#my version of string on a stick

[lovetei]

Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call

Versions: The Brothers, Side characters

Warnings: Gender neutral pronouns for MC, Cussing, Slight yandere themes (Belphegor, Asmodeus)

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

This demon likes sticking to rules

Running on hallways? Detention

Eating during class? Detention

Not paying attention to class? Detention

No one is safe...

Except for one person.

The cafeteria if filled with loud noises, your voice shouting profanities to another demon specifically.

Everyone listening to the argument feels like they're stomach is about to burst out of nervousness because "What if Lucifer randomly comes in and put all of us is detention because we just stood by and didn't do anything to stop the fight?!"

And he did.

But what surprised them is that he didn't shout or anything, he just stood there for a few second and scanned the crowd looking for one of his brothers.

Spotted Mammon and came close to him before whispering something among themselves.

And then he just stood there

Doing nothing

As if it's just fucking okay to let a human, the exchange student at that, to scream and curse a demon because he won't cooperate into this project.

And when the demon started cursing back at you, the rules are suddenly so strict as if cussing will cause the end of the 8 rings of hell.

The demon is sent to detention, removed from the group, suspended, and many more.

And who knows? Maybe you pulled just a few strings to have that demon expelled.

But what the citizens sure know is that they never saw anyone again after talking to MC like that.

MAMMON

It was cute

Mammon would do anything for you, no matter how big or small it is.

One day, Mammon was spotted running around the halls of RAD.

Looking like he's getting chased by Lucifer, again.

But surprisingly, he's not.

He's just running around the school fetching your fan, notebooks, bag, pens, water or some snacks.

One time, you two were put in a group for this project and were talking about it with your other group mates.

Then you hit him with a "Mammon, I left my notebook on my desk in the potions class, can you fetch it for me?"

With just a blink of an eye, Mammon who was leaning on your shoulder just a few minutes ago is gone.

And with another blink of an eye he's there again with your notebook on his hands then he's back to leaning on your shoulder again as if he didn't just go to the other side of the school for a notebook.

LEVIATHAN

He's introverted

He won't go out his room if it's just for some lame party

I also headcanons for him to be the most unseen brother

Or like him having the smallest amount of photo and information online because he just won't go out.

Yeah, he won't go out if it's just some small, lame party but if Diavolo hosts it, what exactly can he do?

"Do you think the avatar of envy will attend this party?"

"Ha! No way... Lord Leviathan won't attend small parties or gatherings like these unless Lord Diavolo hosts it himself."

"Lord Leviathan really has a high standard when it comes to gatherings..."

And then poof

He's there

Beside you

A happy go lucky sheep beside a gloomy snake

What a match

And if you ask him why he would attend such gatherings when it's totally not even his style he would just go like "MC."

"What can I do? MC really wants to see the fireworks display."

"MC wants me to escort them."

So they got the hint on how to make Levi attend gatherings, either have Diavolo host it or invite MC too.

SATAN

He's angry

But not angry enough to yell when MC is around

Man's can go from 👹 to ☺️ real quick as soon as he felt MC's prescense

He doesn't know why too, but whenever he yell while you're around he thinks he'll fall out of favor

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU'RE SO PERFECT THEN WHY DON'T YOU GO AROUND WHILE YOU HAVE YOUR HEAD FAR UP YOUR ASS- Oh, Hi MC? How are you?"

He'll talk so sweet in front you and then when you turn around you can see some veins popping out of his neck and forehead.

And if he can't really handle it and went berserk in your prescense another scary yet amazing thing you can is to put your hand on his body.

Shoulder, head, neck, wrist, arm, wherever it is.

Just pat him or link your arms with him and he will start to calm down.

ASMODEUS

People headcanon him to like it when you're obsessed with him but I think he's more obsessed to you.

Like he's down bad

You can do anything and he'll literally fawn all over it

"Look at the way they run their hands through their hair!"

"Look at how they work!"

"The way they hold that fork is so graceful~"

Literally, you're the only person that comes to his mind when someone said pretty

Except for himself of course

But I swear, whenever someone caught him staring at you the atmosphere gets so thick

You don't even know why but the atmosphere is heavy and the air suddenly smells so sweet

And those heart in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate

Yeah, you have this man worshipping you alongside himself

BEELZEBUB

Other than the fact that he's actually willing to share his food with you

He's willing to help you in any physical works

Like lifting up things, carrying your stuffs and sometimes even running errands for you

I mean, he actually doesn't do it a lot because Lucifer actually asks Mammon for this stuff because the things Lucifer needs to be done is a little...

Shady?

And he doesn't want to taint Beel's innocence.

So now since you're already a part of the student council when Lucifer needs to have something important finished but it requires physical work.

You and Beel will be partnered

And he doesn't have anything against it either

He likes it so much when you command him to do something actually

I mean, he's tall and buff but Lucifer won't ask him to do anything that includes hard labor except taking care of Belphegor

So you actually helping him make use of all those muscles made him feel a tinge of happiness

He feels like he's actually of use :)

BELPHEGOR

This little brat

He would kill for you and he means it

He's not scared to spill blood on broad daylight as long as it's for you

Someone bothered you? Dead

Oh this person annoyed you? Taken care of

Aw~ He told you you're cute and asked you out on a date? That's sweet! Dead.

He's just like that

He won't tolerate anyone who dared disrespect you

And Lucifer won't even put a stop into this

"I mean, Devildom is quite overpopulated and we don't want anyone disrespecting Lord Diavolo's plan on bringing the three realms together now." Is what he reasons everytime.

Oh, he also wakes up on command as long as it's you.

Lucifer and his brothers could be shaking him like he's dead and he won't even bother to open his eyes

But if you just pulled a "Belphie? Good morning..." Oh dear, he's wide awake and clinging to you.

[sixxels]

diva

nerd!gojo loves his absolute diva of a girlfriend.

there were a lot of things satoru gojo didn’t understand.

why his professor insisted on giving 7 a.m. lectures when good sleep was scientifically proven to improve cognitive function. why the wifi crashed every time he needed to upload his lab reports. why textbooks cost more than his monthly rent.

but the one thing he understood better than anything? he was in love with his girlfriend. dramatic, high-maintenance, lip gloss shining at 8am, the whole thing was tiring sometimes, sure. but you were his lifeline, his escape.

and what surprised him the most was how much he loved the little, mundane stuff. the small rituals. the shared routines that stitched your days together.

he liked meeting you outside your psych class, where you'd always emerged with a dramatic sigh like the lecture had emotionally wounded you. “he used brain rot memes on the slides, satoru. i can’t keep doing this.” you'd say that, every time, and he’d laugh like it was the first time you'd ever said it.

he especially liked your aesthetic, full-on mcbling throwback fantasy. pink velour, rhinestoned phone cases, bedazzled hair clips, juicy sweats like it was 2004 and you were the star of your own teen drama. you looked like a fever dream from a y2k music video, and he was obsessed. the lip gloss, the glitter, the low-rise jeans with butterfly charms. it all should’ve been too much. but on you? it was perfect.

“you look like a bratz doll,” he told you once, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe you were real. “and i’d die for every version of you.”

you just blew him a kiss and said, “good. you’re supposed to.”

he liked when the two of you grabbed coffee between classes. you ordered like you were reciting a poem—iced vanilla oat milk latte, one pump caramel, light ice, no cold foam. he never even looked at the menu anymore. you'd sip yours and hum in approval while he nursed a plain black coffee like the boring nerd he was. you always wrinkled your nose at it. “you drink that voluntarily? for what? character development?”

he liked when you studied in the library together. you never lasted more than twenty minutes without complaining. “why is econ just… numbers pretending to have feelings? such a drag.” you'd whine, head resting dramatically on his shoulder, perfume hitting him like a truck. he pretended to be annoyed, but secretly, he loved when you did that—like he was her safe little island in a sea of boring lectures and broken printers.

he liked how you always dragged him around like a personal pet. pulling him into stores as you judged products you knew you were never going to buy. “should i get this ‘girlboss’ notebook?” you asked once. “cant tell if it's empowering or a hate crime.” he still didn’t know what that meant, but you looked cute holding it.

he liked the late-night walks after study sessions. you always wore those fuzzy slippers that weren’t meant for outdoors, but insisted they were “serving.” the two of you would walk under the string lights strung across the quad, your perfectly managed hand in his, talking about nothing and everything—professors the both of you hated, dumb memes, the little thoughts you had. "y'know toru, having a hot nerd like you on my arm makes me look 100 times more cunty."

and he especially liked when you'd pull him into empty stairwells just to kiss him, pulling him down to your height and shoving your tongue down his throat as you teasingly grinded your hips against his crotch in a passionate exchange. your lip gloss sticking to his mouth like a brand. “to keep you focused,” she’d tease, before strutting off like she hadn’t just short-circuited his entire brain, he was now faced with a problem in his pants.

it wasn’t just the big gestures or grand declarations that made him love you. it was the daily stuff—the little, ordinary routines that you made feel magical, chaotic, and unmistakably yours.

he didn’t need roses or fireworks.

he had oat milk lattes, sarcastic one-liners, stolen kisses between classes, and you.

and that was more than enough.

m.list !!

[itneverendshere]

Can we get the first time rafe said i love you to bitchy!pogue!reader?

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first - r.c (+18)

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe warnings: smut; fluff; angst (barely)

He was being weird again.

Not weird in the usual Rafe way—where he’d mutter something half-menacing under his breath, act like just breathing the same air as you gave him hives, and walk away like he hadn’t just insulted someone’s entire bloodline.

This was worse.

This was hovering, this was nice.

He was sitting across the couch with that glazed-over look he’d started wearing lately, the one that made it feel like he was watching you breathe, acting like you were some miracle he couldn’t wrap his head around.

You hated it.

(You didn’t.)

“Stop looking at me like that,” You didn’t bother to glance up from the bracelet you were tying around your wrist. One of those shitty little ones you’d made together out of string and beer caps last weekend when he’d shown up at your place at 2am with a “surprise” and the worst craft supplies imaginable.

“I’m not looking at you,” he said, instantly defensive.

“You’re literally—”

“Not in a weird way.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little weird,” he admitted, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. The one you’d stolen and pretended you hadn’t. 

Rafe had gone from arrogant and angry to… clingy? Affectionate? But he was yours and that was the part you hadn’t worked through yet.

He came to sit beside you, thigh pressed to yours, no sense of personal space whatsover. He smelled like detergent and whatever cologne he used way too much of, and somehow it didn’t suffocate you anymore.

It made your stomach twist, in a good way, a way you’d never felt before.

You remembered when just seeing his name in your phone, asking for a booty call, made your roll her eyes so hard it gave you a headache. When you used to flirt with his friends at parties for shit and giggles, just to watch that angry control of his slip away into nothing, because it always did.

That was the fun part, pissing him off, making him want you even when he hated you. Back then, it was a game, yet now, you were wearing his hoodie, he was close, warm, and gentle, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

“Why are you staring?” You asked, flicking your eyes toward him.

His hair was a mess, lips a little bitten, thanks to your fabulous work. His cheeks pinked under your gaze, which made you suspicious. He only got flustered when he was about to say something unhinged.

He leaned his head on your shoulder, he never used to do that back when you were constantly bickering across bonfires and making out with other people just to piss each other off. Now he was clingy, gentle. It was kinda hot.

“You ever just look at someone and think… shit, she really used to hate my guts and now she’s wearing my hoodie and letting me kiss her?”

“I still hate your guts,” You said sweetly.

“No you don’t,” he grinned, proud of himself.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, only hummed in acknowledgment, fiddling with the bracelet again so you didn’t have to deal with the intensity of his face.

“I think I love you.”

The words were a car crash in your chest. You froze, fingers still tangled in string, head snapping toward him, eyes wide, like what the actual fuck did you just say?

Rafe blinked. Then: “Okay. Bad timing.”

“No shit.”

“I just—” He shifted to face you more fully, fidgeting in his seat, trying not to bolt. “I was gonna wait. Or, like, make it a thing. Flowers and a sunset, I don’t know. Something romantic or whatever you deserve. But you're sitting here with your stupid little bracelet and your stupid beautiful face and I couldn’t not say it.”

You turned to look at him, slowly, eyes scanning his stupid pretty face. Maybe, you could find the old version of him buried under all this softness. But he was gone, that boy who used to shove past you at keggers like you were nothing, who once told you no one would ever really stick around for someone like you? Gone.

He winced. “You’re not saying anything. That’s bad.”

This one—this version—looked like he’d get on his knees if you asked.

“You just called me stupid twice.”

“I meant it lovingly.”

“You love me lovingly,” You said, lips twitching.

“I do love you lovingly.”

It should’ve made you gloat. That used to be your whole thing—getting under his skin, bending him to want you enough to break him. And now he was saying that to you?

It didn’t feel like winning anymore, more like drowning, sweet and terrifying. Somewhere between the late-night calls and the mutual destruction, between his bloodied knuckles and your bruised pride, he stopped trying to fight you, and you stopped trying to run.

He was looking at you like you meant something and you hated how badly you wanted to believe it.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time, pretending you hadn’t heard him. Maybe saying it again would undo the panic rising behind your ribs.

You stared down at the bracelet in your lap, fingers still curled around the unfinished knot.

It made you sick. (It made you ache.)

“You’re not gonna say it back, are you,” He didn’t sound surprised. His voice was quiet, not even disappointed, just sad. He got it, knew exactly what kind of girl you were and loved you anyway.

That made it worse.

You looked at him then. The Rafe you remembered—the one with blood in his teeth and a chip on his shoulder—in his place was this… idiot. Your idiot, soft-eyed and pink-cheeked, hoodie strings uneven from where you tugged on them earlier when you kissed him hard enough to make him dizzy.

He looked so earnest it made your throat go tight.

Rafe huffed a breath, a half-smile twitching at his mouth. “You don’t have to say it back,” he said, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I just needed you to know.”

You were always good at pushing people away, letting them want you just enough to hurt them. It was easier that way. But Rafe—Rafe didn’t run that night. Not when you were screaming, not when you were cruel, not even when you told him you didn’t care.

You curled your fingers around his.

“You’re still kind of a dick.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“And I still kind of hate you.”

He nodded solemnly. “I can work with that.”

You stared at him for a long second, your chest hollow and full at the same time, and leaned in to press your mouth to his. 

“You’re annoying.”

You didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know where to put all this feeling. It swelled up in your chest until it made your fingers tremble, until your lungs forgot how to work, until all you could think was himhimhim.

“I think I might love you too,” you whispered against his lips, like it was a sin.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging gently, and that earned you a involuntary groan straight from his throat. Rafe angled his head, breath hitching, and kissed you deeper, tongue sweeping past your lips.

You made a small, broken noise into the kiss, and he inhaled it while hands were everywhere, fingers dugging into the fabric of your hoodie—his hoodie, stretched and oversized on you—and he tugged you into his lap without asking. He needed you close, all the time.

You gasped against his mouth when your knees hit either side of his hips, straddling him, but he didn’t pull back. Just kissed you harder. His tongue slid against yours again, slow, making you feel like a live wire, the taste of him was sparking in your chest, down your spine, through your fingertips. You curled your fists into his hair even harder and he made a noise that sounded like surrender.

It wasn’t perfect—your noses bumped, your teeth clicked—but none of it mattered. You shifted in his lap, hoodie bunched awkwardly between you.

You tilted your head and let Rafe deepen it, mouths parting, tongues sliding together—messy in the best way. It wasn’t clean, it felt real. Your hands found his jaw, thumbs brushing the edge of his cheekbone, he felt like warmth, home, and that was terrifying.

Rafe kissed you like he was trying to apologize for every awful thing he ever said over the years, and you kissed him like you were ready to forgive him. 

He pulled back just an inch, breathing hard, lips pink and wet. His hands slid up your back under the hoodie, thumbs stroking bare skin, making your stomach flutter. His mouth dragged down to your jaw, sucking a bruise just beneath your ear, marking you—he couldn’t help it.

“Say it again,” you breathed, dizzy from him, from how easily you fit together like this.

He grinned, leaning in. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

It came out like the most honest thing you’d ever said.

“I love you,” he said, immediately, no hesitation.

You bit his bottom lip gently, kissed it better a second later, “I love you too.”

He laughed, nose brushing yours.

“Yeah,” he whispered, dragging your hips a little closer until your chests were flush, “I know, sweetheart.”

Right now, you wanted to crawl inside his ribs and live there, wanted to hear him say it again, and again, and again. Until you believed it.

His hands under your hoodie weren’t tentative anymore. They were bold—palms gliding up your back, fingertips brushing the edge of your bra, trying not to push, but couldn't stop himself either, making you arch just slightly into him.

“God, you drive me fucking insane,” he whispered, mouth still working a bruise into your collarbone. 

His voice was wrecked, full of that gritty desperation he always tried to hide but never could around you. 

“You don’t even know,” he said into your mouth, kissing between the words now, tongue chasing the taste of you. “You don’t know what you fucking do to me. I can’t think when you’re like this.”

Your lips brushed his jaw. “Good.”

“Mean,” he breathed, and his hands slid down, one dipping under the curve of your thigh, hiking it up until your core was right against him. “You’re mean to me.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, “Still love me?”

“Worse,” he said, like a confession. “I need you.”

You felt it, the way his voice cracked when he said it—it physically cost him something, he was handing you a weapon and trusting you not to use it. You could’ve laughed, thrown it back in his face the way you used to, just for the power of it.

You ducked your head like that might hide how much it meant to you, if he didn’t see your face, he wouldn’t realize how deep it went. You were terrified of what this meant, of how much he was giving you, of how much you were giving back. 

“I’m right here. You have me.”

His hand crept up beneath your thigh, holding you there, grinding you down against the hard line of him through his sweatpants, and shit—you moaned, breaking the kiss.

Rafe’s head dropped back against the couch. “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna make it to the bedroom.”

“Who said we’re going to the bedroom?” you murmured, dragging your nails under the hem of his hoodie. You let your fingertips skim up his stomach, slow and teasing. His abs jumped beneath your touch.

You leaned down, mouth brushing his again, sweetly. And then you rolled your hips, his head dropped back with a strangled noise—half curse, half prayer.

“Fuck. Fuck, baby, you gotta stop unless you want me to—”

You bit his earlobe. “I do.”

“I’ve been so good, baby. I’ve been so fucking good, I swear.”

 “I know.”

“I wasn’t gonna touch you,” he murmured, desperate now. “Not 'til you were ready. Not 'til you told me you wanted it too.”

“I do,” you told him again, mouth brushing his. “I want you.”

His hands cupped your ass and he surged up, kissing you like a man starved, lost at sea for months. You could feel him, hard against you, could feel how bad he wanted you, how close he was to losing it, and it made you insane.

“You're on probation,” you reminded him, even as your fingers slipped beneath the collar of his own hoodie, tracing his collarbone.

“I know,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lower, dragging his teeth down your throat. “I deserve it. I’d wait forever if I had to.”

You exhaled hard, body buzzing, nerves coiled tight from weeks of pretending you didn’t miss this or want him like this. You hadn’t let him touch you—only let him kiss you—since the night you said you wanted to try for real. Your breath caught in your throat, and your thighs squeezed tighter around his hips instinctively at his confession.

“You gonna let me?” he whispered, grinding up against you in slow, perfect circles. “Let me show you how much I fucking love you?”

You nodded, breathless.

He kissed your neck again, lips wet and open. “Then say it again.”

“I love you,” you gasped, tugging his hair.

“Louder.”

“I love you.”

His lips curved against your skin, pleased.

“Good girl.”

“You’ve been good too,” you whispered against his ear, kissing the shell of it, “so good.”

His whole body trembled under you.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep talking like that.”

You smiled against his neck, kissing your way down. “So don’t.”

Rafe flipped you onto your back in one motion, hoodie riding up past your ribs, his hands everywhere. He kissed down your stomach, groaning when he saw the little strip of bare skin between the hoodie and your underwear, a gift.

“I missed this,” he said, mouth pressed to your hipbone. 

You tugged at his clothes. “Then stop talking and take this off.”

And he did—hoodie gone, yours halfway up, kisses trailing lower.

He paused when he got to the edge of your underwear, breathing, trying to memorize the moment. His hands were warm, thumbs brushing circles over your hips, he couldn’t believe he got to touch you like this again.

“Still with me?”

You nodded, legs parting slightly, an unspoken answer.

Rafe exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“God, I missed you,” he said again, this time like a prayer, and pressed a kiss just above your waistband. Then another.

His mouth was gentle, making your whole body twitch. He took his time, dragging the fabric down your legs and when he finally kissed between your thighs, it didn’t feel like a favor or a performance—it felt like worship.

Rafe meant it, he’d dreamed about this every night he slept alone.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, mouth ghosting right where you were aching. “I wanna do it right this time.”

You whimpered. “Rafe—”

He groaned, it physically hurt to hear his name in your mouth like that. “Say it again.”

“Rafe.” You gasped it now, your hands in his hair, hips lifting of their own accord. “Please.”

He didn’t ease into it, instead, as soon as your underwear hit the floor, he dropped to his knees, where he’d been dying to be, he’d starve if you didn’t let him have you. He hooked your leg over his shoulder, pulled your hips to the edge of the couch, and dove in without a single word. And fuck, you felt it.

There was nothing gentle about it—His mouth was hot, tongue sweeping through your pussy like he’d been dreaming about the taste of you. He moaned into you like a man who finally found water in the desert, grabbing your thighs to hold you still while he licked you deep, wet, and messy.

Rafe didn’t stop for breath or come up to check on you. Just groaned and kept going, licking into you like he was trying to memorize you from the inside out.

“God, baby,” he gasped, breath shaky against your skin. “I missed this pussy so fucking much—tastes like heaven. Can’t believe I went so long without it.”

Your back arched, fingers tangling in his hair, but he didn’t let up even when you started to squirm or when your thighs shook around his head. He loved that, so he buried his face deeper, wanting your legs to trap him there. 

He switched it up just when you were about to fall apart—flicking his tongue in tight smaller circles over your clit while one thick finger slid into you, then another. The sound you made had him growling.

“Wanna feel you on my face.”

You did. Loud, messy, with your whole body shaking. He rode it out with you, never pulling back, tongue still working you through it while he moaned, acting like he was the one getting off.

Even after your orgasm hit, when you were twitching and whimpering from the overstimulation, he didn’t stop. Slowed down, sure—but didn’t stop. Pressed soft kisses to your clit, licked up everything you gave him. When he finally looked up at you, chin soaked, lips swollen, pupils blown wide—he looked high off you.

“Want more?”

Because the truth was—he did.

Your body was still trembling when he rose, his eyes meeting yours, it and hit you all over again—this is Rafe. Yours. And he loves you.

He leaned over you, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, and used the other to gently guide your face toward his. He kissed you deep, with so much love it knocked the air out of your lungs. You could taste yourself on his tongue—feel the way his body shook as he pressed closer.

You watched, chest rising and falling, as he sat back on his knees.

“Wanna feel you,” he said, eyes dark but tender. “All of you. Skin to skin.”

Rafe didn’t just want to fuck you—he wanted to know you like this again. You nodded, still dazed from the way he’d eaten you like a man possessed. “I want you too.”

He kissed you again, sweeter, took his time—needed you to feel what he couldn’t explain. And you did. 

He kissed your palm, then stood up slowly, peeling his shirt over his head slowly, baring his chest to you, no cocky flex, no rush—just his eyes on you the whole time, making sure you were still with him, that you wanted this as much as he did. His skin glowed warm in the low light—gold and flushed. You let your eyes trace over every inch of him: the curve of his collarbones, the scar on his rib, the way his stomach tightened when your gaze dipped lower.

Next came his jeans.

He stood up, undoing the button slowly, dragging the zipper down with a little exhale through his nose. His boxers went with them, sliding down over lean hips, thick thighs, revealing just how wrecked he already was for you. Hard. Heavy. Aching.

He stepped out of them and kicked them aside, then just stood there for a second—completely naked. Letting you see him, all of him.

Shit, he looked beautiful, vulnerable, ready. His chest rose with a shaky breath, and he reached for you again.

“You sure?” he asked, voice husky.

You nodded, biting your lip as you sat up a little, knees parting around him, hand reaching to brush over his stomach. “Touch me.”

That’s when he climbed onto the couch with you, awkward in the best way, knees hitting cushions, hands everywhere, both of you giggling quietly into the kiss because there wasn’t room to stretch out—not properly. So you made do, his chest pressing to yours, your calves curled around his waist,

He lined himself up and pushed in, slow. Your breath hitched—he felt everything. The stretch, your body welcoming him like it had been waiting for him all along. His eyes fluttered shut, and his forehead dropped to yours.

Rafe didn’t move at first, simply stayed there, buried deep, holding you.

When he finally started moving, he rocked into you with deep strokes—no roughness. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure rolling through you, but it wasn’t just the way he felt—it was the way he looked at you while he did it. He was in awe.

His hands never stopped touching you—sliding over your ribs, cradling your face, tangling in your hair. He whispered things between kisses, confessions pressed to your skin.

“Don’t ever leave me, okay?”

You nodded through the haze of pleasure, wrapping your arms around his back, your legs around his hips. You pulled him in closer—wanted him as close as humanly possible.

You didn’t just want to feel him inside you, you wanted to keep him there. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever get this,” Rafe whispered, voice shaking. “Not like this, with you.”

You brushed your fingers through his hair, pulling him back for a kiss, mouths barely moving, and when he pulled back, his eyes were glassy.

You cupped his face. “You do.”

His hips rocked into you again, and you gasped—back arching instinctively, tightening your legs around him.

“Jesus,” he breathed, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your mouth found his jaw, lips brushing the sensitive spot. “I’ve never—” You swallowed, breath catching. “No one’s ever made me feel like this.”

Rafe groaned, his rhythm stuttering. “Don’t say that unless you want me to lose it.”

He kissed you again, hard this time, a little desperate. His hands cradled your face like you were something fragile, and for once in your life, you didn’t mind that. You let yourself be held like that.

You held his face in your hands too, eyes fluttering open even as your mouth parted on a gasp.

“You okay?” he breathed, “Talk to me, pretty girl.”

You nodded, pulling him down into another kiss, needy. “Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, voice wrecked.

He braced a hand under your thigh and lifted it higher, pressing in and the sound you made had his hips stuttering. His lips found your neck again, his teeth scrapping at the skin.

“You feel so good,” he whispered into your skin. “Missed the way you sound. Missed how you look when I’m inside you.”

He rocked into you harder now, your bodies finding a rhythm—natural, perfect. His pelvis grinded against your clit with every pass, making your breath hitch and your legs tremble. It wasn’t just sex or getting off. It was everything you’d both been holding back—missed chances, sleepless nights, every second you’d spent pretending this wasn’t what you wanted all along.

His hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, perfect pressure movements, and your hips bucked involuntarily.

“There she is,” he rasped, lips brushing yours. “That’s my girl.”

You clenched around him at the words, and his eyes rolled back for half a second.

“Fuck, do that again.”

You did, not even on purpose, just from the way he felt, how he looked at you like you were the only thing he’d ever loved.

Your fingers scratched down his back, legs tightening around his waist, dragging him deeper. “Rafe,” you whimpered.

His hand cradled the back of your neck. “I know, baby. I know.”

He kissed you again, pouring everything into it—his apology, his want, his devotion. You could feel him everywhere—inside you, against you, with you. His hands never left you for long—one on your waist, the other at your cheek, brushing stray hairs back so he could see you while he made love to you.

That’s what this was, wasn't it? You felt it in your bones. Not sex, not a fuck. Rafe felt it too, you could tell by the way he kept whispering your name, how he blinked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Been in love with you,” he admitted against your lips. “Didn’t even know it till you were gone. But I knew it here—” He kissed your chest, right over your heart. “Always here.”

You gasped, overwhelmed, fingers gripping his biceps. “I love you. I love you.”

You rolled your hips up to meet him, gave him everything—every moan, squeeze, every soft gasp in his ear. Your bodies were rewriting history, undoing every bitter word you ever spit out with every thrust.

Rafe’s hands gripped your thighs, his weight adjusting over you, you didn’t notice what he was doing until your legs were being lifted, folded back slowly, one at a time, until your knees were bent near your shoulders.

His arms hooked behind them, pressing you open, holding you there.

“Oh fuckkkkk—” Your breath caught, chest heaving against his. He was already sliding—even deeper than before, and you could feel the stretch, the overwhelming fullness that made your hands claw at his shoulders.

“I got you,” he reassured you, his chest still flush against yours. “I got you, baby.”

Rafe didn’t let the new angle break your closeness, not pulling back even an inch. His body blanketed yours, skin-to-skin, sweat-slicked and trembling, his mouth brushing your cheek as he started to move again.

It was making your head spin.

Your breath hitched every time he sank in, your legs trembling where they were pinned. And shit, the sounds. Wet, rhythmic—the slide of him inside you, the slap of skin on skin, the catch of your breath every time his hips rolled forward and hit that spot that had you clenching so tight around him he had to bite down on a groan.

“Shit,” he hissed, kissing down your jaw. “You feel so fuckin’ good like this. Can’t believe I went so long without this.”

Every part of you was open, exposed, his. 

He was taking his time with it, savoring every little reaction you gave him. His thrusts got heavier, your body folded around him making it impossible for him to miss a single spot.

“You’re so deep,” you whispered, voice high and shaky.

“I know,” he breathed. “Lemme give it to you, make you feel it.”

With your legs bent back, your pelvis tilted up, your body perfectly aligned for him, he filled every inch—grinding in with each stroke, his hips brushing against your clit hard enough to make your stomach tighten into that delirious pleasure.

Your toes curled, thighs quivering while kissed you again, desperately now, moaning into your mouth every time your walls clenched around him. You couldn’t stop it—it was involuntary, your body reacting to how he felt, to how fucking perfect this moment was.

You whimpered his name, needy, and he swore under his breath, shifting just enough to press your thighs closer to your chest. The angle made you cry out—your fingers digging into his back.

“That it? Right there?”

You nodded frantically, eyes wide, tears prickling at the corners from the intensity of it. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes locking with yours.

“You’re gonna cum for me first. I want it, baby.”

Rafe’s hand slid between your bodies, fingers slipping down to your clit again—rubbing in a perfect rhythm, in sync with every deep, body-shaking thrust.

It hit you suddely and violently, tearing through you with a sob that broke right out of your throat. Your whole body arched, legs trembling where he held them, walls pulsing around him so tight he nearly lost it right then.

“That’s it,” he gasped, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s my girl. Look at you, fuck—look how pretty you come for me.”

You were still shaking when he started to really lose it—his pace picking up, thrusts rougher, more ragged now as your orgasm milked him.

He choked out. “Where do you want it? Tell me, baby, please—”

“Inside,” you whispered, gripping his face. “Please. Rafe, please—”

He buried himself deep, groaning your name like it broke something in him, and then he was coming—hips locked, body shaking, spilling into you in pulsing waves.

You both lay there after, sweaty, trembling, still breathing each other’s air. His hands softened on your thighs, eventually letting them fall around his waist again, where they belonged.

He didn’t pull out, only kissed your shoulder, then your lips, still trembling. You didn’t realize you were crying until he kissed your cheek and tasted salt.

“Hey,” Rafe's thumb brushed the corner of your eye. “You okay?”

You nodded, breath shaky, lips parted as you tried to speak. “Yeah… yeah, I just—”

Words failed, there weren’t any for this, how full you felt—physically, emotionally. He kissed your cheek again, letting his lips linger. You could feel his heartbeat still racing where his chest pressed to yours.

He was still inside you. 

Your legs had fallen open around his waist again, loose now, your heels resting against the backs of his thighs. His weight was solid on top of you, but comforting, not crushing. His cock—softening, but not leaving—stayed nestled so deep inside you it felt like your bodies didn’t know how to separate anymore.

Your hands drifted up his back, fingertips tracing sweat-damp skin, and his breath hitched at the gentleness of it.

“Don’t pull out yet.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” he murmured, kissing your collarbone. “Not ready to let you go.”

You let out a breathy laugh, aching, “Clingy.”

He smiled, forehead pressing to yours again. “Proudly.”

Your body was still trembling —aftershocks rippling through your muscles in fluttery waves. Every time you moved, even just to breathe, it made him twitch inside you. Not hard again, but still there.

He kissed your lips again, slower this time. 

“I love you,” he said against your mouth, the easiest thing in the world. He sighed, body sinking into yours even more, cheek resting beside your temple, arms wrapped tight around you.

You smiled, eyes wet again. “I know.”

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist

[chaaistained]

what’s in my bag — kpop dr .•°

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cannot begin to describe how long this took me T^T so i hope you like it !! anyway, here is what’s in my bag in my kpop/clarity dr !!!

my bag is the adidas original pu biker bag !! i got it from an adidas campaign that clarity did. one thing to note is that i’m scripting there are two versions and ver 2 has longer straps bcs i’m more comfortable with that !!

on the front of the bag i’ve got some decor!! some small little things to personalise it hshshs :

⟢ my mum’s claw clip — she gave it to me when she came to visit, i’ve got it clipped onto one of the straps

⟢ a carabiner from sabrina carpenter — it has the engraving “You Are My Lucky Star”, i’ve attached a few charms to it :

•⟢ a lucky 7 ball — i love the number 7, i love that shade of red and the number itself reminds me of enhypen (who i’m a huge fan of!!)

•⟢ a light stick keychain — i’ve just used the enhypen light stick as an example but in actuality, it’s clarity’s light stick aka the claridome, i’m matching with my members !!

•⟢ the purple candy store series sonny angel — also matching with my members bcs this series has our designated colours !!

next up are the exterior pockets !!

in side pocket 1 i have :

⟢ my keys — obvious necessity of course, i’ve got my car keys, my house/dorm, and then some company keys : the music studio, dance studio, recording studio and my locker. attached onto the keys are two key rings :

•⟢ a little mushroom — from the day i landed in south korea after being accepted into fantagio ent. as a trainee!! i needed to get smth to commemorate it bcs i’m nothing if not sentimental

•⟢ a resin orchid flower charm with bronzite, cherry quartz and pearl beads — a gift from jungwon !! it was during a secret santa that we did with the other 04’ idols in our friend group

⟢ three lippies :

•⟢ a clarins plum lip oil , a burt’s bees coconut & pear lip balm and a burt’s bees cucumber and mint lip balm — super niche flavours of lip balm but i can’t lie, they’re my absolute favourites

⟢ a tiny perfume — jasmine and sandalwood scented ofcs

⟢ a small shell shaped jewellery box — usually i’d take off any jewellery i’m wearing when i get tired or overstimulated, it can fit quite a lot of things including earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets (that aren’t solid like bangles), but even if i’m wearing all my jewellery, it serves the purpose of housing my guitar picks

in the front pocket i have : my snacks!!

⟢ two packs of jumpy’s — a little treat from enhypen’s jake when he ordered a bunch of aussie snacks

⟢ warheads — i love sour things so i’ve always got a pack on me

⟢ sour blueberry bubblegum — this isn’t always in my bag but if i can find this specific brand and flavour, i def have it with me (another sour one)

⟢ chai tea sachets — god forbid whatever hotel we’re staying at doesn’t have chai

⟢ mint strips bcs obvs

in side pocket 2 i have :

⟢ two sets of headphones — my beats fit pro bluetooth headphones in grey, and my apple wired headphones that i keep just in case my bluetooth’s lose charge, and to stop them from getting tangled, the wired headphones live in this little shell trinket box

⟢ a tiny vial of moon water — it’s cute, it’s spiritual, it’s shaped like a star, what more can i say?

⟢ a capo — i got it as a gift from enhypen’s jay !!

⟢ a lace draw string bag full of crystals — a citrine tumble, a tigers eye tumble, a labradorite tumble, a flower agate palm stone and a raw herkimer diamond

ok here comes the main pocket !!

⟢ yes, i’ve got two phones — a personal phone and a work phone :

•⟢ my personal phone is the iphone 11 in purple — it has a polaroid of clarity during our tour in sydney !! it was taken by our manager and i keep it in the case

•⟢ my work phone is the iphone 14 in baby blue — it has a tiny little teddy bear charm attached to it’s clear case, i got the charm from a lumino (our fandom name!!)

⟢ a portable charger bcs obvs

⟢ my current read — i always have a book on me, and i tend to read multiple books so i’ll have ebooks on both phones as well as a physical book in my bag aksjdjs, my current read is The God Of Small Things by Arundathi Roy, a gift from my dad !!

⟢ two notebooks, each for a different purpose :

•⟢ my journal — the brown leather book, embossed with prints of flowers, a few sticker stamps that i got as a gift from vicki’s stamp collection, it’s a mess of a mind dump, a complete amalgamation of thoughts, un-curated, unfiltered, and extremely authentic, the notebook itself was part of a birthday present from my members !!

•⟢ my lyric book — the little red notebook that i found at a corner store in some nook of london, i got it during our first world tour and have been using it as the place to go when i get random inspiration

⟢ a tiny teddy bear plush toy — i got it from my little brother when i visited home again after a long time

⟢ a digital camera — i got it from enhypen’s sunghoon on my twentieth birthday bcs not only was i an official adult but it was also nearing the end of our mc-ing contract

⟢ finally, i’ve got four seperate pouches inside the main pocket :

•⟢ my makeup pouch — a vivienne westwood red pouch that i bought with my own money . and then i became an ambassador like, a week later.. all i had to do was wait a week.. typical

•⟢ my hygienics pouch — got it from a lumino during a fansign !! they said it reminded them of regulus and they knew i was a huge regulus stan so they got it for me ??? i cried

•⟢ my pencil case — i’ve had it since predebut, never want to get rid of it, i actively mended it when the zipper came loose once .. it’s staying with me till the end i fear

•⟢ my wallet — idek where i got this, it just showed up one day in my closet and i just ran with it, surprisingly fits everything i need tho

in my makeup pouch i have :

⟢ a beautiful compact mirror — i got this from chris aka stray kid’s bang chan aka my big cousin!!

⟢ a lighter — found it online and immediately had to get it bcs it looks so pretty, i’m not a smoker necessarily but i just like having a lighter, i’ve got a couple friends who smoke and it comes in handy, plus i can use it for candles

⟢ some actual makeup products, shock horror :

•⟢ a kiko clear gloss — i’m partial to tinted glosses but i like having the option

•⟢ tinted burt’s bees lip balm in plum — same thing here

•⟢ a bobbi brown concealer, a rare beauty highlighter and a diamond clear mascara — i unfortunately don’t wear makeup in my cr bcs i have ridiculously sensitive skin so i have no clue abt the shades or the quality of these products T^T i just know i need to have them ahshdjsjsk

⟢ a comb — i can’t go to sleep without at least brushing the ends of my hair, i don’t know, anyway i got it from india at the local markets and it’s very pretty

⟢ hair ties bcs obvs — i would have also put scrunchies or smth but knowing me, i’d probably mooch off of aining’s scrunchies (just like in this reality >.<)

in my hygienics pouch i have :

⟢ a lot of obvs necessities — kleenex, deodorant, hand sanitiser, moisturiser, bandaids, pads

⟢ vaseline — dry skin is a bitch but i vow to conquer it

⟢ eye serum — idk what i’d do without it like do y’all understand how bright and arid those stage lights are??

⟢ sun screen — this isn’t in the obvs section bcs this is specifically australian made sunscreen, spf 50+ i even use it in this reality

⟢ meds — vitamins, anti histamines, anxiety pills

in my pencil case i have :

⟢ 0.35 black ink pens — for the life of me i could not find the brand name but i have these exact pens in every reality, i worship them, they are glorious

⟢ a silver mechanical pencil — same deal, the one in this reality i’ve had since 2019 i believe? and i couldn’t find a pic of this but i also have a small pack of lead as well

⟢ erasers — snoopy/peanuts themed bcs i adore that franchise and i unfortunately buy things just bcs they’re peanuts themed..

⟢ a small love note from jungwon !! — passed to me between the hallways of an award show, right before enha left for tour, i don’t think he knows that i’ve kept it

in my wallet i have :

⟢ my cards — yes i have a black card, yes i use it whenever i can, yes i can feel the stares every time

⟢ cash and coins — coming from a regular middle class lifestyle means i never get out of the habit of keeping physical money on me, ya know, just in case

⟢ perfume scent testers/cards — idk they’re fun to keep, gives my wallet a funky yet intoxicating scent, i keep adding new ones every time i go to the perfume section, even if i don’t buy anything

⟢ a queen of spades card from a deck with indian artwork — i got it as a gift from a lumino, and it was so thoughtful bcs the queen of spades is actually linked to clarity lore, specifically my lore in our groups concept, plus, it’s an indian queen !!!

⟢ a tiny passport photo of baby me — one of those sentimental things that my parents gave me before i left to start training, i always keep it with me as a reminder; anytime i’m mean to myself or forget to ignore the negative comments i may get, i’m actually hurting that little girl right there, she doesn’t deserve that, so i don’t deserve it

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there’s a lot i didn’t add bcs it wouldn’t realistically fit, and also i’ve got my manager to carry some stuff for us — more makeup, vlogging equipment, more toiletries, etc etc .. anyway!! this took ages so i really hope this does well 🥲🤞🏽

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[omedapixel]

MORE DEBUG OBJECTS

By poular demand, here are the rest of the prop and miscellaneous objects enabled for decorating! I don't have any pics right now, but the full list of objects is below the cut, and each package is merged by expansion pack.

As with my other debug objects, these can all be found under DEBUG > MISC. The catalog names are often something weird, because I haven't edited or added any strings.

These objects are technically not CC, it just allows you to access and decorate with objects that are already in game. Therefore you can uninstall these overrides, share worlds and lots using them, and they'll still remain wherever you've placed them.

Also, if you have a default replacement for any of these props, for example a plate default, then the object will also be updated to reflect that.

I highly reccomment using this in conjunction with my S3DT mod, since some of the objects are half sunk into the ground by default.

DOWNLOAD HERE

Object List Below

BASE GAME:

Guitar Case

Amplifier

Bottle Spigot (unused asset)

Child Ladle

Child Mixing Bowl

Cutting Board (slots do no work, unfortunately)

Fire Extinguisher

Fire Poker

Fire Lighter

Hammer

Bartending Bottle Prop

Ice Cream Cone

Microwave Meal

Paper Plate

Screwdiver

Sponge

Toilet Brush

Wedding Ring

Wrench

WORLD ADVENTURES:

Canteen

Chopsticks

Dig Site Brush

Flour Bag

Fortune Cookie

Map (looks like plain parchment)

Nectar Glass

Nectar Tray

Pamphlet

Pickaxe

Pungi (snake charming instrument)

AMBITIONS:

Chisel

Fire Axe

Blowtorch

Chainsaw

Detonator

Gnubb Bunny

Gnubb King

Junk Pipe Piece

Magnifying Glass

Notepad

Shovel

Tape Measure

Tattoo Gun

Triangle Ruler

Walkie Talkie

LATE NIGHT:

Drink Shaker

Drumstick

Party Glass

Round Party Glass

Bartending Bottle Prop

Juice Can

GENERATIONS:

Envelope

Love Letter Envelope

Cheap RAM Disk

Expensive RAM Disk

Beaker

Rolled Diploma

Flashlight

Game Controller

Greeting Card

Round Flask

Sparkling Juice (champagne)

PETS:

Hoofpick

Adult Pitchfork

Child Pitchfork

Plastic Pet Food Bowl

Cat Hunting Chip Bag

Cat Hunting Feather

Cat Hunting Leaf

Dog Treat

Foal Bottle

Horse Brush

Litter Scoop

Pet Brush

Stick (for playing fetch)

Freezer Bunny Ice Cream

Kitty Litter Pile

Rainbow Ice Cream

(forgot to do the chocolate ice cream, sorry!)

SHOWTIME:

CD Case

Record

Golf Ball

Juggling Pin

Microphone (grey)

Snack Bowl

Headphones

Golf Club Average

Golf Club Expert

Golf Club Old

Firefly Jar

FireflyJar Lid

Juggling Knife

Magician Sword

SUPERNATURAL:

Fly Swatter

White Glove

Bonehilda Key

Alchemy Bowl

Alchemy Package

Beehive Smoker

SEASONS:

Horseshoe

Child Rake

Adult Rake

Barista Bar Cup

Egg Hunt Basket

Trick or Treat Basket

Carving Knife

Fruit Punch

Hot Beverage Cup

Stack of Hot Dogs

Love Letter

Pie (from eating contest)

Snow Cone Syrup

Soccer Ball

Tissue

Spooky Day Candy

UNIVERSITY:

Clipboard

Red Juice Cup

Art Scanner

Bonfire Logs

Candy Bar

Cold One

College Letter

Energy Drink

Manilla Envelope

Macot Plushy

Ping Pong Ball

Ping Pong Paddle

Mistletoe (unused asset)

Protest Banners (3 versions)

Protest Flyer

Smartphone

Soda Can

Paint Sray Can

Suitcase

Whiteboard Eraser

Whiteboard Marker

ISLAND PARADISE:

Broom

Coconut Drink

Cold Beverage

Grim Reaper Trident

Pineapple Drink

Rescue Tube

Glass Bottle Pool Bar

Pool Bar Juice Can

INTO THE FUTURE:

Microphone (black)

OIl Puddle

Stardust

Paper Bag

[outtamynoggin]

Love your dick incorrect quotes 😭💞💞I feel so happy reading them btw how doo u think the batfam would react to seeing alot of pictures of dick in the Wayne mannor (b had this big ass painting of dick in the middle in the hq show and in an old comic there was a wall sized portrait of those two XD

Thank you so much!!

Batman #13

This one right? There's a few others too!

Is this the one about the HQ? From the Harley Quinn show. oh wait hq stands for Harley Quinn 🤣🤣🔫

Either way, I love how Bruce's obsession with Dick is just so constant across media and across decades. DC is literally honing in on him being favorite.

The show is literally unhinged:

Bruce, what? Can you say it in any other words???

Actually in the show, Damian sees the one when they're all dining because he's gaming on the couch and he's so chill about it. Like he just expects it.

Damian: Of course, there's a photo of Richard on the wall. He is the favorite. It is only right that father commissioned a Renaissance-scale shrine for him.

Meanwhile Jason is like: What am I, chopped liver?

While Tim's like: You're actually more like burnt liver.

Tim: *ducks as a whole friggin couch goes sailing over his head. Stands up smirking only to get tackled by a hulking mass of undead muscle*

Damian: At least Todd has a picture on the wall.

Tim: *Pool noodling his way out of Jason's grasp* That's cause he thought both of them were dead which is why he has the pictures up. Only Dick's is the size of a cathedral alter like Bruce commissioned it from the Vatican which he then framed in solid gold. You don’t hang something like that unless you expect people to pray to it. Jason's got shoved into a tiny corner at the bottom.

Jason: *throwing his hands up* CAN I WIN JUST ONCE IN THIS HOUSE?!

Tim: Are you Dick?

Damian: *smirking* No.

Tim: Then no.

Jason: You little twerps. I'm gonna string you two up and throw you out the batplane.

Stephanie: *walking in* Who's throwing who out of a batplane?

Tim: *scoffing* Jason's throwing me and batbrat out of the batplane.

Stephanie: Oooh! Sounds fun, can I join?! I'll bring the ropes!

Tim: You're not even going to ask why???!

Stephanie: *deadpan* Tim. I don't need a reason to throw you out of the batplane.

Tim: *Offended*

Jason: *Laughing and high-fiving her* God you get me.

Stephanie: But for curiosity's sake-

Damian: For the sake of curiosity-

Stephanie: -Why?

Damian: Todd is emotionally compromised over Father's unrelenting favoritism toward Richard.

Stephanie: Oh. Well, duh. Everyone likes Dick more.

Tim: Facts.

Stephanie: That's Batfam Lore™. What brought it on this time though?

Tim: We were talking about the massive picture Bruce has in the dining room. 

Stephanie: Oh my fudge cake gods. That Picture! Do you know how hard it is to eat even a cheese stick while being stared down by a thirty-foot tall Dick Grayson?! Like, what is wrong with Bruce! I’m pretty sure the reason Dick doesn’t visit the manor anymore is because he’s too weirded out by a bigger version own self staring at him. 

Jason: THANK YOU. Someone with a decent sense of propriety. And why the hell is it life-sized?

Stephanie: Barbara loves it, though. She thinks it's hot. Calls it "Big Dick Energy: Collector’s Edition." But she and Bruce are weird about him.

Tim: *muttering* I think it’s nice.

*Silence.*

Stephanie, Jason, and Damian: *Collectively side-eyeing him*

Stephanie: Right.... You were always weird about him too.

Tim: Wha- I was perfectly normal!

Damian: Drake. You once stood in front of the living room one for six hours straight.

Jason: Ye- six hours? Really?

Damian: He did not eat. He did not move. Father thought he was stuck in a time loop.

Jason: *Turning a disbelieving gaze on Tim* Dude....

Tim: *Flushing* I was just… observing! Deep observation! For art appreciation!

Stephanie: It’s not the fucking Louvre, Tim. That picture has been there through 7 kids and it's going to be there for at least 7 kids. But really, does Bruce have to have so many pictures of Dick?

Jason: *Rolling his eyes* Tell me about it. Don't forget the life-sized one in the library. I went in to read and accidentally ended up having a staring contest with a 2D Dick. Lost both my dignity and the will to finish my book.

Jason: *Gesturing wildly* You can’t eat in peace, can’t read in peace—hell, I tried to take a nap on the couch once and woke up face-to-face with a mantlepiece-sized Dick smile. I thought I died and went to Grayson Heaven.

Damian: Also the framed photos of him littering Father's study so he can stare at them while he works. I'm inundated with his visage every few rooms.

Stephanie: I bet even Alfred’s like, "Sir, perhaps a fourth room of paintings is excessive."

Tim: He’d never say that. Alfred’s part of the cult.

Damian: *Nodding* Pennyworth once wiped dust off the frame and whispered, "Good as new, Master Richard."

Jason: *voice cracking* Okay, you know what? I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving to Crime Alley. At least there, there’s no Dick—

Stephanie: There’s literally a Nightwing mural spray-painted across an entire wall with the word "Hope" like Gotham’s Beyoncé.

Jason: *crying* Fuck. Exactly. EVEN THERE I CAN'T ESCAPE HIM.

Damian: *judging him* This is a personal failing.

Jason: *frothing at the mouth* No, you would think that, wouldn't you? You’re the last person who should talk! You get all misty-eyed and say "We were the best, Grayson" every time Dick breathes near you!

Damian: *smirking* That is because it’s true.

Jason: *Collapsing on the coach and trying to avoid looking at the framed picture Dick on the side table* ....I can't believe I'm saying this... but thank you for being the normal one, Steph.

Stephanie: *Laughing nervously* Uh, yeah. Sure! No problem!

Tim: *Rolling his eyes* You're thanking the wrong girl. She-

Stephanie: *Wacking him unconscious hurriedly* SO! Who wants waffles!!

[halfway-happyyy]

sunday morning vignettes {frank castle}

who doesn't love a little morning sex? felt inspired to whip this up. it's short and sweet, and slightly smutty.

"I like my scrambled eggs and bacon, served by someone that I love." - 'give me that simple life', lorez alexandria

Her favourite mornings were the ones where she awoke to the feeling of his gaze already on her. When she couldn't be sure if he'd just woken up or if he'd been watching her for a while. She had asked him once why he did it, and after a long period of silence, he simply murmured - “I'm trying to memorize every inch of you just in case…” he never told her what the just in case was, but she knew. 

She turned on her side to view him fully, and decided that she liked him best like this. Alive, and warm, and so strong, next to her. She reached forward to trace a fingertip down the crooked bridge of his nose, and watched him smile into her touch. 

“You're something else, you know that?” she asked. 

Frank scoffed. “Somethin’ else is right. More rough road than man, most days. Don't know why you stick around, sometimes.” 

It hurt her heart to hear him speak that way about himself but she forced a smile regardless. 

“I think it’s mostly because you make a mean kimchi fried rice.”

The laughter that rumbled from him was low and warm, the mere sound of it akin to her favourite song. 

His brown irises glittered brilliantly in the warm sunlight pouring through their bedroom window, and she noticed that they were a lighter shade of umber than normal; his biggest tell that he was content. 

“Your mama ever tell ya it was rude to stare?” He simpered. 

“Course she did. But she also had an affinity for devastatingly handsome men, so I think she'd give me a pass.” 

They let the silence collect between them before she confessed that she wanted him. She was playing it coy. It was absolutely more of a need than a want, but she was sure he already knew that. 

He happily obliged her, shifting her onto her side, and easing himself to the hilt inside of her. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, and stayed anchored in her for longer than usual, reveling in the feeling of her all-encompassing warmth. Reveling in the notion that like this, they were two halves of a whole entity. 

“Missed this, baby.” 

So did she. He could be gone a day, a week, or months on end, and it would never take her long to miss the closeness. They fit together like he was made for her, and on mornings like this, she truly believed that he was. 

She reckoned she could live in this moment for the rest of her life; the sharp sting of being fully filled by him, blunted by the repeated brush of his lips against her neck. There was the person she was when Frank wasn't around, and then there was the person she was now - her favourite version of herself. She had no choice but to bloom like a flower under his devotion. 

His hand snaked around the front of her body, to the spot just below her belly where it rested while he continued fucking into her. 

He gently pressed down against her and whispered, “God, I can feel myself right in here,” The pressure was enough to cause a string of nonsensical curse words to spill from her slack mouth. “You take me so well, sweetheart… feels so damn good.” 

She knew then that she wasn't long for this particular world; could tell by the pleasure unraveling deep in her belly like a ball of yarn out of control. She tightrope walked the precipice of her release, knowing Frank would be the one to get her there. 

“You're close, sweetheart,” His husky voice as it traveled across her neck and left goosebumps in its wake, caused her to tremble against him. “and I want you to let go when you're ready. Want you to give it all to me, yeah?” 

She nodded earnestly, for the only sound she was capable of making was a desperate, mewling whimper. 

“Attagirl- that's it, keep going. Breathe through it with me, and ride it out. Feel everything.” 

More often than not, his voice and the words that flowed along with it, was the catalyst for her orgasms. This morning was no exception. She felt every inch of his cock as it moved inside of her, and suddenly she stilled against him, arched her back, and came around him with a series of breathless, high-pitched sighs. 

“Jesus,” Frank groaned, as he continued fucking her through it. “So beautiful like this, sweetheart.” 

She couldn't speak; could only focus on the delicious push-and-pull of him inside of her - so good it bordered on painful - “want you to come for me, Frank.” 

He didn't have to be asked twice. He pressed a last scorching kiss to the nape of her neck and stilled against her, allowing the waves of his orgasm to consume him whole. He stayed pressed against her long after he'd finished, and when he did eventually pull away, she felt his loss keenly. 

“Is it strange that I only feel completely whole when we're together like that?” She breathed. 

Frank waited a beat before kissing the rounded curve of her shoulder. 

“No, because I feel the same way.” 

While he drifted back into a shallow sleep, she rose for the day, in search of caffeine and some food. She settled on bacon and eggs, queued up her current favourite playlist, and got to work. It didn't take long for the scent of percolating coffee and frying bacon to rouse Frank, and he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, wordlessly. 

“Hello, you.” She turned to beam at him from her stance in front of the stove. 

He pushed himself from the doorway to wrap his arms around her. 

“Hi, baby.” 

She gestured to their small wooden table. “Go sit down, hm? I'll make you a plate.” 

He pecked at her cheek and did as he was told. 

When she went over to pass him his plate, he caught her wrist in his hand. “I know I don't say it enough, but I wanted you to know that I love you, sweetheart. In case the sky falls on our head.” 

She caressed a palm to his cheek and smiled. “Love you too, Frank.” 

Love you always.

[midnightwriter21]

can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3)

Prev. - Next Chapter

-> context: you like this show

-> fandom: cookie run kingdom

-> warnings/tags: female reader, shadow milk

“Ladies, gentlecookies, and those somewhere in between!”  Shadow Milk Cookie bellowed, “I present to you: the Life of Y/N Cookie! Based on real-ish events! Told with 43% accuracy, give or take—mostly take!”

A cardboard cutout slid dramatically onto stage, bearing an uncanny resemblance to you with a bright smile and a sparkle in the frosting. Then came the others, one with long black icing hair and red detailing, another with floury white dough and eyes closed in calmness, a pink one with a halo and wings, and an intimidating one in a full helmet.

“Long, long, LONG, ago, there lived six llllegendary beasts! Burning Spice Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, Eternal Sugar Cookie, Silent Salt Cookie, the one and only Shadow Milk Cookie, and our charming guest… Y/N Cookie!!!” 

The four other cookies left, the stage scattered with cardboard cutouts of pastel sunsets, overly dramatic scenery, and a poorly drawn cardboard version of a fancy dinner table with jellybean wine glasses. “But since this is the most beautiful act of them all, who cares about them?! This is our tragic, sweet, sugar-glazed tale of our rrrrromance!”

A glitter bomb popped loudly, sprinkling all over the stage and when it cleared, two cardboard cutouts popped up. One of him, looking heroic, and one of you, drawn with extra sparkles and hearts for eyes. “Our eyes met across the battlefield of broken dreams and cookie crumbs. Her frosting? Like stardust. My heart? Already melting.”

This felt oddly familiar. Like déjà vu. Like you had seen this before. Had you really done this in the past? A smile tugged at your lips before you knew why. It was like a song you half-remembered from a dream.

“She said to me, ‘Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie, your dough smells like moonlight and your hat is extra jingly today.’” Shadow Milk gasped dramatically as if it was the most romantic sentence ever spoken, “And I said, ‘I’d juggle flaming licorice sticks for you!’ Which I did, might I add!”

A cardboard cutout of juggling flaming sticks burst into view behind him, and even though it caught on fire, he was still looking at you behind the curtains to watch your expression. “We danced under the moon during the night of her whole kingdom’s celebration!” Cue a cardboard moon on a string being lowered from above.

‘Her kingdom’? You had a kingdom? You were a queen? Apart of royalty? You were so confused. From what you got from Shadow Milk, though you weren’t sure if it were true, you used to be a beast- whatever that was-, you used to be his romance partner, and you used to be royal… Odd.

“We kissed in front of her whole entire kingdom!” Two cardboard cutouts smashing into each other with loud kissing noises he made himself. You found yourself chuckling to yourself, and although you couldn’t see it, Shadow Milk’s grin widened by a large amount.

There it was! That’s it! That’s the laugh! He’d missed that sound. He used to always make you laugh so hard, even when he was the… Fount of Knowledge… The title left a foul taste on his tongue and that alone urged him to clear his throat and continue.

“And then… the moment of destiny!” His excited voice dropped to a dead serious tone, “The stupid witches who ruined our moment.” The cutout of you dropped down dramatically onto the stage and a grey colored tree as well as a cookie with horns and white hair appeared. 

“But thankfully, this other cookie released us and then I ended up getting free and blah blah blah, WHO CARES?! Because sadly-” Another Shadow Milk cardboard cutout appeared, this time with a teardrop under his eye. You furrowed your brows. So you… You knew him before you were trapped? And that tree… It was so familiar…

“I was released without my sugar puff! And she surely missed me too, as I thought! BUT NO! Betrayal! Heartbreak! Probably a fire!” A paper heart was suddenly lit on fire (Whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know) and a stagehand quickly put it out with a cotton candy bucket.

A cutout of a pale green heart then appeared on stage, “BECAUSEEEEE she pulled out her Soul Jam and left me in Act One! She vanished without a monologue! WITHOUT CLOSURE!” Cutouts of a weird looking creature and a pointy hat also appeared on stage. You recognized the cardboard cutout as the witches.

The witches… It was their fault you were like this? Why you couldn’t remember anything? Why you had to learn your name again from a stranger (But maybe he wasn’t a stranger?) and why you couldn’t tell if this cookie had been the cookie you’d been dreaming about for years? The Witches? Rage boiled within you and you almost stood to get up before Shadow Milk continued again.

“Ahem… Thank you Enchantress Cookie for releasing us but for also releasing my sugar puff…” He muttered under his breath, “ANYWAYS! I’m so so so so so so SO glad my Y/N Cookie is here! Give it up for our leading lady!” Shadow Milk appeared on stage, a grin still apparent on his face, as the lights then shined towards you.

You turned your head away, lifting your hand to shield yourself from the light. The ‘crowd’ clapped and cheered wildly, proud to be in your presence. It was so weird to be in this… Situation. It was almost… Comical. The delivery, the cardboard. It was stupid but… It made you laugh.

And of course, it was also familiar because somewhere in that chaotic mess… Was truth. But it’s unsettling that he’s romanticizing moments you barely remembered, and it’s also sad because there seemed to be some bittersweetness behind this whole… Show. And it was all, unmistakably, yours.

“But now you’re back, Y/N!” Shadow Milk said, his smile more genuine, “Our second act will be even better than the first.”

The audience applauded and cheered even louder, giving a standing ovation to the cookie that stood center stage. Shadow Milk bowed low, basking in the sugar sweet applause and the candy flowers tossed at his feet. He clearly basked in the glory and praise, but you didn’t know he was looking for yours in particular. And as soon as he found it, it was almost as if everything else vanished like powdered sugar in the wind. 

The cookie lifted his head with a sense of hope he hadn’t felt in a long time. And as he spotted you up in the main balcony also standing and clapping with a smile on your face You were smiling. For him. Just like you used to. His breath hitched. That one expression, that curve of your lips… He waited lifetimes for it and could wait even more. 

Oh, he hadn’t felt this way in a long time, he hadn’t felt so… Relieved? Content? Whatever it was, he wanted to hear your voice first! Shadow Milk teleported from off the stage, leaving you slightly confused. Where was he now?

“Sooooo? What did you think about our show, sugar puff?” A voice behind you asked.

You paused, turning around to see Shadow Milk’s tilted face a centimeter too close to yours. You backed away, eyes wide, and looked back at the stage of where he had once been. “I…”

“Was it beautiful? Tug at your soul jam- Well, you don’t have it anymore so I guess that doesn’t make sense- But still! Did it stir your frosting?” Shadow Milk asked, walking forward with an expectant look.

“I… It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” You answered carefully.

Shadow Milk paused, clearly not expecting that answer but taking it as positive feedback nonetheless. “Great! And do you like your outfit? I’m sure it fits perfectly, I would know… Unless you’ve grown since then… Hm… You wouldn’t mind me taking measurements right?”

“I- The outfit is perfect.” You said. For some reason, you just couldn’t get his name out of your mouth. It left a… Bitter? No… That wasn’t the right word… “Thank you, Shadow Milk Cookie.” Medicinal. That was the word. Thick, syrupy, unpleasant, but also… Sweet. Artificially sweet but sweet nonetheless.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes widened, along with the ones along his hat. “Oh how I love it when you say my name! Don’t worry, sugar puff, you’ll be saying it a lot now that you’re here!” He grinned.

“I’m staying here?” You asked, a frown now on your lips. You didn’t expect Shadow Milk to keep you around, well, maybe you did considering he must’ve liked you enough to put on this whole production for you and also because you had been his romance partner in the past. If you two didn’t exactly break up, did that mean you were still romance partners?

“Well of course! It’d be so so so so SO irresponsible of me to leave you out in Beast-Yeast without your memories! You need to get your abilities back too!” Shadow Milk Cookie explained.

“My abilities-?”

“I’ll explain it alllll after dinner! We need a feast for my leading lady after all!” Shadow Milk grinned, placing a hand on your lower back as if it had always belonged there. “Dinner awaits, sugar puff,” he purred. You followed, the warmth of his touch clashing with the chill crawling up your spine.

[awxcoffeexno]

unholy

mean!loganhowlett x mutant!reader one shot

fic masterlist

summary: you work at a shady dance club that offers other services. logan is a regular but this time he decides to implement his claws.

content warnings: very very VERY 18+. MDNI. claw worship and knife play!! mentions of blood and cutting. logan is very very mean and he likes hurting reader because he knows she can take it. reader is a mutant and a sex worker. please proceed only at your own risk, this is pure degeneracy and very very nsfw. also, sex, piv, mild slapping, lots of sucking and mention of bruises (only from the sex). vaguely set in the 70's after stryker's experiment (mostly only in my head because origins logan lives in my head rent free). also cameo from blue from sucker punch as a shout-out to baby me.

word count: 4k. longest from me.

a/n: since my utterly disgusting thoughts rubbed off on a lot of other people and the last claw worship fic was quite well received, i went ahead and wrote an nsfw version. this is pure filth and his fckin claws will never not make me feel some typa way. i will not apologise.

it's sweltering in the club, the music pounding, and the air filled with rising smoke from the hand-rolled cigarettes in the patrons' ashtrays. your mind is buzzing from the overstimulation and your muscles ache from the dancing, begging for a rest.

you love every last bit of it.

a man reaches up to where you're standing and tucks ten dollars into the string of your thong. you smile at him flirtatiously and sway down onto your haunches so you can lean in and thank him properly.

you've been in the trade long enough to know that the better you thank them, the more they keep coming back for. you're in the business of sales, really; conversions are everything. this business is fast business—there's the wall street boys and the dance girls, the two most proficient sales people in the world.

the man grins at your sultry voice, rewarding you with another ten dollars and a hot kiss to your neck. this isn't a no-touch club and that might be your favourite thing about working here. men are more likely to behave when they're allowed to touch rather than when they think they're rebelling by touching.

your hair, damp from sweat, sticks to your forehead and it almost makes you sad thinking about how nicely you'd done it earlier in the night. real big and fluffy, just like blue likes it.

and just as you think about him, he appears at your pole. he runs a hand up your sticky calf to catch your attention and you slide down, knowing from his expression instantly that there's more work to do.

tina quickly takes your place on the pole and you thank her with a kiss to the cheek and five dollars from your string. it's simple courtesy, and an unwritten club rule. if you're leaving your post for higher paying activities, you thank the other girl who is covering for you with money.

"hey, babydoll," blue says in your ear over the music, sliding a hand around your bare waist. "big ol' guy's here for you. the one with the…" blue rubs his cheeks, "fluff."

"logan," you say, more to yourself than blue, and he tips your chin to him.

"ask for 200, and only let him bring you down to 180. you gotta make up the difference for last week, sugar."

200 is asking for a lot for the hour. your going rate is a hundred and that's only because you're one of blue's favourite girls and he brings you his best clients. but logan's been a regular for the better part of six months now and blue knows he can hustle him for at least 180. besides, you were sick all week last week and blue warned you he'd make you pay.

so you lean in and give him a kiss, promising him the money.

"attagirl," he smirks, tugging your mouth open with a thumb and slipping a pill in.

you smile at him gratefully and start up the stairs, the roar of the music fading into a hum. quickly spitting the pill out into your hand, you tuck it into your bra. you'll flush it down the toilet when you get to your room. blue says the pills make it easier but you hate how groggy they make you feel. in any case, you like your sessions with logan.

he's good for you, keeps you from floating off into the sky. you're fairly certain there's an old roman story about flying a little too high. or was it greek?

slipping into your little red room, you quickly wash up and change into a silk robe that you know will not last the night. not around logan. but blue keeps a steady supply of them coming so long as you bring him good money which you do.

once you've refreshed your make up and puffed on a cigarette, you press the buzzer, letting the boys downstairs know to send logan up.

his broad shoulders fill your doorframe under a minute, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your sweaty body. he's clad in all black formal wear that rather reminds you of a funeral.

"whiskey?" you offer, watching him sit down on the plush leather chair that most others don't even bother to notice.

logan likes it slow, taking his time to unwind and ease up before he takes his stress out on you. it's rather nice, your usual routine.

however, when he grunts a yes and you start pouring his whiskey, you notice that something's off about him today. his eyes are a little droopy when they're usually so alert. his skin paler than the usual golden tan he sports.

something's wrong and you don't like the feeling that settles in your gut at that.

you take the whiskey over to him and climb into his lap, offering him the glass.

"what happened?" you ask, your voice betraying the concern you should probably never feel for any client.

he looks at you and snarls quietly, "poison arrow."

fuck.

logan's not particularly well beloved by the kind of gentry that a place like this attracts or the people he crosses paths with regularly. this much he's told you before and he's nothing if not honest.

but a poison arrow?

fuck.

your recent knack for eloquence aside, you ask quietly, "and… are you okay?"

"m'fine. fucked my healing though," he grumbles, pulling the collar of his flannel to the side, showing you the ugly gash that stretches from his shoulder, disappearing into his shirt.

you and logan share that power, a gift really. accelerated healing. it's come in handy plenty to you and you're only a dance girl. you cannot begin to imagine how a man like him will survive without it.

he sees your cringing expression and barks out a single-syllable laugh. the sound breaks you out of your thoughts and you look at him, startled.

"look at your face, pretty girl. told'ya m'fine. it's getting better already," he says and his voice, though tinted with his usual casual condescension, is gentler than you've ever heard him. he's… reassuring… you? you think??

"now, c'mere," he downs the whiskey and uses both hands to pull you closer by the thighs.

and then his mouth is at your neck, and there's the logan you know. rough and uncaring, cruel because he knows your body can take it. knows you can take what he can never do to anyone else.

he savours the salt on your skin, running his large paws down your arms tucking your wrists behind your back. he likes you detained, pliant and ripe for the taking. his throaty groan on your skin in the dip of your now exposed collar bone makes the need curl in your core.

real need, not the kind that you summon with other clients. need that is amplified when he squeezes your wrists tighter together to make you quit squirming.

"lo–"

"shut up." he commands, licking and sucking down your neck and shoulder, and that's that. you snap your mouth shut immediately.

logan slips your robe off both your shoulders with his free hand and his teeth sink into the flesh in the nape of your neck hard enough to draw blood, making you cry out his name. he's exhausted and healing too slowly and he needs to use you as his stress ball and fuck you until he feels better.

you want to cry out, you want to beg him until he gives you what you need but you know better than to do that with him. your hips however rut into him, making him yank you back and glare at you.

"and who let you do that, princess?" he says so calmly, voice oceans deep and velvety smooth, that you don't realise for a second that it was a question. a rhetorical one.

you blush and it makes his lip curl in a patronising smile.

"oh, i'll give you what you need alright. all you gotta do is ask, sugar."

you want to remind him that he was the one that told you to shut up but that won't end well, so you oblige.

"logan, please…" you whisper, hands trying to readjust in his grip, grasping for a more comfortable position. "please let me have you."

"that just won't do. need me to help you put together full sentences too?" he grumbles, readjusting because he's clearly in pain. "say it like you want it. say you want my fat cock to fill your needy little pussy. say you want her to feel good."

logan's mouth is disgusting. the words aren't too different from what the other men that come to your room spout but on his tongue they sound particularly dirty. and apparently you like dirty because god fucking dammit… his words and his voice and his scent and his everything make your need for him desperately worse.

"please, please, just need your fat cock to fill my pussy, to stretch her out, logan." you grovel. "need my pussy to feel good, please."

"jesus fuck, princess. got quite the mouth on you." he smirks as if he wasn't the one to draw those words from your lips. "let's put it to good use."

he isn't going to let you have his cock in you to quench that need that easy. he always, always makes you work for it.

he juts his chin out, gesturing to you to get on the floor and you slip between his legs, looking up at him reverently.

you like him in your mouth anyway. you like the way he uses you just hard enough to make you cry but never hard enough to make you feel like you're drowning–unlike some people who come here, the ones that make you bury your face in blue's chest later as he lectures you about needing to toughen up.

but when he reaches our for you, his hand comes into your focus and it makes you gasp softly. the space between his knuckles, home to his claws, is bared open, dirty and covered in blood. the claws cut him open every time but heals immediately so it's never mattered before. you take his giant hand with both of yours to examine the wounds but he yanks it away. the back of his hand comes down on your right cheek in a sharp, firm slap.

"focus," he growls and you rub your cheek, eyebrows setting into a frown.

your tone is firmer than it is around him when you speak. "show it to me, logan."

he shifts in his seat, gauging you. he isn't used to hearing any form of authority in your voice. nor is he used to being taken care of. he cracks his neck, shaking it off and then leans forward.

"you wanna see?" he says, voice so low it makes your toes curl.

you swallow thickly and nod, chewing on the inside of your lip.

"then you're going to have to pay, princess."

your tummy jumps as he puts his fist in front of you. you're about to reach over to grab his hand again, leaning in close to take a better look, but out come his claws making you shuffle back in alarm. they stop at your lips, drawing a hitched breath from you.

"open your mouth, angel. it'll hurt too much if i push them in myself."

the old man has lost it.

"lo–" you start to protest but he's retracted all but his middle claw with a loud snikt, and is pushing the flat of the remaining one into your mouth.

the cold adamantium of logan’s claw presses against your tongue, the sharp edge demanding obedience. you part your lips further slowly, letting the flat of the blade slide deeper inside, grazing your tongue. the metallic taste is sharp, a reminder of the danger you’re playing with.

logan’s gaze never leaves yours, dark and unyielding. there’s no softness in his eyes, no hint of gentleness. this isn’t about comfort or care—this is about control, about reminding you who’s in charge. his other hand grips your jaw, fingers digging into your skin just hard enough to bruise, forcing you to keep your mouth open.

“good girl,” he mutters, the praise laced with a mocking edge that makes your stomach twist. his tone is condescending, amused by how easily you submit to him.

he begins to draw the claw out, then slides it back in, a slow and deliberate rhythm that forces you to focus on the sensation—the cool metal, the danger of the sharp blade so close to your skin. your breath hitches, a mix of fear and something darker curling in your gut.

“look at ya, angel,” logan sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “so eager to worship something that could slice you open without a second thought.”

it’s as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crave his approval despite the cruelty in his touch.

his grip on your jaw tightens as he tilts your head back further, forcing you to take the claw deeper into your mouth. “don’t bite down,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone and you realise… he can feel it. he can feel your mouth on his claw and it's stoking the fire in him.

you nod as best as you can in response to his words, your eyes locked on his, wide and pleading. the pain from his grip mingles with the strange pleasure of submission, and it’s almost unbearable. you feel like you're on fire. logan watches you struggle, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.

“you like this, don't cha?” he taunts, pulling the claw out just enough to let you breathe. “you like being reminded of what i could do to you if i wanted. y'like knowing that i’m the one who decides how far this goes.”

he’s right, of course. you hate how much you like it, how the power he holds over you only intensifies the burning need in your belly. it’s humiliating and exhilarating all at once, and logan's reading you like an open book.

“now, let’s see if you’re really worth the trouble,” he growls, sliding the claw out entirely, leaving your mouth empty and aching. he leans back in his chair, holding his hand out in front of you, the metal gleaming under the dim light as the other claws come out too. “kiss them. show me how much you want it.”

your heart pounds as you lean in, pressing your lips to the cool metal with reverence. the taste of them lingers on your tongue, and the weight of his gaze is almost suffocating. but you do as you’re told, kissing the blades as if they're something sacred, something you’re desperate to prove your devotion to.

logan’s smirk widens as he watches you. “that’s it, princess. make it worth my while. maybe then i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

the claw lingers against your lips and you tilt your head slightly, pressing a softer, more deliberate kiss to the adamantium, tasting the faint tang of blood and iron bloom on your lips. the edge is sharp against your skin and you aren't surprised you've managed to cut yourself. but your body takes care of you and the wound is gone before you even lick the blood away.

your tongue flicks out, tentative at first, tracing the length of the blade. you can’t stop yourself, your need to please him overpowering every other instinct. logan’s eyes narrow as he watches you, the barest hint of approval hidden beneath the hardness of his gaze.

“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, his voice quiet… tired. “show me how much you love it. show me how much you’re willing to do to keep me happy.”

you press your tongue flat against the claw, dragging it slowly along the length, tasting the cold metal. you wrap your lips around his claw and carefully start sucking the way you would his cock, making him groan your name. you cut yourself over and over as you suck but it bothers neither of you, the pain translating directly into the wetness between your legs.

“attagirl,” logan growls.

“thank you, logan,” you whisper against the claw, your voice trembling with need. “thank you for this.”

a dark chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest. “thank me when you’ve earned it,” he replies, pulling the claw away just slightly, taunting you with its absence. your lips chase after it, a whimper escaping as you realize how much you're genuinely, truly enjoying this.

“please,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “please, logan, let me have you. let me take care of you.”

he raises an eyebrow, the cold amusement in his eyes never wavering. “take care'a me? is that what you think this is?” he presses the claw back against your lips, harder this time, making sure you feel the point against your skin. “you’re here to serve me, princess. and you’ll do it how i want, not how you think i need.”

a shudder runs through you at his words, the sharp edge digging just enough to leave a thin line of red along your lower lip. your eyes sting with tears, but you don’t dare pull away. instead, you lean into it, pressing your lips against the claw in a silent plea for mercy, for something more.

logan’s smirk deepens, his other hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you forward just enough that the point of his claw cuts into your lip again. you gasp at the sting, but the sound is muffled as he presses down harder, forcing your mouth to open.

logan watches you, his expression unreadable, but his grip on the back of your head tightens, holding you in place as you continue to worship the deadly weapon in your mouth. “want to take care'a me?” he mocks, his voice rough and dark. “you think that's what i need?”

you nod as best you can with the claw in your mouth, your eyes pleading with him.

but logan isn’t done with you yet. he pulls the claw from your mouth, leaving your lips wet with a mix of blood and saliva. you gasp, trying to catch your breath, but before you can say anything, he shoves the claw against your chest, just above your heart, the point pressing into your skin.

“thank me,” he growls, his voice a low snarl. “and mean it.”

“thank you, logan,” you whisper, your voice cracking with desperation. “thank you for your claws.”

the cruel twist of his smile is all the reward you get, but it’s enough. he drags the claw down, slicing through the thin fabric of your robe, leaving a trail of red in its wake. you flinch, but you don’t pull away, your body trembling as you try to keep still under his touch.

"been good, babygirl." he relents finally, watching as your wound heals. "c'mere."

he hauls you into his lap with ease, despite his injuries. you make quick work of his buttons and throw his black shirt open. your eyes snap up to his and then back to his body.

he's covered in bullet holes. five that you can count anyway. your hands reach for them but he grabs your wrist.

"m'fine. they'll heal. two already have."

oh.

so you plant your mouth on his, kissing him deep, savouring the tobacco and musk of his breath. he tugs you closer, hooking a finger into your panties and dragging them down your smooth legs. it makes your toes curl.

the sticky mess between your legs leaves a dark patch on his trousers as he goes back to sucking soft bruises into your neck.

and then you hear his claws before you feel them, the cold metal cutting through what's left of your robe like butter, pressing into the soft skin over your scapula. you brace yourself, nails sinking into his broad shoulders and he cuts the claws in, slicing you open.

"logan, please!" you cry out but the pain is only momentary, delicious and burning hot, before your skin stitches itself back up like clockwork.

"fuck… me," he gasps and you've never heard him so affected.

he undoes his belt with a practiced hand and slides it off, tossing it off to the side and tugging his pants down. quickly, you position yourself over him, sitting down with your head rolled back, sheathing him with your warm, wet walls. he's splitting you open, stretching you the way you begged earlier.

and then he resumes cutting, slicing your back open as you move up and down on his cock. you bury your face in his neck, hiding your tears of pain and pleasure in his neck as he undoes you.

he grabs your jaw when he notices you start to lose yourself.

"no, you pay attention, bub." he snarls in your ear, kissing you roughly. pulling away when your eyes are wide open again, he slips a finger into your mouth.

the salt and blood on his skin makes your mouth water and this is beyond fucked up but you regret nothing. you suck diligently and he reaches down and wraps his mouth around your nipple, making you suck a sharp breath in. you feel his teeth sink in and it sends a shiver down your spine.

your hands in his hair, you tug sharply, making him growl and switch to your other nipple.

"logan…" you whine around his finger, thighs aching from the effort of riding him through it all.

he grunts and takes his hand away from your mouth. both hands on your waist, he starts to fuck you like a fucking fleshlight, moving you up and down on him like you weigh nothing.

you hear a snikt and a claw comes up to your face, running down the side of your cheek and making you mewl in pleasure.

you only just realise how much logan's wound you up in the hour that he's been in your room. you're hurtling towards the edge and he's barely been in you for a few minutes.

but you've wound him up too, the nerves in his body alight with pleasure.

"fuck, doll," he groans in your ear, retracting his claws and steading you with his hands again. "not going to last long tonight."

fuck. blue is going to kill you for letting Logan go so quickly.

yet you cannot seem to care.

you mewl his name and pick up speed at that, panting and gasping, and aching to please. he feels the telltale sign of your edge in the quivering of your walls and yanks you down on himself, pushing you over the cliff.

it's like fireworks and butterflies and pure fucking ecstasy.

"been a good fucking filthy girl," he whispers in your ear, knowing it'll make you react around his cock. "lettin' me cut'ya open like that."

you press your damp brow against his shoulder, riding your high weakly but your pussy does enough to bring him to his climax as well. he grunts and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight down in his lap, filling you warm and deep.

he pants softly in your ear and you look at him with a giddy smile. you reach for his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles and…

his hand is healed.

and… so is his other one.

you pull back to check the rest of him and… they're all gone. all of the bullet holes.

a sly smile spreads across your lips and you look at him with satisfaction dancing in your eyes.

"took care of you after all."

he lets out a surprised laugh, eyes softening with something you haven't seen in him before. he pulls you back into his embrace, and this softness is new. nice, but new.

"yes you did, princess."

i need to be committed and lobotomised with logan's claws. blue would love that.

love, d <3

taglist: @techwrecker, @saltwaterburns, @lilaccmilk, @clevah-girlboss

divider: @rookthornesartistry

[wolverinesbuttcheeks]

“not your fault.”

logan howlett x g/n reader

rating: pg

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sad logan, scott being an ass, explicit language, comforting reader, logan’s soft hair.

a/n: this is after a req i did, and i couldn’t wait. sorry ts is booty. here’s the request.

update!! i made an edited/better version here.

it’s not your fault.

another failed mission. 

you and the x-men had gotten back from the 6th failed mission in a row.

people? dead. mutants? dead. 

too many people- dead. 

the x-men (mostly scott) was blaming it on logan for ‘charging in head first’. but you could tell that he was at least trying. you always had loved him for not really having a thought in his head while saving people. he was just doing his job.

it was late, you were about to go to bed. anger boiling over. it was about midnight, the kids were in bed, and you could hear scott pacing the hall way. you were about to stick your head out and yell at him to shut the fuck up. you stood up, and passed towards the door. you reached your hand to the doorknob- but then got interrupted by logan’s footsteps walking around the corner and scott screaming at him.

“YOU KILLED PEOPLE LOGAN, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED US?!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! THIS IS YOUR FAULT- IF YOU HADENT JUST CHARGED IN-” logan cut him off.

“DO YOU THINK I PURPOSELY LET THEM DIE?!” 

you could hear his voice wabble.

 you heard footsteps thunder into the distance . then a thump at the door. logan’s voice came through again.

“can i talk to you… please?” he said, you could hear his voice waver slightly. 

you cracked open the door door to reveal logan. he was in his classic tank and sweatpants.

logan seemed ashamed. his eyes directed at his feet. when his eyes finally came up and met yours, there were tears trailing down his face. his eyes scrunched closed, you stepped forward wrapping your arms around him. one hand finding a place on the back of his neck. you pulled him into the room, kicking the door closed behind you. 

you both plopped down onto the edge of the bed. logan was now weeping. 

“i-it’s my fault- i -i killed them.” logan’s arms wrapped around you as he sobbed into your neck. 

“shh- no it’s not. it’s not your fault.”

you started to rub slow circles on his back. he leaned into you, the cloth on your shoulder now wet from his tears. him crying made you want to cry with him. to see the toughest person you know this vulnerable… it’s… scary.

logan’s breath slowly began to go back to normal, and he shifted- then laid his head onto your lap, his face pointing away from you. one arm around your back, and the other hand was resting on your thigh. his breathing smoothed over as he began to play with the fabric that loosely covered your thigh.

“it’s not your fault logan. it never is.”

you say softly, almost like your comforting yourself as well as him. 

he turned, his hands now resting on his tummy. you looked into his golden green eyes. they were shiny, a stray tear still running down the side of his face. 

“i’m sorry.” he said weakly.

you nodded in response. his eyes scanned your face, then landed on your lips. his hand reached up and tucked a string of hair that had fallen into your face.

“you always have time to be romantic huh?”

he chuckled, “someone’s gotta”

he sat up. your hands falling out of his thick brown hair. the dim light making the ends glow slightly. then he leaned in slowly, his lips catching yours in a kiss. you kissed back. your hands snaking their way back to his silky hair that you were dangerously addicted to.

the kiss ended when you pulled away for oxygen. but you wanted more. 

“thank you” he whispered against your lips. his forehead now resting on yours. his calloused hands came up to either side of your face before he planted one last kiss on your lips. when you pulled away this time, you hugged him. you both fell against the bed, falling asleep in each others arms.

•••

the next morning you woke up to logan’s arms around you. this time his shirt was nowhere to be seen. you smiled. content. he was still knocked out, so you used this time to just admire him, and the fact that ‘the wolverine’ is currently in your bed right now. his eyes fluttered open- eyelashes catching the golden sunlight being filtered through the blinds. your reached up, your hand caressing the stubble on his chin, then pulling him into another kiss.

 “it’s never your fault.”

[lordrandreaming]

Been mulling over a AU that popped up in my head. (A couple, actually but this one's got me good)Basically, Bingge has grown bored (and hollow) after doing his world's Shen Jiu in.

After he went and seen the 'fake Shizun' and the whiny version of himself (that kicked his ass too, HES TOTALLY NOT FEELING LIKE A SORE LOSER RN. He just got lucky, is all..) LBG decides fuck it, I'm back at dimension hopping to see where I land,And where does he end up?

In a world where Shen Jiu never escaped the Qiu household. But Bingge doesn't know that. He never cared about anything relating to his Shizun other than suffering, so when he spies his.. Shizun, out in a bright market, tailing around Qiu Haitang, dressed in COMMON robes, no light in his eyes, looking down at the ground, with his hair tied up in a braid over his shoulder, Bingge obviously wants to know what's up.

He spies his chance to get SJ alone, when Qiu Haitang goes off for a bit on her own, telling SJ to stay put, he strikes. The look on his Shizun's face is far from what he expected. Cautious, fearful, and downtrodden. He's been beat down, he's been broken, he's a pet at this point..

He's also VERY confused. Why is this noble man so interested in a slave like him? He clearly wants something, everyone wants something.Before Bingge gets some good jabs in at him about how miserable he looks, QHT comes back and gives him a weird look, before stringing SJ along again and away they go..

But that's not the end of that.

LBG follows them, and later in the night stalks SJ. He watches his Shizun move stiffly. Even in private, his head is down, and he has this lost expression on his face.In his dreams, LBG gives him everything he's ever wanted, he wants a stick of tanghulu? Its his. That really nice, fancy robe he's always wanted, but it's so pricey and too nice for a slave like him? Its his. It.. feels nice to he pampered, but who's this strange man? And why does he want anything to do with someone as low as SJ?

Turns out Bingge has a helpless Shizun obsession and spies his chance at molding Shizun like he molded him. This Shizun, who isn't even a Shizun (gives him a weird look because. Hes not a Shizun? But he still insists on calling him that?? Starts responding to it because he won't stop calling him Shizun)

Days go on into weeks, months, and Luo Bingge has been hounding SJ incessantly. He knows what's up, man wants him carnally. And he's not humoring it, often telling this idiot lord that he has better things he should be doing, than trying to entice a slave to love him.

Binghe does not give up, of course, and proceeds to prod him for information about what's happened to him. Some, he talks about, little he elaborates on, and other times, SJ just gives him a certain look that only says ‘I don't want to talk about that.’

LBG thought he would enjoy this, watch SJ go around like a solemn husk. Just waiting to die.. He doesn't. He wants to give him everything and more.You may be asking 'What about QJL? YWZ?’ well this ain't ABOUT them. QJL is a bitch and died early. YWZ is probably in a ditch somewhere probably. And is SJ married to QHT? Answer; he is not, because of QJL's death, QHT prefers his company as it was. Just an ear to listen and hands to braid her hair. She doesn't know about the abuse.

LBG either kills all the Qiu men, and burns the manor to the ground, or he buys SJ off of QHT.. Probably threatening to kill her over a slave. SJ learns about this, when LBG comes to claim him while he's cleaning, and he just thinks LBG is fucking with him.His face when he learns LBG *bought* him out, to make him his own, is priceless to LBG.

Pro? He gets to leave!

Con? He has to leave with the desperate man that's been trying to court him for GOD, YEARS? Slowly earning his trust, opening him up like the tender flower that he was to LBG… Okay. Maybe it won't be so bad.

LBG takes him away to a little hovel out in the woods, just outside the village. It's rather lavish for such a humble little home, with a garden, a pond, HOT SPRINGS, everything you'd imagine could self sustain, LBG has planned and plotted out over the years of getting to know SJ. Like /actually/ know him.

Even when they share the same bed, SJ doesn't really say much. What is there *to* say?

Every early morning, he gets up, makes breakfast, LBG has told him numerous times he doesn't have to do those things anymore. So.. what is he supposed to do? It's what he's used to. If everything is done already, why is SJ here?

LBG, seeing how lost SJ is without /something/ to do. So he starts suggesting things that his Shizun would do. Paint, play the guqin, so on so fourth. It's far too late for SJ to become a Cultivator, and he shows no interest in it either. So, LBG has a little homebody Shizun..

Eventually, SJ makes SO many paintings, LBG brings up that maybe he should sell them in town, make some money for himself. SJ is reluctant at first, obviously. He doesn't want to run a stand by himself.. He doesn't want to be around people. They would recognize him!So, ultimately, SJ decides against it and hoards his paintings.

Now, being who I am, ofc there's gonna be Mpreg. LBG knocks up SJ knowingly, and ‘comes to the conclusion’ that SJ is pregnant. He's absolutely not happy about this, but whatever. If his new master wants that of him, fine… It's better than anything else he could ask for. (His usual, sexually charged pestering. UGH)

Now, later in the plot, SJ is pregnant LBG decides to return home, just to see how everything is going. (Not good, all his wives and SJ’s ghost are mad at him.)Could kick this up a notch, and instead of just one SJ, LBG has MANY that he portal hops to meet up with and be absolutely filthy with (Dirty Shizun Fucker.) or to be pampered by that hand that should have, could have, but didn't in his world.

And when this dumbass finally returns to his wifey SJ, not only did he have the baby, BUT he started selling his paintings, and is LIVID with LBG. Holding the baby in one arm, hair tied up in a ponytail as he GIVES it to LBG.

When he finds out he intentionally left SJ a bunch of money, he's pissed and storms off with a huff. LBG treated him a little too good, because he's now the fiery SJ he knows and loves! LBG is a total kiss ass, and despite sleeping outside because of it, he still loves his Not-Shizun, Shizun.

He won't admit he has a Shizun Problem, and he's happy keeping it that way.

This /could/ go into SJ being PL of QJ, CQMS, but I'm unsure how to weave it together since SJ is already an adult and I'm unsure if adults can start Cultivation THAT late, but I like the sound of SJ just getting to live a normal mortal life..

Which brings LBG to panik™. SJ is getting older, his hair is greying. They've been together for YEARS at this point.. Their baby, Bingwen, is not so baby anymore. So.. LBG does the only obvious thing he can do, and turns SJ immortal, maybe even into a demon, or his Empress. Since, well, SJ at eternal place at his side? Sign LBG up!

But, SJ doesn't want that. Sounds nice, but.. He doesn't want to go on forever like this. If LBG had a heart, he would let SJ go. Spoiler; HE DOESN'T. SJ is mad at him yet again, and shuts him out for a while. He can, and can't believe LBG. He said he cared! He trusted him! It was bad enough they papapa’d, bad enough that he ended up pregnant with that idiots child…

But still. He loves him. He gives SJ everything. There are plenty of times LBG overstepped the boundaries he asked SJ to set himself, to make him feel a little more real. Like he /belonged./ Oh LBG, you're just a mess aren't you…

So, we are left with Immortal Shen Jiu. Does he stay in the humble little home, to live with his son and his idiot master-husband coming by on occasion to bother him,Or does he become LBG’s Empress in this world?

Either way, he ends up coming to terms with being a immortal, and that he's stuck with a deranged idiot for the rest of eternity. (Affectionate)

[mercurial-chuckles]

Don't Flip Your Wig is so cute!!! Do you have any ideas about what else Old Steve does to "poke fun" at his future self before they go back to the future? Seems like his little shit persona's about to come out in full force.

A/N: Sorry for how embarrassingly long it took me to get to your ask--life's been a mess galore! Anyhoo, thank you for indulging, and it makes me so frickin' happy that you enjoyed reading this 🩷✨🥹🫂 Can I just say how happy I am to see Don't Flip Your Wig, Steve receiving so much love? Fun fact: this was actually the first-ever Steve fic I wrote! It wasn't the first one I published, but it's the one that started my descent into full-on feral for this burly supersoldier less than a year ago. Honestly, I didn't expect any engagement at all! It was a most random fic, which, mind you, I feared people would stamp it lame, what with all the mumbo jumbo of time-travel I portrayed in there. Also, for convenience, I referred to the 40's Steve as 'Steve' and the other as 'your husband'/'your Steve'

Indulge Away!

He's going to great lengths, alright. 🤭

I think Steve's having a field day poking fun at his future self. He's kind of warmly enticed by the mere fact that you exist in his future, and there's something so content about seeing his older self happy and in love, and that he's restraining jealousy by a small string of decorum, which is totally ready to snap. Plus, he's kinda itching to see if he can fight and win against the seasoned version of himself. Maybe? 😏

Steve brings you flowers. Since you both have to put up an act--pretending to be dating to keep things smoother while Howard fixes the machine--Steve is "acting the part" a little too well, much to the annoyance of your husband.

To avoid spotting both Steve(s) at once, one walks with you while the other follows closely behind. And it's usually your husband who's forced to trail after, because, more often than not, past-era Steve knows the best routes and faces around.

Steve gets you a stash of Hershey's chocolate--the kind they send to soldiers. You glance curiously from a grinning Steve to the huge chocolate bars in his hands, then toward your fuming husband.

"You wanna see where your husband grew up?" Steve exclaims rhetorically one evening while you're sorting through some papers in the temporary accommodation Steve and Howard set up for you. Your husband stands up so suddenly that the chair squeaks against the floorboards before he drags you away.

Steve asks if you want to tour the city. As tempting as it sounds, your husband looks like he's about to pull a nerve or a muscle judging by how tense he's getting. You're careful to say no, but Steve insists. Your husband quietly plans to take you later, when the streets are quieter and the risk of running into his younger self is lower.

At some point, Steve definitely runs into a couple of his friends (your husband suspects it's on purpose) and naturally, they demand that you join them for a party. "You should come to the pub! Drinks, pie, dancing!" they cheer, insisting. You smile genuinely, all while feeling the sharp gaze of your husband, who looks one second away from bursting. You politely decline, saying you already have plans with your family, which isn't entirely a lie. You do have a husband to keep from going feral with jealousy.

And honestly, amidst all the let's see what ticks him off antics that his younger self is indulging in, your husband--your Steve--comes to a realization. If he had met you in the '40s, he'd have been just as smitten. And that thought sticks out as a silver lining in the dark cloud of let's not punch my younger self silly.

Do anyone wanna add anything to the list? 😏

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[shynetyme06]

Epic and cool Papered Jam reference be upon ye (og PJ by @7goodangel)

YA so this is that PJ variant I’ve posted a couple times and made that dtiys for, and yes the mc just stands for main character. I’ve called them mc pj as a placeholder for the longest time cuz I’m slow with names, and so it just ended up sticking for me even after the story was later dubbed PJ’s resolve ;3

Under the cut is an alt ref sheet with updated versions of my other PJ outfits from this post, plus some rambling about the designs lol

Like og PJ, the only non-ink garment she wears is the scarf gifted to her by Ink. But for mc pj, that wasn’t always the case. The outfit you see on the little PJ was also created by him, and they’re hydrophobic clothes meant to help maintain PJ’s form and keep the strings from being exposed. And for the rain boots, I really liked a headcanon I came across that little kid PJ could wear them to keep ink from tracking everywhere (they just gotta be emptied from time to time lol)

Years later, PJ would start to create clothes for herself that look and feel pretty close to what Ink could do, but that’s only as long as she’s in contact with them, because like with pretty much all of her creations, they’ll melt back into ink if left alone for too long. (And for the shedding, rather than tracking ink everywhere she goes she usually just throws away the shoes she wears after a while and then remakes them with newer ink)

The blotch change on the right side of his face is because of error’s tear tracks, I kinda wanted this PJ to take a little bit more after him forrr reasons (would’ve been more obvious if it stayed fully cyan but I colored it before remembering there’s already so much cyan in top half of the design… so now there’s a yellow outline like the pink splotch)

And lastly PJ is about ink’s height at 3’9 :D

[miguelhugger2099]

Little Miguel, Big Miguel (Pt. 2)

Summary: Miggy meets a few people and he finally grabs the chance to speak with you again. Previous This chapter was so hard to write oml Art in the middle by LBY2K99 Miguel x GN!Reader, fluff, lowkey crack, not proofread at all, Word Count: 3, 106

Eventually Miggy and Jess walked through the entrance of the cafeteria, the threshold being much larger than he expected with various spiders on high beams or on a string of web. Others were normal and sitting at the many tables and booths the place had provided. 

Was that a T-Rex?

“You hungry?” She peered down at him after walking in front of a counter. Miggy shrugged despite his stomach growling.

“I could eat,” He huffed when Jess shoved a tray in his hand, a burger that had his variant’s mask plastered on the bun. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Huh. A little more conceited than I thought.” He mumbled to himself. 

“Hi, guys!” Jess walked past and called out to a group of people sitting at a booth. They all turned and greeted her back before all of their eyes landed on Miggy. He squirmed slightly as Jess walked in front of him and Miggy followed hesitantly behind.

“Bloody hell. Did the boss shrink? That's jokes.” One smirks, chuckling to himself, his voice smooth and deep that melted nicely with his British accent. 

The other three are slack jawed, not believing what they’re eyes.

“Did he shrink?!” One with a blue headband gasps.

“No, Miguel didn’t shrink,” Jess rolled her eyes. “This is our new recruit, Miguel, obv–obviously. He's getting used to the place so,” Her hand stretches out to list their names. “Hobie, Pavitr, Miles and Gwen.” 

“Is no one finding this strange?” A teenager that looked a little older than him spoke out, his suit completely black except for the red stripes running down his arms. Miles, Miggy made sure to remember. “It's Miguel but…pocket sized.” The girl next to him softly smacks his chest with a warning look.

“He's a kid, Miles. We've met other variants of ourselves before so this shouldn't be different.” Her eyebrows furrowed and the metal piercing by her right glinted underneath the fluorescent lights. Gwen.

Miles pouted. “At least my variant was the same age.” He mumbled under his breath.

Gwen smiles. “Nice to meet you, Miguel.” 

“Ah–actually. You guys can call him Miggy or anything other than Miguel. Just to avoid confusion for the time being.” Jess intervenes awkwardly, helping Miggy into a seat by Miles and Gwen. All of them give their own greetings, welcoming Miggy in despite the strangeness of seeing a more timid and kid version of the man in charge.

“Qué tal?” Miles leans back in his chair.

Miggy brightens up. “Hablas español?” He asks Miles. Miles sits up, wide eyed and suddenly nervous.

“Y-yeah, I know un–un poquitito, y'know.” There was still a bit of an accent but Miggy didn't mind, simply chuckling and nodding, subconsciously showing off his sharp fangs when taking a bite of his burger.

“Woah, were those fangs?” Pavitr leans over the table to take a closer look. Miggy leans back. “Are they retractable too?”

“Uh, no. It’s–it’s just like that.” Miggy chuckled awkwardly after swallowing.

“How long you been Spider-Man for?” Miles asks and turns to him.

“Ah…almost a year, pretty sure.” He kept eating, taking another few bites.

“Are you on rapture?” Hobie tilts his head with a raise of his eyebrow, almost with a hint of concern in his eyes.

Bug-eyed and jaw slacked, Miggy snaps his head to Hobie, nearly choking on himself. “No!” He sputtered while Hobie nodded and leaned back as he relaxed. “Shock, what is wrong with you guys?” He wheezed out.

Pavitr laughs. “I like this new little boss.”

“He don’t got a stick up his arse, that’s for sure. Makes him ten times better than the geezer.” Hobie plays with his bottom lip ring.

“Be nice.” Jess warns with her arms crossed.

“I am nice. That was my nicest, actually.”

Jess’s phone pings in her pocket and she checks her alarm. “Shoot. I need to go. Miggy,” He turns his head to her. “We’ll have to finish orientation another time. I gotta head home. Guys, if you could just keep an eye on him till the end of the day?”

The group of young spiders nod up at her, all responding with their own variations of responses. Jess gives a lingering look to the group, eyeing them down to make sure she can trust them. Deeming them good kids, she sighs and waves, walking away to open a portal back to her dimension. Miggy shrinks in his seat, now being with semi-strangers and the only person he kinda knew in this place, left.

After she leaves, all of them begin to ask more questions like how old he was, if their Miguel’s universe was similar to his universe, etc, etc. Miggy tried his best to answer ease their curiosity with a gentle yet nervous smile. It had been a while since so many people have been kind to him.

Gwen mentions your name after thinking for a moment. “Do you think they know about him?” Miggy’s ear perks up at the mention of you. Where were you anyway? Did you leave? He wanted to see you again.

“Not if Miguel allows it. I can see him getting mad about this.” Pavitr rests his chin in his palm.

“Be a bit freaky if I were to see ‘em together anyway. Since they’re always around the big man.” Hobie crosses his arms on the table.

“I don’t think it’d be freaky. Everyone’s making a big deal about this.” Gwen frowns. Miggy droned out their talking, his eyes searching side to side to find and exit. Don’t get him wrong, these are nice people and he can see himself being friends with them, he just…really needed to see you.

Or maybe it was an excuse to escape their gossiping while in front of him.

Miggy slipped from his seat and escaped the flurry of whatever the hell they were saying while they chatted amongst themselves. He used his webs to swing himself to the ceiling with a small fwizz coming from his wrists. His claws poked out, clutching onto the metal as he crawled away, avoiding Spider-Monkey and out of the threshold. He failed to notice a pair of eyes watching his exit.

He hopped off the wall and landed on one of the many beams the building provided. Miggy took a few glances around him to make sure no one could bother him when he lifted his wrist to his face. He hesitantly raises a finger to the screen. Even though it looked like his universe tech, he still had no clue how it operated. Deciding not to break it accidentally, he brought it close to his lips. “Hey, miss…AI lady, ma’am?” He whispers to the watch.

Lyla suddenly popped up on top of the screen, her holographic body standing in front of many tiny floating monitors. Miggy yelped, covering his mouth with his other hand.

“What’s up little boss? Got a question? And no, you’re not allowed on any mission. You’re on babysitter protocol.” Lyla didn’t look up at him, choosing to look at each file and trashing the ones she deemed unimportant.

“Babysitter?” Miggy scrunched up his face in disdain.

She yawned. “Big boss doesn’t want you out and about to other universes yet. Sorry, kid. Now if you’ll excuse me–”

“Wait, wait! No! That’s–that’s not what I was gonna ask.” He panicked, gripping the watch with his hand. Lyla’s heart sunglasses slid down her nose as she turned her head over her shoulder to face him. “I was just gonna ask about…” He saw your form leave Miguel’s corridor before bumping into another spider person he didn’t recognize for a quick chat. He felt his little heart speed up and smiled. “...them.”

Miggy and Lyla both peered down to watch you smile and laugh with the other spider-man. Miggy noticed a redhead baby in his arms. Lyla glanced at him, back to you and then back to him. She stood up straight and crossed her arms after sliding her shades back on her nose bridge. “Oh, they’re way too old for you, kid.” Miggy frowned at the holographic lady. You had finished talking with whoever that was and waved him and the baby goodbye. Miggy’s heart raced as he prepared himself to jump off the beam.

“Whatever, pequeñita. Don’t need your help anymore. Catch a virus or something.” Miggy grinned mischievously down at her while Lyla gasped in shock.

“Hey–!”

Miggy switched her off and quickly used his webs to stick to the ceiling and swung down behind you, landing on his feet with a quiet thump. Hearing that sound, you turned around to check to see Miggy had stood up on his feet with a toothy smile. The sides of his hair had fallen out of place and he tucked it behind his ear as he walked up to you.

“Hey.” He placed his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest to appear more muscular. You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms and tilting your head as you looked at him.

“Hi there. I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon.” You decided to amuse him. Miggy shrugged.

“Guess it was fate,” You snorted but Miggy continued anyway. “I was wondering if you had time for a chat? This is your universe I'm assuming? You could show me around the city. Maybe grab a snack together.” He grinned, looking at you with an innocent expression. But you knew better. Miguel would try the same thing in his own version once in a while.

“Uh-huh, yeah, right. Where’s Jess?” You placed your hands on your hips. Miggy stiffened but recollected himself.

“Busy.” He said, technically not lying.

“Sure,” You dragged out. “Well, I thought you came from a similar universe. I don’t think there’d be much new stuff to show you, kid.” You give him a playful pointed look with a tilt of your head. Miggy tsked, poking his cheek with his tongue in annoyance. He didn’t like you thinking he was just some kid. He was more than that, he’d prove it!

“Well, I beg to differ. I’m naturally curious, y’know. It’s one of my charms so I’d like to see if you’re right.”

“So you don’t believe me?” You raised your eyebrow.

Miggy hummed in thought, looking off to the side. “Not at all. Just a test.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, I’m not doing that,” Miggy’s face dropped. “But I am just heading home really quick and then coming back here. So, if you want, you can join me.” You offered and his face brightened up.

“Yeah! Yeah–sure, sure. That I can totally do.”

“Great. It’s actually not far from here so we could just walk to—”

“Woah, woah, woah. Walk? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m Spider-Man.” Miggy gestured to himself with a smug smirk, but your face didn’t falter.

“I see that.”

Miggy pouted. “I can carry you.”

You waved him off. “That’s really not necessary. I know you’re strong but–” You yelped as you felt Miggy grab your waist and pull your close. The height difference was a little awkward but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. He wanted to prove to you he was capable and strong. His webs shot out and stuck to the walls, swinging the both of you around while he tried finding an exit with a determined look. You wrapped your arms around him, hoping to the universe that you wouldn’t fall, and he felt his heart race a little faster.

“Directions, please!” He exclaimed, a smile in his voice while you screwed your eyes shut. You eventually felt the wind in your hair and the far away sounds of hover cars zipping past. “That’s new!” He dodged the cars with stealth, clutching you tighter to him.

Your legs became shaky and as soon as your feet touched the ground of your patio, you fell to your hands and knees with a giant huff. Miggy landed beside you, letting you take a breather.

“Estas bien?” He asked gently, his voice much softer than the persona he tried to maintain. He knelt by your side, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Fine, fine. Just…don’t do that again.” You helped yourself up and walked inside after opening the glass door. Miggy followed behind you, slightly embarrassed. He glanced around the area, seeing a void of color all around. Simple grays, blacks, and whites as the palette for couches, walls and the like. It was super different compared to back home. His mom usually did the decorations. Miggy thought this room felt very cold.

“This is your home?” He asked, feeling like this was a stark difference from your personality.

“Yeah, well kind of. I live here with someone.” You reply, rummaging through some things in a different room. Miggy perked up, his lips turning downward and feeling jealous.

“Who?” He asked, looking around to see if he could find anything that showed two people lived here.

You didn’t respond. Maybe you didn’t hear him, maybe you did. Miggy was distracted anyway as he walked slowly around the living room. In the corner of his eye, he saw a box that was out of place on one of the selves by the giant holographic TV. He strolled towards it, its dark purple color being the only thing attracting him.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around touching things.” Your voice was heard behind him, making Miggy jump. He took a big step away from the box, becoming more curious but he respected you enough. “I thought you would’ve had enough manners to not go snooping in someone's home.” You tossed him a soda and he caught it, seeing that the name brand was slightly spelled different from his own dimension. He found it a little unsettling; still getting accustomed to everything.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, popping open the can with his talon. “What did you get?”

You shrugged. “Some things to help out the society.” You walked towards the couch and sat on the far right to rest yourself on the armrest. “Just give me a minute and we’ll head back.”

Miggy nodded along, shifting his weight from side to side. “What…are you to the society?” He asked quietly, almost afraid he’d offend you.

“What do you mean?” You looked over at him, patting the side next to you to offer him a seat. Miggy walked over and sat by you, a little farther than what you offered.

“Like…you’re clearly not a spider person, much less some powers, but yet you’re in the society. You know all those people yet you’re…a civilian?” You nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just a regular person. I can’t climb walls or shoot webs but…I think I have a right to be there.”

“You said you were special. What does that mean?” He peeked over at you, his soda faintly fizzing.

You avoided his question. “How about you tell me about yourself instead?”

Miggy tilted his head. “Me?” He asked. “But…I don’t think I’m much different from your ‘other me’.”

You waved him off. “I’m sure there’s some difference. C’mon, don’t be shy. I wanna know about the newbie.” You cross your legs and turn to face him.

Miggy looked apprehensive, not really sure if it’s the right time to spill his life story but you asked so he caved in.

“Well, I was bitten trying to save my, uh, bully.” He looked down at his drink and took a small sip. Your smile dropped.

“You were bullied?”

Miggy nodded. “Well, yeah. It, uh… didn’t end well,” He rubs the side of the can. “There was this huge explosion when checking out the spiders in Alchemax– my dad used to work there,” He doesn’t look up at you. “My dad’s boss and his kid were there. His son bullied me, sure, but when that explosion happened, somewhere in between I got bit and…I dunno,” He sighed, a clear heavy weight on his young shoulders. “Kron was there and I tried–I did– and I don’t even know why I did but he still…y’know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but even though he died, he bullied me. But it doesn’t mean he should’ve passed, y’know? Then I woke up and they said my dad died too so it was all confusing back then.” He leaned back on the couch with a heavy sigh.

“I’m…so sorry,” You apologized grimly, guilt eating you up for asking. Miggy looked over at you and gave you a reassuring smile, his fringe falling out of place.

“It’s fine. It happened a while ago. The feeling is still there, just a little less. You didn’t hurt me, promise.” He then chugged the rest of the soda down his throat, feeling the fizz bubble down to his stomach. He crushed the can right after, his talons digging into it and showed you the marks he made. “I got sick powers and I can help my family more now. When they’re in trouble I can just put on the suit and make sure they’re safe.” He beamed with pride and you mirrored the same expression.

“You love your family?” You asked gently, taking the can from his hand and getting up to place it in the recycling bin.

“Mhm!” Miggy nodded. “Since the explosion, we all became a little more tight knit. My mom especially. She became more protective over my little brother since he’s still super little.” He looks up at you as you come back.

“What’s his name?” You hide your smile since you feel you know the answer.

“Gabriel.” Miggy beams. “He’s practically my shadow, which mom doesn’t like. Says I’m too reckless and doesn’t want him to be like me.” He blew raspberries to signify his mild annoyance at the thought.

You laugh and grab a backpack full of things that Miggy assumes were the things you came to collect. “After you swung me around, I think I agree with her.” You joked.

Miggy shot up from his seat and pouted. “Not cool.” But he enjoyed the way you smiled. “Gonna head back out now?”

Nodding, you slip the backpack on and walk with him back to the balcony. “Yup. Whenever you’re ready.” You look at him expectantly. He went a little wide eyed.

“You want me to swing us back?” Lost on why when you screamed earlier.

“Well, I’m prepared this time.” You and Miggy smiled at one another and he looped his arm around your middle. Your hands around his neck and he stuck his web to a building, jumping off the balcony and swinging back to HQ.

A/N: Please forgive me for this mid chapter i'll try to make the next one better i promise

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