#this will mess with his rationality because

[zaynezone]

while you were sleeping

synopsis: Zayne can't sleep when you're next to him warnings: well it's me so...tooth rotting fluff pairing: Zayne x fem!reader wc: 1.2k an: this one feels a little different to me, idk but I hope you like it! It's very loosely inspired by something my friend once wrote

Zayne should really go to sleep.

The rational part of him is very aware of the time ticking away, each minute dragging him closer to the moment his alarm will scream at him to get up, throw on his work clothes, and face a long, draining shift. He knows he should be catching up on some much needed sleep. But he isn’t.

Because you’re here.

Because you’re sleeping next to him, soft and warm and tangled up in him like you always are when you’re too tired to notice how clingy you get. Not that he’s ever minded. Your cheek is smushed gently against his chest, your breath brushing slow and steady over his skin. One of your legs has wormed its way over both of his, and your arms are wrapped around him like you're afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He can feel the weight of you, the heat radiating off your skin. You always run hot when you sleep. It used to surprise him, how much you gravitate to his naturally cooler body temperature. Now it’s one of those little facts he tucks away and holds dear, like the knowledge of your favorite tea or the way you need a sweater whenever you’re reading, even in summer.

His hand rests lightly on your back, fingers tracing lazy circles against the curve of your spine, up and down, over and over. You make a little sound in your sleep, soft and muffled, and it makes his heart do that stupid thing where it trips over itself for you.

He remembers the very first time you’d ever slept next to each other. It wasn’t even supposed to happen.

You had fallen asleep on his couch after a movie night, face buried in a throw pillow and your feet tucked up awkwardly. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, though he did try. You just blinked up at him groggily, whispered something incoherent, and promptly collapsed against his chest. Somehow, that evolved into the two of you curled together under the thin blanket he kept on the back of the couch. His neck was sore for a week. But the memory of it had stayed warm in his chest for far longer.

The first night in an actual bed was even worse for his sleep. You’d curled into his side so naturally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your arm flopped over his stomach, your knee nudged between his. He was too nervous to move a muscle. His body ached by morning, but he didn’t regret a second of it. That was the night he learned you talk in your sleep sometimes, mostly nonsense, but once you said his name and sighed like it was a prayer. He’d laid awake the rest of the night, hand over his heart like it could hold the feeling in place.

So many little things stick in his mind.

The time you fell asleep on his shoulder at the theatre after he had taken you to see a movie after a long mission. The time you dozed off mid-sentence while curled up on his lap and he just sat there, perfectly still, afraid to wake you. Even now, he remembers how your lashes fluttered against his shirt and how you mumbled something about “noodles” in your sleep.

He loves that you’re like this with him, unguarded and easy. He never realized how rare that was until he found it with you.

He shifts slightly, just enough to watch the rise and fall of your breathing. You’re wearing that worn-out shirt you stole from him, the one with the faded graphic and the tiny hole at the hem. It’s way too big, hanging off one shoulder, but you always choose it from the pile like it’s the only thing that feels right. It does feel right. His clothes always look better on you anyway.

Your hair is a mess, half fanned across the pillow, half sticking to his neck. He doesn’t care. He lifts one hand and gently brushes a few strands behind your ear. Your skin twitches at the contact, and you shift, nuzzling closer into his chest like you’re trying to climb inside him. He lets out a breathy, soundless laugh.

How is it that he feels more himself when you’re holding onto him like this?

Zayne remembers the time you both got caught in the rain on the walk home and he offered you his jacket, even though you insisted you were “tough.” You were soaked, cold, and grumpy when you finally made it inside, and he wrapped you in blankets and made you tea while you pouted at the window. Then you fell asleep with your wet socks still on and your head in his lap, and he didn’t dare move for over an hour.

He remembers the weekend you spent rearranging his living room, turning it into a strange little nest of pillows, books, and half-sipped mugs of cocoa. You’d declared it a “cozy zone,” and he had just nodded and let you do your thing. That night, you fell asleep with your head against his stomach, and he ran his fingers through your hair until he could barely keep his eyes open too.

And then there was that one morning when he woke up early and you were already curled into him, whispering sleepy, nonsense compliments while half-awake. He didn’t even bother moving. Just lay there and listened, letting the words soak into his skin. You said he felt safe. You said you liked how he always smelled like fresh laundry. You said his heartbeat made you feel calm.

No one had ever said things like that to him before. Not like that. Not like it mattered.

You mattered to him. More than anything.

He realizes now that there are entire chunks of his life that he doesn’t remember clearly anymore, the years without you, the weeks and months that blurred together. But in every memory with you, everything’s sharper. Brighter. Slower in the best way. You fill the room, even when you’re asleep. You change the way the air smells. It’s like being next to a fireplace when it’s snowing outside.

He doesn’t even notice his thumb is stroking slow arcs against your spine. He just knows he doesn’t want this to end. Doesn’t want to fall asleep and miss a second of this closeness.

He looks down at you, his whole chest close to bursting.

Your breath catches slightly, like you’re shifting into a new dream, and your hand flexes against his ribs. He holds you a little closer, presses a kiss to the crown of your head, light as a secret, and tucks you in tighter against him, like he can protect you even in sleep.

It’s late. It’s quiet. It’s perfect.

And for once, the words come easily.

He doesn’t say them loud, just a whisper into your hair, barely carried by the still air between them. But he says them.

“I love you.”

[drafts-and-delusions]

Hiii~

Love your writing very much<3 wanted to ask if you could do something like - Saja boys just learn that some demon tried to take your soul(and failed because of unknown reasons)?

I mean, if it’s on early stages of relationship/ knowing each other, because if it would be already something serious between each other, then it’s pretty obvious what the reaction could be. When in the beginning there could be many possibilities of their actions, emotions. Thank you in advance<3

<sorry if request is written strange, English is not my first language but I’m trying my best 😭>

What the Darkness Couldn't Take

Tags: gn!reader, secret identities, protective behavior, hidden relationship, lying to protect reader, early relationship

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Jinu

He finds you in the stairwell, clutching your chest, your breath ragged and uneven. There’s panic in your eyes; he doesn’t need you to speak. He already knows.

You try anyway. “There was this guy. I thought he was just asking for directions or something, but then his eyes—”

You can’t finish. Your throat closes up.

“Probably just someone high,” Jinu says, too casually. “Weirdos like that hang around this area sometimes.”

His hand settles on your shoulder like it’s nothing, like it isn’t the only thing holding you upright. “You’re okay now, right?”

You nod. He nods back.

What you don’t know is that whatever came for you was seconds from ripping your soul out until he walked in. Until it saw him. It ran.

You don’t ask why he keeps glancing behind him as he leads you down the hall. You don’t comment when he mutters something in a language you've never heard under his breath.

“I���ll walk you home,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

He doesn’t let go of your wrist the entire way.

Romance

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. What happened?" His tone shifts the moment he sees your face. You’re still catching your breath, words spilling out in pieces. You don’t even remember how you got to him. But he’s listening. The smirk he usually wears is gone.

You tell him about the cold. The pressure. The way your chest felt like something was being pulled from it. Something you couldn’t see, but knew was real.

His expression flattens. Not in disbelief—he’s just too still all of a sudden.

"That’s... probably stress. You’ve been tired, right? Sleep-deprived? It could’ve been sleep paralysis or a night terror. People hallucinate stuff like that all the time." He says it with a shrug and a soft smile like it’s nothing to worry about. Like he didn’t just lie through his teeth.

You nod. Hesitantly. It almost makes sense, so you let yourself believe it. He seems relieved you bought it.

He walks you home and doesn’t say much after that. Just stays close. Hands in his pockets. Watching everything.

Later that night, long after your lights go out, he disappears into a back alley. His voice is quiet when he speaks—careful like he’s trying not to wake something.

The name he mutters sounds like it’s burning on his tongue.

He’s going to find whoever thought they could take you. And he’s going to make sure they never try again.

Abby

You’re shaking when you find him backstage. You don’t even remember texting him to come, but he’s already there, hunched over and breathless like he ran the whole way.

You tell him everything. The shadow that followed you. The sudden chill that settled in your spine. The way your chest clenched like something was being pulled out of it. You don’t try to make it sound rational. You’re too scared to.

His face shifts. It isn’t fear exactly; it’s something heavier than that. His brows knit, and he swallows hard, like your words just confirmed something he was hoping wasn’t real.

He takes your hand. His grip is steady and warm. It helps you breathe.

“That kind of fear messes with your head,” he says. “You get overwhelmed, your body starts protecting itself. You probably just had a panic attack.”

It’s not the most convincing lie, and he knows that. But he says it calmly. You believe him because you want it to make sense.

He walks you home. Waits at your door until you lock it. Smiles when you say goodnight.

Later, in the studio, he doesn’t smile. Not even close. He stands in front of the mirror, fists clenched at his sides, and then—without thinking—he hits it. Again. And again. The glass shatters on the third punch. He doesn’t stop until his hand is dripping.

It’s not just anger. It’s guilt. And fear. And the unbearable thought that someone else tried to take what he hadn’t even let himself admit he wanted.

Mystery

You bring it up casually, like it’s just a strange detail in your day. "I think someone tried to grab me earlier. It was weird. I felt… off."

He stops. Doesn’t say anything at first. Then turns to face you completely.

"Where?"

Just that. One word. But his voice is steady in a way that makes your skin prickle.

You shrug, trying to remember.

"Somewhere near the convenience store. I don’t know. It might’ve been nothing. Just a guy standing too close, maybe."

He doesn’t speak right away. You can’t tell if he’s thinking or just waiting for you to say more.

"Probably just a mugger," he says, finally. "You okay now?"

You nod, and that’s enough for him. He doesn’t ask any more questions. Doesn’t press. Just walks you home, silent like usual, only occasionally glancing your way when he thinks you’re not looking.

Baby

“What do you mean someone tried to grab your soul?” His voice comes out too loud, sharp at the edges, like he’s barely holding it together.

You give him a look. “I didn’t even tell you that part.”

He freezes. His mouth opens, then closes again. “Lucky guess,” he mumbles.

You tell him everything. The cold. The flickering shadows. The way your body locked up like something unseen had pinned you in place. He doesn’t interrupt, but he starts pacing halfway through, muttering something under his breath. The words don’t sound like anything you’ve heard before.

He stops suddenly. “Probably sleep paralysis,” he says, a little too cheerfully now. “Or dehydration. People hallucinate when they’re low on fluids. Eat some watermelon or something.”

You blink. “Watermelon?”

“For hydration,” he says with a shrug, like that explains everything.

You let it go, even though it doesn’t sit right.

But he doesn’t.

Later that night, he finds the thing that tried to take you. No questions. No warnings. He doesn’t let it leave in one piece.

[ccccartoon-askblog]

Redoing the intro post cuz i feel like it

ekhm ekhm

GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY! GRAB YOUR BOWL OF CEREAL AND ORANGE JUICE AND GET READY FOR YOUR FAVORITE SATURDAY MORNING CARTOON! MY NAME IS mARZ AND YOU’RE WATCHING……

CCCCARTOON!!!!

that one cartoon that aired early and only on weekends and unless you pirate it you can’t really watch it because it’s not on any streaming service and there are only 2-minute clips on youtube. i am not referencing anything (lie).

vvvvv MORE INFO UNDER THE CUT vvvvv

CCCCartoon is…CCCC but a cartoon ha! well, actually not really. On the surface the only similiar things are the characters and their relationships (kinda). The entire gimmick is that it’s your favorite characters experiencing looney tunes peripeteia, but there may be some undertones of some more serious stuff. Come and stick around to see their musical journey of self-discovery or other utter nonsense! but who exactly is „them”?

NOW IT’S TIME TO MEET OUR COLORFUL CAST OF CHARACTERS! starting with…

HEART

(he/they) Your typical nice, lighthearted and innocent character. You’d probably see him walking around with a big sign saying „FREE HUGS”. They prefer seeing good in people, mostly. Though being mr. Positivity most of the time he can be really pesimistic and apathetic, you probably won’t see them like that ever so who cares! This goofball can be very impulsive at times which makes him a real disaster magnet. It’s easy to make him cry, well it’s easy to make them feel strong emotions in general, pretty self-explainatory. He hates stubborn, angry, short nerds. He’s a little silly, but that’s okay because they’re adorable like that. Oh, and he plays the kazoo.

next on the list…

MIND

(he/him) Self-proclaimed „the better half”. He’s the definition of the Napoleon Complex. Every day he proudly walks around in his cardboard crown acting like he’s better than everyone else. Despite being an absolute unlikeable, irredimable jerk, Mind still stays logical and rational. At least he tries to stay that way. His deep and passionate HATRED for Heart can lead to him acting very out of his „mr. My logic is the absolute” persona. If he ever makes a choice based on his emotions (which he denies he has), he’d probably deny that too because he’s the most glorious, magnificent and intelligent person EVEEERRRR. When he’s not busy hating Heart, he’s tormenting people with boring science funfacts. Nerd. (please take everything he says with a grain of salt!)

SOUL

(any/all but no it/its please!) Someone has to end the fights between a decent kinda flawed bird person and a guy with opinions. Say „hi” to our buddy Soul! When they’re not busy resolving conflicts between her two idiots, he’s doing a lot of other stuff. Soul is like your cool older sibling, spending entire day reading comics, skateboarding, drinking and eating nothing but soda and frozen pizza, watching bad horror movies and playing loud, cacophonic melodies on a singular instrument they own. That’s how Soul’s life would look like if he didn’t have to be a mediator. They’re super chill (mainly because they’re tired) but they’re also jokingly overconfident and sarcastic. She kinda needs to learn how to say „no” to certain things sometimes. Soul always stays determined no matter how hard things can get. He can play bass guitar and banjo! Soul needs some time for themselves. Yes, they have a chicken named Darrel

WHOLE

(he) What would happen if I tried to fuse three unwell people into one guy? This is what would happen. Referred to as „The Whole” by the parts of him with his real legal name being Charlie Mash. Aspiring musician who’s stuck in a job he hates, freshly adult and wasted all his life already (hey is that a reference). He has different mood every five seconds jumping between extreme anxiety and insane calmness. He’s a mess. Something good happens to him? He’ll jump around in circles joyfully as if it was the happiest day of his life. Something bad happens to him? He bangs his head into the wall and bawls his eyes out in the most pathetic way possible. He uses sarcasm in almost every sentence but instead of coming off as cool and metaphorical, he comes off as stupid. Despite being an unstable menace he still can love and care. He does care and love a certain person a lot… (please take everything he says with a grain of salt!)

LOVE INTEREST

(she/they) Also knows as Li (pronounced „lie”). Highschool friend of Charlie. She is very oblivious to his obvious crush. Li is…well…the bomb! Coolest girl you’ll ever come in contact with. She’s very inpatient and short-tempered though, which results in them having a tough time find one stable job. With their devil-may-care personality it’s not hard for her to sometimes allow herself to be a little too reckless. She does try to stay well-mannered and polite. She’ll always help when someone has a problem, they’re reliable and don’t really like lying. Pretty ironic to their name, huh? She wants to get to know her friend Charlie better, she knows he’s not doing good. They don’t know about the whole „split” thing.

yeah that’s all the characters, the list is over! that’s all!

You can go home now!

wait.

…

oh.

of course…

2OUL

(any prns) (pronounced „two-oul”) the most normal guy you will ever meet! He doesn’t really have any mayor problems. They’re Soul’s „sibling” or at least Soul believes it. Doesn’t have a whole, doesn’t have her own heart and mind, doesn’t have a purpose. They’re just kinda there… watching everything from afar. It’s hard to describe his personality, he doesn’t a have a heart or a mind, he’s just a little crazy weirdo without feelings and logic behind their decisions. I mean who said she’s a weirdo? Must have been the wind. 2oul is soo caring and loving. 2oul knows it’s already perfect and doesn’t need to change anything. 2oul is a very good friend material! (take everything they say with a HUGE grain of salt)

…

hmmm it seems to me there are no other characters left on this list. Well now that this introduction is over, it’s time for the viewers to decide what to do next, right?

ASKS RULES

-> NO NSFW!!! slightly suggestive jokes are fine but guys, really, admin is a teenage girl

-> plllllleeeeeease don’t reference any brainrot stuff from tiktok and shit

-> i’d prefer if you guys wouldn’t reference other asks in asks you send. It’s really hard to understand which ask you’re exactly referencing !

that’s all the rules i think….

TAGS!!

#ask ccccartoon ~ asks answers!

#ccccartoon art ~ you gotta use your brain for this one

#ooc ccccartoon ~ everything out of character

#ccccartoon [heart/mind/soul/whole/love interest/2oul] ~ just character tags!

——

thank you for reading this whole post and i hope you stick around to ask these goofballs some stuff :-]

peace out

[p3ndeja6]

skz x fem!reader x yearning ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

maknae ver

hyung line here!

summary: this is part two to the skz x yearning, inspired by hispanic yearning songs. contains: established relationships. light smut/suggestive themes. angst was def in here.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: i can never appreciate my work. i personally (always do) think this is ahh again. i also tried to get this one out right after the first one, my bad... also also i got a few works coming in that im excited about... but i js need to actually start them...yikes. also half proof read

Han

“Ya No” by Julion Alvarez (translation:no more)

it was a stupid drunken mistake. a really really stupid mistake jisung didn’t mean to make. he felt disgusted and ashamed for his actions, and nothing in this world can fix the mistake he did.

it was supposed to be just a work place party, celebrating after his solo debut. all his friends and colleagues and other people he knew attended, though you couldn’t because you already had a family commitment you couldn’t miss, so you made sure you’d make it up to him when you got back to town.

Jisung was definitely upset his girlfriend couldn’t make it but he knew that she had to go to her family commitment, why? because he loves her and cherishes her. Nothing in this world can separate you and jisung,you two were madly in love and everyone knew that.

so when he woke up the next morning after his debut party, he looked over and saw a different colored hair women in his bed. Still naked and asleep. Jisung couldn’t believe what he had just done.

it’s only been a few days without you and he already messed up. How stupid could he be?

Jisung was freaking out the rest of the day, after the girl from his workplace left his apartment, he was full meltdown, breakdown, crash out, all of it. He didn’t know how he was going to explain he had just cheated on you, with a girl from work, while you were out of town.

it’s been a few days since you returned and he still didn’t tell you yet, you came home to a warm embrace and smiles, like nothing wrong happened. he kissed you like nothing, with the same love, But the only difference is that there’s a hint of guilt with every kiss and affection behind it.

one night as you were cleaning the bedroom, as you do when you want to help your boyfriend with extra chores. Cleaning around his bedroom, putting things back in its place, sweeping and mopping all of it. When you bent over to clean out underneath the bed, you noticed a pink thong. trashy and tacky pink thong that you DIDNT own. it took a second to understand why this was underneath your boyfriend’s bed. You quickly grabbed a pen from the night stand and picked up the thong with the pen, holding it in confusion and slight disgust.

till the thought hit you, a punch to the gut. Your heartbeat beating extremely fast, you could almost hear the bumping in your head, you felt like throwing up when you realized what’s going on.

at the moment you turned around, jisung had already walked into the apartment and into the bedroom. His eyes widen as he looked at the thong and then back at you.

“baby.. wait.. I can explain-“

“explain what jisung?” you said as you started to raise your voice.

he didn’t know what to say, he was frozen in fear of all the outcomes that this conversation could end in

“who the fuck owns these?? because it’s surely NOT me, because I don’t fucking wear these” You started to raise your voice now, a harsh and angry tone coming out, you were so enraged, how could he do this to you?

“baby please! please let me explain i can explain- i don’t know what happened- i don’t even know how I could- i didn’t even-" he kept rambling and tumbling over words, trying to explain that he got drunk at his party and the feeling of loneliness he had when you left town consumed him. Loneliness and tons of don julio consumed his rational part of his brain that night.

you couldn’t help it, his rambling started to piss you off and the frustration and anger created tears in your eyes, (you had a habit of cussing out when you got angry). Still holding the thong on the pen, looking at him.

“are you fucking kidding me, jisung? you cheated on me? you CHEATED on ME?? why the fuck would you- how could you-“ the anger started to consume you as the hot tears streamed down your cheeks, you threw the thong at him, you couldn’t even look at him anymore.

he quickly dropped it and went closer to you, putting a hand up but hesitantly putting it down, not wanting to anger you anymore.

“please y/n, I was drunk- and I know it doesn’t excuse what I did but it meant nothing- I don’t even remember her name-"

you cut him off quickly and looked at him, “FUCK you jisung, I don’t give a fuck if you were drunk or not, you stil cheated on me! you still betrayed me! how could you!” You hit him against his hard chest, hitting him and and pushing him away, the tears never stopping.

he couldn’t bare this, he started to cry, he kept trying to explain everything and beg for you to ….

“please y/n!" as he fell to his knees. shoving his face into your stomach while wrapping his hands around your waist. Crying into your stomach, he held on tight because he knew, if he let go.. you’d disappear. You didn’t want him touching you but you couldn’t seem to push him off of you either.

Jisung didn’t want you to leave him, he needed you. More then he needed air.

it’s been a month since that night and he keeps texting you nonstop. At first, you would respond to his messages to leave you alone, because you couldn’t bare to block him yet.

he spent the entire month crying, hating himself, neglecting his needs, stopped showing up at the studio, all of it. he couldn’t believe he lost the love of his life.

he went through all the stages of grief, but nothing could compare to the ache in his heart, the yearning sensation to have you in his arms. He took all the little things for granted.

How you caressed and drew little hearts on his back after sleeping together, after the nights of full and raw passion he shared with you.

or how you always texted him good morning, good night, all the little messages that always made him smile.

or the way you perfected his favorite meal, or when he felt an attack coming, how even though you struggled yourself with problems, you always seemed to calm him down.

he ruined it.

nothing is the same without you by his side.

he drunk texted you every night, wishing you’d take him back, to give him another chance. A chance to fix what he broke.

he cried and begged you on the phone, he looked so pathetic but he didn’t care. If you can see how much he regrets what he did, to notice that he never meant for this to happen. Jisung tried and tried to win you back.

but the most heartbreaking and gut wrenching thing about this entire thing is that.. you were the type of girl that doesn’t give second chances. Especially with a moment of infidelity, you never take back. you never will come back to him.

no matter how much he yearned for your touch, your voice, your love. You will never come back to him.

While crying into the phone to leave you the gajillion-th voicemail, he says, “and.. I know.. you’ll- you’ll never come back to me. But just know I’ll never love anyone like you. I will never love anyone else if it isn’t you, because y/n… you’re my entire life and soul, and without you.. I’m no one, I’m nothing.. without you. I will forever yearn to have you again”

Felix

"El Triste" by José José (translation: the sad one)

Felix loved you like no other. He found true eternal happiness being by your side.

And when the day came when you no longer were in his life. He felt as if nothing was worth living for. He spent his days crying, and sleeping. Avoiding everything and everyone who was associated with you. Everything was just so sad to him, everything brought him sadness and loneliness.

Felix stopped playing music.

Stopped smiling the way he used to — that sunlight kind of smile that once lit up entire rooms. Now, even laughter felt like betrayal.

Your toothbrush was still in the cup. Your favorite hoodie still folded at the end of the bed. He couldn’t touch them.

He couldn’t let go.

He stayed in the apartment because it still smelled like you.

But he never opened the windows. It felt like if he let the wind in, it would carry the last traces of you away.

Some nights, he’d sit on the floor with your playlist playing softly in the background, hugging his knees like that would somehow keep the pain from spilling out.

He reread your old messages. Listened to your voice notes until his phone died in his hands. He still had the last photo you took together — not in a frame, but folded into his wallet, creased and faded from the number of times he’d held it. He never felt so happy in that moment with you.

Even his closet friends can tell how sad he was, how heartbroken he was from losing you. All of them coming by and trying to get him to open up.. quite literally. He never opened the door for anyone. Not if it wasn’t you, to magically appear at his door once again.

Chris came by a few times. He knocked. Waited. But no answer again, no life on the other side, so he just left the food at the door.

Hyunjin messaged once, not to ask how he was, but just to say: “I know it still hurts. I’m here for you, Lix.”

But Felix didn’t want time.

He wanted you. He needed you.

When he finally opened the door, seeing his friends look at him with pity eyes.

He spent the entire afternoon speaking about you, all the things that made you so special in his heart, the ways you made him feel like the only guy in the world.

Talking about you only made if even sadder.

“Felix.. buddy you don’t have to keep talking about her—if it makes you this upset… why speak about her?" Chris said in his most soft understanding voice.

He looked up at his friends, knowing they couldn’t understand how deeply rooted his pain was.

“you don’t get it”

“we’re trying but.. we just don’t like seeing you this upset. Talk to us.. about your feelings… not about her"

He shook his head, getting frustrated with these conflicting emotions he had. Why can’t they understand?

“Everyone thinks I get more upset, more sadder when I talk about y/n but… you don’t know that talking about her is what keeps me alive, it keeps me breathing. It helps me live."

He didnt feel like having anymore visits for a while.

He thought he was moving forward in the healing process, as it was one night when he heard your laugh in a dream. Not faint. Not distant. Right there — bright, real… too real even.

You were wearing the outfit he loved. The one you wore on that rainy Sunday when you slow-danced in the kitchen barefoot. You reached for him, smiling.

“Come back to me,” you whispered.

He reached for you, like if he grabbed you in time, he’d have you again.

But then he woke up.

Alone. Alone and cold. Actually, cold sweat.

He cried loud. Like something cracked open after being sealed shut for too long.

How could he ever move on, when all he did was dream about you, think about you, love you…

He didn’t see a point, when all he wanted was you. All he needed was you.

All he knew was that the sadness growing inside him wouldn’t go away until he had you in his arms again. Where you belong, where he found comfort in your presence.

Seungmin

“el perdedor” by aventura (translation: the loser)

The relationship with seungmin was perfect. It truly was, but it’s like the honeymoon phase ended and it was constant bickering. He liked to agitate you, and you couldn’t help but fall for his rage bait. You tried expressing you don’t like when he purposely made you upset for the sake of his own pleasure.

It was to the point your relationship ended because of it…

“no seungmin you just can’t seem to understand i hate that you-“ the frustration was a lot and couldn’t help but start crying. You hated crying but you couldn’t stop the anger and frustration you had trying to explain basic common sense in how to treat your partner with care and respect.

Seungmin knew he screwed up the minute, his strong-willed- emotion tight- partner started crying… because of him, because of his actions.

He didn’t know how to fix this, he didn’t even know how to apologize let alone how to beg for forgiveness. He wanted to beg, to beg you to understand he didn’t mean it, all he did was try to be funny. Unfortunately, begin stupid funny, cost him his entire world.

He felt his entire world come crumbling down. Seungmin had no one but to blame. Why did he have to be so childish?

It was a few months since the break up and seungmin couldn’t move on, he didn’t want to move on. He tried to think of ways to win you back. He couldn’t give up on you. That’s until he found out you were seeing another guy.

Seungmin has never felt the sensation of his heart being ripped and torn out of his chest. As if almost visibly seeing you pulling out his heart and watching it beat out of its cage.

He knew he lost, he lost everything that mattered to him. Even though he never was good at expressing it, or showing he loved you more than anything or anyone. That he’d go ends if the earth for you if you asked.

This new guy.. he hated him. He wanted him dead. Seeing your instagram story, soft launching him. A picture of your hands together, while holding drinks. Your favorite drink, your special combo drink. That matcha that never seems to fail to make an appearance in any drink you ordered. Seungmin always knew you loved drinking matcha. he memorized your favorite drink in all of your favorite places to get matcha. It was never the same kind of drink.

He honestly prayed on the downfall of your new relationship. Wishing it would fail and you’d come back to him. But when he saw it wasn’t failing and he saw how you were happier even more then you were when you were with him.

He thought he was the only one you loved. How you verbally and physically showed him that he was the only one you loved. He knew he lost, he knew he lost everything. Seungmin couldn’t be the boyfriend you deserved. He knew that. He just hates that it had to be like this to figure out he wasn’t good for you.

He wanted to fight for you, but he knew it was no point.

This was all his fault. If he would’ve been more considerate, more understanding, more loving. He wouldn’t have to cry over you at night while holding onto the pillow, sprayed in your signature perfume. On you always wore everyday. A perfume he bought because he knew it was your favorite— to spray whenever your scent faded away.

Thinking of all the moments you had together, his mind wandering when you both ate out together. Went out on dates, car dates, home dates. Moments of intimacy, where he’d passionately spread you open and devour your cunt. Eating away as if that’s all he knew. All he was good for. Wishing he can hear your sweet moans of pleasure, the ones he brought to you. The slurping of his mouth against your wet cunt, mixed with his saliva. Intentionally digging his nose on your clit to add pressure and make you whine louder. The overstimulation he brought to you. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand that someone else now brought that same pleasure he once brought you.

He truly believed he was the one you loved, but all he was, is the loser who lost his true love. A love he knew he could never find, replace, or replicate again.

he was just a loser..

I.N

"Enséñame a Olvidar" by Aventura (translation: teach me how to forget)

Jeongin never believed in first true loves. That’s until he met you, the perfect girl. The light of his eyes. You were his first everything. Everything he experienced in a relationship, he experienced it with you.

the first time you both were together, it was a night of passion and pure bliss. An emotional moment for him, as he cried into your shoulder, as he felt his body spazz into your tight pussy. Softly whimpering your name as he rode his high out.

“y/n.. y/n… please y/n…” he wasn’t sure what he was begging for, all he knew he wanted more of you.

Jeongin never was in love, until you and he knew you were the one he wanted to spend his life with. You taught him the beauty of love and how to love.

He couldn’t thank you enough for teaching him how to be a boyfriend, when he never saw himself being one.

and just like that—how you came into his life like that, it was as easy to leave.

He never has experienced heartbreak such as this one. He never knew what dying on the inside felt like until you left.

It felt like he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. He felt like dying. How could you do this to him. He didn’t know how to move on.

Jeongin spent months crying over you, crying for you to come back to him. Begging to God to help you lead him back to him. Lead you back home to him. But nothing helped, nothing could fix his heart deteriorating from the inside.

Watching life pass by him, no longer finding joy in anything he once loved. Something he shared with you. Jeongin hated everything that was associated with you. Wishing nothing but ill. That’s when he would take it back and wish you can come back.

Jeongin didn’t know how he ended up by your window. When you finally peeked out, you saw jeongin, buzzed but functioning.

he looked up at you, tears streaming down his face.

“how..” he croaked. You couldn’t bare to speak, you just watched him bare his heart out to you. A heart he once gave you.

“how could you do this to me? How could you teach me how to love. I love you y/n.. with everything in my heart. My soul, my heart, my mind— it belongs to you and you took it with you the day you left.” All the words were spilling out, of pure agony and despair.

“How can I move on from you? how can I forget you?”

He softly sobbed into his hand, anyone seeing him would call him pathetic, embarrassing. But he didn’t care, he wanted you to know how heartbroken he is for you, how he yearns to have you again.

“Your kisses are engraved in my mind, flowing through my veins, you’re the only girl I’ll love—the only girl I love. Why did you have to leave me. Why did you stop loving me?"

he saw your lack of emotion, sympathy is all he saw.

“you taught me how to love. So teach me how to forget you. please…" he whispered to himself. Trying to catch his breath from all the crying he was doing.

“Teach me how to forget you… teach me how to move on from you. No one can ever compare to what I feel for you. I love you y/n"

He dropped to his knees looking up at you.

“please.. don’t leave me. I want to live with you, spend my life with you..”

You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer him and give him false hope.

after minutes of silence and soft sniffles coming from jeongin. All he could manage to say was…

"just.. just teach me how to forget you.. please.."

how could he forget you? nothing in this world could make him forget you.

he just hopes one day you realize, he’s all you need.

[archivesctrccio]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.ᐟ — 𝓝atalie 𝓢catorccio

♬ˎˊ˗ now playing... please please please - Sabrina Carpenter.

series masterlist..

warnings.. guns, slightly manipulation, theft.

words.. 2.2k

✎ᝰ. jinx notes.. oh i loved this one so much i think it became one lf my favourites!

You've always trusted your instincts. A sixth sense that, for the most part, kept you out of trouble—and when it didn't, at least led you to interesting places. Like, for example, a cold cell in some random police station, after being caught in the middle of a mess that wasn't even yours. It was just one night. A collective misunderstanding. Too many people, not enough police, and you were in the middle, trying to explain that you'd only stopped there to buy a soda. And it was in this chaotic scene that you saw her for the first time: platinum hair, handcuffed with charm, the most insolent smile you had ever witnessed.

She walked in laughing. Literally laughing. As if she hadn't been arrested, but invited to a party. His eyes met hers for a second, and there it was. The enchantment. Instantaneous, blatant, inevitable. 

Sure, she could be dangerous. She could have killed someone, blown up a car, or scammed a rich old man in Las Vegas. But she was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that felt unfair, as if she had stepped out of a movie and fallen straight into your reality.

She smiled wider when she caught you staring. You looked away, a little embarrassed, but it was too late: she had noticed you. And you were already screwed.

For the next week, you tried to forget. You tried to rationalize. But in the end, you did what your heart told you—or maybe what your curiosity urged you to do. On visiting day, you went to the penitentiary. You didn't know her name, just her hair color and that mocking smile.

— I came to see the one with the platinum hair,— you said.

The police officer gave a short laugh.

— I know who it is.

Minutes later, she appeared on the other side of the glass and sat down as if she'd been waiting for you. She calmly picked up the phone, resting her elbow on the table. You stared at each other for a moment, silence dancing between the two ends of the line.

— Hello… — you said finally.

— Hey. — Her smile returned, almost lazy. — Why did you come to see me?

You hesitated. You didn't even know how to answer.

— I was curious. What's your name?

She laughed softly, as if amused by the situation.

— Natalie. Natalie Scatorccio.

She tilts her head to the side, studying you with a glint in her eyes.

— And you are…?— You say your name. She repeats it softly, as if savoring it, testing the taste in her mouth. And then she relaxes a little, her shoulders less tense.

— And why are you here? — You lean forward slightly, wanting to know more.

— Hmm... wouldn't you like to know? — She sighs. — Robbery. I was working with someone. She fucked with me, and I got arrested.

— Ah... at least it's nothing so bad.

She smiles again. This time, a little softer.

As if you've passed the first test. 

Months later.

Apparently, passing Natalie's first test was enough for her to decide you were hers. And when Natalie Scatorccio decides something... the whole world has to follow. After that first visit, many others followed. Every week, you crossed the city with your heart racing, just to see her on the other side of the glass, laughing with that half-smile that made everything feel like an inside joke. You made escape plans like they were love vows — the place for your first date once she got out, the hiding spot for her money in a crumbling trailer, whispered requests to keep it all away from the cops.

And you did. You did it all.

Because loving Natalie was like that: a headfirst leap without checking if there was water below.

Even there, surrounded by concrete and bars, she was sweet. Attentive, even. Always asking if you'd eaten, if you were taking care of yourself, if anyone had messed with you. Sometimes she’d press her forehead against the glass, like she wanted to break through it. Like longing alone could shatter the physical barrier of so many inches and a lifetime of emotional distance.

When she got out, everything changed — and at the same time, nothing changed.

You went to dingy bars with broken jukeboxes, ate greasy burgers in the backseat of the car, and slept together that very first night. And by the third night, she was already living with you.

Too soon? Maybe. But what you two had was from another dimension.

You adapted to the chaos. To the constant smell of cigarettes and cheap tobacco clinging to the sheets. To stacks of money stashed under the bed like that was normal. To guns hidden between lacy panties like they were just another accessory. Natalie lived in a world where love was violent and violence smelled like perfume and gunpowder.

And still — or maybe because of that — you loved her.

You just didn’t want her to prove you right when you thought that being with her was a danger, a self-fulfilling prophecy, a ticking time bomb with a heartbeat.

The first time Natalie took you to one of her "jobs," your stomach twisted. It was a bank. Of course. Nothing discreet, nothing subtle. Natalie didn’t do anything halfway.

You stood at the door, heart in your throat, while she stormed in like she was walking into a party. She pointed the gun at the teller with the confidence of someone who’d done it before — and honestly? There was something... hot about it. Power etched into her posture, her voice. A “give me the money” delivered with sinister sweetness.

She took down the guards like she was dancing. Then tossed the money bag in your direction and grabbed your hand with absurd gentleness, like you were just crossing the street — not fleeing an armed robbery.

Natalie was like that: brutal to the world, sweet only to you.

An asshole to everyone else, a walking disaster — but yours.

And deep down, you knew: someday this would all blow up.

But until then...

You’d let her lead you, gun in one hand, your hand in the other. And your heart beating like an alarm about to go off.

But of course — not everything was a movie, not everything was romance. Over time, the fantasy began to fade.

You started getting tired. First slowly, like someone getting used to the bitter taste of a medicine that no longer works. Then faster, like a revulsion rising in your throat. Natalie’s “jobs,” once adrenaline-fueled stories to laugh about later, began to fill you with anxiety.

It was too dangerous. One wrong move, and she’d be back in jail.

And all you wanted… was her here. Whole. Alive. With you.

You begged her to stop. Asked, almost desperately, for her to at least be less reckless — not in front of you, not inside your house, not with you hearing the whispered plans in the bathroom at two a.m.

She promised. Swore. Fingers laced with yours, eyes locked on yours.

Said she wouldn’t hurt you.

Said she loved you.

And you believed her. Because that’s what love did to you: made you blind in the most dangerous places.

But promising wasn’t the same as changing.

Natalie quit robbing for a while, it’s true.

Stuck to dealing, like it was something smaller, cleaner, more acceptable.

— At least I’m not putting my face in the news, — she’d say, laughing like that was some kind of comfort.

And inside, anger started to grow — mixed with fear, mixed with pity, mixed with a love you no longer knew if it was salvation or a curse.

She spent more time with you. Slept in, made coffee, played music. You pretended to be a normal couple. And you were good at pretending.

But it was only a matter of time.

The lack of adrenaline started to eat her alive. You could see it in her eyes — the boredom, the restlessness, the fire that didn’t know how to go out on its own.

Soon she was back.

Smaller hits. Quick, “safe” jobs. Planned just enough to not stress you out enough to make her leave. As if she knew exactly where your limit was and danced right on it — on purpose.

Still, when you realized she was trying — trying in her own twisted way — you decided to give in a little.

You decided to introduce her to your friends.

Maybe because part of you still believed that if the world around her welcomed her, she’d allow herself to slow down.

Maybe because you wanted to prove Natalie could be “normal.”

Or maybe, just maybe, because you wanted her to know what it was like to have something to lose.

— Breaking my heart is one thing. But my ego... my ego doesn’t bounce back so easy, — you said, standing on the sidewalk, night air hitting your shoulders, heart pounding louder than it should.

Natalie looked at you like she wanted to laugh, but held it in.

—I’m begging you, Nat. Don’t embarrass me, you motherfucker. Please.

She took your hand with that dramatic flair only she could pull off without seeming ridiculous, and kissed your knuckles with mock reverence.

— I promise, beautiful. I really do.

And then she laced her fingers with yours, and you walked into the restaurant together — two storms pretending to pass as clear skies.

At first, everything went fine. Laughter. Clinking glasses. The false sense of normalcy hanging in the air like a weak light.

But your friends didn’t fall for Natalie. Didn’t laugh at her sharp jokes. Didn’t like the way she seemed to know everything about everyone — too much.

You tried to smooth things over. Tried to explain.

— It’s just her way. It’s... her culture, I guess. She’s Italian.

Your friends rolled their eyes, and you bit your tongue before apologizing for loving someone like Natalie Scatorccio.

You’d promised she was trying. That it was different now. Because they knew she was just like the others — danger.

You just didn’t expect the night to end like so many others: in chaos.

An off-duty cop recognized Natalie at the restaurant. Someone made a call. And in less than ten minutes, you were sprinting through the streets, heels hitting the asphalt, sirens slicing the air like razors.

It all happened too fast. The world spinning. Natalie pulling your hand. The smell of fear and smoke. And then — the alley.

She pushed you gently into it, your bodies pressed between the cold wall and the hot breath of someone who already knew the end was near.

— Listen to me, baby, — she said, firm, but with that smile that had unraveled you since day one. She held your face with both hands, like she wanted to keep you inside them. — You can’t tell anyone anything. Got it?

— Natalie… what?! — your voice cracked. — Are you turning yourself in?

You grabbed her wrists, desperate, trying to pull her back into the world where you still had time. Still had a chance.

She pressed her lips to your forehead. A gesture so tender, it was cruel.

— It’ll be worth it.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she added with a cold whisper:

— You’ll visit me, right?

There was a threat underneath the question. Not explicit. But real.

You weren’t just the girl she loved. You were an accomplice. And accomplices don’t spill everything.

Accomplices don’t survive alone.

That was it. You were tied to her.

Tied by kisses, by plans, by promises. Tied by the crimes you pretended not to see.

Tied to the idea that if she went down, you’d go with her — one way or another.

You nodded.

Because there was no other way left.

Natalie was yours, and you were hers. And it would be like that forever.

Or until the sirens finally caught up to you. Or until someone said too much. Or until love stopped being a refuge and became a sentence.

But until then…

You’d keep holding her hand.

Even if it meant prison. Even if it meant hell. Together.

 Natalie went back to prison on a gray Tuesday.

You remember because it was raining — not that romantic movie rain, but that thin, miserable kind that soaks your bones and tangles your hair.

She sent you a letter the next day. Just two lines:

“I’m okay.

Look pretty for when I get out.”

You laughed. Then cried. Then laughed again.

The house felt quieter than it should.

The cigarette smell still lingers in the corners like a stubborn ghost.

The money’s gone.

The guns — you threw them out.

But her clothes are still in the bottom drawer — the one you can’t bring yourself to open.

You go visit her every week. Put on lipstick before you leave, even knowing it’ll smudge from crying on the way back.

She holds your hand over the metal table and says she’ll be out soon, that she has a plan, that there’s still time for you to run away together to a place where no one knows the name Scatorccio.

You just smile. Deep down, you know.

She’ll get out. She’ll try again. She’ll screw it all up — again. And you’ll be there. Again.

Because some loves are prisons. And some prisons become home.

And yours…

Has a name, cigarette-stained fingers, and a smile you’ve never been able to erase from your memory.

Natalie. Always her.

Always the two of you.

Until the end.

taglist: @moesthoughts, @javizheart, @antlertruths, @antlerqueensab

click here if you want to be part of the taglist!

[ratmillkk]

how do you think the creeps react when they realize they're falling in love with you? would Tim confess? would Jack show rather than say? would Jeff grow distant because it's an uncomfortable realization?? <3

omg such a good question! im sorry i got to this so late 😭

HOW THE CREEPS REALIZE THEY’RE FALLING IN LOVE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖~*’

𝐁𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝- Ben is pretty open about his feelings. I feel like he would try and make moves on you right from the moment he realizes he’s falling in love. He isnt shy about it, but he definitely knows your limits and keeps it appropriate in order to make sure he bags you. He is extra flirty, extra physical and touchy. If you dont realize how he feels, you might be the most oblivious person on the planet.

One of the ways he would show it, is that he would mess with you. Your phone dies randomly, the songs on your playlist change out of nowhere, he’ll delete progress on your games and then restore it when you cuss him out. The lights in your room might flash on while you’re trying to chill in the dark, or turn them off when you’re changing clothes. He is a little shit when he’s realizing he’s falling for you.

𝐓𝐢𝐦/𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐲- He would retreat, but you know theres something off. I think Tim would be scared to show you how he feels, scared to even admit to himself how he feels. This man fully believes he doesnt deserve you, and thinks he’s bad for you, evil, and will ruin you. But it wouldnt be like that forever.

I can see him giving in, letting himself be selfish and pursuing you when he’s let himself talk some sense into his brain. He just has to rationalize first. He has to let himself embrace his feelings, his love thats creeping up in his soul. But when he does, he stays. He’s loyal, he’s protective, and would confess in the most sincere way possible.

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧/𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞- He wouldnt say shit for the longest time. He would recognize it right from the get go and let himself feel it, let himself process, but hes definitely not telling you out of fear of rejection. You’re so precious to him, he doesnt want to ruin what the two of you have. But like Tim, it wouldnt last.

Brian would show it eventually by teasing you, showing you acts of service. If you need a ride he’d be straight on it, but it wouldnt be without a snarky remark about how you cant drive yourself. If your car breaks down, he’s right there to fix it, but again, he couldnt help but tease you about not knowing how to do it yourself.

𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤- You aint getting shit from him for even a longer amount of time than the previous two, if at all. EJ thinks of himself similarly to Tim, but he doesn’t think he’s redeemable. He thinks he’s too different, too monstrous, too inhumane. He isnt telling you a thing on his own accord. You have to go to him first.

You would have to break him down enough for him to finally admit it. You’d have to be the one to confess your feelings first, and you’d have to be the one reassuring him that he isnt the monster he thinks he is, he isnt the devil he thinks he is, and he deserves to love and be loved the same as everyone else.

𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬- HE IS SO MF AWKWARD. He would want to tell you, he would YEARN to tell you, but he would chicken out every time.

“Hey, y/n.. I have something I wanna say- fuck- no actually i forgot”

You know immediately based on that one little slip up. That one moment of retreat, you know, and you tease him a little. He acts a little shyer around you, obviously more fidgety and his tics worsen, you think its absolutely adorable, endearing even. You would just have to sit on his lap and hit him with the “Yknow I feel the same way” and its over. He’s all up on you the moment that sentence leaves your mouth.

𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫- Well.. alright— he is NAWWT telling you, because he wants you to chase HIM. You have to be the one to confess, but because he just wants to grovel in the fact that someone wants him so bad. He loves the attention, and will play hard to get on purpose in order for you to go further.

It would get to a point where he doesnt realize when enough is enough and you’re on the brink of giving up and accepting defeat, when hes like “NO NO—“ and regrets ever pushing you that far. THEN he would confess to you that the entire time he felt the same way, he just wanted to play with you a little.

[acosmicbee]

Wait wait wait

What do you yans think of each other?

Okay, this is where we get kinda lore heavy because we start talking about the ways my stories intersect with each other within their universes. (This is gonna be kinda long and rambly). I'm only gonna do the non magic timeline for now but let me know if you want to see more with some of my other characters from different universes!

Annie is the distant ancestor of Lucas and Pierre. She has a very strong disliking of Lucas based off journals she inherited of Pierres detailing his tragedy at Lucas' hands. She likes to pretend he doesn't exist and they aren't related.

Emma and Stephan have watched a couple videos from Annie's yandere centered blog about how she cares for her child. They think that it's nice she's putting resources out there to help people in similar situations.

Lucas... A lot of people know him and a lot of people hate him. He's a couple of kingdoms over from the royal family seen in stable hand. Adrianna and Fergus, the king and queen, are skeptical of his rationality and sanity and barely correspond with him at all.

Roxanne is similar. Her kingdom doesn't want anything to do with Lucas and they're far away enough that they don't need to interact with him. They do interact with Adrianna and Fergus due to trade and have a good relationship with them.

Andre's story kinda takes place in the middle of the timeline. His story is based in the 1800s so he's kinda alone there. He is distantly related to Stephan, but it's like a cousin three times removed and 200 years back type thing.

Willa and Atticus, despite living in the modern world, don't really interact with anyone. They just want to enjoy their lives with their new child in their little house in the middle of nowhere. They do, however, live pretty close to the town where Sheriff Hayes is, but they've never interacted.

The Hartshorn Family and Artemis know of each other, considering they're both shady people running similar businesses in neighboring towns. The consensus between them is basically 'don't mess with my territory and I won't mess with yours'. Seeing as the Hartshorns are already dealing with fighting the L/Ns, they really don't need another enemy so the deal works.

Selene and Griffin have briefly bumped into Roxanne on one of her espionage missions but nothing came of it. Like Willa and Atticus, they kinda like living in their own secluded world. They do live in the kingdom from Stable Hand, but the very rural outskirts so they've never dealt with the royal family.

Sheriff Hayes is very distantly descended from Andre as well, making him and Stephan very distant relatives. He's never met him though as he spends almost all his time doing his job or looking after reader.

Milo actually knows Annie because he helped her once when he was still a fireman and she had a small gas leak at her home. He thought she seemed genuinely nice for someone who spends so much time projecting a persona in front of a camera.

When it comes to Three of Hearts and D4RK3Y3... everyone knows them or has at least heard of them. It's like someone not knowing who Taylor Swift is, even if you don't like or listen to her music, you've likely still heard of her. As for opinions? It's a mixed bag. Most of my yanderes are too busy to really be listening to music but Emma likes some of D4RK3Y3's songs and Annie's a Three of Hearts fan.

[butteronabun]

i think i read this concept somewhere before but imagine f! reader swooning with the other ladies of mondstadt abt this one particular romance novel that has been getting popular as of late. diluc gets word of this ( maybe it’s because of elzer, or probably even kaeya, the tease ) because don’t tell anyone this but he kinda likes you.

( “. . . kinda? what are we, twelve?”

“shut it, kaeya.” )

and he wonders what the fuss is all about—

“it seems that lady,” adelinde calls your name fondly, as she stands beside the master of the house eating his dinner. “has been involved with a book club. some of the maids are members, and they told me that it had been a joyous time. they would discuss the books over delicious cups of tea and pastries that she and her friends had made.”

diluc is happy to hear this, of course, that a delightful woman such as you is having the time of her life in mondstadt. his heart skips a beat in his chest as he imagines you, the ever beautiful, endearing you, sharing anecdotes. he tries to hide the growing smile on his face as he remembers how you focus into the small and tiniest details—it is no doubt that the people in your book club are always entertained by your presence.

they’re surely lucky to have you. diluc, if only he wasn’t so busy, would actually really love to be part of that book club as well. ( “eyeing something, master diluc?” lisa winks, when diluc finds himself in the library. ) but alas, it was only reserved for ladies, and he was too shy to actually be in it.

— not until this one fateful night. not until he finally understands why.

of course, the abyss is up to no good again. diluc does his daily patrols on the outskirts and even outside of the city.

then, he hears it.

( a cackling abyss mage approaches your quivering form. you have books in your arms, tightly clutching them to your chest. you bought these for the new members of your book club as gifts since some of them can’t even afford it, and like hell you’re gonna lose them to some monster! these are expensive!

and since gods do really like tampering with fate ( or is this just destiny? ) before the abyss mage gets to throw its icicle at you, it disintegrates, and you blink upon the arrival of a familiar figure.

clad in black and donned in a mask, your lips part in shock. the smell of burnt wood and grass reaches your nostrils. the figure—the man, turns around, and you can’t help but feel a little clumsy. “t–thank you so much, um—!” some of the books fall to the ground, and you yelp. the man kneels down to grab your novels, and you feel your cheeks begin to steam. “um, wait—!” )

after rescuing you from a pesky abyss mage, diluc is really happy to get to interact with you again. last time he did was when you were in the tavern, drinking out with your peers. there, he realized how low your tolerance is, and there, he also realized how actually weak he is for you. you had been so friendly and sweet to him—you included him in your conversations and was always so understanding. how can he not like someone like you?

or maybe the cherry on top was when you invited him to go stargaze at the starsnatch cliff ( how did you not know what that meant? is it because you’re from fontaine, and you’re still getting used to mondstadt? ) and requested for only diluc. no master of the house diluc, nor wine tycoon diluc. just diluc. just himself.

he’ll do everything for you, as long as it is okay with you.

as he descends to the ground to retrieve some of the novels that you carried, diluc lifts one. he listens to you stammer— and he wonders why you’re so flustered, not until he sees the front cover.

it’s an image of a man. he’s wearing a dark getup: a dark brown tunic, black pants, and a midnight cloak. diluc ponders over why he’s getting deja vu.

then, he also has a a bird mask, and red hair peeking out from his hood. wait, red hair?

on his muscular arms, is nothing but a damsel in distress looking at him with so much adoration. much like to the expressions you’ve had with the ladies whenever you ramble about the popular book that diluc has been curious on ever since forever—

oh.

diluc raises his head slowly, and sees you fumble over you words. “mr. darknight hero, i apologize—!”

oh.

[thousandyearphantombunker]

(ignore the fact that I drew her in similar pose to Elodie- I wasn't thinking and this is my default pose for doodling ladies okay!) swap au idea! Enid is the one to betray Elodie-

In this AU Like in canon Enid and Elodie- were friends who trained together and like in canon in order to enter P.O.I.N.T Prep had to fight each other. Here Enid's insecurities led to her using dirty tactics to win against Elodie. Enid wasn't cruel or smug after winning but she did become significantly more distant keeping contact incredibly briefly until she just completely ghosted at random when she was going to visit Elodie- and she never gave her a reason why. Enid like in canon dislikes her dorky past- she sees P.O.I.N.T Prep as a new opportunity to be cooler and 'more herself' what actually happened was she threw herself into her ninja interests a lot more heavily and ignored many of her other interests inorder to become a better ninja and on top of that while she had free time early on in P.O.I.N.T Prep becoming an honors student meant she had to push herself harder to succeed. She became distant because outside of Elodie- she felt weird about her past- she lost her connections to her ghoul school friends, her date with Rad was awful, and she betrayed Elodie- because of her own insecurities- Elodie- came from wealth and was charismatic- the girl was a shoe in for P.O.I.N.T. Enid was shy. She was a witch who wanted to be a ninja and had a lot of embarrassing moments- she justified her decision to herself saying she would see Elodie- join P.O.I.N.T eventually anyway. Enid originally ghosted her out of embarrassment- she was that shy kid whose parents didn't get hee interests and who dated jerks who humiliated her- she decided to not be that girl anymore and being reminded of her past dorkiness and being recognized as that girl who was really awkward and shy being seen fully- it made her uncomfortable- when she realized she basically just ghosted her friend after betraying her she didn't bother with trying to fix things- Elodie- would move on without her anyway- she would just be remembered as that friend she had as a kid and lost connection with- and Enid herself lost a lot of her feelings and sense of connection with Elodie- outside of some fond memories. But the shame over becoming cold sticks with hee

One day she comes across her old friend and ex working at Gar's Bodega- she didn't want to go there because when people talk she's worried about being embarrassed again and while seeing those two doesn't trigger a powerful reaction initially (she's pretty much over Rad- he's just some bum she dated once and only vaguely recognizes him after he got swol) Elodie- makes a move to reconnect with someone she can hopefully Ruby elbows with and regain some confidence by achieving her goals as a hero with a powerful ally! (well more by reconnecting with Enid and being important to her again and not feeling lonely)- Enid acts likes she barely remembers her when she tries to do so. It's a really messy reunion. Enid's guilt keeps climbing it's way through and like being a witch and all the interests/hobbies she gave us she represses that feeling to feel secure in her identity as a ninja. She's very rude and unhelpful toward most people- she is apathetic and when people reach out to her she smacks their hands away hard- she also tries to shirk responsibility where ever she can- 'thats not my problem' or 'i won't get in trouble for that' she has to work hard to stay in so she drops 'unnecessary' responsibilities (which often include her responsibility to do heroic deeds and focuses on P.O.I.N.T's main objective- crushing enemies and looking good in interviews) luckily her old friend seems to fit in nicely at P.O.I.N.T and Elodie has totally moved on and she doesn't have to apologize or confront her emotions ever by talking to her because they are just aquaintences- and they end up dormmates

Elodie- in this AU ends up working at Gar's Bodega. She is quite embarrassed by this fact but is a hard working employee. She is very arrogant and sassy and loves making condescending manipulative comments to get attention- she's not above using a person's insecurities to persuade someone into doing something for her. She was embarrassed by Enid defeating because Elodie- was the shoe in- she was rich, talented, eloquent and she lost to her friend that while she doesn't look down on her doesn't have the same privileges as her and still beat her out. Then Enid ghosted her- like she didn't matter. Like her money and talents didn't matter. It burned her. She also feels embarrassed about the fact she's viewed as a pampered princess- a sissy bratty girl who wouldn't have to work hard and was spoiled by love and got a taste of the real world when she 'fairly' lost to her friend. She sort of gets joy out of being a mean girl. She 'realized' it wasn't her powers or money or privileges that had anything wrong with them- they had significance and where a major part in her victories-It was that she wasn't good enough. She failed not because of luck- it was only partially because of Enid being better than her- something was wrong with her- and what was wrong? She wasn't ruthless enough. She wasn't actually important at all she was insignificant. She wants to make a big impact with her assets and isn't ashamed of her cash or beauty and uses them to get what she wants regardless of what people say about it but that 'your actions don't matter only your bank account does' mentality hurts her-she even believes Enid might have only befriended her to learn how her bow works or because Enid wanted gifts from her . She flaunts everything she's got because she thinks it what people see even if she isn't important herself- she's very materialistic When she meets Enid again she is genuinely a bit excited to see her friend again and would love to chat- but since that friendly longing doesn't fit her new style she tells others she's using her past connection to Enid to get into P.O.I.N.T to get a chance- playing up a nepotism angle and playing into the rich socialite dick angle. When she does eventually get into P.O.I.N.T her ruthlessness benefits her- she is determined to be seen as a very important influential person and refuses to let any opportunity pass her- she wants to matter to Enid again in a way unrelated to cash and to be popular- Enid is sort of burnt out when they meet up though and it's clear the cutthroat environment and the decisions she has to make are getting to her- So Elodie- thinking Enid would want this and that all her past failures where caused by being too generous makes ruthless choices that help them both but when pinned against each other again Enid doesn't take any shots at her either despite the fact she mentally built an image of Enid as ruthless- and she has no clue why

[hylemorph]

Spoilers: Eggers' Nosferatu

There's a lot of debate right now on if Count Orlok represents Ellen's shame/trauma/abuse, or if he represents her repressed erotic desires, and in turn there's debate on whether or not viewers who find the Ellen/Orlok dynamic alluring are "missing the point." Eggers and Lily-Rose Depp have both said in interviews that there's a mutual pull between Ellen and Orlok, and even that there's a love triangle element, but obviously the experience is terrifying for Ellen. How can we reconcile the sexual tension and the horror?

I think the broader theme is that Orlok represents everything in a woman's inner world that men refuse to acknowledge and accept - fear and shame and trauma, yes, but also our appetites . After the prologue, the story starts with Ellen begging Thomas to stay in bed with her; she says "the honeymoon was yet too short" and tries to pull him in and kiss him (obviously trying to start some nuptial bliss). But Thomas is anxious to meet with his boss and get his promotion, because he has a narrative he's going to fulfill: he's going to pay Friedrich back, buy a house, and then start having kids (he and Friedrich touch on this a bit later. Notably, Friedrich discloses Anna's pregnancy to Thomas before Anna has made it public.)

It's the start of Ellen and Thomas' married life and she just wants him to prioritize her sexual desire, but he chooses to focus on his ideal of success, which sets him on this path to confronting Orlok. We know Ellen doesn't care about having a house or fine things and she begs him not to go, but Thomas listens to Herr Knock and Friedrich, who tell him that as a husband he has to provide materially. He ignores Ellen's stated desires, and so fails to provide sexually and emotionally. When Thomas gaslights her about her nightmares and calls them childish fancies, he shuts down her vulnerability, which kills the intimacy she was enjoying in the literal honeymoon phase.

On a related note, there's a defence in here for Aaron Taylor Johnson's performance, which I've seen a few male critics call "over acting." In this story Friedrich represents the masculine ideal of the time, he's a rich business owner with a beautiful wife and kids. Thomas clearly looks up to him and wants to emulate him - he wants to give Ellen the life "she deserves." But Friedrich's elevated masculine status is why he refuses to listen to Ellen's "hysterical, sentimental" worries, he's too rational for all that of course. And his stubborn "rationality" leads to the death of his entire family. Friedrich IS the patriarchal ideal that crumbles when confronted with nuance and uncertainty. Some people see Friedrich and assume that a character like him is meant to come across as dignified, and that Aaron Taylor Johnson is messing up by making him look annoying, but really he is giving a great portrayal of a really common, annoying kind of guy. The kind of guy who melts down and has childish tantrums whenever they lose control of a situation, or their manly skills and values are shown to be irrelevant.

The men in the movie (excluding Professor von Franz) frame Ellen as childish for speaking about her dreams candidly, but their own childishness is revealed when her dreams manifest in the form of Orlok and become unavoidable. Ellen (partially? possessed in the moment by Orlok) tells Thomas how "foolish and like a child" he was in Orlok's castle. In the literal context that's cruel, and obviously that shit was scary as hell, but it hits on Thomas' failure in the metaphorical reading. He was a child playing house: 'I'll be the husband and make money, you be the wife and make babies.' When it came time to confront his wife's inner world and all the scary, traumatized, lustful complexity of it, he was completely inept. The message isn't that Orlok is what Ellen really needs, or that Thomas is a wimp, but he's not a perfect husband either. I think "the point" is that a real healthy marriage with sexual, emotional, and spiritual mutuality is impossible in that society with Thomas/Friedrich's ideals. In that kind of society, a spiritually and sexually potent woman like Ellen ("in heathen times you might have been a Priestess of Isis") will always be caught in a "love triangle" with her husband and her own inner world.

[fear-is-truth]

HIS FAVOURITE POSITIONS . CLARK KENT

contains : smut ‧ established relationship ‧ fem!reader ‧ soft dom!clark ‧ unprotected p in v ‧ headcanons | MDNI 18+ note. english is not my first language, ignore typos

missionary is his default—and without question, his favourite. no, not from laziness or lack of imagination. clark could fuck you standing, airborne, even upside-down against the ceiling if you asked. but this position offers him something else entirely: clarity. an unfiltered view of you, beautiful and beneath him, offering up every tell: the slight quiver of your lashes, the stuttering syllables that break apart upon your tongue. the reedy hitch in your breath each time he angles his hips just right.

he presses your wrists into the mattress, spanning both with a single hand. the other slips beneath your lower back, lifting you slightly to angle you just so, tilting your pelvis until your body yields, and the thick head of his cock slides past resistance and into that aching, receptive place that only he can reach. he leans down and fucks into you even deeper, barely needing leverage. and the stretch burns in the sweetest way, your velvety walls fluttering helplessly around him as he settles fully inside. he touches where your own fingers couldn’t dream of reaching, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach—though the rational part of your brain insists that’s impossible. the whole time, his sky-blue gaze never strays from yours. clark never looks more in love than when he’s fucking you face-to-face.

prone bone is his answer to your worst behavior. when you’re riding the edge of insolence—petulant, flashing him that do-something-about-it-mr-superman smile as if the hero in question isn’t already thinking about fucking the brattiness out of you. he simply hauls you to the bedroom and lays you flat, one palm braced between your shoulder blades, the impossible weight of his body blanketing yours. you squirm halfheartedly, a little breathy clark slipping from your throat that sounds more performative than penitent. he lowers his chest to your back, mouthing kisses along the cartilage of your ear. you feel the flex of his abdomen each time his hips grind forward, cockhead sliding slick through your folds—leisurely, almost casual. this is the position where you feel all of him. your body opens by instinct, pussy yielding to the stinging pressure of his cock pushing in, deeper, deeper—until your lower belly tightens under the stretch. he’s merciless. slow, yes, but also inexorable. every thrust carefully angled to keep you just on the brink without ever letting you fall. his cock pressed flush to that tender spot inside you that aches when he withdraws and throbs when he returns. you’re caught in the exquisite ache of it, the slow torture of being filled past capacity and held there. because you asked for this. clark never withholds what you need.

mating press is for when he’s been gone too long. off-world emergencies, global catastrophes. days—sometimes entire weeks—where he’s had to wear the mantle of saviour instead of simply being your lover. and when he finally returns, he folds you beneath him, knees pulled tight to your chest, ankles resting over his shoulders like a promise he’s come back for good. his cock pushes in sinfully deep, every inch filling you in a familiar way that resonates through your whole body—stealing the air from your lungs and thus robbing your voice before you can form a sound. you lose track of how many times you’ve cum, and still, clark holds your thighs apart as he fucks the loneliness out of himself. hips pounding into the mess between your legs, his brow furrowed in grief because hurts to be away from you that long. his voice breaks when he tells you how he missed you. words fail to reach your lips because you’re fucked so deep it feels cervical, whole galaxies exploding behind your eyes. when he cums, it’s a guttural, raw release—spilling inside you, just as your walls fluttering and sucking him deeper, pulsing in perfect, thunderous synchrony with his own hammering heart. clark can never bear being away from you for too long.

 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ baby daddy!satoru who wants needs you back.

in fact, you should've known he was playing a game the instant that text blinked onto your screen: pick your daughter up from his place, not school. a casual oops, totally forgot it was your day! that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

what choice did you really have? the entire drive to that too-familiar house, your nerves were a tangled mess. pulling into the driveway, parking crookedly in your haste, the only thing screaming in your head was this used to be ours.

this small, unassuming house, a world away from the sterile grandeur of his old penthouse. the first grand gesture of your marriage had been this new place.

"the bigger the house," satoru had murmured against your bare skin that first night, "the further i'd have to be from you." so, your mornings had begun with tangled limbs and hurried kisses, and your evenings had ended in the same breathless way.

it had been the kind of dizzying happiness you foolishly thought would last forever. but then the cracks had started to show – the endless work trips, the hollow promises of things changing. he had gotten better, ironically, after the papers were signed.

satoru stood in the doorway, that infuriatingly charming, utterly knowing smirk plastered across his face. your gaze darted around the living room, a quick, almost desperate search. "where's she?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his reply was a casual flick of his wrist. "oh, she's at a friend's."

a harsh scoff escaped you. arms crossed tight against your chest, you scoffed, "what? why? i drove all the way out here!"

"you were coming anyway," he purred, those soft puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours. "i can bring her back later. thought we could, you know… catch up."

"catch up?" you repeated, incredulous. "are you serious right now? we're not catching up, satoru. we're divorced."

but those eyes. they always had been your undoing. and somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing to this ridiculous "catch-up." you'd pictured awkward small talk over lukewarm tea, maybe a stale cookie.

not this. not being bent in a cruel mating-press, his body a brutal, insistent press against yours, fucking you with a desperate hunger that stole your breath and any semblance of rational thought.

"god, it's been so fucking lo- long since i felt this," he grunted, his hips slamming into you with a possessive force that made you cry out. "this tight little cunt clenching - shit - around me like that."

"ah, 'toru," you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, clinging on for dear life.

"been even longer si- since i heard you say my name like that." his sweaty bangs were plastered to his forehead, a flush creeping up his neck. his pace was relentless, each thrust deeper, harder, a raw, primal need driving him. he hadn't touched anyone since you, didn't want to.

tears streamed down your face, a messy mix of pain and something dangerously close to pleasure. and that bastard, your soon-to-be-not-ex-husband-anymore, thought you looked beautiful. his thick cock stretched you, filled you completely, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"did you miss this, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. "because i fucking did. bet- bet no one else makes you feel like this."

a choked whine escaped you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, a stinging sensation hitting. you can't think of a response, literally. you can't even think of your own name - you can't remember.

all that mattered was the way he was making you feel, the dizzying spiral of sensation. and in the name of "catching up," he makes you come, at least half a dozen shattering orgasms ripping through you before he finally relented, burying his face in the space between your tits.

he looked up at you, panting, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "so… about moving back in?"

fuck those puppy-dog eyes.

[wrotebymii]

MAYBE ITS ME? … | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: After leaving your house because you can’t handle being hated in your very own home, Sam talks with you while your house becomes quiet…

Warning: minimal angst, honestly it’s a little fluffy with you and Sam. The objects are miserable now. There will be a part three and four!!

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | READ ME

Sam has been the most understanding friend what felt like your only friend she tries her hardest to bring you out of your slump and rationalize while simultaneously making fun of you as to why your relationships within your home have a burning hate for you.

She’s pointing fun yet logical, allowing you to rant about what you did and where you possibly went wrong with each. She sat across from you, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees in full concentration. You were sat back practically melting into the furniture that didn’t despise you, moving a hand around to exaggerate your speech with the other stuffing your face with food like you haven’t eaten in weeks. Lowkey, you haven’t.

“When I talked to Hoove, being nice and supportive while telling him not to work too hard—I thought I was being sweet ya’know—“ You stuff your face and swallow.

“—but apparently NOT?? He got angry with me, when I tried backtracking and apologize which crazy by the way he said he HATED ME?!” You shout, you can feel your face heat in anger at the thought before tears well up.

“Or how I tried to speak with Daisuke—“

“Who’s that one?”

“Oh my tableware, he’s like tall about yay-high with black hair a portion of it in a bun with like dishware themed robes…I heard from others in rhe kitchen that he’s into taking things seriously” You explain with a wave of the hand.

“I actually…heh I thought that we’d get along, he likes taking care of the dishes and even tries to fix them if they crack due to me but that’s not the point I too like fixing things, I want to fix things…but I guess unlike him or fake it till you make it like Tony…I just make it worse…”

“I…I just wanted to be friends or the I don’t know? Date? The whole reason of the damn glasses.” You mutter, you push the snacks away and use a napkin to clean yourself.

Dating them, any of them wasn’t the main goal. Sure it’s interesting but realizing the things around your home have their own lives in the house was so cool!

Being a hermit, a homebody it felt like a this was a way to help you as well, to get better with being social and maybe let you learn that the outside wasn’t so scary and not everything was out to get you.

But, you messed it up—perhaps you tried too hard, pushed too much, didn’t push enough, didn’t flirt when needed to, too flirty for some, or didn’t have enough specs for the correct dialogue and it came out lame. Now, you’re both miserable in the house and out of it.

Sam was trying, really was. As you spoke she’d occasionally glance around her apartment as if the ranting was making her paranoid about her house. Sighing she runs her hand down her face. She should’ve said something about the weird black stuff in that bathroom, maybe it was the fumes getting to you, but she shook her head.

“What else happened?…”

“The breaking point?”

“Yeah, what made you take off the glasses?”She asks, you groan, slumping back and wiping away a few stray tears as you remembered.

“I was going to the Breaker Box Club, ‘cause Eddie and Volt were still nice-ish from our previous conversations—I hadn’t talked to them in a bit by then cause I was trying to salvage whatever was going on between Harper the hamper and Dirk dirty clothes. I wanted to catch up and help Eddie with some of his work like last time.” You shift in your seat uncomfortably.

“When I entered it was packed, I was happy for them that their business was getting bigger but I knew it was gonna be a lot to take on so I went to find one of them to offer help…”

“…you try and help a lot…”

“I do, it’s…the only thing I can give to them—“ you stop yourself, continuing the story of the night prior.

“But, I knew I wasn’t welcomed. Everyone avoided me, whispering around like I was back in school. Again, Volt saw me. I remember waving at him as he walked over way too quickly. We talked as he pushed me along the way I came from, when I noticed I was confused and…worried I lost another person again…” You take in a deep breath.

“I did…the gossip around the club didn’t go unnoticed by the owners he wanted to get rid of me so it didn’t disturb the customers. I tried talking to him saying that I wasn’t a bad…person…” You don’t sound convinced yourself by that statement.

“He wasn’t having it, his…skin almost turned this light blue? His hand gripped my arm to drag my away from the prying eyes, it hurt…not to make him anymore mad I let him, throw me out…” Voice trailing off, Sam looks stunned, like this was the most juiciest soap opera ever.

“You got kicked out of your own break box—“

“YES, I GOT KICK OUT” you yelled but not at Sam, yelling at the absurd thought of being thrown out of your own break box.

“Crazy…” She elongates the ‘zy’ in the word, unsure how to handle the rest of this.

“Do you think there’s a way to start over with them? All of them I mean?”

The sun was setting, making the silence seem light and comforting. You’re tired, and don’t know where to tread next, so many ideas run in your mind that you—wait…

There might be a very dubious way to get your life back to normal. The thought felt terrible, too personal and guilty, but you don’t seem to have any other option. At least not right now. So, you’ll pin the idea with Keith in the back of your mind. And let it fester or wilt as you and Sam brainstorm together.

Back at the house.

The ones that cheered for your leave are quiet, basking in the dullness of the house. Sure they can talk to one another but…that’s uneventful. The house is missing apart of itself the part of you. The human part. The fragile, unpredictable, unproductive, and lonely ways of you has gone missed.

But everyone refuses to say it out loud. They’re all still bitter and angry with how you treated them—wait…why exactly are they all mad? Some can’t remember but feel justified, although, looking back they just remember you trying. No.

No. You hurt them. They think…

…

…

Okay—well they aren’t sure…not anymore.

The lights are off because there’s no need to see, the sinks and baths don’t run because there’s no one to draw it for, the wall creaks and settles sadly, coffee pot remains unused along with the beauty products, television, books, sofa, stove—all of it. All of them are…completely bored?

Maybe, making your life inconvenienced and almost down right harassed in your day to day life after you stopped interacting with them wasn’t the right way to express their anger. A day turned to four then a week then two weeks.

Dorian can feel the worry in every room about when you’ll return, he huffs. Bedroom Dorian stands still, looking up at the ceiling then down to the floor, watching Florence quickly scramble around her time book with all the new complaints and meetings for Celia.

He reluctantly…steps forward. Away from his position to stand right in front of the poor woman. He rather be doing his job, the thing he thinks so highly of. However, he too is miserable more miserable than laundry room closet Dorian because what is his purpose now that the one who he open and closes for…is gone?

But he’s convinced himself that speaking with Celia will help.

Or so he hopes.

Taglist:

@hhhhthththrd

@diablosinners

@4rt3m1y

@stargazer0x0

@apearlyheart

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@trixie541

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@animeweeb99

[cyber333angel]

BREEDING KINK WITH CLARK KENT !

a/n : very smutty obvi, fem!reader, daddy kink. mating press. enjoy >.<

it was hot. way too hot that your decorated rooms aroma was filled only with the smell of you and clarks sweaty skin sticking to each other, mixed with the breath hitching pants that came out of the two of you. your pleasure was only heightened with the feeling of him on top of you, weighing and pressing you down, making you feel so..caged in. he was unconsciously forcing you to really feel just how deep he was inside of you, thrusting into your soaked walls with his girthy dick and muscular arms. “haah baby, can feel you squeezing me so tight..” you were but it was only because of how pressured you were feeling, having to look straight into clarks eyes as he plows into you with his intoxicated gaze. he makes your head so blurry with the way he uses his dick and doesn’t even know it, “ mm s’good, feel you filling me.. so deep!” you whine out with your hands resting on top of his neck, hips senselessly flowing along with his as they move back and forth on the bed. “mm wait, t-too deep s’gonna reach-“ you sob, it’s like you could feel his dick messing up your insides, overstimulating but all the more satisfying.

you push at his abdomen with weak arms and squeezed shut eyes, getting cut off with a moan being pulled from your throat as clark brings you back with a hand on your jaw. “reach where hm? gonna reach your tummy? huh gonna-gonna let me give you a baby?” he was basically blabbering at this point, too pussydrunk to think rationally. and you mindlessly nodded your head along with your boyfriend. “yes please clark! gonna make you a daddy!” the sound of you and clarks skin bouncing off each other was disgusting, the slapping of his balls against your ass and the creaks of the bed under you.

clarks pace gets faster as he keeps thrusting into you, cock almost kissing your cervix while you hear a flow of pleads from above you. “you’ll let me cum inside right? promise it will feel so good angel-you have to let me fill you u-up..” and he just sounds so cute when he begs like that, of course he can, anything he wants. “yesyes please! wanna feel it so bad daddy..” that nickname only flustering him more and making your boyfriend bottom out in your pussy, forehead pressing against yours, “fuckfuck-“ seeing his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth in a frown. dick sloppily thrusting into you when you feel ropes of cum shoot into you, warm and in an abundance, you scratch at his back and squeeze your thighs around clarks waist.

“mph makin me feel so’good clark!” you say bucking your hips into him, making you feel his length so much deeper in your cunt and only making clarks whimpers louder as he finishes cumming inside. “too much-“ he winced, unconsciously still thrusting into you slowly while you rub your sensitive bud, cumming all over his dick with a cry as he holds your back. clark lifts you slightly until your sat on his lap, his face in the warm crook of your neck breathing heavily. you were sure your insides were a mess, filled to the brim of clark and you just finished too. your boyfriend looks up at you with his doe eyes and his slight smile, “what?” you giggle to him and he kisses the skin of your chest. “thank you sweetheart.” laughing even more when you realize he’s thanking you for letting him cum inside.

[simonbrain]

it doesn't matter how quietly you attempt to get off at night; your lieutenant is always listening, always grumpy about the pretty sounds disturbing his slumber.

you were embarrassed when he brought it up to you (keep it down, can't fuckin' sleep with oll tha' racket), so you opted to not use your vibrator the next night, instead using your fingers like some lady from the 1800's. it wasn't as efficient, but it did the job, and you were knocked out after a few orgasms.

you think you're doing good, as he doesn't confront you about your nightly activities for a few days after that. not until one morning when he pulls you over to an obscured area outside, not paying any mind to your stumbling and hissing.

even with the mask on, you can tell he's scowling. "how many times do i 'ave to tell you to keep it down?" he grumbles, peering down at you through golden eyelashes. his head tilts as he speaks, and you have to force yourself to not squeeze your thighs together in front of your superior officer. "i can hear tha' wet cunt through the walls every night—are you tha' thirsty for it, pet?" a finger clips onto your belt loop, and you're being tugged closer, a chuckle rumbling from him when he takes notice of how flustered you're getting.

you've never wanted to explode into tiny pieces more in your life than this moment. your cheeks feel hot, and you can only stare up at him and watch as his gaze roams down your body. heated. predatory.

"i— i don't want—" you try to deny what you know is inevitable because ghost always gets his way, but it's thrilling to watch how he pushes his body against yours, the smell of him overpowering your rational thoughts. he only peels the mask high enough to free his mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat, a gloved hand finding its way to the front of your pants.

that night, when you crawl into bed with a fully charged vibrator, warmth already swirling in your belly, you think about how ghost's hands felt on your body. how he so meanly nudged the fat head of his cock in until he was fully sheathed, stretching you so thin you swear he was going to split you apart.

("there we go," he coos—or rather snarls at you, thick fingers filling up your mouth because you were whining too loud for his liking. "knew you wanted this fuckin' cunt stuffed full o'me," he groans while pawing at your chest, harsh pants hitting your ear. "tha's why you're so loud, innit? nasty fuckin' thing.")

how he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, licking into your mouth with such fervour, you were surprised he hadn't already burst into flames. he resembles a brick more than an actual human sometimes, but patience has always been his strongest quality.

you really shouldn't be surprised when ghost pours into your room while you're making yourself dizzy with thoughts of him, your brain liquifying on the pillow from the constant delicious vibrations against your throbbing clit. the sound of the door being kicked shut behind him startles you as he stalks over to your bed.

"i'm starting to think you like pissing me off." he growls softly, the bed squeaking underneath his weight. the vibrator is still buzzing against you, and you swallow when his eyes drop down to the soft, wet mess between your legs. "get on your fuckin' knees, girl."

[pettyeddiediaz]

I think sometimes people forget buck was a child neglected by his parents. A child who thought hurting himself for attention was better than being ignored. There is no universe in which buck looks at eddie's decision and does anything but respect it. He's sad as hell for sure and he's spiraling because eddie is his tether to rationality a lot of the time, but he doesn't think eddie is doing him some disservice. To be honest, I imagine he respects it more because nothing is wrong with chris... he's not hurt or anything like that... and eddie still wants to go through this huge upheaval of his life. He is willing to sacrifice anything for his son. Buck thinks Eddie is the best dad, and he vocalizes this often. Buck watched Eddie's hands twitch as he told him he was thinking about moving. He saw the fear in eddie's face, the indecision, and Buck chose to jump into the mess with him. So yeah he's sad. But Buck doesn't think Eddie is the villain. And the fandom shouldn't project that on Buck's behalf either.