#and that at least for me is a satisfying answer in and of itself.

[seestorimperator]

Summary:

"Don't worry, darling." Her voice was soft, though as drunk as Jim still was, she could've screamed to the heavens and not gotten a response. "I'll be gentle." The plunge of the knife into his chest was anything but. God knew he deserved worse, but for now, she'd just have to do her best and put him into the devil's hands and pray He could get the job done instead. or In 1977, a woman who comes to call herself Imperator murders her husband and finds herself in Los Angeles, in the arms of a gifted painter who commits her portrait to black velvet. The painting is beautiful, but from time to time, Imperator catches it watching her with eerie golden eyes.

Eventually rated E, featuring Sister Imperator x Papa Nihil, horror elements, deals with devils, catholic guilt, 70s musical references galore, and just a sprinkling of demonic seduction!

Current wordcount: 1,841

Chapter 1: take your silver spoon and dig your grave

Or read beneath the cut

February 4th, 1977

"Don't worry, darling." Her voice was soft, though as drunk as Jim still was, she could've screamed to the heavens and not gotten a response. "I'll be gentle." The plunge of the knife into his chest was anything but. God knew he deserved worse, but for now, she'd just have to do her best and put him into the devil's hands and pray He could get the job done instead.

Jim gasped awake beneath her, his eyes wide and wild as he thrashed beneath her, trapped between her spread legs. This was the only time she'd been the one on top, and he was dying. It was at once terribly sad and immensely satisfying. "Mary," he cried, clawing at her thighs and ruining her pantyhose in the process. She wrenched the knife free, and blood spurted from his chest like a champagne bottle being uncorked, like it was just waiting to break free of him, the same way she was. "Mary, what--"

"Don't call me that." That was no longer her name. She wasn't sure what it was now, but she was not Mary. She was neither full of grace nor blessed amongst women.

The knife came down again. She'd been sharpening the thing in secret for days, biding her time as she waited for Jim's Friday drinking binge, so he'd be woozy and pliable while she worked, and now the blade slipped between his ribs like it was meant to be there.

Above her, the tiny Jesus on the crucifix on the wall above the bed watched the scene with impassive eyes. The gold cross around her neck burned a scar into her skin.

Beneath her, Jim choked and sputtered, grasping at her hands, at the knife's handle, at the blade itself, hands slipping in his own blood. His mouth filled with it, and he gave a wet, hacking cough, spattering himself with red. For a split second, she worried about getting the stains out of his shirt, though she doubted there would be anything left of said shirt after the coming fire.

Outside, the moon shone full and bright over the winter-bare trees, smiling down on their peaceful, upscale neighborhood. It had been a beautiful night. It was going to be a beautiful morning. By the time the sun was where the moon sat now, she'd have the whole world on her plate.

Wiping blood from her hands, she wrenched the knife free just to stab it in again, this time putting her full weight, carefully maintained as it was, behind the blade.

Jim gave a gurgling scream beneath her, his hands on her wrists as if he had the strength to stop her now. Then, softly, pathetically, he whimpered, "Please."

It gave her pause, if just for an instant, the blade stilling deep in his chest. "That's the first time in your life you've ever said that, isn't it?" She didn't wait for an answer. The knife slipped free and came down again, this time at the hollow of his throat, slicing through skin and muscle and his trachea, down to his spine. It felt as if the tip hit bone. It shut him up, at least.

"I'm speaking now, Jim." Her voice had taken on an icy edge that she'd learned from him, sharp enough to cut and cold enough to burn like Hell. "So listen up."

He had no choice in the matter, one trembling hand reaching for his throat as if to stop the bleeding.

She said, "I'm done."

So was Jim, the light leaving his eyes like a candle flame when the wind blew hard.

Those warm, dark eyes were his best feature. He and she would've had beautiful children together, if she hadn't had a friend who was especially handy with wire hangers.

Though there was power in being on top of Jim, she slid off, tottering on shaky legs and high heels. She was so used to the heels that she wasn't sure she could walk barefoot anymore. She probably had feet like a Barbie doll now.

Jerking the knife from Jim's throat, she wiped it clean on the skirt of her dress, carrying it with her into the living room. A record had been left on while she'd worked, Edith Piaf belting out Non, je ne regrette rien as she'd brought her husband's life to an end. Her suitcases were packed and waiting beside the door, and she knelt so she could stash the knife inside one of them, wrapped in a towel so she wouldn't accidentally cut herself on it. Her dress, a cheery sunshine yellow number that looked better suited to 1957 than 1977, was shucked and shoved into the suitcase, too, though in a plastic bag to avoid smearing blood on the rest of her belongings.

Though her legs were stiff, she rose and toed off her heels, dripping blood on the hardwood floor with every step she took toward the bathroom. Though she wanted more than anything to leave, to just go and be done with all this, it would raise eyebrows if she was seen gallivanting around town covered in blood. She had time, anyway.

She'd made sure of that, keeping an almost obsessive eye on her wristwatch all night. She took it off and washed her hands first, so as to not sully her bra, panties, and slip, which had somehow made it through the dawn's events unscathed. They were tossed into the laundry hamper, while a fluffy white towel, pulled from the linen closet, was set aside on the toilet seat, which she had to close herself, because of course Jim had never even considered putting it down himself. Only her gold cross necklace and her expression of exhausted exhilaration stayed on.

Her shower was quick and rough and scalding hot, just long enough for her to scrub herself clean, and instead of her own products, she used his. Once she was out, the towel was wrapped around her, and she used his cologne, too.

She wiped steam from the mirror, gazing into her own eyes as she dried her hair and pulled it into a tight bun, neat as you please, doing her best to ignore the black eye Jim had given her earlier in the week. It had been the last straw. Yes, he'd hit her before, but never where it would show. It was a level of humiliation she never wanted to experience again, but once an animal had tasted blood, well. She'd had no choice but to kill him. He would've eventually killed her if she hadn't killed him first. It was self-defense, in a way. Would it hold up in court, if it came to that? Definitely not, but she knew deep in her heart that it was the truth. God knew it, too, she was sure. He'd forgive her.

That was, if He was even real. She'd been questing His existence for years, since her sisters had died in that terrible accident that had wiped out their entire third-grade class. If He did exist, He was a cold bastard.

Adorned only by the towel, the cross, and her watch, though Jim would've pitched a fit over such impropriety, she padded back into the bedroom. From the long, low dresser, she grabbed a pair of fresh panties and stepped into them, eschewing a bra. That would only accentuate her chest, and she needed to look as gender-neutral as possible. Jim had assumed, when he'd stumbled into bed the previous night, reeking of cheap perfume, that the suit she'd laid out was for him, but she pulled it on now: Black trousers, white button-up shirt, black-and-green chevron tie, black blazer, black socks. She'd even thrifted a pair of boy's shoes for the occasion, so as to not break the illusion of masculinity. Jim's fedora and her sunglasses were in the living room, and she stepped out to put them on, too. Yes, she looked shady, but there was no way anyone was recognizing her like this.

Her suitcases were packed with a mixture of Jim's suits and clothes she'd made for herself, mostly short, modern dresses he never would've allowed her to wear. She'd barely had the time to try them on, but she got a little thrill just thinking about herself in such things. There was a green dress with a high collar and black fur cuffs that she was looking forward to wearing in particular.

Steeling herself, she stepped out into the dawn, feeling the rosy light on the back of her neck before she swapped her suitcases out for a gas can she'd left in the bushes. This early, no one was awake, and she circled the house, splashing gasoline around the foundation. Then she headed back inside, dousing the couch and every set of curtains, and the bed and Jim himself, making sure he was completely soaked. She pulled a book of matches from the pocket of her stolen blazer, unsurprised to see it had come from a gentleman's club. Striking it and breathing in the sulfurous aroma, she dropped the match directly onto his chest, onto the chasm where his heart should've been.

The ignition felt like a rebirth. It felt like baptism by fire. She felt made anew.

The flames caught quickly and burned hot around her as she slipped off into the morning, not bothering to lock the door behind her.

The sun was above the horizon now, tinting the air pinkish-gold and streaking across the frosty winter sky. The Mountain View neighborhood, with its Easter-colored houses and expensive cars, was still and serene, not even the sound of barking dogs disturbing the peace. There was only the singing of birds and the chilly February breeze and the crackling of the fire inside the house as it devoured everything.

The nearest bus stop was at the end of the block, and she hopped aboard the moment it arrived, riding in silence all the way, her suitcases in the seat beside her so no one would dare approach her.

Time flew, and she was suddenly at the terminal, right on time to board the bus to Los Angeles.

There was a bus schedule tucked into the front pocket of one suitcase for easy access, though she'd long-since memorized it. The timing of all this was, of course, carefully planned. She would never have dreamed of waiting around, if she could avoid it. She wasn't made for ennui. The problem was that this bus ride was going to take nearly a full day, with a handful of bus changes on the way. Driving would've been faster, but the bus was safer. It would look suspicious if both she and the Studebaker were missing, anyway.

She glanced at her watch. Nineteen hours and counting. At least she'd have plenty of time to plan her next move.

She idly fiddled with her cross as the world flew by outside the window, February-cool and completely indifferent to the thunder that was breaking in her heart.

[bodysnatch3r]

what this post has given me the change to talk about, and i think what people struggle with (myself included! this is a good thing, if even months or years later i enjoy grappling with the moral and ethical questions a narrative poses!) is that the veil is the source of, and cause of, untold harm in the modern day: possession as inherently traumatic, the dehumanisaton of spirits, southern mage incarceration (and all of its associated horrors), the fall of the elvhen empire and the rise of tevinter, the fall of the dales, etc. etc. all of it, and so much more, can be brought back to the veil.

this got, very long. so the rest is under a read more.

so, in a way, what solas seems to bring to the table is a "get out of jail free" card, a mechanism that would remove something (perceived as) incredibly harmful and destructive, the root cause of untold modern horrors, in a way that also rains down retribution on those who enacted the wrongs in the first place.

many in the fandom think who wouldn't want to watch the once-more-immortal elves destroy the tevinter empire? or the southern chantry eat its own (ugly, ugly) hat when everyone becomes attuned to magic to an extent? the fall of the veil will be catastrophic–but wouldn't it be worth it, if it means things will change? aren't all revolutions painful, but worth it, in the end? wouldn't the flowers grow again? the state/police/status quo/capitalism/chantry/magisterium/etc. has decided for so long what violence even looks like. shouldn't elves and mages get to decide what that looks like, now? (i am still early game, and am curious to see how the dwarves feature within this)

and this question is one that has animated anarchism and leftism for ever and ever and ever. it's even a meme amongst many anarchists:

Q: who does the dishes after the revolution? [ie, who will make sure people are taken care of; have their needs met; have access to the basic necessities necessary to live life with dignity and respect, now that the normative system of the capitalist state is gone?] A: we do our own dishes now. we'll do our own dishes then. [ie, we will. we have always taken care of our own, and we will always take care of our own (this is often debated when it comes to disability justice etc)

now. the thing i appreciate with bioware is that they are not, flat-out, saying that a world without the veil would be an unmitigated disaster, barring the initial chaos of the veil collapsing ("as the world burned in the raw chaos," as solas himself said in trespasser: he was always aware that "this" world had to die to achieve it). in fact, they show time and time again how there is a future where the fade and the waking world can coexist, as they are now with the veil: with the avvar's theories of possession; with cole; with lucanis and spite; with the rivaini seers; with the genocide of the dairsmuid annulment. that world is possible. and in a just world, it would be, without question or chaos or thousands of deaths across thedas.

but the statement veilguard is making–is that there is no just way of approaching this. i'm currently drafting a longer, referenced post on dragon age, the veil and concepts such as restorative vs retributive vs punitive justice, acceleratonism and the fall of the veil, what nostalgia means in both leftist and far right environments, because (as i've said in my post on grief in veilguard) i think that is the question the game is trying to answer. is bloody, destructive revolution worth it, when there are ways to do good and make good right now that, though will not result in any deep societal change, can still alleviate pain in the face of the great horror? and i don't think veilguard is giving as clear-cut an answer as people think, either in favour of the veil coming down or against it, especially when taken in concert with the previous games.

and this is what, to me, makes veilguard feel so human. there is no easy answer. we wouldn't all be arguing about it if there was. anders' gambit ultimately worked: regardless of what divine choice you go with, mages in the south enjoy increased freedom and privileges, though it takes a very different shape depending on who sits on the sunburst throne. but anders' gambit also destroyed an entire city and condemned him (and, potentially, his lover) to infamy and a life on the run, as well as the anger of many of his loved ones. the decision was made and it was a terrible choice but it still did good in the long run, even if at a terrible cost, and the narrative seems to confirm that.

i know many people feel that veilguard is saying, flat out, that the veil coming down is bad because the heroes are opposed to it coming down, and that this was a retcon from earlier installments that were hinting and foreshadowing at the veil coming down at the end–mythal's reckoning, sandal's prophecy, the veil thinning with each blight–but i don't know if that is what is happening, overall. a full deconstruction of this will be for the longer post(s) (particularly in relation to overwhelming trends in western media where the villains are so often the revolutionaries).

what i'm trying to say is that i think veilguard is actually tying to grapple with the many complicated feelings that we can have, as left-aligned people, with the concepts of revolution and struggle vis-a-vis the reality of what revolution would entail. i still don't know if i'm satisfied with the answer it gives, or the answer i can come to. what i do know is that it is making me think of these questions to begin with, and that makes it worthwhile in and of itself. i do still think sometimes it misses the tree for the forest–understanding that the best way to tell stories about systems is through characters, but then at times fails to take the systems back into account–but it is still saying meaningful things, worthy of analysis even when they fail. it is not always black and white.

Holy shit I found a wild one

Do people need an NPC to look into the camera and explain in detail how the demons will kill most of Thedas population. Do you play Silent Hill 3 and side completely with Claudia because the game doesn't explicitly tell you why the cult achieving its goals would be horrific. Do you watch Lord of The Rings and find the writing bad because Tolkien didn't have a 45 minute monologue as to why Sauron is evil. What is happening. Am I going insane. How is this legit game criticism to some. Fuck.

[xiao-come-home]

How they sleep with you - HSR Edition!

✰ Characters: Anaxa, Phainon, Mydei, Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill, Jiaoqiu.

✰ Words: 1,3k.

✰ SFW ; a tiny bit sug/gestive in aven's part.

Warnings: none, gn!reader.

A/N: first time writing for anaxa, phainon, aven and sunday. pls spare me if theyre too ooc :( i tried pensive emoji

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Anaxa:

Religiously sticks to his half of the bed and expects you to do the same as well. Be aware that if you don't behave, he'll poke you intensely with a pointer until you return to your side. It's not that he is uncomfortable with physical contact per se, but he appreciates his personal space; he's not completely heartless though, as he finishes off his day with a kiss that leaves you both breathless. What you may not expect this for the first few times is that when the sun rises ever so slowly, the professor is the one desperately clinging to you, making his lengthy battle the night prior dissipate within mere hours.

"No such things happened," Anaxa answers swiftly, "however, this does not surprise me. This isn't the first time you've devised a ridiculous statement."

You would've believed his words if Anaxa wasn't currently nuzzling into your shoulder blades, searching for your warmth.

Phainon:

If Anaxa at least attempts to keep his distance, Phainon knows nothing of sorts. He's quite shamelessly glued to you as soon as you enter your bedroom, let alone the bed itself. Though, you're not exactly sleeping as soon as you crawl under the covers - Phainon tends to have a cuddle session before finally succumbing to sleep. He wants to talk to you about his day and hear about yours - only then he's satisfied enough. Bedtime might also act as a rare, vulnerable time for Phainon, where no filter exists; he says everything that keeps him restless.

"Will you be there when I wake up?" Phainon only hopes his voice is not as broken as it is inside his head.

"Silly, of course. I'll be by your side every time you wake up." Your tender tone is enough to fade some of the somber clouds above his head.

Phainon laughs, but it comes out as bittersweet; he brings you closer and wraps his arm tightly around your side, hiding his face in your neck. He'll do everything to make it happen - even if it means fighting the fate itself.

Mydei:

The Kremnoan prince insists he doesn't require sleep, but falls victim to your puppy eyes. He makes sure you have the best quality of sheets, pajamas, and pillows; your comfort comes first to him, no matter how many times you insist that he brings you the said comfort the most, and the rest is insignificant. Mydei holds you close to his chest, playing softly with your hair to help you fall asleep - only then he's able to rest, knowing your soul is peacefully in repose. If plagued by nightmares, featherlight kisses on your eyelids wreak the foes away.

"Sleep well, my love," Mydei cradles your cheek for a moment, before adjusting himself; his lips are resting against your forehead, as he himself, begins to doze off.

You, on the other hand, watch Mydei sleep in the morning. A wide smile spreads on your face as you observe his chest fall and rise, a moment of interrupted serenity on his handsome face.

"Looking at me again?" The male questions, his deep voice dripping with honey, watching you with one eye open; perhaps not yet ready for the bright light.

"No...?"

Mydei pinches your nose lightheartedly.

"You're a bad liar."

Sunday:

Poor thing trying to break the habit. Being used to having everything in perfect state, Sunday needs a reminder that it's okay for bedsheets to have a few wrinkles here and there. He'll apologize nervously, but you can't stop him from fluffing up your pillows and readjusting the covers. He tries to stay on his half but desperately wants to stay close to you, so don't hesitate to pull him close - he'll freak out for a bit, and then slowly, but steadily give in to your touch. There's one thing you too, cannot resist - watching his innocent image crumble away in your very hands.

"Quit smushing my face against your—" Sunday's words die in his throat as you push his face further into your chest, the redness of his cheeks so bright, it could rival Himeko's scarlet hair.

"This is— this is inappropriate! How humiliating..."

You only laugh at your boyfriend's despair. Sometimes it's nice to be a villain.

"What, you're not gonna fight me? Are you chickening out?" You poke his side. He groans and bends in half for a second.

"Atrocious joke."

Be prepared for his wing accidentally hitting your face tomorrow when you kiss...

Himeko: lmfaoo robin you wont believe they actually did this *sends a video*

Aventurine:

Gambling who sleeps on the floor. You don't play that game anymore. The blonde finds great pleasure in aggravating you before sleep hits in, gambling with his own life to get a reaction out of you. He cackles mischievously if you try to suffocate him with a pillow for tickling you for at least 15 minutes prior, but even so, it's not enough for him to let you go to the dreamland, yet. By the time you're done, your bed needs to be made again and your shared panting could possibly give bystanders a very different idea...

"Aven, enough, I think my diaphragm might actually explode," a remnant of giggles still exits your mouth, unfortunately, Aventurine does not share your sentiment and snakes his arm against your belly, while kissing your neck a bit too enthusiastically.

"Stopping, now? Where's the fun in that?" His fingers play with the waistband of your pajamas, "Why not raise the stakes a bit more?" Your skin turns into goosebumps as you feel a grin painting itself on Aventurine's face against your neck.

Boothill:

Well, he doesn't sleep really, he has to get recharged with electricity to get the energy back... So there might be a problem. Hopefully, your bed is also able to support some heavy weight, since laying down with a man whose body is almost a full machine, can be quite challenging. Either way, Boothill is actually pretty excited to accompany you, even if he'll spend most of the time watching you sleep instead; he'll hum you a song to help you fall asleep, card through your hair with his hand - it's... Reminding him of the peace he used to have on his home planet. You being the only survivor besides Boothill made him much more protective than before, but seeing you sleep so blissfully curled up to him... You still trust him. That's all it matters, after so many sleepless nights you've had.

"Shh, sleep," Boothill urges you gently, pulling up the bedding to cover you further.

"I wish you could sleep with me."

Boothill chuckles, caressing your cheek with his robotic finger, "I might not sleep with ya anymore, but I'm still here. And will be, until yer sick of me."

Jiaoqiu:

This man. He wraps his whole body around you like a snake and doesn't let go until morning. If it's possible for him to entangle his tail somewhere - expect that too. If you try to escape his grasp, he'll accuse you of not loving him anymore and might bite you (in a teasing way, of course). The sly foxian tends to sneak his hands under your clothes to rest them over your bare skin; sometimes, if need be, instead of teasing you furthermore, he gives you a soothing massage before drifting off. In fact, he'd prefer to sleep bare - skin to skin, but respects it if you're not interested; not that a mere layer will stop him from being a menace.

"Jiaoqiu," you sigh, looking over your shoulder, "your tail is reaching places that the sun cannot."

"Oh, really?" His voice dripping with fake surprise, but he only adjusts his head against the pillow behind you, "A checkup is necessary in order to ensure your health is in good condition."

Despite his silvery voice and elegant words, don't be fooled - mischief is laced through the tiny gaps.

[cvnntagious]

☆ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠... 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

chris was never shy about his profession... not at all, really. truthfully, he only stayed quiet about it as to not make other people uncomfortable. but of course, as soon as he was in front of the right crowd, and the questions started coming, it was like they'd never stop. "nah— no, i don't do all that fake shit," he answered, waving off his friend as he chuckled.

everyone looked to him as they sat around on the couches in your living room, some with wonder on their faces, others with confusion. you were skeptical, to say the least. "y'know what i mean, with those plots and all," chris continued on, "no one even likes that anymore. they wanna see real, unscripted fucking. all the dirty talking and moans, they're just not enjoyable if it's all for show."

"yeah, but i'm sure it's all played out anyways," you were quick to speak up, not thinking too much of the comment you'd made. though the words were simple in your mind, they immediately caused everyone's attention to turn to you, as if you'd told this something no one could've ever possibly thought up.

chris shook his head, grin unwavering. "nah, i scrap anything that seems even remotely forced."

"but porn's always forced, everyone knows that," you quipped, completely disregarding chris' 'professional' opinion.

"y'think so?"

the smirk that began to tug at his slips only seemed to further build the tension that had already started hanging in the air. "yeah," you stated bluntly, the way you crossed your arms gave you a snobbish look, but you didn't care. "i mean, seriously, all those loud moans and screaming and shit... nobody's really that loud, no matter how good it is. and there's just no way chicks are, like, squirting and shaking all the time— i wouldn't even be surprised if squirting wasn't even real."

by this time, chris had shifted comfortably in his seat on your couch, crossing his arms like you had and watching you with an almost unreadable intense stare. he wasn't offended by what you were saying, no. rather, he was curious. he could be way off, but something told him you didn't really know much of what you were talking about.

━━★

"mm-mm, baby, don't go all quiet on me now," chris hissed as his hips snapped to meet yours, his hand reaching to lift your chin and force you to look at him.

"c- chris!" you practically shrieked, hands reaching to claw at his biceps as your back bowed slightly off of your couch, eyes closed and mouth making a pouty little 'o' shape that had chris' ego blowing up his head.

the way his large length filled you up more than you ever had before, threatening to hit your cervix with each thrust had tears brimming at your waterline. your world was being rocked, in every sense of the word, and it was all his fault. he'd decided it was time to change your outlook on everything on one random night over a silly comment you'd made hours prior. "how loud could chicks 'never be'? was it -" he cut off his sentence to pull all the way back and snap his hips as hard as he possibly could, eliciting a loud mewl from you that echoed through your house, "that loud?"

you immediately clung to him, legs wrapping around his torso and arms throwing themselves around his neck. he breathed harshly and groaned in your ear, head dipping to practically nuzzle itself in between your neck and your shoulder for a moment.

chris couldn't help chuckle when he heard you pleading to him, mumbling on about how he was too big, and that you couldn't finish like this. but still, when he slowed down for you, you found yourself whining at the loss of friction, writhing beneath him as he lifted his head to make eye contact with the camera set up on your coffee table. "wait! wait, m'not—wait, no, ke- keep doing that," you rambled on, practically unable to control the babble falling from your lips.

so when you finally decided you were fully satisfied with what he was doing (as if you hadn't already been before), chris' eyebrow raised, realizing he'd really found it now; that gummy sweet spot that made your eyes roll back.

and he shot the lens focused on him a cocky gin before diving all the way back in, allowing his head to drop on your shoulder once more

w/c : 754 a/n : divider by issysh3ll

[urcoolgf]

bf¡drew’s reaction to you posting him to ‘dandelion’ by ariana grande

¡ sexual/suggestive content !

drew had been out of town working on a new film, and it had left you… needy—to say the least. he had only been gone a few days, but your body’s desperation made it seem like months.

you were proud of him for getting to be apart of another big project that he was super passionate about, but you missed him. your body missed him. it wasn’t helping that you were ovulating…

you scrolled mindlessly through your photos, admiring all the photos of your boyfriend, hoping it would give you some kind of satisfaction. but, nothing.

you came across a specific photo that embarrassingly made your thighs clench. it was drew during a game night you had recently with some friends; his stance, the way his jeans fit, the keychain hanging from his belt loop, how his chest was puffed, and his shirt fit him just a little too tight in the most perfect way.

you don’t know what came over you—a sort of impulse? you clicked off the app, going straight to instagram, and creating a new story.

—

drew had just finished his last scene of the day—happy that he could finally call his girlfriend, but before he could, he saw an absurd amount of mention notifications from instagram.

thousands of people talking about some ‘story’ his girlfriend posted?

he quickly navigated to her profile, clicking onto her story. a devious smirk spread across his face as the lyrics appeared on his screen.

i got (got) what you need (you need)

i’m thinking you should plant this seed

i get this sounds unserious

but, baby boy, this is serious

he stared at the picture for a moment, totally unaware that you had even taken it. he pictured you, at home alone, with your hand between your thighs, all needy for him. the thought alone made his pants tighten.

he wasted no time calling you.

—

you were chasing your own pleasure, fingers working yourself open on the couch, but it wasn’t enough. it wasn’t him. suddenly, your phone lit up, and your beautiful boyfriend’s contact picture presented itself. your hand escaped your panties, accepting the call with an unnecessary urgency.

“hey, baby!,” you answered, not bothering to hide your enthusiasm. you fell back against the couch, sprawled out like a dramatic housewife—which is exactly who you felt like right now.

“you postin’ me, pretty?,” it was obviously a rhetorical question. he had already seen it. his smirk could be heard through the phone, and there was no use trying to deny it.

“maybe…,” you drew it out, curling a strand of your hair between your fingers. you tugged your lip between your teeth, waiting for his response.

“so fuckin’ lucky i’m not there right now, pretty girl,” his low laugh broke up the sentence, like he was in a mixed state of disbelief and amazement.

“i don’t feel very lucky,” you pouted. your dramatic, sad tone was evident in your soft words. your thighs involuntarily clenched together, trying to hide your heat—even if just from yourself. you could basically feel him inside you just from memory. it wasn’t enough.

“no? well… when i get back you’re gonna feel like the luckiest girl in the world. promise you that. i’ll plant as many damn seeds as you want—over ‘n over again if you ask me to,” his words were dirty, but his voice sounded so sweet, like he would walk across the country to get back to you right now if that was the only way home.

he didn’t even give you time to respond before continuing, “you’re gonna be so full you’re not even gonna remember what bein’ empty feels like, baby,” you could hear his cocky smirk tugging at his lips again, and it made your heart flutter, and your core clench.

“mm sounds good to me,” and he hated the way your voice alone made him hard, that low, sultry hum that made his head spin. why did he ever leave the house? no more movie deals outside of walking distance.

“‘nd don’t bother tryin’ to use your fingers, pretty girl. we both know it won’t satisfy you. you wait for me to get home… and i promise the next time i leave, you’ll have our baby on your hip to keep you occupied.”

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୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ when the love and deepspace boys get jealous

warnings: pouty men, jealous xavier is a warning in itself, sorry if i mischaracterise…. and i also have favourites LOLL

characters: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier

link to master list here!

author notes: all i can think of is pouty rafayel and jealous xavier my brain is a melted goop of lnds brainrot… also sorry for not posting in a while i was on holiday!!

also quick reminder that i have requests open but 1. i’ll get to them slowly and 2. please read my pinned post about rules!

more under the cut ~

out of the four men i think sylus is the least jealous - now let me elaborate that possessiveness and jealousy (in my eyes) are very different

if you talk to another man, sylus both trusts you and has enough faith in himself to know that no matter what the dude does, sylus is yours and you’re his

he trusts you 100%, without a shadow of a doubt. and this translates through his lack of jealousy when you spend time with other people

however, if the man even attempts to lay a finger on you, his tone becomes too sweet or his hand inches a bit too close and you’re getting uncomfortable?

you bet your ass sylus is interfering.

immediately shifts his body to create distance between you and the other party

he flashes a dangerous look at the other man, evol glowing dangerously as it whispers a small warning into the other’s ear

“Stay away and you get to stay alive.”

he seriously doesn't fuck around when it comes to your comfort and safety, and if he feels that another man is compromising it or pushing the boundaries it really ticks him off

when does sylus get jealous?

mostly when you start to spend less time with him and more time with others

it’s not as if as soon as you spend time with someone else he gets jealous, but if it causes you to start to ignore him/spend less time with him he gets jealous

when he gets jealous, he doesn’t hide it at all

sylus isn’t one to keep his feelings from you, so when you see his displeasured frown you know immediately something is up

he doesn’t get angry or petty when jealous, he just makes it clear that he’s not happy with the division of attention

when you ask him what’s up, he gives you the answer plain and simple

“Getting bored of me already? How come you’re spending more time with […] than me, I’m jealous.”

his voice is slow and clearly unimpressed, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down.

luckily for you, he’s not hard to win over

spend time with him, even if it’s not active such as going out to restaurants or to one of his formal events

the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, him reading a magazine and you looking through moments, that’s more than enough for him

he’s not opposed to displays of physical affection either, cuddling or kisses to his face - anything that tells him “you’re mine/i’m yours” will satisfy him

just make sure not to spend TOO much time with the other person, otherwise sylus might seriously hunt them down

he’d never make you jealous on purpose, he had no interest in other women/men at all and respects you way too much to pull petty moves like that

when sylus accidentally makes you jealous, he’ll definitely pamper you, spoil you with gifts and spend time with you

wanted to get the new limited edition plushie? he’ll stay in the arcade with you until you get all of them. wanted a new game on steam? he’s bought both the game, all the dlcs and any in game passes and currency.

Somewhere at some point during the day he'll simply come clean about it, after all he's a straight forward man and he trusts you.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to make you jealous. Forgive me, please?"

tldr; sylus is a love sick loser that knows you’re equally in love with him as he is with you

here goes the award to the most composed LI - zayne gets jealous alright, not nearly as much as the coming two but he still gets jealous

it's not that he doesn't trust you, but watching you smile so brightly to the café employee or get a little too friendly with another doctor sets him on edge

if you're talking to male friends/giving them friendly hugs zayne's completely fine with it, he's happy to see you surrounded by people who care for you and for you to be happy too

at first it's hard to tell when zayne gets jealous, he has a poker face that would put lady gaga to shame

however, after a while you discover the few subtleties that give away his disgruntled state

for example, if you're talking a bit too excitedly or friendly to the barista - especially one you'd both met just today - there'd be a little crease in his forehead, his mouthwould be a fraction more downturned and his eyes a bit narrower as if he was squinting

or if you talk to him about a male colleague when you two were supposed to be out on a date, he'd definitely be jealous... however the only give away would be the faintest purse of his lips and twitch of his eyebrow

if you ask him if he's jealous he's going to deny it, he usually doesn't lie but when it comes to vulnerable emotions such as jealousy i feel he'd have difficulties expressing them

"Jealous? I'm not jealous, don't worry about me."

but then the right side of his mouth is twitching a little and if you focus hard enough he gives the impression of a kicked puppy, a very subtle hint of 'give me attention'

if you manage to learn the art of 'zayne expression reading' and finally notice that he's not 'lactose-intolerant-and-having-stomach-issues-causing-him-to-look-like-that' but in fact jealous, here's a few ways to heal your zayne!!

zayne specialists recommend a good dosage of subtle affections - e.g. bringing up one of his interests or reminiscing upon something you two did in the past, basically indicating to him 'hey, i still love you most in the world!'

he's a perceptive man and will pick up on what you're doing relatively quick, and his little grumpy face will relax back into the unconscious, soft smile he adopts when in your presence

if he accidentally makes you jealous, he makes sure you know more than anyone else in the world that he's yours and yours only.

reciprocates the small gestures such as holding your hand in public or introducing you to his colleagues

"Good afternoon to you too. I believe you haven't met [Y/N] before?"

and then he'll adjust his hand placement, sliding from patting your shoulder to gentle resting on the small of your back, a little intimate gesture that screams "I'm their partner."

makes sure by the end of the day he's got the message across, and at one point brings it up (even though you've basically forgotten what he did to make you jealous anyways)

"I didn't mean to upset you, [Y/N]. I love you only, no one else could replace you, I promise."

okay, yeah, we made it to jealous, pouty, bratty man territory

there’s an evident gap between zayne level jealousy and rafayel level jealousy

don’t get me wrong, rafayel would do anything you asked of him - partially because of his whole lumerian bond and also because he’s utterly whipped for you

does he love you? that’s a stupid question to ask oh course he does… but does he truly trust you?

i’d like to think that rafayel (if he was dating you in this situation) is absolutely devoted to you and trusts you wholeheartedly, but in reality rafayel has deep engraved fears and uncertainties

he has a fear of being forgotten about, and likely (as a consequence of being forgotten multiple times) - the idea of being abandoned or replaced sends physical chills down his spine

so honestly, rafayel’s jealousy stems from the unwavering fear of being left alone, lost and forgotten again…

the pain of being forgotten, it’s not something he’s willing to go through any more, causing it to be difficult to fully reassure him that you’re his.

on a more lighter, more playful level, rafayel’s jealousy would probably lay with animals - specifically cats and sea creatures

one day he finds that instead of lazing about with him indoors, that you were outside napping with a cat on your lap

if he wasn’t so afraid of the cat concerned for your quality and length of sleep he would’ve had a go at the cat as it smirked triumphantly at him, licking its paws as it rolls around in your lap.

when complaining later on he would be his usual, petulant self, pouting and crossing his arms, tilting his chin up etc

“I guess you prefer those furry monsters over a fishie like me, why don’t you just leave me for one?”

to fix this petty brattiness is simple!

simply devote all your attention and affections to rafayel, as in when you two are alone and spending time together you can just pat his head or trace his beauty marks

he’ll be pouting the whole time, but after a few pats he’ll get embarrassed and his ears will go red as he says something like “I’m not a cat…” yet he still lets you pet him lol

rafayel especially likes it when you gently stroke at the roots of his hair, leaning into your touch a little every time you thread deeper into his hair

however, if you spend too much time with another man rather than rafayel, it’s a whole different type of jealousy/insecurity

he’s quiet, too quiet, and withdrawn

the situation was deeply confusing the first time around

it’s as if you ordered the wrong rafayel, what happened to his usual bratty and playful personality? this wasn’t like all the other times.

unlike his childish display of jealousy when you were with the cat, this time he had a schooled expression, blank, a facade

his expression was eerie, you’d never seen him like this, so… emotionless seeming

rafayel, really, was emotionally detaching from the relationship - he still loves you oh my god he adores you so much he’d sacrifice everything he had for you, but the idea of you preferring that other person over him?

it sends him into panic, and all he (believed he) could do was numb himself, anticipate the leave or him getting forgotten

(am i projecting too much here… avoidant attachment rafayel believer and lover 😞🙏)

if he withdrew from the relationship first, maybe it would hurt less being left again

of course you weren’t intending to leave him, so how do you fix this?

well, as unhealthy as this may seem, spending less time with the new person and more time with rafayel really would be the only way i could think of making him feel better

saying things such as “Rafayel I would never leave you.” can only provide him with short-term reassurance, after all how many times have you said that before and then still proceeded to leave him?

instead, caress him gently, give him time to feel safe in the relationship again. late night calls where you two fall asleep together or hold him in your arms as you two both sleep at night

this avoidant attachment style will, however, probably go when you two start dating, since in dating you rafayel has probably decided to let you into his heart and whole heartedly trusts you now :)

if rafayel accidentally makes you jealous, depending on the severity (again) here’s what he’d do

if it was a simple thing (such as spending too much time with the shakes idk something more tame) he’d definitely tease you

“Awwh cutie? Getting jealous of the sharks? Don’t worry, I prefer you over them any day.”

he’ll have this smug ass grin that pisses you off, as much as it makes you love him too

rafayel will give you more hugs and gifts than usual for a while after, claiming it’s ‘nothing’ and that you’re ’hallucinating things’ when you ask what he’s doing

really he’s apologising, but you don’t need to know that

if he made you really jealous/upset he’ll make is extremely clear to you that he belongs to you, his heart and will is yours

will become more clingy and affectionate with you (not that he does it on purpose infact he’s only showing his true desires more), forever. like, you get jealous? don’t worry, literally for the rest of your life you’ll know that rafayel is head-over-heels for you.

tldr: he needs a hug :( also i ended up writing way more than intended but im a rafayel lover, writer and if he has no stans left im dead

here he is, the most jealous and arguably possessive man in lnd.

xavier tries to hide it, but everyone knows that he’s yours, without a shadow of a doubt

we all saw what happened with jeremiah, don’t make me pull out the receipts LOL. like jeremiah was just happy to finally see the girl xavier was lining over for centuries and xavier was already losing his shit 😭

literally anyone talking to you too affectionately will tick him off, but xavier’s too sly to make it obvious

you’re talking to a doctor (cough zayne) ? xavier brings up some sort of old medicine they don’t or asks about their speciality so you stop talking to them

talking to a protocore specialist? he’ll all of a sudden be holding a textbook worthy protocore, worth the poor persons whole shop

a florist? he’s pointing at every flower and naming them, both common and scientific name.

“Oh [Y/N], look at that flower. I believe it’s called a Lonicera periclymenum?”

*turns to face the clearly shocked and flustered florist with a polite smile*

“Well, maybe you know it as a honeysuckle, is that correct?”

after living for so long he’s learnt many things, and boy does he use it to his advantage

when xavier gets jealous, he doesn’t expect anything from you, no no, this man is a service boyfriend if i’ve ever seen one, he was MADE to please you

rather than thinking “oh you don’t like me anymore i’m so upset“ he thinks “i need to serve and show you i’m yours.”

do you like sweet things? he’s buying you chocolates of all kinds, if that’s not your jam he’s got pastries, or candy, or fresh fruit, maybe everything in a little gift box

prefer savoury foods? he’ll cook you a meal that he knows you like (even if you don’t trust the food) he’ll practice making it until you like it

if you talk about another person when you’re one on one with him, he’ll do little things to get your attention, maybe bite your finger softly or tuck hair behind your ear, little fleeting touches and such

cheeky little grins and conversational diversions such as 'Oh? What about you, how did you do in the exam?' or 'What were you buying in the supermarket?' - more ways of saying "i'm yours, don't forget"

but if you wanted to reassure xavier, physical affections such as cuddling and kisses can win him over

nap with him for a few nights (really he forgave you the first night, he just pretended to be grumpy with you for a while longer for more naps) and he’ll be satisfied (for now)

“Come cuddle with me starlight, I’ve still not forgiven you.”

(he’s lying, he forgave you like a week ago)

likes it when you play with his hair when you two cuddle - now this makes me want to write abt how the men cuddle lol

if he accidentally makes you jealous it’d probably be when the two of you are on a mission and he flirts with another woman to easily progress through a mission

the two of you are in the hotel room and you’re sulking in the bed, turning away from him and clearly displeased

xavier knows you’re jealous, and can only huff out an amused breath - he doesn’t like that you’re feeling bad but he’s happy that you’re jealous… means you like him as much as he likes you!

he gently walks over to the bed, shifting onto the duvet beside you and reaches out to touch your shoulder - making sure you’re okay with him touching you

if you let him, he’ll lie down next to you and slowly wrap his arms around you, spooning you from behind as he slowly kisses the top of your head

slipping your shirt down to just below your shoulder, he gives the skin of your back gentle kisses as he apologises

“I’m sorry, it was for the mission. I’ve only ever loved you, so please don’t be angry.”

and then he nuzzled into your back until you finally cave in, twisting around and hugging him back.

he’ll be seriously apologetic about it though, and in the future avoid such intimate forms of gathering information even *if* you told him it was okay

AN; i got way too carried away with rafayel ANYWAYS hope you enjoy and now i want to write smaller hcs on how the men cuddle lolol

also this isn’t proofread no beta we die like caleb ig

[hyper-fixates]

and what if i said logan could get off from biting and marking you up ☹️ then what ☹️

just a silly little one-shot. this can be read for any logan/era :)

tags: afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered language), biting/marking, clothed male/naked reader, explicit language, sloppy kisses!!! scent kink, dry humping, groping/touching (let me know if anything was missed!).

Logan loves to smother you.

His earnestness and desire to swallow you whole doesn’t get more apparent besides when he’s on top of you, grinding against your bare cunt despite his cock straining against his jeans. And he’ll leave it that way, at least for tonight.

He sucks harmless kisses against your neck and jaw as if your skin will disappear any second, afraid to lose the sex-filled scent that’s keeping him glued on top you. You squirm relentlessly from the sensitivity and intensity of it all, but it just makes him more determined to overwhelm you and feel how much wetter you’re getting against him.

He licks over the taught tendons in your neck before biting an angry mark into the supple skin adjacent, making you claw harder at his shoulders (the grey wife-pleaser already making it easy).

Each lick, kiss, and mark earns you a swift thrust against your exposed pussy, the rough denim brushing against your sore clit that’s already been teased and tortured by his experienced fingers. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last.

His scruff pricks the sensitive skin over your neck and shoulders as he ventures along your body eagerly, hands kneading your hips in sharp, desperate squeezes to anchor himself and rut his cock harder over you.

He’ll offer the deepest kisses to your lips when he hears you getting louder, timing his thrusts to rock against you when he reclaims your lips each time, making sure your pleading sounds are silenced.

The soft scrape of teeth against your bottom lip has your pussy clenching around nothing as he tugs just far enough away to open your mouth and seamlessly slip his tongue down over yours, locking your lips back together in a kiss that makes you both dizzy. A soft groan catches in his throat.

He moves back down your jaw, nuzzling the curve while placing wet kisses over your pulse, enjoying how fast it’s gotten from a couple bites and slick kisses.

“I could get off just by doing this,” he sighs, slotting your lips together again in a messy, tongue-filled kiss. “You smell and taste too fucking good to stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Every fucking time.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reason, sliding your hands up into his hair. The perfect cat-like points breaking apart as you gently pull at the roots.

He drops his head back to your shoulder, consumed by bliss, sinking his teeth into the skin right between your neck and collarbone. A tremor works its way through you as you feel a new wave of heat roll through your cunt while he sucks deeper and deeper at the spot with a groan.

“God, Logan, please don’t break the skin,” you pant as your thighs clench around his hips, pulling him closer. “It will take at least two weeks to heal.”

You feel him chuckle against you before he pulls off with a lewd sound, panting just as heavy as you. Your neck, shoulders, and chest are raw with hickeys and teeth marks; the skin tender to the touch and red-hot when he finally pulls away for more than a few seconds.

“I remember it being ten days,” he smirks, offering a final gentle kiss to your puffy lips, accepting the white flag you’re waving.

You’ve been marked. Claimed.

You give your eyes a roll. “Satisfied?” you hold back a smile.

He pushes his hips up into yours again, cock still very much hard and now newly soaked through his jeans from your arousal. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that one, sweetheart,” he says with a small, breathy laugh.

A hand releases it’s death-grip on your right thigh, trailing up your chest to lock itself tight under your jaw, holding you there for him as he consumes you with rough kisses that have your core aching. All tongue and teeth and he just keeps you there. All for him to devour.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that he’ll never be able to domesticate.

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: suggestive noncon, threats, Sukuna in general

gn reader

Thinking about sorcerer ! reader – only instead of having a really offensive technique, it's purely defensive.

A power to pacify. Creating the ultimate stalemate. All attacks are nullified – people can’t even throw one measly punch your way.

– which obviously means you’re the ultimate babysitter for trigger-happy curses like Sukuna.

The only issue is…. you don’t at all behave in accordance with your technique. 

You are perhaps the most childish and bratty sorcerer he’s ever been forced to share air with. Even worse than that white-haired prick. Where with him – he could at least spar. But you? You just monitor him while making the most meaningless and ever-so-grating conversation.

“I read in an old book that you’re a cannibal.” You muse with a smile. Eyes vibrant with curiosity – playful even – as though the prospect of him eating human flesh shouldn’t be making your own skin run raw with goosebumps. “Is that true?” 

His brow raises at your eagerness. His mouth is a prim line before muttering an unenthusiastic. “Yes.”

“Really?” You jump. “Why? Does it taste good?”

It’s an awfully stupid question – he thinks with an ever-growing wrinkle furrowing his brows. But suppose explaining to you how it’s meant to strike fear into people’s hearts would only make you laugh.

He huffs.

“Tastes like meat.”

“Right~” You sing-song as though it was a satisfying answer – but then almost immediately add onto it. “So, like chicken or beef?” 

You really are such a nuisance, he thinks. Grumbling. “Pig.”

You hum – then smack your lips. And he feels another onset of annoyance – expecting another moronic query to come pouring gracelessly from your lips.

“You’re a little disappointing – you know that?” You say instead.

He picks his head up at that – finally looking back at you through the bars of his cell to where you sit opposite way on a chair – looking straight back at him, fearing no harm.

There are about a million seals covering the walls, keeping him trapped. Though you’d feel just as safe without them.

“I’d thought you’d have more to say, but…” You pout. “Turns out you’re just boring.”

His nose makes an offended scrunch – eyes narrowed. “Watch how you speak to me.”

You laugh – your chuckle in itself is something that makes the hairs at the back of his neck rise out of ire. That smug smile on your face enough to have his fists ball at his sides – and at the moment you lick your lips, saying, “Or what?” he’s already on his feet with his hands wrapped tight around the bars – knuckles turning white in his grip.

His skin sizzles from the cursed energy imbued in the metal – like holy water to a demon – and still, he doesn’t let go. Four eyes, blood red, glaring at you with a look that’s nothing short of deadly. If he could, you knew he’d have your heart in his hand forever ago. But the fact that he doesn’t – the fact that he can’t – only makes your grin ever sharper.

“Wow~” You tease. “Look at that face~” Giggling. “So scary~”

His nostrils flare as he releases the bars. Hands healed shortly after. “One of these days, brat – I’ll have you on your knees.”

You feign a gasp. “Sukuna~ so indecent~” Your grin lessens into a coy smirk. “To think the King of Curses is flirting with little ole me~” You bite your lip, looking kittenish – eyes amused while watching him recede into the dark of his cell.

You break from the act with another laugh.

Beginning anew. “I do have a question, though.”

“Naturally.” He mutters, stretching his arms – all four – one pair above his head and the other behind his back.

“Are you double-packed down there as well? The same with the rest of you? Or~”

His spine cracks between tensed shoulders – and you think, to be a thousand-year-old specter, he’s awfully easy to rile up.

But then he laughs – a throaty, low-tuned snicker that echoes against the cell walls. 

“As I said – one of these days…” He walks up to the bars again, his chin fitting through them. “You’ll find out.”

There’s another chuckle – his eyes slim with something that makes you feel naked. Suddenly flushed – smile gone – you watch him lick his lips.

“And to answer your next question, you insufferable brat.” 

You gulp.

“I think you’ll taste like peaches.”

[afterglowsainz]

op81 and number between 1-100:56

can i ask you a question? | oscar piastri

song; question…? - taylor swift

part of the spotify wrapped special

You were a little bitter. Of course, you were. Just because you and Oscar had ended things didn’t mean he stopped being yours—at least not in your mind. And now, apparently, he had a new girlfriend? Not only that, but you had to spend time with her because you still shared the same friend group, and if Oscar invited her, everyone had to get along. After all, you weren’t about to stop being friends with your friends just because your relationship with Oscar ended. They were as much yours as they were his.

So here you were, downing one martini after another while listening to your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend chat with your friends and laugh at their jokes.

“Want to slow down with the martinis?” one of your oldest friends whispered in your ear.

“No,” you replied, taking another sip.

“If looks could kill…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but you got the hint and stopped glaring at her. “Why don’t you talk to her? Make conversation,” he suggested, and you shot him a disbelieving look.

Was he serious?

“Just kidding,” he chuckled. “But stop staring so much. Oscar’s already noticed.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you placed your hands over them to cool the heat.

“All good?” the familiar Australian accent of your ex-boyfriend made itself known. You turned to your right, the red and white lights of the bar doing little justice to his face.

“Yeah, we’re just talking,” you replied on behalf of both yourself and your friend.

“Are you drunk?” Oscar murmured. You frowned slightly—you didn’t feel like you were slurring your words or showing any signs of being tipsy. “When you touch your face like that, it means you’re drunk,” he pointed out, gesturing with his jaw toward your hands, still cooling your cheeks. You quickly removed them.

Of course, Oscar knew you perfectly.

“Can I ask you a question?” you said, turning fully to face him. Your other friend took it as his cue to leave.

“If it’s about her…”

“By ‘her,’ you mean your girlfriend?”

“Sure.”

“Have some decency, first of all. Call her by her name.” You didn’t want him to call her by her name—actually, you didn’t want him to call her anything at all—but you had to keep up appearances.

“Are you jealous?”

Well, so much for appearances.

A small, satisfied smile crept onto Oscar’s face, and you wanted to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“Why did you bring her here if you don’t care about her?” You ignored his question and posed one of your own.

“Who says I don’t care?”

“I do,” you said. Oscar raised an eyebrow. Self-centered as ever, he thought. “You haven’t spoken to her the entire time you’ve been here. Since you arrived, I haven’t seen you talk to her more than twice. Our friends are the only ones bothering to engage with her.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took two steps closer to you.

“And why are you paying so much attention to what I’m doing?” His face was getting closer to yours, and your self-control was about to vanish.

“It’s impossible to talk to you.” You took two steps back, intending to walk to the other side of the table, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Ask the question I know you want to ask,” he said. When you stayed silent, debating whether to actually ask it or not, he spoke again. “Fine, I’ll answer it anyway.” You looked up at him expectantly, the bar around you fading into a low hum.

“I wish I had fought harder when we broke up, done something to convince you to stay. I wish I could touch you, talk to you every day—not as friends, but as what we’ve always been. I’m jealous of every guy you’ve dated since we broke up, even though I know you only go out with them to make me jealous and don’t actually care about them. Every time I see them touch you in the slightest way, I want to rip their hands off because they get to do what I no longer can.”

You were about to protest that you didn’t date guys just to make him jealous—you did, but he didn’t need to know that—but he didn’t let you interrupt.

“I haven’t gotten over you, and I’m not sure I ever will.”

You blinked once, twice, three times as he finished speaking.

“Does that answer your question?”

Two more blinks.

“Break up with her and come to my place.”

[little-diable]

Commands - Draco Malfoy (smut)

A small Drabble I wrote at work lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco is reader’s step-brother, something he doesn’t seem to care about while asking her to put her mouth to work. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, oral (m), degrading, stepcest, dumbification, slight slapping

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1.1k words)

“Draco?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes burning in exhaustion as she looked at the dark frame. She had been woken by the sound of his feet stepping onto the one spot of the old wooden flooring creaking too loudly. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet!” Her breath instantly hitched in her chest, eyes zoning in on her step brother who stepped closer to her bed. She didn’t dare speak another word, too focused on the man who had always treated her with spite and anger, at least for most parts of the day. At night he behaved differently, as if his demons finally managed to get the upper hand, guiding his lust and longing for his step sister.

“I’m tired, Draco.” (Y/n) sighed her words before plopping back down on the mattress. She was about to cover her barely clothed body with her blanket, but Draco was faster. He ripped the fabric from her fingers, exposing the shirt of his she wore, managing to cover the lacy pair of panties she knew Draco loved.

Perhaps she had hoped for another visit, perhaps she had prayed that he’d find her again. Longings she didn’t dare put into words, at least not out loud.

“Don’t lie to me, we both know you’re a greedy fucking whore for your step brother, aren’t you?” He kneeled on the mattress, forcing her legs apart to settle between them. His cold fingers danced over her arms, moving up to her shoulders before one hand came down on her throat, letting his fingers grasp her. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She only managed to press a whisper past her clenched teeth, trying not to give in all that easily. Draco had always managed to gain the upper hand, to guide her while she got lost in the waves of pleasure like a raft losing its path in the icy river it was sailing on.

“Good. I need those pretty lips wrapped around me.” He hadn’t been able to find any rest, unable to give in to sleep's quiet call. Draco’s mind had been too active, thinking of the woman sleeping only a few rooms down from his, wondering what she was dreaming of. (Y/n) was haunting his thoughts, had been ever since their parents had gotten married years ago. He had tried to stay away, all until her twenty-first birthday they had celebrated together, a night where he had claimed her for the first of many times.

(Y/n) rose to a sitting position before she put her weight onto her knees. Draco’s hand on her throat pulled her in for a kiss, momentarily distracting her while her hands rested on his chest. Her body was covered in goosebumps as if he was winter itself, embracing the biting cold that left marks on her body, burning straight through her system.

He was the darkness, the bleak midwinter she had eventually found enjoyment in.

Draco leaned back against the headrest of her bed after pulling off his shirt, exposing his abs to her wandering eyes. He watched her free his cock, watched her spit down on the red tip just like he had taught her to months ago. By now she was a natural, knowing what he was aching for, how he needed to feel her to get that push to clear his racing mind.

His ringed fingers found her head almost instantly, forcing her down on his cock with a satisfied groan clawing through him. With his eyes pressed shut, Draco sank into her touch, allowing (y/n) to bob her head fast enough to leave him moaning. Her sounds were almost as loud as his, clawing through her while she worked her mouth on him, a sinful, forbidden mixture both had fallen in love with.

“Atta girl, your mouth’s so perfect for me.” Heat flushed through her, set on gaining as much praise as possible. Draco wasn’t one for complimenting her, wasn’t one for showering her with attention, only in those secret moments where she touched him like that would he give in and tell her how much he adored her – her body at least.

With her eyes set on his features, on his closed eyes, on the teeth nibbling on his lower lip, she kept sucking him off. The corners of her mouth were still hurting from yesterday night, a strange deja-vu she couldn’t shake as she took as much of him as possible. She didn’t care much about her own pleasure, didn’t worry much about her own highs he’d give her either way. All (y/n) was focused on was Draco, his pleasure, his sounds, the praise his body would wordlessly share with her.

He twitched in her mouth, resting heavily on her tongue. (Y/n) knew that he’d cum soon, painting her tongue white with his release – a fulfilling taste she was already aching for. Seeing a man like Draco cum was an experience itself, a moment so raw, so intimate, she sometimes found herself wondering if she was only dreaming it.

“Tell me what you’ll do, tell me the rule.” Draco pulled her off his cock, watching her saliva drip from her chin while her hand kept pumping him. (Y/n) needed a second to collect herself, pondering over his command while her throat begged for a break. She heavily swallowed as his hand came down on her cheek, not hard enough to hurt her, just with enough pressure to refocus her. “Such a dumb slut, all because you have the privilege to suck me off.”

“I’ll swallow, swallow it all!” It seemed to be good enough for Draco. He nodded his head with a smirk tugging on his lips, head tilted back down to his cock to wordlessly guide her. Almost instantly, (y/n) got back to work, lips finding their way back to his tip to suck on the head. Another moan broke through Draco, a moan that slightly trembled as his orgasm started to build.

With excitement laced in her gaze, (y/n) watched him come undone. Sweat was pearling on his forehead, making a few bright strands of his hair stick to his skin, lips parted, cheeks rosy. A moan left him as he came, filling her cheeks with his cum as she kept pumping his cock with her aching fingers.

Draco pulled her off his cock once again, staring down at her as she exposed her empty tongue to him. His thumb wiped along her lower lip, collecting some saliva before bringing his digit up to his mouth. They held eye contact as he sucked his finger clean, gazes wandering over one another’s features.

“I want you on your hands and knees when I return. Don’t you dare move.”

[maria-chwan]

Knight of the injured leg (Sanji x Fem!Reader)

Contains: Injury, Fem!Reader

"Brook, can you play "Merry Go Round Of Life" again?" you asked, smiling at him while you rubbed the back of your head with embarrassment.

"Oh, are you in need of my musical skills?" Brook asked with a voice fit for a showman while he raised his violin with a delighted smile. "I'll do my best to knock your socks off with the magnificent sounds of my violin! No need to be embarrassed! You have never been shy to ask me to play before!"

"You are right, I don't know why I hesistated", you said, hiding the real reason why you had been embarrassed.

Brook started to play. The melody was a magical, old-timely waltz.

You tiptoed a few meters away from Brook, stepping to the music. You swayed to the slow rhythm, starting to twirl gently and bend your body in a way that felt satisfying while you did that.

As you twirled, you started to use your Devil-Fruit-ability. Your body started to vanish from sight. You faded away, until you were completely invisible. You did this to feel more comfortable, feeling lucky that you had the necessary Devil-Fruit-ability to hide yourself from the eyes of the others whenever you wanted.

Brook continued to play, having seen this many times before. While he was playing the violin, he knew that you were dancing on the deck in front of him, even if he couldn't see it.

The other crewmembers heard the melody. Sanji in the kitchen. Nami while she was hanging laundry. Luffy while he was taking a bath.

"She is dancing again" Sanji said, glancing dreamily in the direction where the music was coming from. "And she has hidden herself again, no doubt. It's a crime, when you think about it! Every cutie in this world should receive appreciation when they dance, but I won't be able to see her perform because of her Devil-Fruit-ability! Damn, what bad luck!"

Brook would have agreed with Sanji. He had asked you before if you would sometime dance while being visible so that he could see you. You had said that you would maybe do it sometime in the future.

Brook held on to the hope that it would happen sometime soon.

As Brook's fingers moved to the song, they moved with confidence. He had played this song at least five times for you before, along with many other songs. Brook had gotten used to your favorite music.

You moved your body, dancing across the grass smoothly and comfortably. However, there was a sharp pain in your leg that you tried to ignore to the best of your ability.

The song came to an end. As the music faded away, you appeared. You were visible to the eye again.

"Thank you, Brook! That felt really good!" you said while wearing a genuine warm and excited smile.

"Anytime, (Y/n). Maybe next time I can see you dance?" Brook asked.

"Maybe", you answered, unable to promise him anything.

You smirked as he groaned playfully. Then you walked away from Brook.

You found a place to sit in the back of the ship. You were alone when you used you Devil-Fruit-ability again, once again becoming invisible.

You leaned against the wall and tried to ignore the pain in your foot.

For two weeks now you had felt some kind of dull pain in your leg. It had started really small, unnoticeable. The pain was manageable and you were an impatient person.

Should you have rested more? Should you have maybe stopped yourself from indulging yourself in the captivating songs that Brook played for you anytime you asked him to do so? Should you have controlled yourself and sat down instead of dancing for at least two hours every day?

Dancing was your passion. Apparently you had done it too much. The last weeks had been tiring for the crew and to you. Maybe you should have rested more between all the adventures and jobs on the ship. Maybe you should have let your body heal itself.

Because now you felt uncomfortable walking anywhere. You could do it, but it hurt.

And it was your fault. You should have been more patient and careful and not injure yourself like some child. You didn't want to reveal your injury to the other crewmembers. You were embarrassed.

Next day the Thousand Sunny arrived on a new island. This island had a big city close to the harbour.

There were a lot of marines around. The Straw Hats were going to try their luck and go to explore the city despite the threat of marines. Everyone decided to go together in a big group. Brook stayed behind to watch the ship.

You were planning to turn invisible so that you would have an advantage against the marines in case they decided to attack the group. You started to use your ability and your body faded away from sight.

You followed after Luffy in silence. Normally you would maybe talk to someone in the crew while you walked. However, your injured leg was bothering you and you didn't have the energy to start a conversation with anybody.

Your leg was seriously feeling bad. You grimaced. You could still walk, but every step hurt. You felt stressed. Your brain was telling you "something is wrong" again and again. Meanwhile your legs were walking forward like everything was normal, determined to keep following the other crewmembers.

Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to look at the person who was touching you with wide eyes. How did this happen? You should have been invisible.

"Hey, (Y/n)-chan", Sanji said, looking at you with concerned eyes. "Are you feeling okay? You look like you are in pain."

"How are you seeing me right now?" you asked, feeling spooked. The stress had left your brain feeling overwhelmed, so you sounded slightly confused and distracted when you talked.

"I noticed a few minutes ago that you turned back to visible", Sanji said.

You looked down. Your body was NOT invisible even though it should have been. You stared at yourself with your mouth open from surprise.

"Does this mean that you didn't mean to turn back visible? That means you are not okay, (Y/n)-chan... You look stressed. That must be the reason why you couldn't concentrate on being invisible", Sanji said. You saw that he looked insistent as he tried to delicately convince you to listen to your body. He had leaned closer to talk to you while he was walking next to you.

You were tired and Sanji's voice was so gentle that you didn't want to pretend anymore.

"My leg is hurting", you admitted pitifully, looking at Sanji in search of support and letting him see your overwhelmed expression.

"You are in pain?" Sanji asked, looking more stressed now that he knew for certain that you were hurting. "Lean on me, let me carry you!"

He lifted your body into his arms before you could think about it. You felt warm and safe in his hold as he began to carry you. You blinked and looked at him with wide eyes. He was looking back at you, trying to reassure you.

"You can tell me about these things, (Y/n)-chan. I'm glad I noticed you acting strange before your injuries got so serious you would have been unable to call for help", Sanji muttered. His voice was deep and soft, which meant that he was serious but relieved.

"Yeah, you are right", you agreed.

He nodded and looked away from you. His eyes turned sharp and determined. His hands felt warm and safe as they held you, his fingers pressing a little deeper into your flesh.

You wondered briefly how long Sanji would be able to carry you. Then you remembered the fact that he was such a ladies man that he would probably be able to carry you for the whole day if he wanted to.

Your eyes got a little misty. Getting carried like a princess was something that you had not expected to happen to you. You felt very protected and cared for.

Sanji was looking at you and noticing your wavering expression.

You thought quickly about what you should say.

"My leg doesn't hurt anymore now that you are carrying me", you said happily.

"Really? That's amazing! Don't worry, I can act as your legs for the rest of the day!" Sanji said delightedly.

"Um... what if you need to fight?" you asked hesitantly, looking worried.

"Are you willing to let me hold you while I kick our enemies down?" Sanji asked genuinely, but he had a determined look in his eyes. "It might get wild, we would be spinning through the air after all ... But if I hold you tightly the whole time, would it help?"

"It would", you answered, giggling from nervousness and excitement. Sanji joined in, chuckling and grinning as he squeezed you briefly closer.

"Thank you for carrying me", you said, leaning your head back and smiling dreamily. "I'm kind of excited about being carried."

Sanji's eyes focused on you. You felt vulnerable in front of him as some kind of understanding passed across his face and his fingers twitched as he held you a little tighter.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nobody has carried me like this before", you said, your fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt. "It's really nice."

Sanji stared at you. Your trusting face. Your wavering breathing. Your soft skin. How could it be that HE was the ONLY man who had carried such a cute person?

There was a moment of silence.

Sanji looked at you, the shock gone and replaced with warmth and understanding.

"I'll carry you as much as you want."

[22ayla21]

Where is my little fae?

A tale about how a daughter made her father quite nervous.

Lilia considered himself careless, but not that careless. He knew that his daughter was stubborn, that she could be quieter than the wind and faster than a shadow, but he did not expect that one day she would turn around and simply be gone.

His heart sank.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, if he did not see her, he could at least hear her playing with toys or organizing one of her miniature "expeditions" around the house, but now - nothing.

Lilia darted through the rooms, looked into every possible place where she could hide. She was gone. The speed of his search increased with each second, giving way to something akin to panic. What if she went out into the yard? Or, worse, decided to explore distant territories?

His thoughts hopped like startled birds, but he forced himself to breathe evenly. He was a fae. He had lived for centuries, seen the unthinkable, dealt with chaos and wars.

Couldn't he handle one tiny girl? But his heart knew the answer: no, he couldn't. Because this little girl was his treasure. Lilia was about to leave the gate when he felt a familiar magic. And then, majestic and unshakable, like the night sky itself, Malleus appeared before him.

His daughter was sitting on his shoulders. She was looking down from his height, completely satisfied, clutching tightly to one of his curved horns. Her eyes were shining with delight.

Lilia felt the tension leave him, but then - a slight, helpless irritation.

- You caused me quite a bit of anxiety, - he muttered, now without malice.

The girl did not pay attention to this. She was too busy studying Malleus's horns, as if she were looking at the most magnificent artifact of this world.

Malleus, however, did not seem to mind at all. On the contrary, he even looked pleased with such attention. Lilia closed his eyes and laughed tiredly. It seemed that his little fae was really growing up brave.

Malleus watched Lilia calmly, with a slight note of curiosity. He had not seen him so worried for a long time. Usually Lilia was carefree, smiling, and easily accepted any difficulties with a joke. But now it was not an ancient warrior, not a mentor, not a friend who stood before him - but a father, barely containing his concern for his child. Malleus bowed his head, allowing the little one to settle more comfortably on his shoulders, but at the same time slowly lowering her to the ground.

- She was quite persistent, - he finally remarked when Lilia, exhaling, calmed down.

Lilia only laughed tiredly, watching his daughter continue to study Malleus's horns, not feeling any danger at all. On the contrary, she seemed to be completely sure that she had found herself in the safest place in the entire Briar Valley.

And, by the way, she was right.

When a light sound of an opening door was heard in the house, Lilia turned around abruptly, and Malleus turned his head, meeting the gaze of their guest. His wife had returned.

She, apparently, was going to greet her husband, but, seeing the picture in front of her, raised an eyebrow.

Her tiny daughter, all beaming with delight, sat on the shoulders of the future king of the Briar Valley, swaying in time with his movements. Lilia, meanwhile, stood nearby, looking as if he had just survived a battle with the most unpredictable elements. The woman turned her gaze to her husband and grinned.

— Lost sight of her, huh? - Lilia pouted, but said nothing.

Malleus, watching this scene, smiled slightly. He did not always understand human family nuances, but he knew one thing for sure: this little girl knew who not to be afraid of. And he, albeit involuntarily, had now become a part of her world.

[blessedbyahuntress]

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Ten: Why on Earth Would I Want you to Obliterate my Bestie?

Prev/Next

Warnings: None!!!

Word Count: 731

“No, no, no, no!” Hermes called. “You’re doing it wrong!”

You sighed in frustration and stopped struggling against the bonds tied to your wrists. “It’s midnight!” you whined. “Can’t this lesson wait until a reasonable time? Dawn, at least?”

“No, no, no, no,” Hermes said again. “You’ll get used to it. This is how you become a real hero.”

You glared at the god as you picked the lock behind your back, satisfied when both Hermes shrunk away and the lock gave a click.

Still you squirmed, pretending like you couldn’t get out as your hand reached down to the dagger strapped to your belt.

“If you get out of these chains, then we can move onto the next- Ack!”

You lunged forward, quick as a panther, and stuck your dagger’s point beneath Hermes’s chin. You smirked at his surprised expression.

Hermes went cross-eyed as he looked down at the blade. He looked back up at you and smiled. A genuine smile, nothing cheeky about it. As he grinned, your dagger flew out of your hand and embedded itself in the railing off to your left.

You snorted and offered him your hand. He raised an eyebrow, but took it without hesitation. 

“So what’s next?” You asked impatiently, practically bouncing up and down.

“Run a lap around the ship,” Hermes answered with a wave of his hand.

You scowled. “But I’ve done that before,” you pointed out.

“We’re working on speed now. Run a lap around the ship.”

Still glowering at him, you began your lap, sure that if the men below deck weren’t awake from the sound of you struggling in chains, they certainly could hear your pounding footsteps now.

You skidded to a stop at the end and looked at Hermes expectantly.

“Not bad,” the god giggled. “But your form is terribly sloppy.”

You blinked. “There’s a form for running?”

Hermes raised his eyebrows at you. “There’s a form for everything, little lady.”

“First of all,” you started, scowling. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t call me that. Second, show me the form, if there really is one.”

Hermes sighed and set down his caduceus. “Alright.”

Then he was off, and your eyes were having a hard time tracking him. You saw his posture and grudgingly admitted to yourself- and only yourself- that you hadn’t been using that.

“Fine,” you said when he completed the lap. “All do it again-”

You were interrupted by Eurylochus, who came up from below deck, frowning while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He blinked rapidly, staring at the scene before him, and you realized how it must look; you, your hands on your hips as you snapped at a floating god- and not a minor one either. Hermes himself.

Eurylochus knelt almost immediately, for seeing an Olympian god for the first time, (save Poseidon), especially a friendly god, probably called for the exact opposite etiquette you were showing Hermes.

“Y/N?” Eurylochus asked. “What is Lord Hermes doing here?”

Said god tilted his head and turned to you. “Do you want me to obliterate him?” Hermes offered.

“No!” You cried. “No, no, definitely not. This is Eurylochus, Odysseus’s second in command and my best friend.”

Eurylochus seemed to wince at that, though you didn’t know why. Hermes’s eyes lit up with understanding.

You cleared your throat. “Eurylochus, Hermes. He’s my mentor, and he wants me to rerun all of my laps.”

Hermes gasped in mock disbelief, spinning through the air with a hand over his heart.

“Ah,” Eurylochus said. “That’s what I heard.” 

You shrugged. “Either that or it was the sound of the chains Hermes made me break free from.” 

Eurylochus whirled around, glaring at Hermes as the god flew from one place to the other. “He what?” Your friend demanded.

“Oh, it’s fine.” You raised your hands and stepped in front of Eurylochus. “He already got his due.”

“Now, this is all good and well, but you need to get to running those laps, little lady.” Hermes flew in between the two of you, back turned to Eurylochus, shaking his caduceus at you. 

“Again with that nickname?” You groaned, but you took off without complaint.

When Eurylochus moved to go back downstairs, figuring he should leave you and your mentor to your lesson, Hermes was suddenly in front of him.

“I need to speak to you in private.”

[temiizpalace]

hiiii!! omg this is exciting ^^ can I request prompt 4 for Azul and Jamil?? Jamil normally offers Yuu their hoodies, then for some reason Azul started to let Yuu borrow the coat he wears from his Octavinelle Uniform. But in the end, Yuu ends up with Jamil, he told Yuu that now they're in a relationship, they're probably going to own almost all his hoodies now doenksnwksnwksjekd head empty, just this request.

Have a great day!!!

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐍 vs. 🐙)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, small azul angst near end?

NOTES: i knew id see this duo at least once!! tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jamil felt sick.

not literally, thankfully, but horrible enough to feel like he had just gotten a disease. is this happening? seriously? you, in an octavinelle coat. more specifically, azul’s coat. disgusting. he can’t believe his very eyes. why?! and just as he was about to ask if you needed to wear his sweater.

as a very very platonic exchange between two very good friends, you have been wearing jamil’s sweaters during the colder seasons. not like he cares or anything. (he does, he’s literally the one to offer it) however, seeing you in someone else’s clothes? and azul’s nonetheless? do you hate him??? as much as he wanted to run over to you, toss the coat off the window and immediately give you his own sweater to wear instead, jamil would rather die than make such a scene.

he can think of a few.. others.. that would do something so rash, but not him. no, no. he’s seen countless things he never liked to see before! surely this is the same, right?

“jamil! good morning!” you smile, rushing over to him with an enthusiastic wave. “[MC], morning.” he politely greets you in return, eyeing the coat for a second before looking at your eyes. “like my coat? pretty nice, don’tcha think? azul’s letting me borrow it.” you model the coat for him, allowing him to look at every single little detail.

“it’s..” absolutely atrocious. jamil hesitates, biting back any and all comments or remarks he could come up with on the top of his head. he doesn’t wish to insult you! never. the coat itself on the other hand, well.. “..something.” he narrows his eyes, knuckles forming in his hands til they turned pale. “thank you for your sincere input.” you reply sarcastically, already being able to sift through his lie.

“why’re you wearing it?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. answers. he wants answers. there’s no reason you should be going to azul for anything, so how come? “funny story actually! you see—” “jamil? [MC]?” you both turn your heads to see the refined businessman already on his way towards your direction, jamil unable to hide his obvious annoyance.

“oh, azul! morning.” you wave, unaware to your poor friends furrowed brow. “why, good morning prefect! i see you’re satisfied with the coat?” azul smiles, picking off the lint that was left on your collar. he looks to jamil, taking note of his peeved expression.

“hello, jamil. hanging out with the prefect again, i take it? you know, how about borrowing an octavinelle coat to match with our dear [MC] here? im positive it will look just as good on you as it does on them! our coats are accustomed to keep their subjects nice and warm for the winter seasons.” azul chimes, pulling out a neatly kept contract from his pockets.

“not on your life.” jamil states bluntly, crossing his arms with a pout. “they really do keep you warm though!” you add, much to azul’s delight. “see? i have no ill intentions in the slightest.” the octomer grins, his smile obviously not reaching his eyes. “prefect, i will see you at lunch. we can meet by our usual spot.” jamil sighs, looking at you and now just ignoring his classmate. “oh, okay! see you later then, jamil.”

classes droned on like they usually did. jamil wrote his notes with a focused expression, the thoughts in his head being a complete contrast. small doodles were drawn on the corners of the page, the pencil lead growing duller and duller with each passing minute. stupid octopus bastard.. he sighs, turning to azul wearing a more-than-pleased smile. oh how he wanted to rip that smug grin on his face off and ship him away to a place far, far away from here.

passing period was also no better. azul beat him to the punch, walking you to class like a gentlemen. jamil didn’t fail to notice the boys ears turning red as you laughed, his body language shifting from refined to embarrassed. he fought the urge to bite his nails in anger, leaving that old habit behind him many years ago. a spine chilling aura startles students around him as he walked, his face screaming neutral but his mood nothing but foul.

it’s that damn coat. that damn coat is what’s slowly drifting you away from him, and he cannot allow that. he’ll settle this. once and for all.

jamil awaited your arrival patiently by the tree. his foot tapping aggressively on the concrete as your presence seemed to delay. “sorry im late!” you shout, rushing over with a huff. no. no. no. no. no. no. this was a nightmare. not only were you wearing the coat, but the fedora, scarf, and just the entire octavinelle dorm uniform. “wh-what are you wearing..?” jamil stammers, observing your outfit with pure horror in his eyes.

“agh, azul made me wear it.” you sigh, obviously growing a little too warm in these clothes. it didn’t even snow yet! “this is too much..” he mumbles, removing your hat. slowly, he pulled off each overbearing accessory. he unwrapped the scarf, carefully removed your gloves, and eventually, the coat. “ah, i can take the coat—”

jamil removes his blazer, followed by his sweater. you’d be a liar if you told yourself you weren’t a little bit. seeing jamil in the normal nrc uniform was truly a privilege to say the least. he pulls the sweater over your head and smiles contently. “there. much better.” you hesitate for a moment, feeling your cheeks warm up at his gesture. typically you would put the sweater on yourself, but having someone do it for you? it was different somehow.

“if you’re ever feeling cold, just ask me.” he mumbles, putting his blazer back on while folding the octavinelle clothes neatly. “wow.. sounds like such a romantic gesture.” you joke, nudging his elbow. “could be.” he replies, his tone not holding any of the joking yours previously had. “what..?”

seize every opportunity. “i.. i wouldnt mind if it was.” he mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “is this a confession?” you ask, stepping closer to jamil. he swallows harshly, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “i suppose.” suddenly he misses his hoodie. the blush on his cheeks couldn’t help but form, sweat dripping from his brow at the fear of rejection.

“jamil..” you grab his hand, placing it over your heart with a small smile. “if this is a confession, then i like you too.” you wrap him into an embrace, feeling his heart against your own. it beat rapidly, his palms sweaty before he hesitantly reciprocated your hug.

silence fell between you two for a brief moment, but one of comfort rather than awkwardness. “so.. why were you wearing an octavinelle uniform?” jamil asks, feeling the need to soothe the nagging thought in his head. “oh yeah.. that. azul asked me to wear it to promote the lounge. in return, he said id get a few food vouchers and i get to keep the coat.” you shrug, pulling out the small tickets from the octavinelle coat.

“i see..” jamil nods, still not understanding the rest of the accessories. “well, my hoodies are now your hoodies. look no further than yours truly for warmth in the winter.” he smiles, fixing the collar of the sweater. you laugh at his comment, pushing his bangs out of his face.

azul watched your exchange from afar, feeling his smile falter slightly. “oya? azul, is something the matter?” jade asked calmly, staring at his frowning companion. “..it’s nothing. what were you saying about that seasonal dish?” azul smiles, walking and talking with his vice housewarden for the future of mostro lounge.

in reality, his heart ached. even after all his efforts, he came in last. he couldn’t win your love in time. azul can’t help but want to climb into his octopot and weep. he sounds childish, but how else would you deal with a broken heart? maybe someday, you’ll find your love for him. someday, you’ll be part of his world. someday, he won’t feel so poor and unfortunate. but not today.

A/N: im sorry this was a little late something came up 😭

date published: 8/28/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[redpill-tfs]

Can you help Red Pill me and my husband? He's a bit resistant to change, but I want us to become MAGA and serve our country together as proud, conservative gay guys.

I'd be glad to help you and your husband serve this great nation! I'll give you two tablets. Take one yourself and sneak the other in your husband's morning coffee while he isn't looking. He'll be transformed by the evening, as will you.

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You and your husband had a familiar morning routine. Wake up, get dressed in a polo shirt and jeans on the weekdays or a t shirt and khaki shorts on the weekends, and have a quick breakfast with your morning coffee. Today was a Tuesday, so you slipped your blue polo over your head as you made your way to the kitchen. You made two quick bowls of cereal and two mugs of coffee, dissolving the red tablets into each cup before taking everything to the table.

"Morning babe." Your husband says as he appears and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for doing breakfast."

"Of course babe. I gotta feed my big man before he goes to work after all." You replied, placing his bowl and mug in front of him, a rainbow mug you picked up at a pride parade for him.

He took the mug with a smile as he opened his phone to CNN, looking at the morning news. He frowned as he took a sip and set the mug back down. "Did you do something different with the coffee this morning? It tastes kind of funny."

"No babe," you lied. "I made it the same as usual."

"Strange. Maybe I'm coming down with something. I think I'll call the office and tell them I'm not coming in."

You frown at that. Your husband was the main breadwinner in the family with you out of work at the moment. You didn't like seeing him feeling ill.

"Alright babe. Want me to go grab you something from the store to help?"

"Sure."

You smile at that, finishing up your breakfast. "I'll be right back then." You put your dishes in the sink, intending to do them later as you step foot out of the apartment you rent in the city.

You think of walking since the store is only a block away, but you feel compelled to get in the car and drive instead. Putting your foot on the gas, you drive into the horrible morning traffic.

It doesn't take long to get to the store, but you don't stop. You keep driving for a while, turning the radio on as you go. The host announces the democrat mayor of your city has announced she will protect illegal immigrants from deportation. You smile at that , proud the person you voted for is putting in work.

As you pull into one of the neighborhood communities, you see a car parked outside a house with an Open House sign in the yard. You've never been to this area before, but you know you and your husband couldn't afford to live here. The houses are too nice, the lawns freshly kept. You couldn't even afford to adopt a kid. A man could dream at least.

You feel compelled to go inside and check it out. You give yourself a once over in the car mirror, your dress shirt still fitting nicely. (Weren't you wearing a polo?) You head inside to find a nice open concept layout, everything recently remodeled. As you turn to explore more of the house, a young couple comes up to you.

"Excuse me, can you tell me a bit more about this house?" The husband says while the wife looks at you expectantly.

You know nothing about the house, but it wouldn't be right to turn them down, especially since you can't see the realtor anywhere. So you say whatever comes to mind, how the house is a three bed, two bath home with 1800 square feet, a nice backyard for kids and pets to play in, and a bonus room over the garage. The neighborhood itself has plenty of schools and parks nearby, as well as five churches within a mile. Overall, the perfect area to raise a family.

They seem satisfied with your answer and leave you alone, leaving to explore the rooms. You head into the half bathroom connected to the kitchen, checking your reflection again in the mirror. Your red tie is perfectly in place, and your suit jacket looks good on you. You need to dress professionally and look good to sell houses after all. You fix a few stray hairs before heading back into the kitchen to greet more people coming in.

You feel good as the open house ends for the day. A lot of people came through the door, and some of them put offers in. You couldn't wait to tell your husband the good news. You get back in the car and turn on the radio again. This time you hear that President Trump's administration will be preparing to deport illegals in the city against the mayor's wishes. You smile at that, proud the man you voted for is putting in work. You can't believe the mayor would fight this. Good thing you voted against her.

Pulling into the driveway of the house you bought a year ago, you spy your husband already outside waiting for you. He looks really nice in his pink shirt and bow tie. Just because he's a stay at home dad doesn't mean he doesn't put effort into how he looks.

He greets you with a kiss as you tell each other about your days. He walked your two sons to school, tended to the garden outside, mowed the lawn, and made dinner for the four of you to share. He celebrates the news of the offers at the open house, giving you another kiss.

As the two of you head inside to spend the evening with your kids, you think about all that you have. A wonderful home in a great neighborhood, the best family you could ask for, and Republicans controlling the national government, enacting the policies you've been wanting. Life is good.

[silverynight]

Recharge

Based on the mha manga finale

"Your childhood friend is taking too many extra shifts; he'll pass out soon at this rate."

Aizawa does that a lot lately; he casually walks into Izuku's classroom or his office, only to drop random information about Katsuki. It's usually something Aizawa disapproves of.

Izuku sighs, looking up at the window from all the essays he has to grade. Lately, Katsuki is making him worry too much.

The funny thing is that Aizawa believes he has some secret power to make pro hero Katsuki stop or change his mind; sure, they're friends, and he often listens to Izuku (yes, he also pays him a lot of visits) but it's not like the young teacher can work miracles.

"I'll talk to him," he promises. This time, he needs to think about something to make him take a break. He doesn't want Katsuki to end up hurt during one of his missions because he's too tired to focus.

Izuku spends a couple of minutes staring down at his phone; thinking about what to text Katsuki. The truth is that they see each other pretty much every week, and he's the one who usually asks Izuku if he can go to his apartment or hang out with him.

Izuku never reaches out first and it's not because he doesn't want to; the only reason he doesn't ask Katsuki to come is because he's aware how hard it's for pro heroes to make time for social stuff. Besides, he doesn't want to bother him.

Now, it's been two weeks since he last saw Katsuki; Izuku has been thinking about it even before Aizawa approached him, but he refused to mention anything about that to Katsuki because he didn't want to annoy him. He had decided to wait because it was obvious Katsuki hadn't contacted him for a reason.

However, if it's because he's been overworking himself on purpose, Izuku needs to make him stop before he collapses or at least try to talk to him out of it.

Hi, Kacchan!

Do you have time today to hang out with me? We can stay at my place and order takeout!

He sends it before he regrets it. Izuku bites his bottom lip, but forces himself to look at the works he's grading because he seriously needs to get back to it.

Katsuki answers just a few minutes later, and it's a bit surprising considering how busy Aizawa said he was.

I have another patrol later today. I won't be free until 2 am. But maybe I can come over in two days?

Is it his second one in a day or his third? Izuku's mind fills itself with anxious thoughts and wonders when was the last time Katsuki had a proper night's sleep. Why is he overworking himself? Pro heroes make good money, he shouldn't be struggling financially...

He doesn't ask any of those questions or tells Katsuki to reschedule. Izuku has no idea why Aizawa is always so sure he can make Katsuki change his mind. His friend has more important things to do now; honestly, it's a miracle he finds the time to hang out with Izuku once a week.

He shouldn't insist, but Izuku decides to be honest.

Don't worry about it! We can see each other when you have more time!

I just miss you, that's all! Good luck with your patrol, Kacchan!

Izuku leaves his phone next to him on the table, takes a deep breath, and gets determined not to worry about his friend for a while.

An hour later, he gets another text from Katsuki.

Ashido is going to take that last patrol. I'll be at your place at 6 pm.

Izuku grins before going back to his own work, determined to finish everything by 5; he'll have enough time to take a shower and tidy his apartment a bit before Katsuki arrives.

Just when he's done with the essays, he gets another message.

I miss you too.

Izuku has to cover his face after that one; he's not sure why it makes him blush.

***

Izuku is more or less satisfied with his work when there's a knock at his door. Katsuki is at the other side, hair still dripping wet from his shower, wearing casual clothes and carrying a few boxes of takeout.

"Kacchan!" Izuku beams, making his friend smile in response. He takes the boxes from his hands and walks towards his little kitchen as the pro hero takes his boots off and leaves them at the entrance.

He's still way taller than Izuku, even without the boots.

"You brought katsudon!" The excitement in his voice is obvious, but he doesn't try to hide it. "Thank you, I–Kacchan?"

He turns around, only to be pulled into a tight embrace; Katsuki tilts his head down in order to nuzzle against Izuku's green curls. He takes a deep breath.

"I missed you so much, nerd," he mumbles, sincerely, almost like he can't stop himself from doing it.

Izuku giggles, hoping the blush on his cheeks is not too obvious, and he tries to step away, only for Katsuki to pull him right back into his arms with a grumpy huff.

"Wait. I need to recharge," the pro hero insists, resting his head on the teacher's shoulder. "Alright. I'm better now. Besides, you must be hungry."

Only when Izuku takes a few steps back he notices how tired Katsuki actually looks. There are shadows under his eyes, his face has a few cuts, and Izuku just knows his muscles must be killing him.

Narrowing his eyes, the green haired teacher cups his friend's face, watching as Katsuki closes his eyes and surrenders into the touch.

"I'll fix those scratches, and I bring you something for the sore muscles. Sit here," Sometimes Izuku gets a little bit bossy when he's worried, but he doesn't realize it until it's too late.

Besides, Katsuki never complains, in fact, he does as Izuku asks without hesitation.

After he patches the pro hero up, trying not to get distracted by his intense stare, Izuku sets a few plates and arranges the counter so they can eat together.

They eat mostly in silence, although it's difficult for him to focus just on his delicious food because Katsuki keeps staring at him.

His face is slightly warm, and he gets so flustered he decides to talk about his students and then ask about Katsuki's day.

When Katsuki starts mentioning his shifts and patrols, Izuku decides to bring up the topic that has been worrying him the most.

"So you've been taking extra shifts?"

Katsuki nods, exhaustion visible on his features.

"You should take a break, Kacchan. Maybe a day off."

"I'm fine."

Even though Katsuki has changed, he's still as stubborn as he was when they were teenagers.

Izuku tries not to roll his eyes.

"I'd like to see you more often," he mumbles, feeling nervous. "I miss you when you're not here."

It's completely true, but part of him regrets saying it; it's not like Katsuki has time to make Izuku feel better. They're just friends.

"I'll try not to take too many shifts," Katsuki surprises him saying. His cheeks are slightly pink too. "So we can hang out more."

The young teacher beams in response, unable to hide his joy. Katsuki smiles back, leaning closer, looking flustered too.

"It's just... I have a project," he says after a while. "And I need to save a lot of money for it. It's... really important to me."

Oh. Izuku understands and he also has the feeling Katsuki doesn't want to give him too much information about it; it's okay. He'd do the same if he wasn't sure he was going to make it happen.

He can see how important it is for him in the way his red eyes shine. Izuku is almost sure Katsuki is going to open his own agency! It must be that!

"Will you tell me more once it's ready?"

Katsuki grins from ear to ear before getting closer to him; for a moment, his exhaustion vanishes as those red eyes meet Izuku's. He grabs both his hands in his.

"I promise. I can't wait for you to see it, Izuku."

There's something about the way Katsuki says his name that has Izuku blushing even more; his eyes stare at him with something close to adoration, but he's not sure and he certainly doesn't want to get the wrong idea so the teacher decides to ignore it.

He jumps from his seat and starts cleaning the counter before doing the dishes instead.

Katsuki offers to help, but Izuku asks him to wait in the living room while he finishes.

"You should stay tonight," he whispers next to him, leaning over the couch after a couple of minutes. He catches Katsuki dozing off.

The pro hero must be truly exhausted.

"What?" Red eyes blink back open in a second. The words seem to have caught him off guard. "You mean..."

"Yes," Izuku smiles, noticing that Katsuki is leaning closer. "Stay with me."

"But what... I mean, we should at least talk about it first," the pro hero blurts out, flustered, his face turning into a deep shade of red that makes the teacher worry. "I don't want this to be a casual thing. Besides, I have never–"

"What do you mean casual?" He cuts the blond off, feeling completely lost. "Well... If you want to, we can have regular sleepovers! What about every two weeks or so?"

It's perfect! That way, Katsuki wouldn't be able to take that many extra shifts!

The noise of Katsuki facepalming himself is so loud it startles Izuku. That big hand slides down his features like he's trying to gather some patience and strength at the same time.

"Of course you were talking about a sleepover," he mumbles so quietly the teacher wonders if he heard it wrong. Then, staring back at Izuku, he adds: "Yes, we can do that."

"Great!"

***

"I'm not wearing that!"

"Come on, Kacchan!" Izuku pouts, looking at the oversized All Might t-shirt and the pants that might not go along with it, but they're the same brand and are, in fact, very comfortable.

"Listen, I own a few things that are All Might themed too, but this is just awful," Katsuki grimaces, looking at the clothes like they have offended him personally.

"You can't sleep on those jeans," the green haired teacher protests. "You won't be able to sleep properly. Besides, this is the only thing I have that you can wear. My clothes are too small for you. I promise this really comfy! I love to wear these to sleep!"

Katsuki visibly relaxes when Izuku says that last bit; he looks from him to the clothes a couple of times.

"You wear these to sleep? Aren't they too big for you?"

"Yes, but I love oversized clothes!" Izuku smiles.

The pro hero stares down at him for a couple of seconds without saying anything; Izuku wonders if he forgot about what they were talking about when he suddenly blinks, snapping himself out of it, and then turns slightly pink.

"Fine. I'll see if I have something else–"

"No," Katsuki yanks the clothes right from Izuku's hands. "I'll wear them."

When Katsuki joins him in the living room again, he admits to himself that his friend was absolutely right about the clothes.

They fit him, but they don't look like his style at all.

"You look like a nerd, Kacchan," Izuku says before bursting into laughter.

"You little shit! This was all a trap to make me wear this crime against fashion! My parents would have a stroke if they saw me in this!" He lunges towards Izuku, making the teacher laugh even harder.

When Katsuki catches him in his arms, prompting them to fall over the couch, Izuku realizes the pro hero is chuckling too.

However, when the laughter dies, they're still wrapped around one another on the couch, and Katsuki refuses to look away from Izuku; the younger teacher gets too flustered he pushes his friend away.

"Let's watch a movie!"

Katsuki insists he needs to recharge first and the best way to do that is if he's as close to Izuku as possible so he ends up with the pro hero's head over his lap.

They only watch the first half of the movie, and Izuku is not sure Katsuki watched it at all because he caught the pro hero staring up at him a couple of times instead.

Katsuki falls asleep quickly after Izuku starts running his fingers through his blond hair.

The teacher sighs, turns the TV off and checks his mail on his phone while Katsuki sleeps. He reads a few of his students' works for a while before carefully waking Katsuki up.

They have a "discussion" about who gets to sleep on Izuku's bed, and the teacher ends up losing, so he brings an extra futon to the living room so Katsuki can sleep comfortably.

The pro hero wakes up first and is already making breakfast for two when Izuku walks out of his bedroom.

They chat for a while before Katsuki gets ready for work.

At the entrance, he hesitates right after putting his boots on before turning around again and pulling Izuku into a hug.

"Recharging?" He chuckles, hugging him back.

"More like getting some extra energy for the day." He whispers as he nuzzles against Izuku's curls.

"Okay, Kacchan."

"Let's do this next week," he says, smiling down at him, thumb stroking the teacher's scar on his right cheek.

"Yes!"

"I'll see you this Friday, Izuku."

***

As soon as he sees Ashido's smirk at the other side of the break room, Katsuki sighs, but he still walks towards her.

"I'm guessing it went really well with Midoriya. You haven't stopped smiling since you got here."

Katsuki is really bad at hiding his true feelings for Izuku, which is why he finds it ridiculous and frustrating how the nerdy teacher hasn't realized it himself yet.

"Yeah."

"I don't know if I should feel glad because it looks like you slept through the night or sorry because he didn't keep you awake."

Ashido wiggles her eyebrows in such a way Katsuki is not sure why he keeps falling for her stupid teasing.

But he blushes anyway and swears he'll never tell her that for a moment he thought Izuku wanted to sleep with him.

He would have done it gladly, but he would have professed his undying love for Izuku first because Katsuki doesn't do things by halves.

Loving Izuku is a lifetime commitment.

"SHUT UP!"

"Fine," she makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. "You're no fun."

Katsuki grabs the bento Izuku shoved into his hands that morning, as he made him promise he'd take a lunch break.

That's the only reason he's there.

"How's the suit going?" Ashido asks then, prompting Katsuki to smile again.

"Great. Hatsume is finally done with Izuku's gauntlets. I'll see her this afternoon to test them myself."

"He's going to love it," she assures him, putting a hand over his shoulder.

"I know," Katsuki mumbles, smiling down at his bento.

He can't wait to show it to Izuku. To see him wearing it.

It's going to take a while, but he'll get there eventually; he'll help Izuku fulfill his dream.

***

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