hear. “I’ll stop when it stops fitting.”

The look in vi’s eyes is very serious. She misses you, she tells you this all the time. At this point she’s just waiting for you to act on your struggling emotions.

“Listen I’m just swinging by to check if everything is alright with everyone so goodnight!”

“How would you know I’m alright you didn’t even enter the room?” You let out a small huff and enter the room. Look around seeing that everything was fine.

Vi crept behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. Her head falling onto your shoulder, “can you stay the night?”

“Not sleeping?” You whisper, “hardly” she says with a dry laugh.

A part of you considered it, wrapped in her warmth again…

“No! No…thank you.” Voice loud and clear, hands moving hers and creating space. If that line is crossed no-one can come back!

“I see” she says voice laced with irritation, which only pisses you off.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“You! You’re fucking confusing! You want all this space and claim I’m not open when you shut me out!”

“I shut you out? Oh please! Save it for someone who doesn’t know you!”

She walked up to you, arms crossed, “exactly we know each other so I know you’re fighting yourself! You act like it’s the worst thing in the world to still be in love with me! I fucking love you, why isn’t that enough?”

Your heart sinks a little, the problem isn’t the love it’s the respect. “I love you…you know that!” Before she could cut you off, you get closer and rub her bicep. “I love you enough to know that you weren’t in a headspace to give me or yourself the love you needed. I knew I wasn’t! I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t enough because you are.”

Her bottom lip was caught in-between her teeth. Anxiously thinking about her next move. “I just want to be yours again. Call you baby and you not fight me on it, to travel the world with you…to make you happy.” She sighs as she uncrossed her arms so she could hold your face.

Tears build in your eyes, you’ve been fighting your heart and mind for two long years. “I want to be happy but I-”

“Then let me make you happy” her forehead pressing against yours.

Slowly you close your eyes and feel her soft lips press against yours. It felt like your brain turned off as you melt into the kiss, hands gripping her jaw tight.

As you two fumble around, you fall on the bed. “Missed you so fucking much” she says with fever, bunching your dress up to your waist.

She wasted no time ripping your panties off and attaching her tongue to your clit. A moan flies from your lips feeling the pressure of your panty break, and your heart jumps as she mumbles about buying you more.

Her knees pressed hard against the floor. She pulls you closer to the edge by your thighs, hands digging deep into the plush.

Instinctively you wrap your legs around her head as she licks stripes up and down your pussy. Her nose to chin covered in your wetness.

Vi’s tongue is deep in your cunt and her nose bump is hitting the perfect spot against your clit. You swear you’re ready to cum off the visuals alone.

“Moan for me louder baby, need everyone to hear” she groans as she pushes one ringer finger in you.

You sing like a whore for her. Back arching, nails digging into the sheets and trying to keep your heels from flying off your feet!

“So close” you moan brokenly, pussy feeling swollen and nowhere near done! You grind on her face utilizing her nose.

Vi’s hips buck beneath her, so turned on by you. “Fuck baby use me please” she moans, sending vibrations through you.

You sped up and push her in deeper by her hair causing her to whimper. Always sensitive to having her hair pulled.

You cum hard against her, completely out of breath. Vi laps at your pussy and her finger slows her pace.

Without warning she unwraps your legs and pulls you off the bed and on the floor with her.

“Fuck vi ow!” You whine rubbing your head, “poor baby y’know I forget my strength yeah?” She mocks with a big grin.

Quickly she strips her lower half, wasting no time in grabbing your legs and thrusting herself against you.

“Stay still lemme do all the work…let me please you!” She cries as her eyes close and yours roll back. You haven’t felt her heat against yours in so long, the pheromones from her cunt spreading to your nose.

You try to focus your eyes on her sculpted body. Happy trail leading to a glorious bush! Yours a bit fuller than hers.

She lets go of your right leg and places it down and crosses her left leg over your torso, holding herself against your left leg forcing it to stay upright. She drops her cunt against yours with a plop sound and begins to rut against you.

“Say your mine” she groans as she cranes her neck to look down at you. “I’m yours vi”

“Again”

“Fuck I’m yours” you moan hand tapping the floor. The friction and pace felt so good, the way her christina piercing added a cold and hard feeling against your cunt.

“Haven’t felt this pussy in two fucking years” she moans and uses a free hand to slap your tit, hard and deliberate.

You whimper like a bitch because you needed this, needed her!

“‘m sorry, so sorry” you cry, overstimulation building in you. “You’ll make up for it” she moans but you know she’s smiling too.

“C’mon cum for me baby, be my good girl” vi’s voice elevating with every thrust, also chasing her release.

It didn’t take you long to cum, already so pent up. Her after shakes stimulate you and it’s almost too much. Vi knows that and that’s why she stayed on top of you.

She places your leg down and detaches from you, strings of cum connecting y’all or in either of your bushes.

Carefully she helps you fully undress and get on the bed, you doing the same for her.

Tonight didn’t need another long winded conversation from either party; just a kiss goodnight and the warmth found in a lover.

───────┈ · ·

A/n: y’all paramore 🤝🏿 vi!!! Hope y’all are enjoying my spam!! I’m trying to get as much quality fics in before college starts and before I sit back and plan out this series I’m cooking up! Love y’all mwah ིྀ (also a christina piercing on vi has me wet ash that visual is everything)

Dividers- @roseraris

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife @pramspams

[happyk44]

[Text ID: 1. In another universe you're still my best friend

2. When you find an old picture of us And you clear away the dust I hope you miss me sometimes

3. [highlight] The best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, [end highlight] and they break our hearts in worse ways.

4. I lost a friend Like keys in a sofa Like a wallet in the backseat Like ice in the summer heat I lost a friend Like sleep on a red-eye Like money on a bad bet Like time worrying about every bad thing that hasn't happened yet

5. I loved my friend He went away from me. There's nothing more to say. The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.

6. When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?

7. they did not tell me it would hurt like this no one warned me about the heartbreak we experience with friends where are the albums i thought there were no songs sung for it i could not find the ballads or read the books dedicated to writing the grief we fall into when friends leave it is the type of heartache that does not hit you like a tsunami it is a slow cancer the kind that does not show up for months has no visible signs is an ache here a headache there but manageable cancer or tsunami it all ends the same a friend or a lover a loss is a loss is a loss

8. i miss you and i hope your journey back home is safe. i miss you and i am starting to forget your voice. i miss you and i'm sorry my actions said otherwise. i miss you and and and i wish you were here.

-sk

9. I hate you for what you did And I miss you like a little kid

10. old friendship is like: i see pieces of you in every person i meet. you know exactly how i take my tea and i always remember to pick the tomato out of your sandwiches. we don't talk for months on end. your hugs feel like coming home. sometimes i look at you and see a stranger. we know each other's deepest hopes and fears. i get jealous of anyone that makes you smile brighter than i can. your love is the only stable thing i have in this world. we pretend we don't notice how far we've drifted apart. i miss you even when you're right next to me. we know what the other is thinking we a single glance. i'd die for you in a heartbeat.

11. That I don't know who I am after you And I can't stand to look at that fucking pair of Shoes I used to wear with you Or the pictures that I framed of you Oh, I, feel like I'm split in two

12. You change me, you should remember me.

13. we're getting older and I'll miss you forever

14. I want that girl that I knew before

To come right back and knock on my door

She's my best friend, but I'm not hers

'Cause she's got more than she had before

15. Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It tooks weaks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of a matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

16. I Still Forget We're Not Even Friends

I still wake up with things to tell you.

17. Maybe, if you're with a group of friends who'll never be together again, all your lights will shine at the same time and you'll know, and then you can hold each other and whisper, "This was so good. Oh my God, this was so good."

18. every time i think of you, i subconsciously downplay what our friendship was. but i remember you painting my nails and rollerblading through the neighborhood in 90 degree weather. and i miss you a lot. you were my best friend.

19. Sorry if I don't seem like a whole person it's just I left some pieces of my in my childhood friends and I'm not sure how to get them back

20. And I'll be fine without him But all I do is write about him How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?

21. Dear Friend,how have you been? I think about you from time to time Some day, I'd love to know How you have grown since our last goodbye

22. Where is my friend, my love?

Does he carry his sadness still?

Like baggage in a tightly-closed fist.

Does he carry happiness finally?

A pleasure he judged himself undeserving of.

Does he carry love?

A thing he cannot help, but be.

Where is my friend, my love,

for I want to see it all.

/end ID]

Words from the mouths of babes, promises ocean deep. But never to keep.

@inanotherunivrse/cocaine jesus - rainbow kitten surprise/fredrick backman, us against you/i lost a friend - finneas/poem - langston hughes/ocean vuong, on earth we’re briefly gorgeous/the underrated heartache - rupi kaur/@sarakleijn/unknown/motion sickness - phoebe bridgers/ @honeytuesday/saw ur mom at the grocery store - abby cates/louise glück, seizure/@thundersoon/ bronze - the regrettes/ritika jyala, the world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire/i still forget we’re not even friends - trista mateer/the light that shines when things end - anonymous/couch sleeper, unknown site/ @saltair-and-palemoonlight/i lost a friend - finneas/dear friend, - dayglow/peter - taylor swift

Requested here

[dirtyl0ver]

Heyyy I was wondering how u would headcannon the creeps after an argument would they beg for forgiveness, run away from all problems by walking out on their s/o, leave them only to come back like nothing happened, or manipulate them into thinking they r in the wrong for the s/o to come back crawling to them???

I’d love to see your take on this, I love ur writing ☺️

Great question!! 😮‍💨 I definitely think it all depends on how severe the argument is and what they’re actually arguing about, but let's dive into some potential scenarios 🫶

Creeps After an Argument With Their S/O

Ticci Toby

The fight hadn’t been explosive, but it had teeth. You’d called him out for shutting down again, for brushing you off with that deadpan glare and tight-jawed silence that always meant something was brewing under the surface.

He’d snapped. And then he stormed out without a word, the front door slamming hard enough to rattle the frame.

You hadn’t followed. You knew better by now. Toby didn’t need chasing when he was like this, he needed space to burn the edge off whatever it was chewing him up inside.

It was almost an hour before you heard the door creak back open. You stayed curled on the couch, pretending to scroll your phone, but your heart gave a tiny stutter when you caught movement in the doorway.

He hovered there for a second, hoodie half-zipped, sleeves pushed up like he’d been fidgeting with them, hair a mess from too many frustrated passes through it. His jaw flexed, and you could see it, that tension building behind his eyes, the tics twitching through his shoulders and fingers.

Then he crossed the room, quick but uncertain, and dropped to his knees in front of you. Like his body was too weighed down to keep holding itself upright. He slumped forward, resting his head in your lap without a word. Just breathing. Twitching faintly now and then, shoulders jerking in those quiet, involuntary jolts you’d learned to recognize.

You felt the warmth of him soak into your skin. His fingers curled into the fabric of your pants like he was anchoring himself there.

“I… I s-s-screwed up,” he muttered, voice rough and low. “Was b-being a-hh-hh– an asshole. I just… I dunno.”

He twitched again, head pressing a little harder into your lap, like he just wanted to stay there forever and forget the world outside of it.

“I’m, ngh, s-sorry.”

You blinked down at him, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. A soft laugh slipped out before you could stop it, surprised. Fond.

At the sound of it, he looked up, and something shifted in his expression. That twitch of a smile. Barely there, but it was there. And then he nudged his face against your stomach again, nose brushing the fabric of your shirt.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you knew he liked. He shivered under your touch, from relief.

A beat passed.

Then, muffled against your thigh, he spoke again. Voice lower, a little raspy, a little shy:

“C-Could… we, uh–nnngh–” He cleared his throat, blinked hard. “Fuck. I mean... could we make up?”

You arched an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Make up?”

He groaned softly and nudged his head further into your lap.

“Y’know,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your thigh. “Nnngh-naked. In bed. I w-wanna fuck the fight out of us.”

You laughed again, full this time, and he cracked a bigger grin, one hand reaching up to tug at your shirt like a silent apology he couldn’t put into words.

And even though the argument still lingered in the air, so did his weight. His warmth and brutal honesty. And the way he held onto you like he wasn’t planning to let go.

So you let him.

Let him pull you down, kiss you hard, and do exactly what he said - fuck the tension out of both of you until there was nothing left but skin and breath and the quiet after.

Eyeless Jack

You hadn’t seen him since the argument.

No slamming doors or yelling. Just complete absence. Jack had gone silent the second things got heated, withdrawn, then disappeared into his infirmary like the walls themselves had swallowed him.

You’d waited a little. But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it felt.

So now, here you were - hesitating outside the heavy metal door, fingers ghosting over the handle. You opened it slowly and stepped inside.

It was dim as always. Cold and sterile. The low hum of equipment filled the silence, broken only by the occasional soft clink of metal tools being cleaned or re-sorted. He was seated at his desk, gloved hands organizing scalpels into a tray. Just to do something.

He didn’t turn when you entered. Just went still for a second, then kept working.

You closed the door behind you and crossed the room, watching the curve of his spine, the slow, precise movements of his hands. Finally, he acknowledged you, just barely, with a small tilt of the head. Noting you.

Cold silence.

“Jack,” you said quietly, folding your arms. “You can’t shut me out forever.”

Nothing. No reaction.

You let the silence stretch, then softened your voice. “Let’s just talk it out. Please.”

He stopped what he was doing. Sat still for a long moment, like he was weighing whether it was worth breaking the quiet he'd wrapped around himself like armor.

Then, finally, his voice, low and even: “Sit.”

You did. In the old padded stool across from his desk. He turned toward you fully now, his face unreadable as always, those black eyes giving nothing away. But he was listening.

You spoke, slowly at first, then with more honesty, letting your frustration and concern bleed through your words. He was a good listener, didn’t interrupt you or argue. Just nodded now and then - once, twice, subtle and quiet, like he was letting your words pass through him carefully, like an incision being cleaned.

When you finished, the silence returned. But it felt different now.

“I was… distant,” he said finally, voice quieter than usual. “More than necessary.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say. You could hear it. He chose every word carefully. No emotion leaked into his voice, but you’d known him long enough to feel the weight behind it.

“I’m sorry,” he added. And his apology felt real.

You stood slowly, approaching him. He didn’t stop you when your arms wrapped gently around his shoulders. Just sat there, still and solid, as you leaned in.

Then, slowly, almost stiffly, one gloved arm came around you. His hand patted your back once. Then again.

And then… he leaned in slightly, pressing his face just close enough to your throat that you felt it.

A quiet inhale.

He was smelling you. Like something about your scent, your skin, made the tension in his shoulders ease.

You closed your eyes and held him a little tighter, your arms wrapped carefully around his frame, your hand settling against the back of his neck.

And for once, he didn’t pull away, just stayed there with you, letting the silence hold what neither of you could say.

Tim/Masky

Fights with Tim were never quiet.

He shouted. Slammed doors, punched walls, knocked over a chair just for being in the wrong place. His voice hit like gunfire, his fists like thunder, always loud and sharp, and always too much.

Tonight had been no different.

You’d barely finished your sentence before he exploded - yelling, pacing, jabbing his finger in the air like the rage needed somewhere to go. The kitchen table bore the brunt of it, his palm slamming against the surface hard enough to rattle the legs. You heard glass break. Heard the door crack open and slam so hard behind him you swore the whole house held its breath.

You didn’t follow, you knew better. You didn’t want to be collateral.

It was hours before you saw him again - slouched on the front porch, elbows on his knees, cigarette glowing in the dark. His face was lined with leftover anger and fresh guilt. He didn’t look at you when you stepped outside, just took another drag and stared out at nothing.

You sat beside him without a word. The wood creaked under your weight, but still he didn’t move. You let the silence stretch, soft and tentative.

Then, gently, you nudged his arm with your shoulder.

His gaze didn’t flick toward you, but you saw his jaw shift.

You gave him a small smirk, voice light. “You done being a grumpy old man?”

That got him.

A huff, not quite a laugh, but close enough. His lips twitched, just barely. He shook his head and took one more slow drag before speaking, voice low and rough.

“You make me insane, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said. “You still love me though.”

He finally looked at you. Really looked.

There was no apology in his mouth - he couldn’t form the word if you paid him - but it was there in his eyes. Dark and raw and guilty. He was always afraid he’d pushed too far. That you’d walk this time. That the fire would burn you for good.

So you leaned in and kissed him, once. Just a brush of your lips against his.

He didn’t move for a heartbeat. Then his mouth found yours again, firmer this time, possessive, before he pulled back and exhaled slowly, the tension bleeding out of his frame.

One big arm wrapped around your shoulders, dragging you in against his side. He passed you the cigarette without a word. You took a long drag, holding it in before exhaling slow.

He watched you do it. Then leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear, voice low and thick: “Go inside.”

You blinked up at him, heartbeat skipping.

“I said go,” he murmured, that dark edge curling under his voice now. “Get ready for me.”

His eyes glinted.

“I’m gonna show you just how bad you messed up, pissing me off like that.”

Brian/Hoodie

The fight hadn’t been loud at first, just another quiet edge to his voice, another wall you couldn’t see but kept running into. You’d asked him to talk, to be real with you. To stop hiding in the corners of his own mind.

And then something in him snapped.

He yelled. A sharp, brutal sound. His hand slammed down on the table. And then came the words, cold, jagged, too fast to take back.

“Know your fucking place.” he’d said, teeth clenched, eyes hard.

That one stuck. It echoed in your chest long after the sound had died out.

Then he grabbed his keys and was gone. Just taillights and fading engine noise as he drove off.

You’d left messages. Quiet ones, angry ones, sad ones. Begging, at one point - you weren’t proud of that, but you hadn’t known what else to do. When he didn’t come home that night, you’d curled up alone in bed, phone still clutched in your hand, waiting for it to buzz.

It didn’t.

The next day, the door creaked open mid-afternoon. You heard his boots on the floor and the soft click of the lock behind him. He didn’t say a word, didn't even look at you.

You gave him space.

It killed you, but you knew - Brian didn’t respond to pushing. You had to let him circle back on his own. And eventually… he did.

You were in bed, curled up with your phone, not even pretending to scroll anymore. The door opened slow. He stepped inside.

Sat at the edge of the bed.

His jaw was tight. Still locked in that familiar grind, like the words inside him were barbed wire he had to swallow to get out.

Then, a pause. A breath.

And finally, one big hand reached out and settled on your knee, warm and steady.

“C’mere.”

You set your phone down, heart racing, and shifted toward him. His eyes followed you now, watching the way your body moved, the way you climbed into his lap like gravity had always intended it, your hands pressing to his chest, your forehead brushing his jaw.

You leaned in and kissed him, soft, hesitant at first. He let you. Kissed you back once, slow and deep, like the silence had been burning a hole in him.

And then you whispered, barely audible: “I’m sorry, Brian.”

You weren’t the one who needed to say it. But that was how it worked with him. Sometimes, you had to be the first to bend - to hand him the words he didn’t know how to ask for.

That’s when he finally exhaled. You felt it more than heard it, a long, tired breath from somewhere deep in his chest.

“I know,” he said.

Another beat passed, and he added, quieter: “I’ve been thinking. About what you said. About… all of it. I understand.”

That was it. No long speech, no dramatic confession. Not even an apology.

But you felt it. In the way he looked at you. In the way he let you reach for the hem of your shirt and slip it off in front of him.

He watched you undress with something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

He didn’t stop you, didn't help, just watched, like he needed to see it. Like watching you bare yourself in front of him was the only thing convincing him you were still his.

His gaze dragged down your body. His hand stayed on your thigh, firm and warm, thumb brushing once, then again, like a quiet promise and a warning all at once.

You moved closer. And he let you. Let you straddle him. Let you lean in close, your breath warm against his mouth - and when you kissed him again, there was no hesitation.

Just heat.

Just his hands finding your hips, gripping hard.

Like he was done pretending he didn’t want to fuck the silence out of both of you.

BEN Drowned

The fight was stupid. Like… really stupid.

Something about you not answering fast enough, or closing his game window to look something up. You weren’t even sure anymore. Ben had blown it out of proportion like he always did when he didn’t want to admit he was wrong - blaming you, brushing off your frustration with that signature smirk and lazy sarcasm.

And eventually, you’d had enough.

You stormed out mid-sentence, slamming the door behind you so hard that one of his wall scrolls slipped sideways.

He didn’t come after you.

He just slouched deeper into his gaming chair, grumbling under his breath and throwing himself into some pixelated bloodbath like he was the wronged one. You were the one who walked out, right? You were being dramatic, right?

…Right?

About twenty minutes later, he paused his game.

The room was quiet.

He leaned back, eyes flicking toward the door. Then down at his phone. Then he did what any emotionally stunted guy would do.

He opened his camera roll and started sending you dumb memes.

No caption. Just image after image: a shitty frog edit, a glitchy gif, a low-res cat screaming at lettuce.

Then finally:

“u still mad? 😢” “cum back i got weed n u got titties 😩”

No response.

He sighed dramatically and vaped like it was going to solve world hunger. Still, he kept one eye on the door, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

And then–

The door creaked open.

You stepped in, arms crossed, brow raised. “Seriously?”

He didn’t even try to explain himself. Just sprawled back on the bed, vape in one hand, smirk flickering to life like a guilty dog wagging its tail.

“Come here and kiss me, baby,” he said, blowing a cloud of cherry-scented smoke toward the ceiling. “Let’s just forget it. I forgive you.”

You blinked. “You forgive me? Are you stupid?”

He grinned wider, clearly pushing it. “Only a little. You gonna come kiss me or are we beefin’ forever?”

“You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, but you were already walking toward the bed.

He watched you crawl up, settling on top of him like you belonged there (because you did), legs straddling his hips, hands braced on his chest.

“I should be the one forgiving you, jackass.”

Ben pouted dramatically, resting his vape on his nightstand. “Okay, fine, you can forgive me while kissing me.”

You rolled your eyes, leaned down, and pressed your lips to his, soft at first, then deeper when you felt his arms wrap lazily around your waist. He tasted like vape juice and smugness and that stupid brand of affection only he could get away with.

His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt like nothing had ever been wrong.

And maybe, for now, nothing was.

Jeff the Killer

You’d tried talking to him. Really tried.

Tried to explain how he was being a dick. How the way he brushed you off, laughed at your frustration, rolled his eyes like you were just some nagging echo - it hurt.

But Jeff, being Jeff, didn’t want to hear any of it.

He leaned back on his bed with that insufferable little grin, arms crossed behind his head, and said something like: “Jesus, you’re dramatic. You want me to cry or something?”

You left. Slammed the door. Let him sit there in his smug little throne of ego and denial. Let him stew in his self-importance.

You sulked for the rest of the day, chewing over his words like glass. Maybe he wanted to make you feel like you were the one being ridiculous. Maybe he liked seeing you hurt.

But by nightfall, you were just tired.

You lay curled in bed, back to the door, trying not to feel pathetic for caring more than he apparently did.

And then you heard it - the creak of the floorboard outside your room. The pause.

The door opened without knocking.

You didn’t turn around. You already knew it was him.

Jeff didn’t say a word. Just walked in like he owned the place, like he owned you.

You felt the bed shift under his weight. His body pressed up behind yours, warm and heavy, breath brushing your ear.

And then, just above a whisper: “Still mad, huh?”

You didn’t answer. Your body stiffened. Not because you didn’t want him there, but because you did.

His hand slid up your waist slowly, fingers dipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “You gonna pout all night,” he murmured, “or are you gonna let me remind you who the fuck you belong to?”

You hated how fast your breath caught.

Hated how easily your thighs clenched, how fast your resentment started burning into heat.

His lips brushed the back of your neck, and he laughed softly - that smug, infuriating laugh. “Thought so.”

You didn’t push him away.

Didn’t stop him when he pulled your shorts down your legs and whispered filth into your skin. When he fucked you like your anger was just another obstacle to conquer. Hard, slow at first, just to prove a point, and then rougher, every thrust shoving the argument further out of your mind until all that was left was breathless sounds and the ache of giving in.

You came with his name punched out of your mouth like a confession, his hand tangled in your hair, teeth dragging along your shoulder.

And when it was over, when he was still buried inside you, breath warm against your spine, he kissed your neck again.

Completely smug and satisfied.

“You good now?”

You turned your head just enough to glare over your shoulder. “You’re such a bastard.”

His grin widened.

“But you’re not mad anymore.”

Touché.

[kakerutori]

The Airport Scene: What in the world is Mike going through?

Or, alternatively and gently with all the fondness in my heart, what the hell is up with Mike in the airport scene?

First and foremost, this is not a mockery of Mike. I just want to dissect the airport scene in season 4 because it’s been on my mind, lately, and Mike does such a good job at being unreadable that I’m still a little baffled, three years later. But I have some clues as to what is going on inside that head of his.

So we start with a dolly shot of Argyle, Jonathan, Will, and El. The four are placed in order of “familiarity” to Mike. I put “familiarity” in quotes because while it’s technically not true, narratively, that’s what we’re made to believe, here.

Look at the excitement on Will’s face!! It matches - if not exceeds - El’s excitement, which is adorable as much as it is absolutely painful.

El spots Mike first, and she waves him over.

Look at that grin on Mike’s face. Honestly, this reunion is cute, if not for the fact that Mike is wearing his glasses, for… some reason. 🧐 It’s almost like he doesn’t really want to look El in the eyes. Hm. 🧐 But beyond that, El is so sweet, here. She wraps both arms around Mike, and she’s now very clearly excited to see him.

But what does Mike do? “Careful, careful, you’re squishing your present!” he says, and then El sees that signature, and it’s not, “love, Mike.” Mike cares more about the integrity of his gift over El. Keep Mike’s special attention on gifts in mind.

El’s smile is instantly wiped away. (And side note, did you guys know that in this scene when Will approaches, he hops up to Mike? 😭 He’s literally bouncing on his toes. I will cry.)

And this is where things start to get a little weird. Once Mike removes his glasses, his eyes are revealed to hold this very vacant stare.

Not only that, but Mike continues to explain why his present is special to a very disinterested and fakely-smiling El. He doesn’t seem to take in El’s disapproving expression, at all. Also, when Mike remarks about there being “too much yellow,” that’s when the tag shows up, and the “from, Mike,” is apparent. He’s not understanding why this makes El upset, though, and he just moves on.

Is Mike tired? Jet lagged? Clueless? Or, perhaps, is he hyper aware that Will is right behind El? And another question that I still wonder to this day is, did Mike expect Will to meet him at the airport, too? I almost think that with all of his reactions, he was not mentally prepared to meet him there, perhaps.

And, so, the Byler “hug” happens:

Interestingly enough, in this moment, Mike is first to acknowledge Will, which blew my mind on rewatch. He gives that first, “oh, hey!” and clearly approaches Will, but then he seems to back out last minute, actively putting his arm around Will but then settling for some weak pats on his shoulder.

And thereafter, Mike doesn’t make eye contact. Will doesn’t either, but Will’s directionality makes sense. He’s disappointed that Mike didn’t return his enthusiasm, so he looks down. Mike, on the other hand, seems to purposefully look away from Will. He also doesn’t notice Will’s painting. My thought is that he noticed it and then avoided it for a split second to process it. The same guy who made sure his flowers weren’t being squished very likely saw that rolled-up painting in Will’s hand, too, right?

Oh, the pain. This scene is hard to watch, and I think for good reason! It’s meant to be uncomfortable, to show us that this is not how their reunion was supposed to be. The tension is sudden and unexpected, and the way that we linger on the both of their expressions shows that to the audience. And the fact is that it didn’t have to be this way, but Mike backed out of that embrace. It’s not Will who makes this awkward, but Mike.

Next is a really interesting sequence. Mike hasn’t acknowledged the painting, yet. And right after the awkward hug, Mike turns to Jonathan and greets him. No hug is initiated at all, they just kinda say hello. But then, without missing a beat…

“Uh, what’s that?”

Mike suddenly clocks the painting. This happens in a split second in the show. One second, he’s turned to Jonathan. The next, his focus is on Will, once more. Mike retains this blank expression, but his speech is pressured, here. The second that Will is done explaining, flustered and reconsidering giving it to Mike, Mike immediately says back, “cool,” like it’s nothing. Which, as we later see in the van scene, Mike does not think nothing of this painting! So why the blank face? What is this front that Mike is putting up?

Ultimately, I think that this scene was meant to show the difference between Mike’s intentional lack of a connection with Will compared to his genuine awkwardness and uncertainty with someone he truly doesn’t know, Argyle.

Look at these expressions that Mike has when he meets Argyle, and compare them to all of the ones he gives Will. With Argyle, ironically, to me, Mike looks a lot more relaxed. It looks like he’s trying to be and succeeding in being even-keeled. Mike doesn’t know Argyle, so he has no previous relationship with him that holds weight. He’s not tense because he’s nervous, he’s tense because it’s genuinely awkward, and Argyle brings him in for a “hug” without a clear indication of wanting to initiate one, unlike Will.

This tension is not because he and Argyle have a deeper relationship, it’s just Mike being a more true Mike without fear of losing something he has with the other person.

What hammers this in is the previous episode. Mike was just seen going around Hawkins High, trying to recruit dozens of strangers to Eddie’s campaign, many of which are obviously upper classmen, and Mike doesn’t seem to have an issue approaching them. He’s not nervous like he is with Will.

This brings up an answer to the question of why Mike seems on edge when Will explains the painting: Mike’s presuppositions and close, knowing relationship with Will. Because Will doesn’t immediately say that the painting is for Mike - which is probably what Mike expected - Will affirms Mike’s biased and false thought that Will equally is pushing him away, too. This helps to justify Mike’s cold behavior towards Will. But at the end of the day, Mike is the one putting up the barrier between himself and Will. He doesn’t let Will in. He treats Will just like he does Jonathan and Argyle: like a mere relative of his girlfriend and furthermore, a stranger.

This wedge is intentional and methodical. Mike never behaves like this for the rest of the show onward post apology scene in season 4 episode 4, 2 episodes after this airport scene.

It’s funny how Mike comes around once he recognizes that he and Will are better off as “best friends”, not strangers. What a leap in title-ship, and what a leap that again, Mike states, not Will.

So thus begs the question once more: what in the world is Mike going through?

Let’s look at the facts.

Mike starts to don a cold expression at the airport right before he meets Will.

Mike defuses Will’s excitement and does not match his energy (even though Mike clearly does still have regard and dare I say love for Will, see above), making Mike the cause of their awkwardness.

Mike recognizes the painting very suddenly, and he is quick to disregard it and evidently pretend to not care about it when he actually does care about it (see the entire van scene).

Mike is tense with Will, but not tense like how he is with Argyle, a stranger, but something much harsher and with much more effort to maintain.

A few days later, Mike proves to not truly be uncomfortable with Will but spontaneously returns to him and asks to be “best friends” again.

Notice how in all of the things that happen - and then become disproved - in the airport scene, Mike is the active proponent in every single equation. He puts up the front and breaks it down. He makes things awkward with Will and then continues to engage with him on his own. He pretends to feel nothing for the painting but then praises it in the van scene. He holds this extreme tension with Will and then dissolves it by once again approaching Will on his own accord. Mike is plainly hiding something in the airport scene. He’s dishonest about his lack of attention, and I think that Mike is actually more hyper-vigilant and aware of Will in the airport than we’ve ever seen Mike be aware of Will before.

Why? What is the reason? Something I didn’t bring up yet is, also, why would Mike suddenly be disinterested in Will’s art? In season 1, Mike lovingly caressed a binder of Will’s drawings when he went missing. Mike knows what Will is capable of, and he cherishes Will’s talent.

What changed?

That is the age old question, and I think that we’ve still yet to fully uncover it. I don’t know about you, but hidden romantic feelings seems to sum up his behavior pretty well. Maybe Mike assumed that Will got a girlfriend and they were going to go on a double date and he was going to shut Will out before he got too jealous. But that’s just a theory (a film theory)!

Byler is endgame. Mike is so intensely focused on Will all the time, it’s not even funny.

[hannahsturniolo]

ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ʀᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴘᴇᴛ

Summary: you went to your first ever red carpet event with your boyfriend Chris and his brothers, when you got extremely nervous and had an anxiety attack.

Warnings: anxiety attack, crying, overcoming fear, kissing, praise

WC: 1.5K

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You and Chris had been dating for a year, but only went public with your relationship a little over two months ago. Chris had held off on sharing things publicly because he knew how harsh the Sturniolo fanbase could be, and he wanted to protect you from that, if not forever, then at least for as long as he could.

But eventually, he reached a point where keeping you a secret felt wrong. He was proud to call you his, and he wanted the world to see the beautiful girl he loved.

Tonight was a big night. The Sturniolo triplets had been invited to a red carpet event and for the first time, you were invited too. You were sitting at your vanity, carefully doing your makeup, when Chris came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look gorgeous baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

You smiled. “Thank you Chris. Just wait until you see my dress,” you teased.

“I can’t wait baby,” he grinned, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let you finish getting ready. I’m gonna go hop in the shower.”

Once he left the room, you finished your makeup and slipped into your dress, a sleek, black, curve hugging dress that fit like it was made for you. You stood in front of the full length mirror, running your hands down your sides, admiring the way it shaped your figure.

Chris walked back into the room, freshly showered, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Woah baby, you’re so beautiful,” he said, eyes wide, moving toward you. His hands found your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you deeply, pulling you in before playfully slapping your ass.

You squealed, laughing. “Hey!”

Hand in hand, the two of you made your way downstairs.

“Well, would you look at that beautiful couple,” Nick said, watching you both with a grin.

Chris looked down at you, his smile stretching ear to ear.

“Hey, Y/N’s the one that makes us look good,” he replied.

You climbed into the car. Matt driving, Nick riding shotgun, and you and Chris tucked into the backseat. Chris never let go of your hand the entire ride. His thumb gently traced circles along your skin, a silent way of soothing you. He knew how anxious you were about tonight. Crowds overwhelmed you, and the thought of being the center of attention made your chest tighten,especially with this being your first public appearance as a couple.

When you arrived at the event, Chris was the first to step out. He turned back to help you out of the van, his hand steady in yours. Together, the four of you walked toward the red carpet. As you waited in line, the flashes, noise, and energy started to close in. Your breathing quickened, and you shut your eyes, trying to slow it down. Chris noticed right away.

“You okay baby?” Chris asked softly, concern in his voice.

“Yeah I’m alright,” you replied, forcing a small smile

He didn’t buy it. “I don’t believe you. what’s going on sweetheart?” His hand moved gently up and down your back, grounding you.

“I’m just nervous,” you admitted, voice trembling as a single tear slipped down your cheek.

Chris wiped it away gently and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’re uncomfortable, baby, we don’t have to do this. We can leave right now, I mean it.”

“No, i don’t want to ruin this moment for you,” you said, voice cracking as more tears fell.

Matt glanced back, concern etched on his face. “You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, even though your body betrayed you.

“I’ll be right back,” Chris said to his brothers, then quietly stepped out of the line with you, guiding you off to the side.

“I’m sorry Chris,” you whispered, tears now flowing freely.

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault. None of it is.” His voice was soft, steady. “Do you want to go home sweetheart?”

Your breathe caught in your throat as you tried to slow it down, heart racing out of control.

“I dont want to go home. I want to be able to do this with you,” you said through shaky breaths.

He nodded, squeezing your hand. “Okay. Let’s go find some water baby.” He laced his fingers with yours and led you gently toward a water station, giving you a moment to breathe, just the two of you.

You took small sips from the water bottle, trying to calm your racing heart as Chris sat beside you, his hand moving slowly up and down your back in gentle strokes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded. “I feel a little better. Still nervous but definitely better,” you admitted.

Just then, a girl walking by noticed you sitting beside Chris on the low ledge near the bathroom, your makeup slightly smudged and your expression still shaken.

“Hey,” she said kindly, approaching with a warm smile. “I saw you looked upset I have some makeup wipes and mascara if you want to fix up a bit before heading out there.”

You blinked, surprised but grateful. “Really? That would be amazing,” you said with a small smile.

She gently wiped beneath your eyes where your mascara had run, then handed you her mascara wand. You touched up your lashes, careful but quick.

“Thank you so much,” you said, genuinely touched.

“Anytime, girly. Good luck walking the red carpet!” she smiled before heading off.

Chris chuckled softly, rubbing your back again. “Aww that was really sweet of her baby.”

You nodded, straightening your shoulders just a little. “I think I’m okay to walk the carpet now.” You said it with a bit more confidence this time.

Hand in hand, you and Chris made your way back to Matt and Nick.

“You okay Y/N?” Nick asked, giving you a quick, comforting hug.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I kind of had an anxiety attack but I’m okay now.”

“We got you,” Nick said without hesitation. “The four of us will go up together, you won’t be alone.”

You smiled, heart warming. “Thanks Nick.”

“Anytime babe,” he said with a wink.

You were next in line.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself as Chris glanced down at you, his fingers still laced with yours.

“You got this, baby,” he whispered.

You all stepped onto the carpet together, flashes immediately lighting up around you. Chris’s hand never left yours, holding on tightly like an anchor in the chaos. For the photos, you positioned yourself between Nick and Chris, Chris’s arm wrapped securely around the small of your back, and Nick’s arm draped casually over your shoulder.

Cameras were everywhere. Photographers shouted from every direction.

“Chris, over here!”

“Nick, look to your left!”

“Matt, this way!”

“Y/N, eyes right here!”

It was overwhelming, the noise, the lights, the pressure, but you kept your smile steady, doing your best to hold it together.

Then one of the photographers called out loudly “We want one of the new couple!”

Without hesitation, Nick and Matt stepped to the side, giving the spotlight to you and Chris.

Now it was just the two of you standing there. Chris’s arm slid more firmly around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. You looked up at him for a second, catching his soft smile, before turning back to the sea of cameras.

“Beautiful couple!”

“You two look amazing!”

“Adorable!”

The comments from the photographers caught you off guard, in a good way. For a moment, you didn’t feel anxious or out of place. You felt seen. And most importantly, you felt loved.

Chris leaned in slightly and whispered, “Your doing amazing baby.”

And standing there beside him, you actually believed it.

As soon as you and Chris stepped off the carpet, he leaned in close, his voice low and full of pride.

“You rocked that shit, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Before you could even respond, he kissed you, deep and full of emotion, like he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You made your way over to Matt and Nick, and Nick held up his hand for a high five.

“Good job you two,” Nick grinned.

“Seriously you guys killed it,” Matt added, nodding in approval.

You smiled wide, a wave of pride washing over you. You had done it. pushed through the nerves and made it through something you never thought you could.

After a few laughs and recaps, you all agreed it was time to eat. Comfort food was calling.

“Chick filA?” matt suggested, and the car erupted in agreement.

You piled back into the car, still riding the high of the night, ready to celebrate with fries and chicken sandwiches.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Taglist❤︎:

@courta13 @riggysworld @heartsonlyforchris @mattssidepiece @matthewsangel @whore4chris @mattsturniolofuckingsexy @sturkneeohloww @leila-marie4 @sturniolo-szn2 @tezzzzzzzz @fictionalboysstuff @sturnixblogger @vall67 @chrissbxby @sturniolobananas1 @sophand4n4 @stvvrn1olo @xxxxxxlovesstuff @mattspillowprincess @moond0llie @emely9274 @briizysturn @sturniolooluvv @kenziesturniolo54 @d0llworld @kalel2005 @yourfavejules @rheaasturn @babyt0matoes @bambixz @spencer812003 @mattstromboli @wesj11 @bluesundaylover @elianamattlvr @alinagrace11 @sorrybirds @darcicharm @mattslipfast

[hummingbird24220]

hiii could you please do a Luffy x Wife reader? Like, they promised to marry each other when they were kids, eventually did get married as soon as they were of legal age and they go everywhere together but the crew only noticed they were married once Nami noticed that little shine of Readers ring because idk I feel like Luffy isn't a very kissy kissy type more just huggy huggy YK WHAT I MEAN? but the crew never thought much of it cause he was like that with everyone and like... yer

please and thank you 😣🙏

This is such a cute idea! Thank you for for your request! Hope you enjoy!

Gold Ring, Red Vest

Luffy x Wife!Reader

You and Luffy had promised to marry each other when you were seven.

It was under a tree, after a shared meat skewer, sticky sauce on both your cheeks and dirt on your hands. You didn’t know what marriage really meant. Luffy didn’t either. But the idea of being together forever? That was enough.

“Let’s get married when we grow up!”

“Yeah! And we’ll eat meat every day!” “And we’ll fight bad guys.” “And we’ll sail the whole world!” “I’ll be Pirate King—so you can be Pirate Queen!”

You’d sealed it with a spit handshake. Ace gagged in the background. Sabo called it “kinda romantic, kinda gross.” Dadan told you both to stop being weirdos and come inside before the wolves showed up again.

You were there for all of it—your trips to the mountain bandit hideout frequent and full of scraped knees and louder laughs. You met Ace the same way everyone else did: by getting punched and yelling right back. Sabo shared his book with you before he ever shared it with Luffy. You were their fourth member. Your gang. Your boys.

But Luffy was always yours.

He held your hand when the campfire crackled too loud. You tucked daisies into his hair when he pouted. And when he said he’d set off to sea one day, you told him to wait. “Wait for me to be old enough. You promised, remember?” Luffy blinked. Then grinned so wide his cheeks dimpled. “I remember. I always remember.”

Years later…

The Straw Hat crew never did notice anything unusual between you and Luffy.

Sure, he was always affectionate—but that’s just how Luffy was, right? Zoro got tackled in hugs. Chopper got cuddled like a plush toy. Even Franky had been given a surprise nuzzle once. Luffy was… just like that.

You were a little like that too. So no one blinked when Luffy wrapped his arms around you from behind. Or dragged you to sit on his lap. Or chewed meat and offered you the next bite, all smile and no shame.

Until Nami noticed your ring.

It wasn’t flashy. Just a small gold band, catching the sun when you lifted your hand to wave.

She squinted.

“…Is that a wedding ring?”

You blinked down at it. “Oh. Yeah.”

“WHAT.”

Cue chaos.

Zoro’s sword dropped mid-clean. Sanji’s cigarette fell out of his mouth. Usopp choked on his orange juice and Franky literally spat cola. Robin chuckled behind her hand. Chopper was just confused.

“Married!?” “To Luffy!?” “Since when?!”

Luffy walked in mid-outburst, meat bone in hand. “Huh? What’s up?”

You smiled. “They just found out.”

Luffy blinked. “About the wedding?”

“Mmhm.”

“Ohhh. Cool. Wanna see the dance we made?” He grabbed your hands instantly and started swinging you around the deck, recreating the silly spin-step-spin you’d both done barefoot in Foosha village the day you turned legal and immediately got married. Makino had cried. Dadan bawled. The mayor gave a speech. You and Luffy made paper rings and traded real ones after.

Your wedding photo—drawn by Luffy with crayons—was still crumpled in your coat pocket.

“Hold on, hold on,” Nami said, pushing the two of you apart. “You’re telling me you’ve been married this whole time?”

“Yep,” you chirped.

“And you never told us?!”

Luffy tilted his head. “You never asked.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t come up.”

Brook fanned himself dramatically. “But when—how—where—”

“Foosha village,” you said.

“Under the big tree,” Luffy added, proud.

You both grinned at each other, eyes crinkling.

Zoro groaned. “This explains so much.”

Sanji was still weeping into a handkerchief. “My heart... my dreams… shattered…”

Later that night, with Luffy wrapped around you like a scarf on the Sunny’s figurehead, you twirled your ring between your fingers.

“You think they’ll get used to it?” you asked.

“They always do,” Luffy mumbled, cheek squished against your shoulder. “You’re mine. I’m yours. That’s all.”

You kissed the top of his head.

He didn’t kiss you back—he just smiled and pulled you closer. His kind of love wasn’t made of passionate declarations or sweeping gestures. It was loud laughter and warm hugs. Trust and tandem naps. Your fingers linked as you stood at the bow. That was Luffy’s way.

And it had always been enough. From spit handshakes to gold rings.

Forever, just like you’d promised.

Sanji made a whole dinner in your honor.

Nami made you a spreadsheet of exactly how long you kept it secret.

Franky offered to remake your rings into SUPER matching wedding bands.

Zoro made gagging noises every time Luffy hugged you for the next three days.

Robin gave you both a book on “Married Life and Maritime Adventures.”

Brook wrote a love ballad for your union.

Usopp designed a “Just Married… 5 Years Ago” banner.

And Chopper?

Chopper made you a “Top Secret Straw Hat Love Club” badge and insisted on wearing his too. Just because

--

It had been a few days since the Big Reveal™.

Everyone was still adjusting.

Well, “adjusting” was generous.

More like staring at you and Luffy with unblinking suspicion, as if the way he handed you his half-eaten meat skewer now had depth or the way you leaned into him during sunny naps was suddenly illegal. The dynamic hadn’t changed.

But the context had.

You were lounging beside Luffy, both your legs tossed lazily over his lap as he absently traced shapes on your shin. He was laughing—genuinely wheezing—at a joke you made about the seagull that dive-bombed Zoro’s hair gel.

Sanji was watching from the kitchen window, arms crossed, suffering.

“…They’ve always done that,” Nami whispered beside him, eyeing the scene with a strange mix of amusement and betrayal. “Why does it feel so different now?”

“Because now it’s real,” Sanji hissed, like he’d been personally wounded. “She’s married. To Luffy.”

Usopp, next to him, rubbed his chin. “They’ve been married.”

“That doesn’t help, Usopp.”

Franky adjusted his sunglasses. “To be fair, I always assumed they were just weirdly close childhood besties.”

“They are,” Robin said smoothly, sipping her tea. “They just also share a legal union and a bed.”

Sanji wailed.

Later that afternoon, you strolled into the kitchen humming, barefoot and relaxed, reaching over to grab an apple. Luffy, as usual, clung to your back like a sleepy koala, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Sanji straightened. His eyes were full of betrayal.

“(Y/N)-swan…” he began dramatically. “How could you?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He dropped to his knees. “How could you let him marry you?! I would’ve cooked you candlelit dinners every night! I would’ve carried you across every puddle! I would've—”

Luffy, mid-apple bite, stared blankly. “Wait… you like her?”

Sanji stopped mid-rant.

“Of course I do! I always have!”

Luffy frowned, slowly leaning more of his weight into you like a pouty blanket. “But you do that with every girl.”

“This was different!” Sanji wailed. “I meant it! I liked her liked her!”

Luffy’s eyebrows pinched. “You can’t like her liked her.”

“Why not?!”

“Because she’s mine!”

The kitchen went dead silent.

Luffy rarely used words like that. Not seriously. Not possessively. Not with that strange, almost growly edge in his voice.

You turned slightly in his arms, surprised—but not shocked. You knew how much Luffy loved you. It was in every action, every grin, every time he let you wear his straw hat without flinching. He didn’t do possessive. Not often.

But this?

This was different.

“She’s my wife,” Luffy said again, slower this time. “I married her. We promised. When we were kids. And I’m not sharing.”

Sanji looked genuinely heartbroken.

“But you never said—”

“I didn’t know I needed to,” Luffy said, squeezing his arms around your waist. “You didn’t ask.”

You leaned your head against his.

“She’s the funniest girl in the world,” he added. “And the prettiest. She makes me laugh all the time. She makes me feel like I can fight a million bad guys if she’s cheering for me. She smells nice. Her feet are cold but I like when she puts them on my legs at night. Her voice makes my brain quiet. And she’s mine. So stop trying to steal her.”

Sanji looked like he might cry again.

You blinked, cheeks warm.

“…I thought I was the one who gets poetic,” you whispered, stunned.

Luffy just grinned. “You rub off on me.”

From that moment on, Luffy was—how to put it? More... Luffy. But with a bite.

He started holding your hand more often. Pulling you into his lap even when you were just trying to read. Giving Sanji death glares if he offered you juice. Refusing to leave you out of his hugs, tugging you with him even when stretching to another ship.

Zoro clocked it first.

“He’s gone full territorial.”

Chopper nodded, concerned. “Should we… sedate him?”

Robin smirked. “It’s fascinating. Like a monkey guarding a precious fruit.”

“He is a monkey,” Nami muttered.

You didn’t mind. You were used to clingy, squishy Luffy. This was just a possessive, competitive version of that.

And honestly?

You kinda liked it.

It was nice, being claimed by someone who didn’t want anything from you but your smile. Nice, knowing that to him, you were everything.

Still, you kissed Sanji on the cheek one night, just to tease. He immediately fainted.

Luffy sulked for the rest of the evening, hiding under your shirt like a ticked-off blanket.

“Mine,” he muttered. “Yours,” you agreed, playing with his hair. “Forever.” “Since we were seven.” “Spit handshake and all.” “Grossest wedding proposal in history.” “Best wedding proposal in history.”

You snorted, wrapping your arms around his head. And outside, the rest of the crew gave up trying to understand it.

“It makes sense now,” Usopp whispered. “They’re just… stupidly in love.”

“Like really, really dumb in love,” Nami added.

Zoro nodded. “Disgusting.”

Chopper wiped a tear. “I want that one day…”

Robin flipped her book shut and sighed dreamily. “Childhood promises that lasted into adulthood… how romantic.”

Franky wept.

Brook wrote another ballad.

Sanji cooked in tragic silence.

And Luffy? He held you tighter. Always did. Always would.

--

t started subtly.

You were mid-fight—some nameless island goons talking big and swinging bigger—and you kicked one square in the chest, sending him flying into a fruit stand.

Luffy, fists at his sides, beamed proudly from the edge of the battlefield and yelled:

“THAT’S MY WIFE!”

The Straw Hats all froze for a half-second.

“Did… did he just—?” Usopp squinted.

“Yep,” Zoro grunted, slicing through two thugs. “Keep count.”

It didn’t stop.

Every time you threw a punch, landed a clean sweep, or flipped someone over your shoulder, Luffy would yell it like it was the ultimate battle cry.

“That’s my WIFE!” “She’s SO COOL!” “You see that?! My wife did that!!”

You stabbed a pirate’s weapon out of his hand mid-lunge. Luffy, from a rooftop: “MARRY ME AGAIN!!!”

You grabbed two guys by their collars and headbutted them into each other. Luffy, starry-eyed: “THAT’S HER!! THAT’S MY GIRL!! MY WIFE!!”

“Can he not,” Sanji hissed under his breath as he roundhouse-kicked someone.

“He can and he will,” Nami said, blocking with her staff. “I think he’s even prouder of her fighting skills than his own.”

Robin chuckled. “I find it endearing. He’s fully committed.”

“Too committed,” Zoro grunted, parrying a blade. “I’ve heard him shout that line eight times and the fight’s only halfway done.”

Chopper was practically vibrating with joy. “She’s so cool, though!”

“We know, Chopper.” “Luffy knows.” “The whole damn island knows now!”

The final blow of that skirmish?

You jump-spun over a cannon, kicked a guy in the jaw mid-air, and landed without a stumble.

Luffy actually screamed. Dropped to his knees like he’d just watched a divine miracle. “THAT’S MY WIIIIIIIFE—!!!”

A flock of startled seagulls flew off a nearby roof. The townspeople who had hidden inside started clapping. Franky cried. Sanji threw his cigarette into the dirt in dramatic despair. Zoro turned around and walked away like this was not his circus.

Back on the Sunny, bruised and bandaged and full of post-battle stew, the teasing didn’t stop.

“So, just to be clear,” Nami said, leaning her cheek on her hand, “you really like your wife.”

Luffy blinked. “Yeah?”

Robin smiled. “She’s quite skilled.”

Luffy nodded seriously. “The best. She’s funny and scary and she smells good and she’s got that move with the knee thing that goes bam! and—”

You smushed a pillow in his face mid-ramble. “Okay okay okay, I get it.”

He peeled it off, face pink but grinning. “You’re my wife.”

“Yes, Luffy. That is a fact.”

“My wife,” he repeated smugly.

“And we all know it now,” Usopp groaned from his hammock. “Loud and clear.”

Later that week, the crew split up to take on different pirate squads. You took the left flank.

When your group regrouped, Luffy jogged back, covered in soot and laughing.

“Did you see what she did?!”

Zoro sighed. “Yes, Luffy. We saw. You yelled ‘that’s my wife’ six times, two of which she wasn’t even in the frame.”

“But she was there!” Luffy argued. “I felt it. The air changed.”

Nami stared flatly. “You also shouted it when Sanji landed a high kick.”

Luffy tilted his head. “He kicked like (Y/N) does sometimes. I got confused.”

Sanji fumed. “You compared me to your wife?! I—!”

“I mean it as a compliment!!” Luffy beamed.

Eventually?

It became a Straw Hat inside joke.

Franky started building a sound system that played “THAT’S MY WIFE!” on command. Usopp started taking bets on how many times Luffy would shout it per battle. Robin offered to count them out loud. Chopper made a badge that said “Wife of the Captain (Certified Cool)” and insisted you wear it during island visits.

And Luffy?

He never stopped.

Didn’t care if it was a tavern scuffle or a full-scale war.

If you landed a punch?

If you flipped someone over your shoulder?

If you so much as raised an eyebrow and a whole navy soldier fainted?

Luffy, beaming like you’d just turned into the sun:

“THAT’S MY WIFE!!!”

And honestly?

You kinda loved it.

---

It began as mockery. (As most things on the Sunny did.)

The next battle was a chaotic scrap in a busy port town—clashing blades, smoke, screams, your knee in someone’s gut. A typical Tuesday.

Luffy, balanced on a rooftop, grinned wide as you body-checked a pirate into a market stall and bellowed:

“THAT’S MY WIFE!!”

And this time, without missing a beat—

“THAT’S HIS WIFE!” —came from Zoro, ducking a sword swing.

“HIS WIFE!” —Usopp echoed, hanging upside-down from a balcony.

“MARRIED TO HIM!!” —Nami yelled, smacking someone with her staff.

“SHE IS, IN FACT, HIS LEGAL SPOUSE!!” —Franky, tears in his eyes, while launching someone into orbit.

Luffy blinked. Paused mid-arm stretch. Then let out a giddy, sunbeam laugh that rattled the tiles beneath his feet.

“…You guys noticed!!”

After that, it became a thing.

Every time Luffy yelled “That’s my wife!” (which was often), the crew would chime in with increasingly ridiculous affirmations.

You knocked someone out with one punch?

Luffy: “That’s my wife!!” Crew: “CONFIRMED!!!” “TIED THE KNOT, BABY!” “RING ON HER FINGER, NAME ON THE PAPER!”

You swung down from a rooftop and roundhouse kicked two goons at once?

Luffy, practically levitating: “THAT’S MY WIIIIIFE—!!” Crew chorus: “HIS SPOUSE!!” “HIS RIDE OR DIE!!” “THE MISSUS!”

Luffy ate it up.

The first time it happened, he was confused. His head tilted, a soft “Huh?” slipping out as he processed the call-and-response echoing around the battlefield. But then he grinned so hard it looked like his face might split in half.

He was delighted.

Later that night, Luffy plopped beside you on the deck, still laughing.

“They’re all sayin’ it now!” he said, wiggling with joy. “I yell it and they yell it too! It’s like… our move!”

You, calmly sipping water and icing a scraped knuckle, nodded. “It is technically a fact.”

Luffy blinked at you. “Only technically?”

“Well, you’re not wrong. I am your wife.”

He lit up like a lantern. “You like when I say it, right?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind. You’re proud. It’s cute.”

“I am proud,” he said, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek with a wide, sleepy grin. “You’re my favorite thing.”

Robin passed behind you both, murmuring with a smile, “That’s his wife.”

Luffy squealed in delight.

You didn’t react.

Because again: it was just a fact.

he next island brought new enemies, and with them:

Luffy: “THAT’S MY WIFE!!” Crew: “HIS BELOVED!” “FIRST LADY OF THE PIRATE KINGDOM!” “MRS. STRAW HAT!”

Someone once tried to flirt with you in a tavern.

Luffy didn’t notice at first. But then—

“Back off, dude, that’s his WIFE.” —Zoro, dragging the guy away by his collar.

“Like, legally and spiritually,” Usopp added from under the table.

Luffy blinked, confused. “Huh? Who—? Oh, yeah. She is.”

Cue smug arm-wrapping. Cue chest-puffing. Cue a full twenty-minute explanation of your wedding under a Foosha tree that no one asked for.

You just sipped your drink. Neutral.

Still technically true.

One day, while you were in the middle of high-kicking a bounty hunter off a staircase, a random civilian watching from afar whispered:

“…That’s his wife, right?”

“Yeah,” Chopper said from the bushes, full of pride. “She is.”

And in the distance, Luffy yelled it again.

“THAT’S MY WIIIIIIIFE—!!!”

And the whole crew, in sync, arms raised:

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

You just sighed.

“...Honestly, it could be worse.”

[namiusedbubble]

Betrayal, Baby!

Pairing: Lex Luthor x Reader Fandom: Superman 2025 Description: You're Lex's girlfriend, but you know what happens to women who bore him, and recently, he's been pulling away. So you try to get ahead of him, get rid of him before he can get rid of you ... except you fail. Explicit smut after the cut! Power dynamics, oral (f!receiving), minor humiliation kink.

You knew what Lex was long before you ever touched him.

Not just the name - Luthor, that meant power in Metropolis. But the man. The sharp mind. The colder hands. The way he paced like his brain was running a mile a minute and he was always trying to get ahead of it. You knew what he was. Everyone did. They just didn't see it the way you did.

You’d fallen for him anyway. Or maybe because of it.

It wasn’t easy being his girlfriend. Not in public. Not in private. He was... meticulous. Distant. Sometimes possessive in a way that felt like being held under glass; admired, studied, but never really touched. Still, he kept you close. He took you to fundraisers. Let you sit in during security briefings. Called you clever in the way he called things useful.

But the deeper he dove into his anti-Superman campaign, the more he began slipping away from you. And you knew what happened to women who Lex grew bored of. How they seemed to disappear without a trace, or end up destitute and penniless for displeasing him in some arbitrary way.

The more he pulled away, the more you paid attention.

What started as whispers in his office turned into late-night files half-deleted from his encrypted drive. You’d learned to read his notes, to follow the shape of his thoughts. You weren't just arm candy, he’d told you that. Again and again.

So when you started to piece together what he was planning, what he was truly willing to do, you knew two things.

One: Superman didn’t deserve to die like that.

And two: Lex had already stopped seeing you as someone who might say no. So you did what he never expected.

You collected the proof.

You copied what you could without tripping his security alerts. Enough designs, enough technical outlines, enough audio of Lex making veiled references to “neutralizing” Superman before he became a global liability. Enough to scare even the most skeptical editor.

You were on your way to deliver it to the Daily Planet when you realized your access key no longer worked.

That was your first clue. The second came when the elevator stopped short of the lobby and rerouted smoothly, efficiently to the top floor.

The executive suite. Lex’s office.

The third clue was his voice. “Do come in,” Lex said through the speaker, just before the doors hissed open.

The room was dark, with only the city lights flooding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows to cast him in silhouette. He stood with his back to you. Perfect posture, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't look angry.

Somehow, that was worse.

“I thought we agreed,” he said, almost conversational. “No secrets.”

You stepped forward, cautious. “We also agreed the world doesn’t need gods or tyrants. You never said you were willing to become one just to kill another.”

“Is that why you tried to betray me?”

You hesitated. “I didn’t betray you,” you said, quiet. “I was scared. You stopped talking to me. You stopped touching me. You kept going darker, and I thought if I brought it to someone who could stop you, maybe you’d … look at me again.”

Lex watched you carefully. That analytical expression didn’t flicker, but something behind it did. “You stole from me,” he said, more softly now. “You used my trust. My access. My affection. You played the role of a doting partner so well, and all while plotting to dismantle everything I’ve built.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re planning to murder a god. What do you think the metahumans will do when they realize you can kill one of their own? You think they’ll let you keep your tower and your smug little chessboard? I wasn’t trying to destroy you. I was trying to keep you alive.”

Lex stepped toward you, and you backed away.

“You lied to me,” he said. “And now you want to justify it with fear. That’s beneath you.”

He circled slowly, until he was close enough for you to feel the tension practically vibrating off him.

"You should have come to me. You should have asked."

"I did," you snapped. "And you told me not to concern myself with things beyond my grasp!"

His hand was at your throat before you saw it move. Not squeezing, just a firm pressure. A reminder of who is in charge.

“I was trying to protect you,” he murmured. “From what happens to people who meddle.”

Your pulse was hammering, but only half in fear. "I'm not your trophy wife." you said, breathing hard. "You don't get to parade me around like a doll and expect loyalty and submission without love."

Lex stared at you for a long moment, one side of his mouth slowly curling into a smirk you'd rarely seen directed at you.

"You want my attention? You have it now."

The next moment was heat. His mouth on yours, possessive and bruising as he pushed you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of his desk, and he lifted you onto it like you weighed nothing.

He kissed you like he hadn't touched you in weeks, which was true.

His hands were like ice against your skin as his fingers dragged up your thighs, shoved your skirt higher, and spread you open without asking.

You weren't sure if this was punishment or a bribe, but you didn't dare stop him.

You moaned when his teeth grazed your neck, when his fingers slipped inside your panties and felt how wet you already were for him.

He laughed into your skin. “Of course,” he said. “Of course you’re soaked. You little traitor. You love being broken.”

You dug your nails into his back, gasping when he pushed two fingers inside you and curled them upwards. “You don’t own me,” you hissed, even as your hips bucked.

“Don’t I?” Lex said, licking a stripe up your throat. “Then why do you fall apart every time I touch you?”

He knelt. He didn't always do that. Lex has always been more of a taker than a giver in all aspects of life, and that was no different in the bedroom. But this time, he dragged your underwear down and shoved your knees apart without a word, eyes dark.

You barely had time to register the cold air hitting your exposed skin before his mouth was on you. Claiming you. His tongue licked clear strips up from your entrance to your clit, circling and sucking exactly where he knew you liked it. His fingers kept working inside you, fast and demanding. He didn't stop when you moaned. Didn't ease up when you came. He just kept going until your legs grew numb and your voice broke around his name.

When he finally stood, he gripped your jaw and kissed you. Deep, lingering, and still tasting of you. "You want me to stop?" you didn't answer. Couldn't. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, so you just shook your head.

Lex smirked. "Good girl."

Then he flipped you over on his desk and pressed your face against the polished glass. You hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled, his pants hitting the floor.

Then he shoved himself inside you from behind; deep, fast, relentless, until you cried out and your nails dragged uselessly over the surface.

"Say it," he hisses. "Say you're sorry. Say you're mine."

You tried to resist. Tried to keep your mouth shut, but then his hand fisted into your hair and pulled you up until your back was against his chest and his mouth at your ear.

"Say it."

"Ah - ! I'm yours. All yours. I'm s-sorry!"

"Be more specific, darling. What are you sorry for?"

"F-for betraying you. For not knowing my place." you gasped.

He bit your shoulder. Hard.

When you came again, it wasn't soft or sweet. It was punishment.

He kept going. Fucked you through it until he stuttered, just once, and thrust as deep into you as he possibly could. His hand tightened in your hair, and he groaned loudly as he came inside you.

And when it was done, he pulled you into his lap on that stupid throne-like chair of his - fucked out, ruined, shaking - and kissed the top of your head like you're the only prize he ever wanted to win.

And when it’s done, he pulls you into his lap on that stupid throne-like chair of his—fucked-out, ruined, shaking—and kisses the top of your head like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

"If you ever try to walk into that newsroom again, I'm going to show you exactly what I do to people who think they can outsmart me." he says against your hair. "Understood?"

You nod.

He smiles.

“Good girl.”

[lil-red0345]

𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑵𝑰𝑬-𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑫

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: 𝑵𝒐𝒏𝒆

Nanami adjusted the knot of his tie as he stepped off the train, his briefcase in one hand. The day had dragged on, meetings joining one after the other but now he was going home- this being the only part of his day that didn't feel like an obligation.

His suit jacket was wrinkled, shoes polished to a fault and every button was aligned in place. He didn't stand for chaos in his professionalism, barely in most parts of his life, however when he reached the front door to his household, he instinctively braced himself for the change in atmosphere.

Sure enough, it was the scent that hit him first. Chocolate. Rich and bittersweet. His brows furrowed in suspicion- His wife, Y/N, had mentioned earler that morning something about baking with their daughter and though he didn't doubt her competence one bit, he knew that when the two girls he loved most in the world, collaborated. Things tended to escalate.

He pushed the door to a close. "I'm home..."

There was no immediate reply but he could hear the faint muttering and laughter from the kitchen. High pitched and unfiltered. He stepped further into the hall, setting his briefcase down and loosened his tie with one hand. His eyes flickered to the white footprint on the rug- 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦?

As he rounded the corner to the kitchen, the sight that greeted him made him pause.

Y/N was seated on a stool, laughing, her fingers smeared with chocolate as she tried and unsuccessfully wiped at their daughters cheek. The five year old was standing on a stool beside his wife, barefoot and holding a wooden spoon as she licked the remaints of the chocolate mix from the curve- She looked like she had painted her face in brownie mix, grinning straight at him when she noticed his presence, lips stained in cocoa-brown.

"Papa!" She shrieked, waving an excited sticky hand in his direction.

That had made his wife glance up, smiling at him sheepishly, batter also lacing her cheek. "Hi love. You're home early."

Nanami stared at the scene in his kitchen. The countertop was the vision of a minor natural disaster; cocoa powder, eggshells and used measuring cups along with a half empty mixing bowl that was on it's side. There were tiny chocolate handprints on most of the equipment but more on the counter.

He removed his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his shirt, standing there for a moment, watching his two loves, completely unconcerned about the chaos around him currently.

"It's four minutes past six..." He finally spoke, sliding his glasses back on. "That's not early."

"Oh." Y/N replied, reaching for a damp cloth in an obvious, too-late attempt to clean the mess. "We lost track of time, didn't we honey?"

Their daughter nodded rapidly, focusing on scraping the dowl with two fingers, declaring, "We made brownies."

"I can see." Nanami smiled lightly, stepping further into the kitchen.

"Wanna lick the spoon." The little girl looked up at him, eyes round and wide.

He blinked, loosening his cuffs. "No thank you."

"She tried to feed me raw batter." Y/N muttered in her husbands direction, motioning to the girl behind her with a lazy grin. "Said it was 'sugar-licious.'"

"So sweet and chocolatey." She hummed sucking her chocolate coated fingers with a humming delight.

Y/N laughed through a breath, leaning on the counter as Nanami's gaze softened. His wife looked exhausted, radiant in equal measure, flour dusting her clothes, hair pulled back into a messy up-do and the corners of her mouth tugged up. Despite the mess, or maybe because of it, Nanami felt a sense of warmth.

"Did she help measure." He asked, reaching for another cloth to wipe the patch of batter from the drawer handle.

"She cracked the eggs-" His wife replied, eyes looking down at their daughter in amusement and leaned down to peck the side of her head quickly. "Only one made it in the bowl..."

Nanami breathed. "Progress."

"Papa." His attention was quickly turned towards his daughter, she was still holding the spoon but her free hand had moved to clutch at her dress as she swayed slightly. "You're not mad, right?"

He turned towards her slowly, her expression was curious, not guilty. She knew she had fun and that she had made something with her mother, a together moment. It was a time where mess could be made without the sense of a consequence, though she also knew that she had to help clean up.

"I'm not mad." His words were gentle. "But we will be cleaning up before dinner."

"Teamwork!" She jumped on the stool making it wobble and her mother was quick to adjust her and catch a breath in the meanwhile.

"And you-" Nanami added, circling the counter. His index finger dragged along Y/N's cheek, catching a smudge of chocolate she hadn't noticed. "You look like you've been fighting batter."

"Well it did put up a strong resistance." She laughed, catching his wrist in her hand.

He shook his head, though his lips twitched slightly. "I expected a peaceful evening."

"Did you really?"

"No." He looked between his two girls, smile stretching. "But I did hope for a sweet one."

[eclipsaria]

HELLO YUKI IM HERE

can i get a mingyu fluff 👉👈

first kiss... and they bump noses

《 Just A Little Boop 》

Summary // As always, your heart overflows with Mingyu’s clinginess, wrapped in just the right sprinkle of clumsiness.

Genre : non-idol fluff au

Pairing : SVT Mingyu x female reader

Warnings : extreme fluff and clingy🥰

W/C : 696

Rating : [ 13+ SFW ]

Now playing : Snap Shoot - SEVENTEEN

Note //

I almost teared up a little when I saw an ask, even if it's from my moots😭😭 like pls omg rae can you be my wife too😭😭 I will let you share my husbands too, and don't worry, I won't seduce your man🥰

HELP I ONLY JUST NOTICED AFTER RAE CLARIFIED: IT'S NOT FIRST KISS AFTER WORK BUT LITERAL FIRST KISS😭 i misinterpreted wrongly but rae still comment that it's cute🥹🥹🥹

↻ Main Masterlist Seventeen Masterlist Taglist ↺

The door creaks open, and Mingyu springs up from the sofa. A smile naturally curves his lips, eyes scanning eagerly, hope flickering in them as he waits for you to appear around the corner.

"Baby?" you call out gently, and his grin only widens. With his hands tucked behind his back, he bounces slightly on his heels, barely containing his excitement as he waits for you to step into his heart(aka the living room).

When you finally appear, Mingyu looks at you like there’s a glow surrounding you, like the universe decided to shine a spotlight on the love of his life, complete with invisible hearts floating around your tired figure. You seem drained from work, but your expression isn’t sour, just weary. Seeing that, Mingyu decides to test your patience in the way only he can: by launching himself at you.

He wraps you up in a tight hug, giggling as he roughly nuzzles his cheeks against yours.

"Baby~" he whines, voice soft and playful. You giggle despite yourself, too used to his clinginess to even think of stopping him. If anything, it only reassures you. Four years in, and he still loves you with the same fervor.

Yes, you're tired, but not once does it cross your mind to push him away. So you simply let him do as he pleases, your expression surrendering with quiet fondness even as your body stays still.

"Baby, baby, baby~" he repeats, still aggressively rubbing his cheeks against yours. Then, with both hands, he cups your face and squeezes gently until your lips pout up at him. You hum in protest, eyes lifting toward him since your head can’t.

Mingyu just beams, leaning in to kiss your lips.

"Welcome home," he murmurs between kisses. Once, twice, a third, a fourth, and finally a fifth time before you groan and try to swat his hands away. When you succeed, you tiptoe up and give him a quick peck of your own, smiling softly.

"I love you too."

He squeals like a giddy child and dives in for a sixth kiss, but ends up bumping your nose with his in the rush. Both of you wince from the impact, only to burst into laughter a moment later.

"My Mingyu is extra clumsy today," you tease, patting his head as you try to move past him toward the washroom. But before you can get far, he grabs your hand and pulls you back into a hug. He bends down to your neck, inhaling deeply as if you were the most comforting scent in the world.

"Thanks for working so hard," he whispers. Then, without letting go of you fully, he guides you to the sink, turns on the tap, and gently washes both your hands along with his.

"What shall we do tonight?" he asks, lacing his fingers with yours under the water.

"Drama talk?" you suggest.

Mingyu hums, turning off the tap and handing you a towel. "Someone’s got tea, huh? I’m so in."

You take the towel from him and dry both your hands, the domestic quiet between you filled only by the soft brushing of fabric and water dripping into the sink. Mingyu leans against the counter, watching you like you're his favorite part of the day—which, honestly, you are.

As you finish, he gently pulls you into his arms again, this time slower, calmer, holding you like he has all the time in the world.

"You know," he murmurs against your hair, "no matter how tired you come home, you always bring peace with you."

You smile against his chest, your fingers lazily tracing circles on his back. "You make it easy to come home."

He exhales, like your words are all he needed to hear today. And then, just before he lets go, he plants one final kiss on your temple.

"I’ll get the snacks ready. You go change."

You nod, pulling away with a soft smile, but not before stealing one more kiss from him.

And just like that, the weight of the day melts away, because home isn’t just a place, it’s Mingyu, and tonight, like every night, you’re exactly where you belong.

Tagging // @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight @slytherinshua

[bm571158]

Burnout- MV1

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen🔥

Part Fourteen🔥 Part Fifteen

Tag list: @littlewhiterose @dontsupressthejess @idontknow0704 @vinylphwoar @katyniss

'After Midnight'

It was nearly 1.30am when Max and Talia finally arrived at the club. The party was well and truly in full swing, even without the man they were supposed to be celebrating. The music was vibrating through the place, the lights dim and everyone keen to congratulate Max as he made his way through the crowd, a tight grip on Talia's hand, towards the booth at the back where Lando and some of the others were waiting for him.

"About fucking time mate!" Lando yelled as the two of them approached the booth. "Where have you been?!"

"I don't think you want to know." Charles laughed, and the way Talia blushed and hid behind Max a little only made it worse. "We thought maybe you two had got swept up in the vegas mayhem and were getting married by Elvis or something."

"Just enjoying the moment." Max smirked.

"Oh I mean... fair play I guess." Lando laughed. "Let me get you both a drink."

As Lando got up to head to the bar, swaying a little unsteadily as he went, Talia realised that he was only wearing one shoe.

"Do I even want to ask what happened to his other shoe?" She turned back to Charles.

The Ferrari driver shrugged. "I don't even know if I can remember to be honest. We've been here a long time, had a lot of drinks while we were waiting for you two to finish... you know."

Talia blushed again, Max just laughed. A few minutes later Lando reappeared with a collection of colourful looking shots on a tray, which he very nearly dropped all over them.

"Alright everyone, drink up!" Lando cheered.

🎥.

A couple of shots later, Lando was dragging them all on to the dance floor, having discarded his other shoe somewhere in the process.

The music was loud, the dance floor crowded, and Max dragged her along with him with a hand on her waist and a crooked smile on her face.

"I think you owe me a dance. To celebrate." He shouted over the music.

"I seem to remember you getting your celebration earlier." She pointed out, and he just laughed. Hands falling onto her hips, body moving with hers as she started to dance.

There was a heat between them, half her mind still lost back in the way his hands felt on her body in the hotel room earlier, that seemed to make the outside world disappear. Her arms looped around his neck, his hands low on her hips.

If she was sober, she probably would have been a bit more conscious of quite how many eyes and cameras were on the two of them as they danced like they were the only two people on the room.

His lips found his way onto her neck again, teeth nipping at the marks that he'd left earlier and she'd tried so hard to cover up. The was thankful that the lighting in the club was low enough that no one really seemed to have noticed.

"Stop it." She laughed, swatting him away. "You're going to get us in trouble."

"It's my party. I can do what I want." She grinned.

"Behave yourself and maybe you'll get a reward later." She suggested. The way he was looking at her was like he might actually just rip her clothes off in the middle of the dance floor for all to see, and she was now where near drunk enough for that.

He leaned in close, lips against her ear. "Now that, I like the sound of."

She laughed, face tipping toward his like gravity was pulling them together. It was like the win, the champagne and the low lights in the club had blurred all the rules between what was real and what was for the cameras. He leaned in, lips brushing over hers and she kissed him back, bodies still swaying in time to the music.

"We need more drinks." He declared as he broke away.

She laughed, the look of offence on his face as he seemed to suddenly realise that he didn't actually have a drink in his hand.

"I'm going to go to the toilet. I'll meet you there in a sec." She told him, placing a kiss on his cheek and starting to weave her way through the packed dance floor.

It was quieter once she stepped in to the hallway where the bathrooms were. The door slammed shut behind her and blocked out some of the pounding bass line.

The brighter lighting in the bathroom though showed off quite how poor the attempt she'd made to cover all the marks he'd left on her neck were. Thank god that it was dark in the club and the others all seemed too drunk to notice.

As she opened the door to step back out, she was knocked off balance by someone forcing their way in to the bathroom, the door clicking locked behind him as he stood in front of her.

"Leo?" She asked uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching you making a fucking fool out of yourself." He hissed, hand still encircling her wrist as she tried uselessly to pulls way from him.

Her breath caught as she looked at him. He'd been drinking, not enough to make him clumsy, but perhaps enough to lower his inhibitions and for him to start speaking his mind.

"Let go of me." She said firmly, pulling her arm again but he didn't budge.

"He's got his hands on you in front of the whole world. You think that's cute?" He hissed. "God look at the state of you. You're really just out there letting him treat you like the desperate little slut you are?"

"Leo, let me go." She said firmly, but her voice trembled as she said it and it was nowhere near as forceful as she had intended it to be. "Max is going to be looking for me."

"You think he really gives a shit about you?" Leo asked, taking another step towards her. The resulting step backwards that she took left her trapped between him and the wall. "I know this is all just some bullshit that you came up with to get out of spending more time with me. I'm not an idiot."

"Leo, you need to let go of me." She tried again.

"This wasn't the plan." Leo frowned. "Was supposed to be me and you... not you and him. I had this whole thing planned out and you just fucking ruined it."

"Me and you was never going to happen, Leo." She told him.

"Yeah because you and him fucking ruined it all." Leo hissed. He dropped her wrist, but before she could make a run for it he had hold of her waist instead. "Maybe I should show you what you've been missing while you've been fucking around with him."

"It's not going to happen, Leo." She repeated. "If you let me go now, I won't tell anyone about this. We'll finish the movie, go our separate ways and you won't ruin your whole career because you can't cope with being rejected."

It happened quickly, the way his fingers tightened around the material of her dress, the sound of the delicate material ripping under his touch. The gap that it left was only a couple of inches, mostly hidden by her arm because of where the seam was but it was there.

"Told you that you needed to lay off the food a bit. Christ, you can't even fit in your fucking dress." He sneered. "You're right, you're not worth it after all."

The second he let go of her she ran. Kept running all the way back out onto the crowded dance floor. She paused for a second, in the crowded safety of the dance floor, fixing her hair and tugging at her dress to try and hide the rip in it. She wiped her eye, and then forced a smile, walking back over to the booth where everyone was sitting.

She approached the booth just as Max was getting up to come and look for her.

"There you are." He breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted her walking towards him. "You okay?"

She nodded, forced a smile. "Just need another drink I think." She flashed him a smile like it's nothing, like her skin wasn't crawling from the feeling of Leo's hands on her. She slid into the booth beside him, close enough that she was almost sitting on his lap. His arm wrapped around her waist and she relaxed against him, knowing she was safe from Leo while she was with him.

"You sure you're alright, darling?" Max asked quietly in her ear. He'd been chatting away to the others, but it hadn't escaped his notice that she'd gone quiet. Sipping on her drink and staring blankly ahead.

🎥.

It was nearly 5am when everyone eventually started to drift out of the club. Lando complaining bitterly about his lack of shoes and repeatedly asking everyone what had happened to them, but no one seemed to know.

Max and Talia had headed off their separate way to get back to their hotel, waving goodbye to the others. Max was absolutely hammered, the celebration definitely worthy of having claimed his fourth title, and he kept his arm wrapped firmly around her as they walked to keep himself upright.

He'd been laughing to himself as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room, three attempts in and repeatedly missing the slot for it to go in, when Talia took it off him and finally opened the door.

"Thanks, darling." He grinned, stumbling through the door in to their shared hotel room. "What a fucking day!"

He stumbled off into the bedroom already half undressed before he's even rounded the corner. A huge grin on his face, drunk enough that all he could think about now was getting some sleep.

As she watched him go she assumed he was going to be passed out asleep, and probably snoring, before she even got as far as removing her make up. So it made her jump when he suddenly appeared behind her in the bathroom mirror, catching her inspecting the rip in her dress.

"What happened to your dress?" He frowned, taking a step closer to get a better look at it.

"It's fine, I must've caught it on something." She mumbled dismissively.

He looked at the rip and then back at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired, Max." She reassured him. "It's been a really long day. A good day, but exhausting."

She finished taking her make up off, walked back out of the bathroom leaving him brushing his teeth. She stripped out of the dress, burying it in the bottom of her suitcase as though it might bury the memory of what Leo had said to her in that bathroom along with it. She pulled the first shirt she came to over her head to sleep in, releasing as she smelled his cologne on it that it was actually Max's.

She didn't take it off. It was comforting.

He came out of the bathroom a few moments later, when she was already curled up in bed, the sound of his feet padding across the carpet filling the room. Then the bed dipped beside her as he settled in.

He flicked the lights off and there was a pause, a moment of in decision on his part. Then he turned onto his side, tucked his head in against her neck and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

🎥.

Max woke long before Talia did, the daylight streaming in through the curtains that they'd forgotten to close getting him. She had her head buried so far in the pillows the sunlight still hadn't got to her, and he smiled softly at how cosy she looked, pulling her back a bit closer into his chest.

And then she'd moved and the smile was wiped off his face.

Because as her wrist peeked out from under the covers there was a dark, angry hand print shaped bruise wrapped around it. He peeled back the duvet a little more as she slept to get a better look at it and yeah, it was definitely hand print shaped.

His mind immediately wandered back to her ripped dress, to the way she'd sat so quietly beside him for the rest of the night when she came back from the bathroom.

Something had obviously happened. The worst part was that she obviously hadn't felt like she could tell him.

He was still staring at it when she woke up, couldn't take his eyes off it even though he knew she was going to catch him staring at it.

"Morning, champ." She said softly, twisting in his arms to face him. "How's the hangover?"

"I feel surprisingly okay." He admitted. "What about you?"

"Just tired." She yawned. "Was a good night though."

"And your wrist?" He asked.

She looked down at her arm in confusion at his words, then her eyes locked on the colourful bruise Leo had left behind. She poked it carefully, relieved to find it was nowhere near as painful as it looked

"It doesn't hurt." She reassured him.

"What happened?" Max demanded.

She hesitated, just for a second. "Just a drunk guy in the club, that's all. I handled it."

"The same one that ripped your dress?" Max asked, and she could feel the way he'd gone rigid just thinking about it. It absolutely confirmed in her mind that she'd been right not to tell him Leo was there. She could only imagine the fight that would've broken out.

"I handled it." She said firmly. "I'm okay. Don't let it spoil your day."

"Why didn't you tell me at the time?" Max pressed.

"Because you'd have overreacted and got yourself in trouble." She told him honestly. "It's fine, no harm done. We got to enjoy your big night, that's all that matters."

"I'd have enjoyed my night a lot more if I got to punch that asshole in the face." Max muttered.

She put her hand on his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin. "It's all fine, and I didn't want you getting yourself in trouble. Just let it go, Max. He's not worth it."

Max was quiet for a minute, then his body relaxed a little. "You're sure you're okay?" He asked quietly, brushing her hair out of her face.

She nodded. "Perfect, actually."

He tightened his arms around her, pulling him in closer.

"Did you enjoy your party?" She asked him after a moment of silence.

"Think I enjoyed the pre-party hotel celebrations with you a lot more." He smirked, and she blushed.

"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "Was thinking we could just stay in bed all day?" He asked hopefully. "Our flight isn't until tonight."

"And what would we be doing in bed all day?" She asked innocently.

"Well..." he said slowly, hands sliding under her shirt. "I was thinking it might go something a little like this..."

🔥.

His hands dragged up her sides, savouring the moment. She arched into his touch needily. There was something so much softer about the way he touched her this time, like he'd got all the time in the world and absolutely nowhere else to be.

His lips met hers, the feeling of his mouth on hers clearing almost every other thought from her head. He pulled away just long enough to look at her, eyes flicking over her face like he was really, properly looking at her for the first time.

"So pretty." He murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. "Meant it when I said I was the luckiest guy in Vegas having you with me. Could wake up like this every morning and die happy."

"Max." She groaned as he continued his lazy trail of kisses down her neck. Taking his time, no urgency to anything that he was doing at all, despite the fact that she wanted him so badly she was clawing at his skin trying to get closer to him.

"What's the hurry?" He grinned. "We've got all day, remember? Wanna take my time, enjoy you properly now we don't have to hurry."

He shifted his position slightly, rolling on top of her so his hard length was pressing directly against her crotch. The material of her panties sliding over his boxers as she squirmed.

"You should wear my shirts more often." He mumbled. "You look so good like this."

His hips found a slow, agonising rhythm. His eyes never once leaving her face as he pressed himself against her in a way that made her head spin. He just carried on slowly rutting against her, rhythm never faltering as he peppered lazy kisses across her skin and his hands explored her body under his shirt.

The length of him dragged through her now embracing wet panties, bumping against her clit in a way that made her gasp, and left him with a smug grin on his face. Her hips stuttered, eyes snapping open to find him watching her like his favourite show.

"You going to cum just like this?" He asked. "Before I've even undressed you or touched you properly."

"Max." She gasped, arching up in to his touch.

"What do you want, darling?" He asked. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

It took her a minute. Every single bit of her brain was focused on the feeling of him slowly grinding against her, his hips never faltering even for a second.

"Need you inside me." She moaned out eventually, breath catching her in throat as he ground against just the right spot again. "Need you so bad."

He let out a content sounding nose, hooking a finger into her panties and dragging them down her legs quickly. He kicked his own boxers off, then settled back into the position he was in.

"Gonna leave the shirt on. Like seeing you wear my number." He murmured against her skin, lips back on her neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was thinking about the fact that it was going to be 30 degrees in Qatar and if he didn't stop she was going to be reduced to wearing a turtle neck to cover all the marks, but she also made no attempt to stop him.

When he eventually gave a lazy thrust into her a moan left her mouth, only to be muffled by another kiss from him. He sunk into her slowly, the stretch delicious and then stopped, just paused and looked at her. The way her hair splayed out on the pillow, the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips were parted and swollen from kissing him.

"God you feel so fucking good." He told her, slowly rolling his hips. It was similar to the lazy pace he'd set through their clothes earlier. Incredible but no where near enough at exactly the same time.

"That's it baby." He breathed, picking up his pace a little. She moaned, nails scratching down his back and her legs locking around his waist to keep him there.

"Gonna stay here all day and celebrate with you." He breathed against her neck. "Gonna make you feel so good you won't be able to think about anything else for weeks."

"God, please Max." She moaned out. "I need... faster..."

He ignored her though, carrying on with the lazy rhythm he'd set. Determined to make this last, and savour every last second of it.

[madam-angel]

PREVIEW FOR A FUTURE PHAINON X READER FIC

I'm currently writing a new Phainon x Reader fic to take a break from another one I wrote no there is no witch hunter!phainon x witch!reader in ba sing se and I'm confident that this one would be shorter. But for now, have a preview! If you're interested so far, let me know if you want to be tagged when I finally post the full fic!

Summary: You were born with a sickness that had no known cure yet, so you've spent your entire time inside a hospital room with no windows or way to contact the outside world. The only people you have ever talked to are the nurses and doctors always giving you checkups--that was until a tin can found its way through a hole in your room, with a string connected to a boy you couldn't see.

Preview word count: 1.4k words

When the morning alarm rang, you continued your routine as normal. Wake up, wash yourself in the bathroom, get dressed, and spend thirty minutes however you wanted. After eating breakfast and taking your medication, get a checkup in the examination room, return to your bedroom, then spend time however you wanted until lunch.

After you finished eating lunch, however, that familiar tapping reached your ears again. It was that when you remembered what happened last night. Whoever was on the other room also found the hole connecting your rooms together, and they used a pole to hit your eye. A groan left your lips as you jumped down your bed, leaving your food tray on the table, and returned to the hole.

This time, it wasn't just a pole that entered. Rather, it was… a can. You couldn't tell what its original contents were, as it had been peeled off. But when you knelt down to pick it up, it left behind a string that reached the other end.

Ah, you had read about this before. A tin can telephone. Did that mean whoever was on the other side wanted to talk to you? But why?

You picked up the can. Inside was a folded piece of paper. And when you opened it, there was a very… very, very messy handwriting inside. Put this in your ear, it said. You had already assumed that, but perhaps the other person didn't know you would know. Which felt… insulting, somehow.

You scooted a few steps back, just enough to make the string stretch, and placed the tin can on your ear?

"Can you hear me?" a voice on the other side said. Their voice was a little high, so you couldn't tell much about it. "Hello? Helloooo?"

Your brows furrowed down as you scowled. "I can hear you."

The other person laughed. "That's great! I was worried this wouldn't work. It's nice to meet you, neighbor!"

"Is it really? You hit my eye with your pole last night."

"Oh." They paused, then chuckled. "Oh. So that's why you tried to hit me back with the pole. Sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I wasn't even expecting to hit anything. I- I'm Phainon, by the way! What's your name? And- and are you a guy or a girl? Or something else? I'm a guy if it helps!"

Phainon. His name was Phainon.

You could have put down the tin can, shove it back inside the hole and not talk to him again. But after thinking about it, it wasn't like he was at fault for last night. Like he said, he wasn't expecting to hit anything, let alone anyone. Plus, this was your first time talking to someone else that wasn't just the doctors or nurses that always examined you. You had to admit, it felt exciting to hear a new voice after so long. So, you told Phainon your name as well, then answered his second question.

"You have a nice name!" he said, followed by a giggle. "You know, I never thought I'd make a friend while I'm in here. I thought I was gonna be alone forever!"

Your brows furrowed down. Again. "Friend?"

"Yeah, we're friends, aren't we? I read in some books that people introduce themselves to each other to make new friends."

Well, he was right. One of the first books they gave you when you were younger was a book on basic courtesy and etiquette, and it always said to introduce yourself to new people. You might just make a new friend if you did.

"I… I guess we are friends."

You could hear him cheer on the other side. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I've been wanting to have a friend recently. It's lonely being alone, isn't it?"

Lonely… now that was a question you really didn't know if you could answer. Sure, you were alone, but you didn't know if you could say you were lonely. After all, you had everything you could ask for. Books, food, toys—if you ever felt bored, you would just pick up anything you found in your room. If you felt lonely, you would either find a new thing to entertain yourself with or take a nap.

"I'm not lonely," you replied. "I'm happy I'm here."

"You are?"

"Yeah. It means we get to help people, don't we? Sure, we're sick, but we're also helping people find a cure for it. I'm sure it won't be long now 'till they find a cure."

"Oh. If you say so." He paused for a bit. You couldn't hear what he was doing, but you did notice the string slacken for a second before tensing again. "Hey… umm… can I ask something from you? Can we keep this a secret between us?"

You blinked. "A secret?"

"A secret. I always get in trouble with the grownups whenever they see me doing something. If they find out that I was talking to you, then I'll probably get in trouble again. Can you promise me that, friend?"

The thought of someone, anyone, getting in trouble with the doctors and nurses didn't make sense to you. Why would anyone get in trouble with anything? It wasn't like there was anything to get in trouble with. Maybe he was afraid of the needles they used to take your blood? You read in some books that some people were afraid of needles. Maybe Phainon was that kind of kid.

So instead, you shrugged. "Okay. But… how are we supposed to hide the cans? Don't they always clean up our rooms when they take us for a checkup? They might think that the cans are trash…"

"Don't worry, you can just put the can back in the hole, and I'll hide it for you. I'm good at hiding things." He was silent again for a bit. "So… is there anything you want to talk about? I want to get to know my friend better."

Usually, after lunch, you would spend it either reading or playing. But now, you sat on your floor, a tin-can telephone in hand, as you talked to a stranger whose face you couldn't see. Phainon asked you a few questions, and you asked him the same ones in return. You learned that he also didn't remember where he was from, but someone had told him that his hometown was Aedes Elysiae. A place neither of you could recall. You couldn't even remember if you read it in a book somewhere.

When the both of you ran out of things to ask each other or to talk about, Phainon was already whining. "Come on, there has to be something! We can talk about anything, you know? Like maybe… what's your wish—"

Before he could continue, the sound of the dinner alarm made you jump. Had that much time passed already? There was no way you spent hours talking to Phainon. Especially since he talked so fast and talked too much.

"Should we talk again tomorrow?" you asked. "You said you didn't want to get in trouble. If we talk after dinner, then they might see us. And you'll get in trouble again."

"I… I didn't even think about that." He chuckled. "I have such a smart friend. I'm glad I got to know you. I probably would have been in trouble again if I didn't. Goodnight, new friend!"

He sounded so excited about this friendship thing, you felt bad for not sharing his enthusiasm. You didn't know if you could match his energy. So instead, you just smiled. You knew he couldn't see it, but you hoped he could hear it in your voice. "Goodnight, Phainon. I guess you can call me after lunch. That way, we still won't get caught."

You pushed the can in the hole, then watched as it disappeared on the other side. Now that you thought about it, aside from the tapping last night, you had never heard what was going on in the other rooms before. You couldn't hear if Phainon was cheering to himself, if a nurse had caught him and was scolding him for, apparently, being a trouble maker again, or if he had somehow hit himself on the wall like you had several times when you would pick up something that dropped.

You did know something, though. From this day on, your routine was going to be different now.

[honeyedsyntax]

Older

You weren't new to the spotlight.

You were used to your body being picked apart — your walk, your lips, the shape of your collarbone in a campaign for Saint Laurent. But this?

This was different.

What started as a blurry photo, you walking into a hotel, him following behind, no words exchanged, just the faint suggestion of his hand at your back, turned into a wildfire of headlines. No statement. No confirmation. Just silence and a slow unraveling of every detail you thought you could keep for yourself.

They called you all kinds of things.

"What does a 24-year-old see in a man pushing 55?"

"Are we just normalizing this now?"

"She's smart. He's rich. We get it."

"This can't be love."

You told yourself it didn't matter. You told yourself he didn't care. And maybe he didn't, at least not in the ways that showed.

In the quiet of his Gangnam penthouse, legs tangled under expensive sheets, you'd once asked him, "Do you care about the noise?"

He didn't answer at first. He never rushed with words. Just reached for your ankle under the covers, fingers warm, and tugged you toward him with that maddening ease. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"They don't know you."

He kissed you slow that night — the kind of kiss that didn't try to prove anything. Just stayed.

Still, the tension built with every new article, every speculative video breakdown, every side-eye at fashion week. And maybe you could've lived with all of it, if not for what happened in Cannes.

You wore archival Versace — black, backless, with your hair slicked up to show every angle they said made you "look older." It didn't matter. You still felt their stares when you walked into the afterparty alone. Their whispers, their camera phones tilted slightly down, like they weren't really recording but always were.

You knew where he was. He was always close.

You caught his eye near the bar, his suit immaculate, hair neatly styled, drink in hand. He didn't smile. He never did when eyes were on him. But he watched you like a man who already knew what it felt like to lose you.

And then Jay appeared. Mid-20s. Model-slash-actor. Pretty, confident, loud in the way only men your age could afford to be.

"Didn't think I'd see you here alone," he said, grinning like he knew something you didn't.

"I'm not alone," you replied, turning your body ever so slightly away.

"Right," he laughed. "You're with... him."

You didn't answer.

Jae leaned in, his voice dropping as he added, "Come on. You're gorgeous, but you're not dumb. He's old enough to be—"

"You done?" said a voice behind him.

Not loud. Not aggressive. Just there. Just him

Jay froze mid-sentence.

Byung-hun stood a step behind, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. But his voice cut through the air like a warning bell — quiet, and impossible to ignore.

Jay's smirk faded. He looked between you both, then backed off with a half-laugh, half-apology. "Didn't mean anything by it," he said. But he left fast.

For a few seconds, the world quieted. Just music, muted voices, and the space between you.

"You didn't have to do that," you said softly.

He didn't look at you right away. Just watched the crowd, unreadable as ever. "You didn't want me to?"

"No," you admitted. "I wanted you to do more."

His eyes shifted then. Slow. Sharp. He stepped closer, hand brushing your back with just enough pressure to make your breath catch. Across the rooftop, a camera flash went off.

You didn't flinch. Neither did he.

Let them take the picture.

You were done pretending you weren't his.

The internet did the rest.

A TikTok edit — you on the red carpet, walking ahead of him, hips swaying in couture. He pauses a step behind, gaze locked on you. The sound is slowed. A breathy remix of "Older" plays under the clip. The top comment reads: "He's looking at her like she's already gone."

Another post goes viral — a paparazzi shot outside a hotel. You're mid-laugh, head tilted back. He's looking down at you, one hand resting protectively at your waist. His other hand holds a phone. His body is turned toward yours like it's muscle memory.

Then came the video.

Leaked. Not posed. Just a quiet moment in his kitchen: you in one of his shirts, barefoot, slicing fruit at the counter. He walks in behind you, says something too soft for the mic to catch. You smile, barely. He leans down and presses a kiss to your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world.

No makeup. No angles. Just him. Just you.

The comments flood in.

"Why does this feel so real?"

"You don't fake that kind of intimacy."

"I hope this ruins me."

"He's obsessed. You can tell."

He didn't ask you to deny it. Never once asked you to hide. But you could feel the shift in him every time someone younger, prettier, bolder, tried to touch what wasn't theirs.

Sometimes, when you were lying in his bed after the city had gone quiet, you wondered if this was still about you — or about everything he thought he didn't deserve.

One night, on the balcony of a hotel in Milan, you found him standing with his back to the city. His sleeves were rolled up, collar undone, moonlight brushing the edges of his hair.

You stepped beside him, silent.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm ruining you," you whispered.

He didn't move. Just looked at you, steady.

"You're not."

"They don't take you seriously anymore," you murmured. "People think I'm a phase."

He turned to you fully now. You hadn't even noticed your hand curling into your sleeve, like you were bracing for something. He reached for it, gently, thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist like he was memorizing your pulse.

"They can talk all they want," he said. "But they don't get to touch you."

You didn't cry. Not then. But something in you softened, like tension finally released from the bone.

The morning you left for a campaign shoot in Paris, he didn't say much. Just walked you to the car, pressed a slow kiss to your temple before the door closed.

Someone caught the moment. Of course they did.

By the time you landed, it was all over social media: you in sunglasses, him in black. His hand in your hair, his mouth just barely grazing your skin.

The caption:

"Older men don't look at women like that unless they've already chosen them."

The comments:

"They're either in love or in very, very deep."

"I hope she breaks his heart. Just to see what happens."

"No one survives this kind of thing intact."

You saw the post late that night, lying in bed in a Paris hotel suite.

You didn't reply. You didn't like it.

But you saved it.

And you watched it twice.

And then, just once more.

who wouldn't want to be his controversial young gf?

wattpad saw this first request box is open!<3

[transfemstalin]

I'm sorry to burden you with this, but I just wanted to get it off my chest. Feel free to delete this if you want. And I promise this isn't ragebait or here to make you mad, but I know I can't convince you just by saying this.

I'm an ex-communist. That's it. It's strange and surreal, seeing people that could have been old friends believing in something I've reasoned out of and left behind long ago. I haven't been a communist for 2 years. Less than it feels, but also more than it feels.

I don't claim to be omniscient. Maybe socialism is the way. Maybe it isn't. But I'm not wasting my mental energy and breath trying to change the world when nothing ultimately matters at the end of existence. Who will care if we lived in a utopia or horrid dystopia at the end of mankind? I know it makes me a monster, I guess, but I simply don't care to try.

Maybe it is easier to imagine the end of existence than it is the end of capitalism. I will happily eat the fruits of capitalism, suckle the tit of a system I know is not perfect. But, of course, that milk, like all milk, is derived from blood. Impoverished overseas workers, innocents killed in wars. Older me would have cared, now, I really do not, despite being fully aware that the very liquid nourishing me, metaphorically, is human blood. I simply don't care. It's extremely callous and selfish of me, and I know that, but I suppose it's an extension of my... fatalistic outlook, I guess. We all die anyway. I know that makes me a monster to think, and I don't want to be. But... I don't know. I know I don't need or deserve your pity, so please don't pity me. I am part of the problem.

Maybe that makes us vampires, those of us who subscribe to neoliberalism (or at least go with the flow of it, like a dead fish. I don't believe in anything, really. It's all useless at the end of the day anyway. Silly to think of hope, of how this school of thought is PERFECT and will make a UTOPIA FOREVER! Even if there were one perfect ideology, it means NOTHING in the face of the inevitable decay and end of everything. Everything built crumbles and everything alive dies. I guess I'm disillusioned with everything and can't understand the hope in people's eyes.)

I honestly don't know what I'm trying to say here. I guess it's just word vomit, and I do sincerely apologize if I made your day worse. I probably did. I'm very sorry. I know it was cruel of me to pick some random innocent to unload all my horrible issues onto, you're not my therapist and I don't expect you to be. It's just... I dunno. Maybe seeing you reminded me of my younger self.

You're not me, and you have no idea who I am. So it's a bit foolish. But still, it's like I'm talking to myself, in a way, my younger, more hopeful self. If that makes sense. Even though you're not me. Anyway, I'm really sorry for this. Please, do something nice for yourself today to counterbalance having to read this.

I don't appreciate the tone you're taking with me here, I'll be honest. You're entirely right that not only do I not know you, but you don't know me, nor do you know anything about my life. You were apologizing to nobody as you wrote this, and if you were truly sorry you would have decided against hitting send on this ask. I think you should consider that before sending something like this to someone else, since I know that's what you did with your ask about defeatism. quit apologizing and own up to what you mean.

however, I will still entertain this, and raise two points:

firstly, marxist leninists do not want utopia. we want a better world, and realistically speaking, that world will still have flaws. every marxist worth their salt knows that and can accept it. we do not want a happy gumdrop rainbow land, we want workers to own the means of production, a state run by the proleteriat to oppress the bourgeoise, and an eventual abolition of class. with that suppression and subsequent abolition of the bourgeoise comes other benefits, such as better healthcare, anti imperialist efforts, better standards of living, etc, because that is what happens when a state takes on a socialist character and focused on what people need rather than what makes the most money and cements a spot as a world power

and second, crucial to what you seemed to be getting at, that you need to internalize: death and change are unavoidable parts of life. everyone needs to come to terms with that sooner or later. if you spend your whole life moping about it you won't be able to enjoy your time here.

I'll use an allegory. scientists don't waste time debating over materialism or idealism. scientists are materialists because you cannot study the world with idealism. and you've said it yourself, you can't get anything done like this. nihilism is similar in this regard. if nothing matters because we're all going to die, you're right, what's the point? why do anything at all if in a billion years we won't even be here for it?

why eat today if you'll die in 70 years? why get up out of bed and do something if you know you'll just need to sleep eventually once more? why wear glasses if you know your eyesight will continue to get worse either way? why love if you know it will end in heartbreak? because you do not live in the future, you live in the present day. and it feels good to have nice things while they last.

it makes no sense to discard an ideology that has lifted millions out of poverty and exploitation, has beaten back imperialists, has defeated fascism, has advanced medicine, and science, has got us into space, simply because in a couple billion years the sun will swallow up the earth. you won't even be around for that! but you know what you are around for? the present day. and socialism is there in the present day as well, and will be for as long as there is exploitation.

so, in short, I implore you to try again, this time not expecting utopia with an answer to all your problems, but a better world, with an answer to most of them. and maybe work a bit on your death anxiety so you can actually do something the next time you have a go at marx