#but also I can keep an eye on him. so yeah ^^;

[uhnosav]

Plumbing Problems?

pairing: bidet!sukuna x girly girl!reader

synopsis: you just wanted a pink bidet to be a perfect addition to your already girly home. but buying from a sketchy website to get the expensive toilet at a cheaper price does have its consequences… and oh so good benefits in the form of a 6’5 muscular demon that has pink hair, red eyes, and is littered with tattoos.

mdni cw: crack, cursing, sukuna is absolutely a little shit, explicit smut, masturbation (f!), fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), tit worship, overstimulation, degradation. (small toji cameo of him being a pervert)

THIS IS ALL @yenayaps FAULT SO BLAME THEM.

( @angelscriptures ily )

You really are just a girly girl! You can’t help it that you love the color pink. But in turn your brain, in an OCD kind of way, pieces together you need everything else you own to be pink as well. Your home looks similar to a barbie dream house on crack with how much the rosy color permeates the place. You have pink cooking utensils, rugs and blankets in all shades of that beloved color, honestly anything you could find that you needed in pink you owned it, and now you just couldn’t resist buying a bidet that is also pink. Why? Because obviously your ass needs to be sat upon your favorite color instead of some boring white toilet like a basic bitch. The toilet was specially ordered from a website you could hardly understand but you needed it… it was an almost 2k toilet that was only 600 bucks on this site, a steal truly. You figured it was because it was from a foreign country instead of where you live, so you made the purchase as fast as possible, not risking it getting sold out. Since you were not paying for the very fucking real pink tax if you bought it from where it is actually sold.

So two weeks later it arrives and yeah you realize you didn’t fucking think this through. How the fuck are you supposed to put this shit together? You could call up a plumber, but god knows how much they would charge you for installing your stupid pink toilet. So that leaves one option, beg your pervert upstairs neighbor to do it for you, because he's already fixed your sink once... he should definitely not have a problem with putting in your toilet. You hope.

“Tojiii pretty please” you whine batting your eyelashes up at him, with a pout forming on your bottom lip. You wore your tightest tank top and denim booty shorts hoping that will be enough to make him give in, since that was what worked last time.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me doll.” he mutters, eyes flicking over your tits and how well they sit in the tank top. “Can’t you hire a plumber like a normal person. Why do you always have to bother me? I am not your daddy or your boyfriend.” but despite his words his tongue licks over the scar on his lip. You aren’t stupid you knew he already gave in as soon as your perky ass knocked on his apartment door but of course he has to act like the usual asshole he is.

“I can pay you… I promise.” you bite your bottom lip, fidgeting a little as you look up at the unit of a man. Sweatpants hanging low and his always too tight stretched out black compression shirt making his muscles look even bigger as he keeps them folded along his chest. The smirk he sports when you mention paying him doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Fine, goddamn brat.”

Two hours later your toilet is finally all set up and toji leaves your apartment obviously a little pissy that not only did you not pay him like you promised, but you also didn’t at least give him head as compensation like he hoped you would :(. Oh well.

The bidet felt like perfection, honestly you could sit here for hours. It has such a nice heated seat and it wasn't making your ass cramp, which made it become your favorite place to relax. In more ways than one. Fingers dance along your clit as you begin your newly formed nightly routine on the toilet seat. An ongoing pattern for the past week that always made you feel more satisfied than when you would do it laying down in bed. This wasn’t the case before, but you just chalked it up to the bidet's heated seats and how relaxing it felt. Finally you were getting into a steady rhythm of rolling your fingers on your clit almost about to ease a finger inside yourself when. The fuck? Water sprays up against you. I didn’t fucking press the button is all you think to yourself but sigh and go back to it since you were already feeling close. Another spritz of fucking water.

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.” you grimace standing up as once again a spray of water emerges from inside the bidet. “How can you be fucking broken… I just got you, you stupid fucking toilet.” Ah, the words you will come to regret because little did you know, sukuna didn’t like that whatsofuckingever. He is not some ‘stupid fucking toilet’ he is an expensive and very high end japanese bidet, thank you very fucking much. With a huff you slide your panties and pants back on already making your way to the front door so that toji can fix this stupid fucking bidet, when you hear some thrumming noise coming from your bathroom. You disregard it, thinking it's just your broken bidet when suddenly big muscular arms encircle you. A scream begins to leave your lips when a huge thick hand covers it, a man's shushing filling your ears. A stupid desperate attempt to shut you up by whoever the fuck this man is. But then… he speaks.

“I am fucking not some ‘stupid fucking toilet’, you little fucking brat” the gruff yet oh so delicious voice hisses against your ear. You genuinely think you are insane and begin thrashing in this mans arms, when you realize he is fucking naked. What the actual fuck is happening is blaring in your mind as you scream into his palm, wishing your purse was closer so maybe you could tase and get this lunatic off you. “Calm down you fucking brat, it’s not like you haven’t sat on my face before. What's so different now.” his voice and words confuse the fuck out of you. You haven’t fucked anyone in months… sitting on this dude's face? And then it dawns on what he said before, “not some stupid fucking toilet”... no. It can’t fucking be. You stop trashing and trying to scream, which leads to him slowly taking his hand off your mouth.

“A-are… you my bidet… how is that even fucking possible. I must have hit my head. I am dreaming or I am batshit insane.” your words are rushed and slurred together as your thoughts race a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what is happening.

“Yes I am your bidet. I am a demon, that's how this is possible dumbass. And no you didn’t hit your head or are dreaming. What happened is that I got fucking offended that you called me a broken toilet, when all I was doing was helping your needy ass cum better than what your tiny ass fingers were doing.” his tone bored as he answers your rambling questions like you asked if the sky was fucking blue instead of why your bidet is now a naked man that’s 6’5, with his rock hard cock pressed up against your back.

When he finally fully releases you, assuming that you had calmed down, which news flash you had obviously not, you immediately reach for your bag that is still by the front door. The unsuspecting demon, as he claims to be, is completely unaware of the taser you keep within it at all times. Grabbing it with a quickness of practiced ease you turn it on and tase him directly by his balls… by accident… totally.

“WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN.” his voice booms but he remains unflinched, just audibly annoyed, like the 50,000 volts were only an annoying bug buzzing by his ear. “You just tased my fucking balls you psychotic brat. I was being fucking nice to you, and you fucking tased me.” You slump to the ground still shakily holding onto your taser just wide eyed at the huge muscular man with pink hair, red eyes, and tattoos, and begin sobbing. You aren’t even sure why, maybe it's cause the adrenaline wore off or the fact that this 6’5 man is yelling at you but tears flow down your cheeks. The tears make sukuna freeze. “Shit… are you ok, brat?” the octave of his voice becoming softer at the sight of your tears, despite his confusion as to why the fuck you are crying. Especially when not even a minute prior you just basically tased his balls with your taser.

“I don’t even know who the fuck you are or what your name is, other than the fact that you are supposedly my fucking bidet?!” you sob out your chest heaving slightly with your words. “I really am insane… I just wanted to finger myself before I went to sleep and I couldn’t even fucking get to do that.”

“My name is Sukuna, and I was a demon cursed to be a toilet after fucking with the wrong witch.” he huffs out. “I think she was just a bitch cause I wouldn’t fuck her�� now you on the other hand, I would in a heartbeat. And show you how much better I am than your fingers.” his voice becoming a purr. You sniffle looking up at him assessing him.

“I guess you do have the hair color of my bidet… this is also so fucking weird to me though… what even broke your curse?” you mumble wiping your lingering tears off your face.

“You pissing me the fuck off gave me enough ability to transform back to my initial form.” he says rather matter of factly. “Which reminds me again brat, I was not some ‘stupid fucking toilet’ especially with you fingering yourself on my seat or should I say my face. Yeah surprise, the toilet seat, was my face.” he barks out a laugh at his own words like the egotistical little shit Sukuna is. He is an asshole and he knows it better than anyone else.

“Your face?” your eyes widen, your thigh shitting nervously and honestly because the thought that you have been sitting on this sexy specimen's face technically every single day the past week, arouses the inner pervert within you.

“Yeah, my face, you dirty perverted girl. Oh fuck, you like that huh.” He smirks watching your thighs squeeze together and how your eyes are glued to him. Sukuna knows that look like the back of his hand, you are eye fucking him with your mind. A chuckle with a growl escapes his smirked mouth as he sees that you are unable to resist gawking at his thick long cock, the reddened tip leaking precum. He watches you like a predator would a prey, and oh how pretty of a prey you are. Naive girl, he thinks, if only you google translated that website you bought, bidet him, off of, you would have known that by buying the bidet you are now tied to him forever. You are never getting rid of him.

In minutes he has your clothes off and you laid in your bed, which is full of plushies, a range of silky and fluffy pink blankets and so many fucking pillows, in your princess style bed, much to his disgust but it’s so very much so you that he will let it slide. Your bare skin is lit up with the pink string lights that are hung up around your room as you look up at him needily. He leans his head down, his mouth latching onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

“Such pretty perfect tits.” he rasps against your breasts pressing kisses on them before he moves to the other nipple, one of his hands gripping your hip possessively, holding you in place. His other gropes the flesh of your tit that isn’t receiving attention with his mouth. His mouth and tongue are working their magic on your breast, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Oh fuck Sukuna… more.” your voice a needy purrlike moan. He unlatches from your perked nipple to grin like the cheshire cat.

“Needy brat can’t even let me take my time and savor your pretty body.” he murmurs but he is just as impatient as you, even moreso honestly, since he has not properly fucked anything for years. The hand gripping the flesh of your tit trails down your body slowly gliding against your skin. He slowly pushed your legs apart, earning your soft moan as he eyes your glistening cunt.

“Oh you are dripping, look at you.” he growls as his fingers graze against your wet slit. He groaned at how wet you are, his fingers almost immediately getting covered with your honeyed arousal. His fingers slowly circling your clit as he takes in the pleasure on your face, playing with your pussy like an instrument, figuring out what brings you the most pleasure. He smirks, applying the knowledge he has learned from you, fingering yourself on his face (toilet seat) to bring you closer to cumming as quickly as possible, the ego of him oozing out, with everything he does.

“All this just from me toying with your nipples? What a desperate slut you are. Come on, cum for me sweetheart I know you need too. And then I'll eat your sweet pretty pussy before I even determine if you are worthy of my cock.” His words are a mocking coo that pulls you in and threatens to send you over the edge so quickly. His fingers are so skilled and his voice just devours you, honestly how could you resist when this demon commands you to cum for him. Your pretty gasps and moans are like a symphony to his ears and he relishes when you whimper and cum all over his fingers. “There you fucking go. Much better than your tiny ass fingers ever could do. Pathetic honestly.” the mocking yet still sweet purr of his tone has you nodding unable to form proper words, but his words are true, his fingers worked you far better than your own could and you came far faster than you usually do, embarrassingly so.

He spends what feels like hours devouring your pussy much to your whines and protests to bury his cock inside you already. But all he did was mockingly laugh and pull your lower half closer to his face to drink your juices more.

“S’kuna pleaseee just put it in already..” your whines are delirious as he drives you closer to yet another unrelenting orgasm. “This is too much.. ngh..” but your whimpers fall to deaf ears. You can’t even grasp the sheets or his hair anymore as one of his hands holds them in an iron grip. His other hand gripping your hips almost to the point of a delicious bruise to prevent you from squirming or pushing away from him feasting on your cunt.

“Awe poor baby said please..” he scoffs in a mock coo against your pussy before humming against your clit again to make you scream. The vibration from him speaking and humming, sends an overwhelming current of pleasure straight to your core. You immediately nod your head at Sukuna about ready to moan those words out again but he cuts you off with more of his own. “Well maybe you should have thought of that before tasing my balls and calling me a ‘stupid fucking toilet’.”

“I’m sorry I didn't know.. how was I supposed to even know you weren’t a toilet.. pleaseee.” your sobs are combined with loud moans as he absolutely devours you like no one has before.

He lifts his head just a little from your core, breath still fanning on it and making it twitch just to chuckle a little. “Well too fucking bad. I have allll night sweetheart.” he drawls. “And we are just getting fucking started.”

[mooningningg]

"ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴘᴀʏ ʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ" ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ ᴏɴ ᴊᴊᴋ ᴍᴇɴ

Toji, Gojo, Suguru, Nanami, Sukuna, and Megumi

Genre, fluff. Notes, I love this trend, thank you anon for requesting!!

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji was crouched in front of the open fridge, shirtless, halfway through eating cold leftovers with a fork when you leaned on the kitchen counter.

You cleared your throat. “Babe… I can’t pay rent this month.”

He froze. Slowly straightened up, container still in hand. Turned to look at you.

Eyebrow raised. Chewing.

Then — a pause. Swallow. Blink.

“The fuck you mean you can’t pay rent?” he asked, pointing the fork at you.

You tried to keep a straight face. “I’ve been falling behind lately. Money’s tight.”

“Yeah?” He slammed the fridge shut with his knee. “That’s crazy. You ever paid rent?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

He walked over, leaned on the counter, tilted his head. “You said that like you’ve ever paid a single peso to live here.”

“I bought sponges,” you argued weakly.

“Oh, great. You’re contributing to the domestic economy.” He snorted, set the container down, and smirked. “You got real bold talkin’ about rent like it was your fuckin’ bill.”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “It was a prank.”

Toji smirked wider. “Hope so. 'Cause the only thing you’re payin’ for here is in backrubs and silence during UFC fights.”

★ GOJO SATORU

You found him in the bathroom mirror, halfway through his unnecessarily long skincare routine, humming to himself with a headband holding his hair back.

“Hey, babe?”

He flicked eye cream onto his cheek. “What’s up, sugarplum?”

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

He stopped mid-swipe. Stared at your reflection in the mirror. Lowered his hands.

“Sorry — you can’t what?”

“I said I can’t pay rent,” you repeated, straight-faced.

Gojo turned slowly, headband still on, a full pause as he looked you up and down.

“You don’t… pay rent.”

“I know,” you said innocently. “But if I did… I couldn’t.”

He blinked. “So let me get this straight. You walked into this bathroom — where I’m moisturizing with serums worth more than your entire shoe rack — and said, ‘I can’t pay rent this month,’ like you’ve ever paid for more than iced coffee and lip gloss?”

“I’m manifesting financial stress,” you defended.

He put a hand over his chest, faking a dramatic gasp. “I can’t believe you gaslighted me into budgeting emotions I didn’t need.”

You cracked. “It’s a prank, Satoru!”

He grinned, pulling you into a hug with sticky fingers. “You’re lucky you’re hot. And lucky I’m rich. And lucky I moisturize. You’d be on the street.”

★ GETO SUGURU

You caught him on the couch, glasses on, reading a book with a warm cup of tea in hand.

“Suguru?”

“Mmm?” he hummed, not looking up.

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

The page paused mid-turn. He lowered the book slowly. Looked at you.

“You can’t pay what?”

“Rent,” you said seriously.

He stared, completely still.

“Darling, when have you ever paid rent?” he asked softly, sipping his tea again. “Did you recently get a job I don’t know about?”

You tried to hold your laugh. “Well, no. But I thought I should let you know.”

Suguru set the cup down gently. “I see. Thank you for your transparency. I’ll make sure to let the landlord — who is also me — know that your 0% contribution remains unchanged.”

You burst out laughing. “It’s a prank!”

He sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose the flowers I was about to buy you for being honest about your finances can now be redirected to a nice psychiatric evaluation.”

★ KENTO NANAMI

Nanami was seated at the dining table, neat papers beside his laptop, glasses perched on his nose. The aura of a man trying to make sense of the world through Excel.

You walked up cautiously. “Kento?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

He didn’t look up. Just adjusted his glasses. “…You don’t pay rent.”

“Well, if I did…”

Nanami exhaled slowly. Finally raised his head. “Are you saying this to be funny, or are you testing my patience?”

“Little of both,” you admitted.

Nanami closed his laptop. “Do you recall how much the last electricity bill was?”

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

You smiled sheepishly. “It was a prank.”

He gave you a long, silent look. Then stood up, walked over, kissed your forehead, and murmured, “Prank responsibly. Or you’ll be writing receipts for every spoon you touch.”

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA

He was on the couch shirtless, watching some brutal action movie, half a bowl of chips on his lap.

“Hey, Sukuna?”

He didn’t look at you. “What.”

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

That got his attention. His eyes slowly cut toward you.

“You can’t what?” he repeated, low and dangerous.

“I can’t pay rent,” you said again.

He turned off the TV with the remote. Sat up.

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “You think you live here rent-free on charity?”

You held up a hand. “Technically, I do—”

“Exactly.” He pointed at you. “You eat my food, steal my hoodies, shed your shampoo all over my tub, and now you’re announcing your broke ass like I was waiting for a payment?”

You snorted. “It’s a prank—!”

He stood up, stalked toward you, cornered you against the wall with a hand beside your head.

“You better start payin’ in blowjobs and loyalty if you’re gonna pull dumb shit like this.”

You were laughing, face burning. “I do!”

He pulled back, grinning darkly. “Good. Rent accepted.”

★ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

Megumi was folding laundry on the bed when you walked in, pretending to be stressed.

“Gumi… I can’t pay rent this month.”

He paused, shirt in hand.

“…You never pay rent.”

“I know. But I can’t this month either.”

He turned to face you fully, blinking slowly. “You… said that like you contribute more than cuddles and three dirty dishes a day.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s valuable emotional labor.”

He gave you a deadpan stare. “This is why I get gray hair.”

You cracked a smile. “It’s a prank.”

Megumi sighed, finishing the fold. “Okay. But I’m adding ‘rent anxiety’ to the list of reasons why I’m cooking dinner without you tonight.”

[bebethsas]

(copying the tags up here, b/c I wrote them first, and you need them for a little context for how I got here)

#oh...oh they were *made* for this #Cait as the daughter of a lord (in this case Lady) #with her pretty fancy dresses #and perfect marksmanship #and Vi who can drink any sailor under the table as well as win whatever brawl that breaks out #cait joining the royal navy “for experience”

wait, no, shit, ohmygod, this just keeps spiraling outward in my head and I'm thinking faster than I can type--

okay, so Cait--joined the navy for experience, honorary title, one part sailor, one part royal guard

Powder/Jinx--supposedly lost at sea, became a sea-witch / captain of her own lone ship; known for isolated attacks, her dingy comes out of nowhere and wrecks whole ships, then slips away unnoticed

Silco--owner of pirate ship, his home/place of power is Jinx's homebase, has his own sector/ set-up on Pirate Island (think 'Tortuga'). (Edit: One part shelter, one part adopted father-figure for Jinx, but it's more of an allyship (she wrecks ships for him, and ships for herself; she does what she wants, and sometimes it lines up with what Silco wants.))

Jinx takes down Jayce's ship, she kidnaps him in the scuffle and holds him for ransom on Pirate island (which is under Silco's control, or most of it is under his control? Either works). Jayce manages to escape, but is injured in the attempt and forced to hide before he can truly *leave* the island, and is saved/ taken in by Viktor, a merman. They bond over a love of science and inventing and magic (and obvi fall in love, that's a given)--yes, Jayce is the prince, but his passion still lies in studying the Arcane and trying to "bring magic to the world." Viktor is the first person in his entire *life* who not only completely understands him (and his passion), but shares his vision.

Viktor--insanely clever, sarcastic, remarkable, and inventive merman with damaged fins on one side (one was a congenital defect--like Nemo's "lucky fin", and one was torn and healed successfully but the scar tissue still affects his movement). Took a 'cure' from Singed years ago (in order to either improve his weak fin, or so that he could temporarily join the human world and learn more about them, b/c yes, just like Ariel, he's fascinated and curious about humans and all the potential knowledge they may hold), and is now 'cursed' to be a human (with a disabled leg and hurt spine) during the day, and his true self at night. That's how he and Jayce meet--Jayce managed to limp/crawl his way down to the docks, but collapsed in front of Viktor's 'house' (he has a shack/storefront right on the water). Viktor realized who he is and his significance and why Jayce begged Viktor to hide him, and did so.

Jayce doesn't find out that Viktor's a merman for about a month (Viktor hides it from him as best he can). All Jayce knows is that he's living in his new friend Viktor's house, and that Viktor is a little cagey about things (and yeah he's curious, but he's not going to pester the man who saved his life, and demand that he tell him all his secrets), and at night he's visited by this enigmatic, mysterious 'thing' from the water. It's always too dark for him to see what they look like, he just knows that it has fins and scales and human hands, and once, he swore that he saw a pair of glowing amber-colored eyes.

And then, after a month, he knows that it has human lips too. And that whatever-it-is is a great kisser. But he's torn b/c he feels drawn to this mysterious Thing (his night-visitor), but he's also falling for Viktor during the day, and it's all confusing. (It also doesn't help that before all of this, he thought he only liked women?? But now...??? Whatever, it doesn't matter, he doesn't care, he doesn't need labels, all that matters is that he's in love with Viktor...as well as this other thing. And he can't choose between them, but he knows he has to.)

(Before you ask, Viktor wears tinted glasses during the day, yes even indoors, in order to hide his eyes--from everyone, not just Jayce. His eyes are too bright to be human, and they give him away.)

ANYWAY, where was I?? Oh, right.

So, Caitlyn is in the royal guard, right? She's also Jayce's best friend (or at least, his closest friend). She feels responsible for his kidnap, and swears 1) to get him back safe and sound, and 2) get revenge on Jinx (maybe Cassandra Kirammen died in the accident)

So, she needs to partner with someone who knows pirate island. Someone who blends in, someone who can help her sneak in undetected, someone who isn't affiliated with any of the major pirate clans on the island.

There's a rumor of a pink-haired pirate rogue. Someone who can get the job done for you. Someone wo knows this place in and out.

Cait finds Vi at a bar. Vi agrees to help her (Vi works alone, she's worked alone for *years*, she has one small sailing ship that she runs herself--formerly 'The Brawler', now named 'Vander' after her late father. She escaped onto the boat after an accident--mabe they crashed? Maybe they got caught in a storm?--where Claggor, Milo, and Vander were killed, and Powder presumed dead. the explosion killed Claggor, Milo, and Vander, and tore apart Vi and Powder, and has been surviving on it ever since. She was never thrown into Stillwater--she's not affiliated with any major pirate clan, but Zaunites--most of them, anyway--would rather protect one of their own rather than let Piltie enforcers snatch up a kid. She also fights in the ring and earns money that way. She regrets rejecting her sister after the accident, but Powder disappeared before Vi could make amends. So she gets by by running odd jobs for people, being a heavyweight for hire, and fighting in the ring (and earning a cut of the profits), while keeping an eye out for a girl with blue hair mourning the loss of her whole family. Her motives for helping Cait? On the face of it, the sooner that prince is found, the better (Zaun doesn't need *more* trouble). But really, she also wants Caitlyn's help to find her sister. Cait may want vengeance on Jinx (and the lives lost at sea thanks to her attack), but Vi hopes that she can still save her sister. (Edit: She doesn't know if Jinx is her sister or not, she's going off of hope and a hunch. She's heard rumors of a blue-haired wildcard who terrorizes the seas, and after all, Powder's body was never found...) Also Cait is really, really hot, and really, really pretty. (And really, REALLY Vi's type.)

(went back and made edits--hence all the strikethroughs--b/c I reread my original vision for Jinx at the top and liked it better.)

Viktor's shack is at one end of the island, and Vi's boat is docked on the other side. (So while she and Cait are scouring around Silco's territory, Jayce is hiding out with Viktor on the other side. Vi doesn't know Viktor, but she's heard of him, and not by name. All she knows is that there's a rumor of a weird inventor guy who lives at the edge of the island, who can fix just about anything--mechanical or medical--but usually gadgets. Vi doesn't know Jayce, so it wouldn't occur to her to check out the person whose job/ interests would be like catnip for him XD.)

(yes, Heimerdinger is King, yes he's still a yordle, no Jayce isn't really his son, just his chosen successor. Yes, he's king but he lets the Council decide how to run things--at this point, he's retired and only a King in name. He's having too much fun going off and exploring things incognito

The Firelights have their own secluded island a few clicks away from the pirate island; they raid ships but they save lives too. Thanks to the currents surrounding the island, it's near-impossible for anyone to randomly wash-up on their shores, so you have to be independently brought onto the island by an existing resident, who knows how to navigate the waters. Also no one can manipulate their way onto the island by earning a Firelight's trust b/c no one knows that the island even exists. Ekko runs it--like in canon--and is pretty close to his canon counterpart

ohmygod I almost forgot about Mel! Mel: ally, foreign princess, going through her own personal shit outside of Jayce being kidnapped and Zaunite internal power-struggles, discovers she has powers, has to go through her own personal journey of discovery in the *wake* of said discovery. Friends with Jayce, and engaged, but it's more of a smart political move than out of romantic love (they love each other and are lovers (sexually) and could be fairly content with one another, but they're not in love with each other, and their relationship would've started to fall apart at their first major argument). (Basically, if Jayce had never been kidnapped, and had never met Viktor, then he would have gladly married Mel--not knowing what he was missing out on--and, while not feeling happy, would have felt content. But that contentment would have been weak--not fragile, just weak. Because it would only take one conflict--Mel makes a decision that goes against Jayce's beliefs, such as a decision that ignores people in need, or takes advantage of them, or is just too selfish for Jayce's moral code--to shake Jayce's perfect relationship. And once that trust was broken, the cracks would only spread.)

Yes obviously she's still beautiful and charming and glamorous and cunning and strategic, with a kind, gentle side. (Lol, compared to all the others, Mel--and her story--changes the *least*. Okay, everyone else except Ekko. And Jinx, technically. ...also Silco? ... ...okay, I'm realizing that the only people whose stories and circumstances have really *changed* in this AU are Caitvi and Jayvik.)

The fissures run in cracks through the island, and are also cracks in the seafloor than form a natural reef just off the coast, and should be a source of nutrients for marine and human life alike (and traditionally, they were just that), but Piltover's been polluting them for decades, contaminating them and turning them into a source of harm instead of health.

one more thing about Jinx: she blames herself for the wreck that killed her family, it was her fault they were out at sea when the storm hit, she didn't know that Vi survived, so she thought that she lost her whole family and that it was her fault. Silco found her floating on a piece of wreckage from 'The Felicia', took her in, gave her a place to stay, helped her get on her feet. She wrecks ships, but is tormented by the ghosts of her past. She doesn't let anyone get close b/c she's a 'jinx'--anyone who gets close to her gets hurt. She has her own secluded cove.

caitvi in the pirate au

[cheftsunoda]

George x albon!reader x Carmen? Alex’s sister that comes to the paddock?

crush — gr63 + carmen

smau + blurbs

george russell x!influencer albon reader x carmen mundt

alex albon x !sister reader

carmen had never met yn albon in person, but from the glimpses she’d seen on social media—effortless beauty, sharp humor, and just the right amount of chaos—she was already smitten. so when yn finally walks into the paddock one sunny afternoon, turning heads like it’s second nature, carmen isn’t surprised that her heart skips a beat. what she is surprised by? the way george starts stammering and grinning like a schoolboy with a crush. oh, this was going to be fun.

fc : amberly yang (bbyambi on ig)

—

yn_albon

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, lando & 5,010,889 others.

yn_albon : on a brand trip, playing roblox and being lily’s wag all at the same time. (i can multitask unlike alex) (he thinks just bc he is busy driving a car in circles that he is excused from wag duties) (i got you my lily)

tagged : lilymhe

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view 175,020 other comments.

username00 : the fact that both the albon sibs are so chronically online that they always have memes of each other in their photo dumps makes me the happiest.

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : part of my job is to be chronically online…idfk what he is doing

liked by lilymhe and lando

alex_albon : im fighting for my life on the track to make more robux for when they unban me

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : honestly i can respect the grind

liked by alex_albon

↳ yn_albon : @/roblox can u pls unban my brother? we want to play dti together. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

liked by alex_albon and lilymhe

↳ username1 : pls😭 they are so unserious

lilymhe : the bestest wag (sorry alex) love you to the moon and back😇

liked by yn_albon

↳ alex_albon : the internet quite literally argues that i am the best wag

↳ lilymhe : yeah but the internet hasn’t seen yn in her wag era. she greeted me with matcha and braided my hair before the tournament:)

liked by yn_albon and alex_albon

↳ alex_albon : yn stop making me look bad infront of my girlfriend and the internet

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : if you don’t marry her soon i will😈

liked by lilymhe

lando : just give her alex’s seat while we’re at it, she’s already doing everything else

liked by yn_albon

↳ alex_albon : you are not helping.

liked by yn_albon

yourbff : i genuinely cannot keep up with your ass anymore. in 3 different countries and 4 different roblox servers at once

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : im just good like that. call you when lilz and i land

georgerussell63 : okay but share your username…for scientific purposes 😎

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : check dm’s👉🏻👈🏻

liked by georgerussell63

↳ alex_albon : really?? you wouldn’t get on last night but you will willingly play roblox with my sister.

↳ georgerussell63 : yes 😁

liked by yn_albon

carmenmmundt : pretty girl ❤️

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : says the prettiest girl ever

liked by carmenmmundt and georegrussell63

—

The jet smells like leather seats and expensive champagne. Lily tosses her golf cap onto the nearest empty seat and sinks into the plush cushion across from you, her hair still slightly damp from the post-tournament shower. Her phone’s buzzing nonstop—congratulatory texts, press notifications, probably three new swing analysis videos from her coach—but she ignores it all in favor of kicking off her sneakers and grinning at you like you’ve both just pulled off a heist.

“You think he’s going to freak out?” she asks, tucking her legs up as the jet begins taxiing.

You grin back. “You just placed 3rd in a tournament in another country and now we’re flying to ambush him in the paddock. If he doesn’t cry, I want a refund on him. A new brother for me and a new boyfriend for you.”

Lily laughs, reaching for a mini water bottle but never breaking eye contact. “Also, if he doesn’t hug me before he hugs you, I’m breaking up with him.”

“That’s fair,” you say, mock-serious. “I’ll even do it for you.”

The plane begins to climb, and the world below disappears in a blur of clouds. You sink deeper into your seat, blanket tucked around your legs, as Lily slides across to sit beside you. She rests her head on your shoulder without asking—like always—and pulls out her iPad, but doesn’t unlock it. You both sit there in the silence for a moment, the kind that only comes from a long day and a shared secret.

“You think he has any clue?” she finally asks.

You shake your head. “None. He thinks I’m still in New York on a campaign shoot and that you’ve gone radio silent for your post-tourny ‘recovery era.’ He literally said, ‘See you in like… two weeks maybe?’ this morning.”

Lily smiles, slow and dangerous. “Perfect. I love ruining his sense of control.”

You glance over at her and laugh. “I love when we’re unhinged together.”

She raises her water bottle in a toast. “To chaos. And to your brother, who’s about to have a very emotional Friday.”

You clink your bottle to hers and let the hum of the engines rock you both into quiet anticipation. Because if there’s one thing you and Lily have mastered, it’s multitasking—and surprising the hell out of your brother is the next on the list.

—

The paddock is its usual buzz—team radios chirping, camera crews weaving between garages, PR reps speed-walking like their lives depend on it. You’re tucked under a cap and oversized sunglasses, walking just a half-step behind Lily as she confidently leads the way through security. She’s already flashed her pass like three times, her glow giving her a kind of untouchable aura that’s working in your favor. No one’s looked too closely at you yet, and that’s exactly how you want it. Because Alex has no idea you’re here.

The last time you saw him in person was three months ago. Between your insane travel schedule, influencer events, his race calendar, and general Albon family chaos, you’ve both been surviving on chaotic FaceTime calls, blurry selfies, and the occasional meme exchange at 3AM. You missed him more than you realized—until now, walking into the paddock where he’s just around the corner.

Lily slows as you approach the Williams hospitality suite, tilting her head and smirking. “Okay, how are we doing this? Dramatic walk-in? Surprise hug? Fake press ambush?”

You grin. “I was thinking of yelling and just launching myself at him.”

She laughs and nods. “Classic. I support it.”

Before either of you can fully plan the ambush, you spot him. Alex, standing near the motorhome entrance, in full race kit, laughing at something his engineer just said, completely unaware of the storm about to hit him. And just like that, your feet move without your permission. You break into a jog—hair bouncing under your cap, sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose—and before anyone can stop you, you’re barreling into him from behind.

“HI, LOSER!” you shout, flinging your arms around him.

He stumbles, fully yelping, then freezes.

“WHAT THE—” His voice cracks. He twists around so fast you nearly fall backward, and then the sunglasses come off and your cap flips back, and he finally sees your face.

“YN???” His voice is way too loud. “NO. NO. YOU’RE—WHAT???”

He grabs your face like you’re a hallucination, blinking hard. “You’re here? You’re actually—wait—how?”

You’re laughing, almost in tears from how shocked he looks. “Surprise, idiot!”

And then he’s pulling you into the tightest hug, one arm locked around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head like he’s scared you’ll vanish again.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” he mumbles into your hair. “I thought you were in New York?”

“Diversion,” you whisper dramatically. “I lied. Lily helped.”

As if on cue, Lily strolls up behind you, completely unbothered and smug. “Hi babe,” she says sweetly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Alex pulls away from your hug just enough to look at her, still wide-eyed. “Did you both just—plan an ambush on me?”

“Obviously,” you and Lily say at the same time.

He laughs, almost breathless. “You two are terrorists. I’m calling mum.”

“I already did yesterday,” you reply, smirking. “She knew. She said, and I quote, ‘Don’t give him a heart attack, please.’”

Alex groans, burying his face in your shoulder again. “I’m gonna cry. No seriously, I might cry.”

You pat his back. “You’re allowed. But only if it’s ugly crying. We need the full drama.”

Lily pulls out her phone. “I’m recording just in case.”

He flips her off without looking. In the distance, you can hear someone yell “IS THAT YN??” followed by Lando loudly going “I told you she was hotter in person!”

You’ll deal with that chaos later. For now, it’s just you, your brother, and your best friend. And the first real moment in months where it feels like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be.

—

You’re still tucked under Alex’s arm, half-leaning into the pit wall inside the Williams garage, laughing over some chaotic memory involving one of your childhood hamster funerals, when you feel Lily tap your leg.

“Don’t look now,” she mutters under her breath, “but your fans are approaching.”

You lift a brow. “Fans?”

She tilts her head toward the open paddock walkway. And there they are. George Russell and Carmen Mundt.

Not even subtle about it—walking suspiciously slow past the garage entrance, sunglasses on, heads angled just enough to catch a glimpse inside. George does a double take, then triple take. Carmen nearly walks into a catering cart because she’s so focused on not being obvious about looking. She is very obvious. Alex glances over and smirks.

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “What are they—are they circling the garage?”

“Like sharks,” Lily says. “Sharks that have a crush on your sister.”

“Should we wave?” you ask, already raising your hand.

“No,” Alex says, far too pleased with himself.

Before you can protest, Alex strides to the edge of the garage and calls out, very loudly, “GEORGE! CARMEN! You looking for someone or just lost?”

George freezes. Carmen tries to act casual but ends up bumping into George’s shoulder.

Alex waves them over. “Come say hi, you creeps.”

You try not to laugh as they walk over—George slightly flushed, Carmen attempting nonchalance with all the grace of someone who definitely spent the last ten minutes plotting this.

Alex leans casually against the wall and wraps an arm around your shoulders like he’s presenting a championship trophy. “You two know my very cool, smart, and famous little sister, YN, yeah?”

George’s eyes practically sparkle. “Oh, we’ve heard of her.”

Carmen grins, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Followed her for years, actually.”

Lily snorts quietly.

“YN,” Alex continues, tone smug as hell, “meet George—who enjoys listening to Taylor Swift before races and Carmen, who once almost tackled a PR intern because she thought they were taking her snacks.”

“That’s a lie,” Carmen says, blushing. “He was trying to steal the last brownie.”

“Fair,” you say, sticking your hand out. “I respect snack based violence.”

Carmen beams as she shakes your hand, maybe holding on a little longer than necessary. “Your posts from Morocco last month? Life-changing. You basically made me book a ticket.”

“Yeah, and that photo dump with the glitter robe?” George adds quickly. “Iconic. No notes.”

You blink. “You saw that?”

“I saw all of that,” George says, too fast, then freezes. “I mean—I just—you know. It was in the explore tab.”

Alex is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “George, you okay? Bit red in the face, mate.”

George clears his throat. “No, yeah. All good. Just warm in here.”

“We’re in the shade,” Lily says dryly, sipping from her water bottle.

Carmen ignores all of them, eyes still on you. “I love that you’re here this weekend. Maybe we’ll see you around the paddock?”

“Oh, she’ll be around,” Alex says, way too cheerfully. “Attached to my side and/or sabotaging the team radios.”

“She’s welcome to sabotage mine anytime,” George mutters, then straightens up. “Not sabotage. I meant—guest commentary. You know. Enthusiastic support.”

You raise a brow, amused. “Noted.”

Carmen tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to look casual. “If you’re not doing anything later, you should come find us. There’s a little driver dinner after quali.”

Lily’s already smiling. “She’s free. We’re both free.”

George nods eagerly. “Perfect. Yeah. Great.”

Alex just shakes his head, laughing.

—

The restaurant is candlelit and fancy enough that Alex’s shirt has actual buttons. The long, private table is tucked onto a quiet terrace with a view of the paddock lights still glowing in the distance. Drivers are trickling in slowly—Max, Carlos, Lando, a few team personnel—and you’re tucked between Lily and Alex near the middle, your dress a little too pretty for the chaos you’ve been surrounded by all day. You spot them before they spot you.

George, all charm and cologne and crisp white shirt, walking alongside Carmen, who’s glowing in a silk dress.

“Oh no,” Alex mutters around a bite of bread. “The dynamic duo.”

“Be nice,” you hum, dabbing your mouth with a napkin.

“I’m being nice,” he says. “I’m also preparing myself to watch my best friend and his girlfriend flirt with my sister.”

Lily smirks. “Honestly, can’t wait.”

George spots you and lights up immediately.

“YN! You made it,” he says as he slides into the seat across from you—conveniently vacating the original place card.

Carmen swoops in a second later, gracefully sliding into the seat next to you, leaning in close with a conspiratorial grin. “I almost changed my outfit three times tonight. Now I’m glad I didn’t.”

You blink. “You look incredible. You could’ve come in a garbage bag and still won.”

“Oh, stop,” she says, smiling in that way that makes it hard to look away.

Across the table, George clears his throat and leans forward. “She’s right, though. You look amazing.”

“Me or Carmen?” you ask, feigning confusion.

“Yes,” George says, like it’s the most natural answer in the world.

You laugh, and Alex visibly clenches his jaw. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll get you one,” Carmen offers—already rising from her seat.

“I’ll come too,” George says, getting up at the exact same time.

They both stop and look at each other, frozen mid-step.

Lily sips her wine and whispers, “This is amazing.”

Carmen smiles, somehow angelic and savage. “You can grab the drinks, George. I’ll keep YN company.”

George narrows his eyes. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

You turn to Carmen, who leans on her elbow, close enough that her perfume mixes with the scent of the wine. “So,” she says, “are you always this good at crashing dinners and making half the grid fall in love with you?”

You raise a brow. “Half? That’s underestimating me.”

She laughs, and it’s soft and real, and you find yourself relaxing more than you have in days.

George returns moments later with a drink he clearly put effort into—sparkling, colorful, garnished with citrus and possibly some sort of effort-induced love potion. He sets it down in front of you and looks smug.

“Special request,” he says. “Told the bartender it had to be beautiful. Like you.”

Alex chokes on his water. Carlos, from three seats away, just whispers, “wow.”

“George,” you say, blinking at the drink, “did you just riz me with a mocktail?”

“If it worked, I won’t apologize.”

Carmen gives him a look. “Desperate times, huh?”

“You’re the one who changed seats to be closer to her,” he fires back.

“And you’re the one who literally sprinted to make her a drink.”

You glance between the two of them, holding back a smile. “You know I can hear both of you, right?”

They both turn to you at once.

“Just making sure you feel welcome,” Carmen says sweetly.

“Just making sure you don’t waste time with bad company,” George says, with a look that is not subtle.

Lily leans into Alex, who looks like he’s rethinking every life decision he’s ever made.

“Should we intervene?” she whispers.

Alex sighs. “No. Let them tire themselves out. She’ll pick the one who offers snacks first. That’s always the move.”

You smile, sipping the mocktail George brought you, while Carmen casually rests her hand on your chair, her fingers brushing the back of your shoulder like it means nothing. It’s going to be a long dinner. But you’re definitely not bored.

—

The dinner has long since faded into candle stubs and half empty wine glasses, drivers breaking off in pairs to catch early nights, debriefs, or one last drink. You step out into the cool night air, your heels clicking softly on the cobblestone path leading down the hotel driveway, Lily and Alex already ahead of you, arm in arm and lost in some shared joke. You’re about to call after them when you hear your name.

“YN—wait.”

You turn. Carmen, heels in hand now, jogging slightly to catch up. George is right behind her, loosened collar and flushed cheeks, the kind that say he’s had one drink too many or just been nervous all night.

“Escaping without saying goodbye?” Carmen asks, falling into step beside you.

“I was giving you a moment to catch up,” you say with a grin.

George shoves his hands in his pockets. “More like giving us a chance to psych ourselves up.”

You blink. “For what?”

The two of them exchange a glance—quick, nervous, familiar. It hits you then—how in sync they are. And how out of sync they’ve been all evening whenever you’re around. It’s like their rhythm shifts whenever you’re in orbit.

Carmen inhales, then exhales slowly. “Okay. So, this might be insane, but we’ve kind of been talking—”

“—for a while,” George adds quickly.

“And we were wondering,” she continues, stepping slightly in front of him now, “if you’d maybe… let us take you out?”

You raise a brow, heart skipping. “Both of you?”

George shrugs, sheepish but genuine. “We’re not exactly subtle, are we?”

You laugh, mostly because no, they’re not. The lingering glances, the drink wars, the not-so-quiet seat swapping at dinner—it’s all been loud in the most ridiculous, oddly sweet way.

“We figured if we waited any longer, someone else on the grid would try to beat us to it,” Carmen says, voice softer now. “And I don’t share well.”

“Unless it’s with me,” George adds, nudging her shoulder.

She smirks. “That’s different.”

The quiet settles between the three of you. It’s not awkward, though. It’s a little charged, a little hopeful, and very real.

You fold your arms and tilt your head, teasing. “So, let me get this straight. You’re asking if I want to go on a date—with both of you—after the race weekend, when you’re either wildly celebrating or emotionally spiraling?”

George grins. “Exactly.”

“We promise to be charming either way,” Carmen says, her fingers brushing your forearm.

You pause, pretend to think. “Only if it involves another one of George’s mocktails.”

They both lean in slightly, twin expressions of relief and excitement blooming across their faces.

“That’s a yes?” George asks.

You nod. “That’s a yes.”

Carmen’s smile turns a little dangerous, a little thrilled. “Good. Because I already had the outfits picked.”

“And I already booked the restaurant,” George admits.

You roll your eyes fondly. “So this wasn’t spontaneous at all.”

“Calculated risk,” Carmen says with a wink.

And as you fall into step with them—George on your left, Carmen on your right—you think maybe a little risk isn’t such a bad thing after all.

—

yn_albon

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 7,001,100 others.

yn_albon : idk what to caption this but i saw carlos sainz flirting with james vowles today.

tagged : carmenmmundt, alex_albon and lilymhe

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carlossainz55 : i was not flirting…james is just…very charismatic 🧍🏻‍♂️

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : it’s okay to be in love with ur boss carlos. i won’t tell

liked by carlossainz55

alex_albon : go weeyums!!!! (they do that all the time)

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : the longing looks r something else. felt like i was in a soap opera.

liked by alex_albon

williamsracing : we plead the fifth. GO WEEYUMS!!!!

liked by yn_albon and alex_albon

lilymhe : i was too busy staring at you. you are too hot.

liked by yn_albon

↳ alex_albon : was anyone actually watching me today???

liked by yn_albon and lilymhe

↳ yn_albon : not everything is about you alex. it’s called a team for a reason.

liked by lilymhe and alex_albon

carmenmmundt : so happy to be able to spend the day with the prettiest girl in the paddock 🤍

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : you are the best 🩷

liked by carmenmmundt

—

Carmen finds you outside the motorhome just before lights out, all white sunglasses and effortless grace, her Mercedes pass swinging around her neck like she was born with it. She grins as she approaches, and for a second, you forget the crowd around you—forget the chaos of race day, the roar of engines in the background, the crew rushing past with unreadable expressions. It’s just her.

“You ready?” she asks, nudging your arm gently with her elbow.

“I was born ready,” you say, even though your heart’s been beating at double speed since she texted, “Watch the race with me?”

You follow her to the viewing deck above the garage, where the sunlight is sharp and golden and the crowd noise blends into a distant hum. She leans on the railing next to you, arms crossed, head tilted toward the track—but her eyes keep flicking to you, like she’s more interested in your reactions than the timing screens.

Every time something happens—an overtake, a near miss, Alex making a brilliant move into Turn 1—Carmen taps your arm or gasps quietly or leans in just enough that you catch the faint scent of her perfume. At one point, she offers you a pair of headphones, only to lean closer and say, “But if you wear them, I can’t make dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.”

You don’t put them on.

Instead, you laugh and let her narrate the race in a running whisper that’s more gossip than strategy. And through it all—there’s this buzz. This something.

The way she rests her hand casually on your lower back when she leans over the rail. The way your shoulders brush, again and again, and neither of you pull away. The little inside jokes that start forming before lap twenty.

At one point, you’re both cheering wildly for Alex’s overtake, and you throw your arms up without thinking. Carmen grabs your hand and spins you dramatically, like you’re dancing in the middle of a champagne shower. You both burst out laughing, flushed from the sun and the shared joy, and she doesn’t let go of your hand right away.

“Best race day I’ve had in a while,” she says quietly, eyes locked on yours as the cheers from below echo around you.

“Same,” you reply, and your voice comes out softer than you expect.

For the rest of the race, she stands just a little closer. Says your name just a little more often. And by the time the checkered flag waves, you’re both already making plans for future races.

—

The restaurant is quiet, tucked away on a rooftop overlooking the city, warm lights casting a soft gold glow across the terrace. It’s not flashy, not the kind of place drivers usually get dragged to by sponsors or brands. It’s intimate, quiet, chosen with intention. You knew something was different the moment you stepped out of the car.

George was already waiting, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he saw you. Carmen had arrived with him, slipping her hand into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now, the three of you sit at a small round table under string lights, the city glittering behind you like someone scattered stars too close to earth. Dinner has come and gone, wine glasses nearly empty, dessert barely touched. It’s the silence that tips you off. Not awkward—comfortable. Full. George is watching you with the softest smile, like he’s memorizing the curve of your cheek. Carmen’s hand is resting just slightly over yours on the table, her thumb tracing gentle patterns along your skin.

You glance between them and raise a brow. “What?” you say, laughing lightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

George leans forward, voice low and sure. “Because we’ve been waiting all night to say something.”

Carmen straightens slightly, her fingers curling more securely around yours. “We didn’t want to rush. We didn’t want to make it a thing until we were sure you felt it too.”

You blink, heart stuttering. “Felt what?”

George takes a breath. “This. Us. Whatever this has been—between the stolen glances and competing to make you laugh and the way you make it feel like everything slows down when you walk into a room. We’ve talked about it, a lot. And we just—”

“—we like you,” Carmen finishes, eyes bright and unwavering. “Together. As… us. Not just one of us. Not competing. Just us.”

Your breath catches. They’re both so open. So sure. Carmen reaches across the table with her free hand, taking George’s. “We don’t want to confuse you or pressure you. But if there’s even a part of you that wants this too… we’d really like to be yours. If you’d be ours.”

There’s no big speech. No drama. Just honesty. Just two people you’ve somehow fallen into orbit with—who’ve made you laugh and blush and feel more seen than you’ve felt in a long, long time. You look at George. At Carmen. At the way they’re already sharing something so strong and steady between them—and yet still made room for you. Your voice is quiet, but sure.

“I do feel it. I’ve been feeling it since… Monaco, probably. And I didn’t know what to do with it. Because this felt impossible.” You laugh, breathless. “But now it feels kind of perfect.”

George exhales, smiling so wide it looks like relief. Carmen brings your hand to her lips and kisses your knuckles. “So… is that a yes?”

You nod, eyes glassy, voice thick with something you didn’t expect to feel tonight. “Yeah. It’s a yes.”

George stands first, pulling your chair out with one hand and helping you up with the other, his touch lingering, reverent. Carmen slips an arm around your waist, and George’s hand finds the small of your back as they guide you to the edge of the terrace. The city stretches out in front of you. The stars are closer now.

And when they lean in—first Carmen pressing her lips to your cheek, then George brushing his nose against yours before placing a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth—it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It feels like something beginning.

—

several weeks later…

Your birthday doesn’t feel like your birthday. There’s no cake, no chaos, no Alex yelling off-key from the other room while Lily throws glitter at your head. No extra- tight hugs from George. No light forehead kisses from Carmen. There’s just… work.

You’re in New York, stuck in meetings and content shoots for a brand launch you should be excited about. But the apartment they’ve put you in is cold in that expensive, too-white way. You’ve got cupcakes from a PR box and flowers from people you’ve never met, and your phone has dozens of “Happy Birthday!!!” texts that make your screen light up and still leave you feeling completely alone.

You curl up on the couch in your pajamas that night, bare-faced and tired, a blanket around your shoulders as the skyline blinks outside the window. You sent Alex a photo earlier—of your sad little cupcake and a candle that refused to stay lit—but he didn’t answer. Neither did Lily.

You figured Carmen and George would call. Maybe FaceTime you together and make you laugh until your stomach hurt. But it’s almost midnight, and all you’ve got is silence. Until— knock knock knock. You frown.

No one knows you’re here. Not the building. Not the brand team. Not even your manager. You rise slowly, wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter as you cross to the door. You peek through the peephole.

And immediately stumble back, because—

“OPEN THE DOOR,” someone whispers through the wood.

You fling it open. Alex is standing there in a ridiculous party hat, grinning, arms wide open.

“Surprise!” he shouts.

“WHAT—” you start, eyes wide, but then Lily appears from behind him, holding a tray of homemade cookies and a box with your actual baby photo printed on it.

And then Carmen steps out from behind them, looking criminally good in sweatpants and a crop top, holding a tote bag with confetti spilling out.

And George—George—pokes his head in last, holding a bouquet that’s bigger than his torso.

Your breath leaves your lungs in one big, stunned exhale. “You’re all—here?”

“Happy birthday, loser,” Alex says, pulling you into the biggest hug, practically lifting you off the ground.

Lily hugs you second, tighter, whispering, “You didn’t think we’d let you spend today alone, did you?”

You’re already crying when Carmen cups your face. “I know you said you were okay, but you didn’t sound okay. And we weren’t going to let this pass without showing up.”

George presses a kiss to your forehead as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Plus, I missed you. Also, I really needed an excuse to eat cake.”

They come inside like they’ve always belonged there. Alex sets up music from his phone while Lily lays out snacks from a suitcase like she packed an entire party. Carmen pulls a birthday crown from her bag and puts it directly on your head, and George pops open a bottle of something bubbly while asking, “Did we miss dinner, or are we ordering five pizzas?”

Within ten minutes, your apartment feels like home. There’s laughter bouncing off the walls, confetti in the air, candles finally staying lit, and the people you love most in the world—all here. For you. At one point, you’re sitting on the couch with Carmen curled into your side, George stretched out with his head on your lap, Lily painting Alex’s nails while he argues about color choices—and it hits you. This is everything.

Not the flowers from brands or the influencer trips or the shiny gifts you’ll probably forget about in a month. Just this. The people who show up. You smile through your happy tears, and Carmen tilts her head to look up at you.

“What are you thinking?” she asks softly.

“That I might cry again,” you admit, voice cracking.

George shifts to press a kiss to your knee. “Good. We were going for tears.”

Alex raises his bottle. “To YN. The best sister, the most chaotic human being, and now—officially—another year older.”

You all clink glasses. And in that moment, surrounded by love, laughter, and far too much frosting—you feel exactly how you should on your birthday. Not alone. Not forgotten. So, so loved.

—

The next morning, you’re woken by someone aggressively playing the Spider-Man 2 theme song through a portable speaker. You sit up in bed, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, only to find Alex standing in the middle of your apartment with a bagel in one hand and a foam Statue of Liberty crown already on his head.

“Rise and shine, birthday brat,” he declares. “It’s your New York day. And I am your guide.”

“You’ve been here once, Carmen says, sipping coffee in a silk robe from your kitchen. “And you got lost in Central Park.”

George walks in from the balcony, wearing sunglasses and holding a laminated tour map. “Ladies and gentlemen, the group itinerary.”

“Absolutely not,” you groan, pulling the covers over your face.

“Absolutely yes,” Lily says sweetly, throwing a pair of “I ❤️ NY” socks at your head. “You’ve been working nonstop. Today is pure chaos. We’re being annoying. We’re being tourists. We’re buying matching shirts.”

—

You start the day in Central Park because, apparently, Alex woke up with the unshakable conviction that ‘bike rides = wholesome bonding.’ He’s already at the rental kiosk when the rest of you catch up, dramatically arguing with the attendant about whether he can get one with a basket.

Carmen and George are dressed like they’re shooting a Vogue travel spread—she in oversized sunnies and a windbreaker you know she stole from George’s closet; he in perfectly tailored shorts and the exact amount of smug. You, in contrast, are in leggings and a hoodie with a coffee in one hand and a deep mistrust of physical activity in the other.

“Ready to race?” George asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Lily raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m above humiliation?”

She takes off like a shot before anyone can answer. George yells “CHEATER!” and tears after her, nearly taking out a toddler and an elderly pug in the process.

You and Carmen opt for the scenic route. You pedal slowly through tree-lined paths while she keeps one hand on the handlebars and the other on your arm whenever she wants to point something out. She tells you stories from her first visit to New York with her uni friends, and you tell her how surreal it feels to be here now, like this—with them.

Halfway through the ride, Alex crashes dramatically into a bush, claiming he was “distracted by nature.” You’re crying from laughing so hard, and George has the audacity to pull out his phone and snap a picture.

Carmen kisses your cheek at a stoplight and whispers, “This already feels like the best day.”

The next stop you begged them not to go. Alex insisted. George supported him purely out of chaos.

It’s exactly what you expected—overstimulating, overpacked, and full of things you don’t want to touch without washing your hands. Carmen wraps a scarf around your head like a disguise while Lily buys hot dogs that may or may not be edible.

Alex immediately takes photos with every off-brand costumed character: a saggy Elmo, a sun-faded Batman, a Hello Kitty with glowing red eyes. “It’s for culture,” he says. “You can’t fight me on this. I was born here spiritually.”

George, meanwhile, ends up cornered by someone selling knockoff sunglasses. He nearly buys three before Carmen drags him away by the collar.

You finally agree to take one touristy group selfie. It takes eight tries because Alex keeps blinking, Carmen keeps kissing your cheek, and George keeps trying to photobomb his own photo.

When you check your camera roll later, one of the blurry pics is your favorite—you, surrounded by all of them, laughing mid-moment, chaos frozen in time.

George announces this stop with the gravity of an F1 team principal revealing new car upgrades.

“There are three key stops. First, Joe’s. Second, Prince Street. Third, the little place in Brooklyn I won’t name because it’s my spot.”

You make it through the first location with only mild cheese-induced burns. George insists on rating every slice like it’s Michelin-tier, even writing notes in his phone. 

Lily walks past him and mutters, “You sound like a guy describing his ex.”

At the second stop, Alex tries to eat an entire slice in one bite and ends up with sauce in his nose. Carmen refuses to share hers. George offers you a bite of his, only to “accidentally” brush your nose with sauce so he can wipe it off with a napkin and an absurd amount of smugness. Carmen retaliates by handing you her last bite and dramatically saying, “Because I actually care about your well-being.” By the third stop, you’re full, a little greasy, and completely, blissfully happy.

 The next stop starts off tame. You wander the galleries, the lighting cool and soft, the mood respectful. It lasts ten minutes.

Alex reads the name of every piece in a fake posh accent. 

George gets stopped by a group of teen art students who ask if he’s that “guy from TikTok,” and he leans in with a totally serious, “Only if you don’t tell my team principal I’m here instead of doing sim work.”

Lily attempts to interpret a Jackson Pollock painting as “Alex’s emotional state after Quali,” and honestly? It fits.

Carmen lingers behind with you in the more abstract galleries. She slips her fingers between yours and murmurs, “I think you are more beautiful than any of this art.” 

You blink at her. “Are you flirting in a museum?”

She smirks. “Can’t help it. You look good under gallery lighting.”

You’re still blushing when a security guard walks by and clears his throat, clearly done with your group’s nonsense.

—

By the time you reach the bridge, the sun is low, painting the skyline in gold and rose and streaks of violet. Carmen hands you an iced drink she somehow smuggled from the last café. George is already halfway up the incline with Alex, both loudly arguing over “who’s more photogenic in silhouettes.”

You walk slower. Lily’s taking photos behind you, catching little moments—you laughing with Carmen, George adjusting your scarf because the wind caught it, Alex mid-jump trying to be “cinematic.”

It’s calm in that surreal, glowing way New York sometimes is. Carmen wraps an arm around you, chin on your shoulder. George loops his arm over both of yours from behind, resting his chin on Carmen.

“I want this forever,” he says softly.

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to. They feel your answer in the way your hand finds theirs, in the way your eyes shine in the light.

—

They sneak you upstairs, Carmen covering your eyes with her hands while George hums Happy Birthday off-key. When they pull their hands away, there’s cake, string lights, paper crowns, and a banner that definitely says “YN IS A MENACE” in Alex’s handwriting.

Lily cues up music. Alex opens champagne like he’s won a Grand Prix. George tries to light sparklers and nearly sets his sleeve on fire. Carmen gets frosting on her cheek and doesn’t wipe it off until you lean in and do it for her.

There’s dancing. Loud, stupid, no-one’s-watching dancing. There’s a slow song that none of you can name, but Carmen tugs you into a sway, and George wraps his arms around both of you.

They sing Happy Birthday again. Off-key. Too loud. Perfectly you. And later, much later, as you sit barefoot on the rooftop with your legs in Carmen’s lap and George tracing circles on your knee, you close your eyes and think— This is the best birthday you’ve ever had. Not because of the city or the food or the sights. Because of them. Your people. Your chaos. Your heart.

—

yn_albon

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and 9,010,107 others.

yn_albon : best birthday ever because i spent it with all my favorite ppl 🩷 love you all so much.

tagged : georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and alex_albon

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view 345,007 other comments.

lando : happy birthday yn!

liked by yn_albon

alex_albon : happiest of birthdays to my favorite menace! love you!

liked by yn_albon

lilymhe : love you my sweet girl! hope it was the best birthday ever❤️

liked by yn_albon

carmenmmundt : our pretty girl!! love you so much

liked by yn_albon

georgerussell63 : id say alex and i were very stellar tour guides 🤣 happy birthday beautiful! love you forever

liked by yn_albon

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f1gossipgirls

3,012,002 likes.

f1gossipgirls : George Russell was caught kissing not longtime girlfriend Carmen Mundt, but her very close friend YN Albon—yes, Alex Albon’s sister and mega influencer. The steamy moment was snapped outside a SoHo café, and naturally, fans are spiraling. Last we checked, George and Carmen were still very much together—so is this a cheating scandal? An open relationship? Or something even messier? And before you say it—yes, Carmen was spotted in New York earlier this week. Yes, with YN. Yes, they were holding hands. No, we don’t know what’s going on either.

—

The photo is everywhere. You wake up to it—your phone vibrating endlessly on the nightstand, screen flooded with texts and notifications. It takes one swipe and a blurry blink to register what’s happening. Splashed across every F1 gossip account, tabloids, Twitter threads, Reddit forums already three theories deep. The angle is unforgiving—paparazzi-level candid, your hand curled into his hoodie, George smiling against your lips like you’re his entire world. Your stomach flips—not from guilt, but from the timing. Because the world doesn’t know the truth. Not yet. Not about you and George. Not about Carmen, either. You scroll down. The headlines are brutal.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until a FaceTime call blares across the screen. It’s Carmen. You freeze. Heart in your throat. She speaks before you can even say hello.

“Have you seen it?” she asks, voice low, hair still wet from her morning shower.

“Yeah,” you croak.

There’s a pause—heavy but not cold. Then she exhales, soft and steady. “George is already pacing the kitchen. He’s on his third coffee. I think he’s trying to rewrite time.”

You let out a small, surprised laugh. Then, more quietly, “Are you okay?”

She smiles gently. “I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re asking. Just tired of pretending. Tired of people thinking we’re lying, or worse—hurting each other.”

“I didn’t mean for it to—”

“I know,” she interrupts. “God, YN, it’s us. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just…” She sighs. “Do you think it’s time?”

Before you can answer, George joins the call, sliding into frame with a frown that melts the second he sees you. He’s still in sweatpants, hair messy, worry written across every feature.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve checked who was around—”

“George,” Carmen cuts in gently. “We’re not mad. We’re just… tired of hiding.”

He nods slowly. “I didn’t like watching people call me a cheater when all I was doing was kissing someone I love.”

That word hangs in the air—love. You feel your chest tighten. Carmen notices. Of course she does.

“We all love each other,” she says quietly. “We’re in this together, yeah?”

You nod, throat thick. “Yeah. Together.”

“So we tell them?” George asks. “Everything? The three of us? No secrets, no damage control?”

Carmen looks at you. “Do you want this to be real in the open? Because I do. I want to hold your hand in the paddock. I want to stop pretending you’re just Alex’s little sister. I want people to know that you’re mine— ours.”

Your eyes sting. You don’t even hesitate. “I want that too.”

George exhales like he’s been holding the words in since the post dropped. “Okay. We do it. Together.”

He reaches for Carmen’s hand offscreen. Carmen looks straight into the camera and says, “Let’s write the truth before someone else tries to write it for us.”

You smile. And for the first time that morning, your hands stop shaking.

—

georgerussell63

liked by yn_albon, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and 7,010,001 others.

georgerussell63 : love looks a little different on us. but it’s real. and it’s ours. 💙

tagged : yn_albon and carmenmmundt

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[rainrot4me]

I'm wondering what your thoughts are on what the creeps/pastas favorite positions are, I don't know if you've done this already but I'd love to read it.

(I would especially like to see slenderman and eyeless jack)

Giggling like a schoolgirl right now I’ll have you know. I don’t think they’d be into anything totally specific, but I’ll give the general vibes.

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

Face-to-face, full control, messy and intense.

Jeff’s favorite is anything where he can watch your face. He likes hovering over you, pinning your wrists, keeping his eyes locked on yours while you’re unraveling beneath him. It’s not just about dominance—it’s about seeing the exact second you fall apart for him.

“Yeah… look at me. Don’t hide now.”

There’s blood on your neck and his teeth are sharp—bites marks are always a constant.

He’s loud. Insatiable. Territorial. But there’s something almost adoring in how tightly he clings during.

✦ . ticci toby

From behind, deep, a hand around your throat.

Toby’s favorite isn’t about dominance—it’s about closeness. He likes pressing up behind you, arms around your waist, face buried in your neck. It’s grounding. Steadying. He doesn’t even mean to be rough, but his strength always slips through.

“You feel so good. Yo-You always do this to me…”

His voice stutters between your name and low, choked laughter.

He melts when you praise him. Curls around you like a dog desperate for warmth.

✦ . eyeless jack

Slow, intimate, full-body weight—especially on a bed or table.

Jack’s all about knowing body language and observation. He wants you lying beneath him, eyes wide (or blindfolded), letting him explore every inch. His body is heavy and cool, and when he covers you completely, it’s almost overwhelming.

“Stay still. Let me see you… all of you.”

Despite it, the weight is nice. You’re completely unable to move, completely at his disposal.

There’s an intimacy in the way he touches—measured, reverent, curious. You’re his favorite subject to study.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Up against a wall, rough and breathless, or anywhere he can slam into you with force.

Tim’s unhinged when he’s desperate. His favorite positions are anything fast, gritty, and impulsive—like he couldn’t wait to get you home. He likes taking you hard, somewhere risky, somewhere you could definitely get caught.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?”

A definite hair-puller and face-grabber.

He gets exhausted quick, but it’s worth the intensity of the few moments before he’s forced to be slow again.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

You on top, his hands behind his head, a smug look on his face.

He likes watching you get desperate for it, take things into your own hands. Brian loves being under you, hands resting behind his head as you ride him at your own pace. He’ll tease, taunt, praise—but he never interrupts. He just stares and lets you wreck yourself for him.

“Go on, sweetheart. Show me how bad you want it.”

That smirk? Criminal. And so is the way he won’t let you look away.

Of course, the second he decides to flip you over? Good luck catching your breath.

✦ . kate the chaser

Standing, aggressive, your hands pinned behind you.

Kate’s favorite is you surrendering. Not weak—never that—but willing. She likes you pressed to a wall or bent over something stable, her knife on the table as a reminder. She growls praise. She bites. But she also kisses where it bruises.

“You wanna run, bunny? Go ahead. I’ll catch you.”

You don’t run. You never do. Couldn’t if you tried.

It’s like a predator cradling her favorite thing in the world.

✦ . ben drowned

Lazy couch cuddles turning into slow grinding, you straddling him.

Ben is all about comfort meets chaos. He loves having you draped over him while he plays games… until things shift. His favorite position is straddling his lap, your fingers in his hair while he guides your hips in slow, teasing movements.

“Pause the game? Nah. I can multitask.”

The teasing is terrible but it’s worth the slow build up before everything finally floods over.

Half-mocking, half-sweet, all-consuming. He lives for making you blush first.

✦ . clockwork

You tied to the bed. Or her lap. Pick your poison.

Clockwork is a switch—but when she’s in charge, she owns you. She likes you restrained and at her mercy, watching as she takes her time. But when she lets you take over? She’ll sit back, spread her legs, and let you know exactly how good you’re doing.

“Don’t stop unless I say so.”

And God help you if she moans your name.

She thrives on mutual power exchange. Push her buttons right and she’ll reward you handsomely.

✦ . laughing jack

Absolutely unhinged. Any and all.

Jack doesn’t have a favorite—he just loves chaos. He wants to bend you over a bench one day and cuddle you in a bubble bath the next. Upside-down? Handstands? Magic tricks? He’ll try anything.

“Let’s make it a game. Whoever finishes first gets the last lollipop.”

“Jack—”

“Too late, already ate it.”

Literal candy, kisses, and giggles included.

✦ . slenderman

Floating. Wrapped in tendrils. Like an offering.

Slenderman is otherworldly. His favorite is holding you suspended—entwined in shadowy limbs while he explores you with terrifying precision. Your body weightless. Your mind hazy. Your voice a prayer.

“Your devotion pleases me.”

His voice fills your head like honey and smoke.

He touches with reverence, as though your body is holy. He wraps around you like a cocoon. Safe. Silent. Unshakably his.

꩜ .ᐟ

[chiya-eltanin]

hm. dont usually put my own two cents for theories but somethings been kind of annoying me recently so yeah. ralsei thoughts.

i really dont like the idea that ralsei is a specific object. especially not with newer stuff from chapters 3 and 4.

For starters, most people that try to figure out what ralsei is in the real world are basing it off of this appearance

however, I feel like there's plenty of evidence to point to this not being his real form, right? People have already pointed out that his original shadowed form isn't fully consistent. It's possibly the most obvious when you compare his singing animations in both forms. His hat form makes what was later 'revealed' to be his ears look more like hair?,

Ears don't really split the same way that hair does, and theres other examples of hatsei having this kind of spikyness to his 'ears' that hatless ralsei doesnt have.

even the fangamer plush makes his ears spiky!!

its a pretty major part of how hatsei looks, and its certainly been talked about before. And then comes chapter 3+4. And we have plenty of evidence that ralsei is a shapeshifter, and I have seen literally nobody talk about it????? huh?????

Oh, and the hat casting a shadow on him makes no fucking sense because he goes onto wear SEVERAL hats in chapter 3 and he's normal????

also I know its like. A funny bit, but HE TURNS INTO A HORSE

WHY THE FUCK WOULD KRIS'S HEADBAND TURN INTO A HORSE???? WHY WOULD A GREEN CRAYON TURN INTO A HORSE???? WHY CAN HE DO THIS????? THIS ISNT A COSTUME THATS NOT HOW THEY WORK????? WHERE WOULD HIS BODY GO.

not to mention that changing shapes was literally his ability in the legend of tenna game???? he plays it off like 'oh every character has abilities i can turn into a box' but he can also turn into a dog? since ralsei was the only one who read the manual it very well could be an ability given to him since the real Ralsei is also a shapeshifter.

It would also explain why ralsei draws himself in his hat form

thats closer to what his natural form is. Dont have any screenshots on hand right now, but he's got two lines in chapter four (if you leave him lying on the ground for too long, and right before they find the first fountain) about how much longer he can 'keep this body for' that make it very obvious that he's only using a form that looks cuter to appeal to us. Him being a shapeshifter would also explain things like

His face being a deliberately made abstraction would also make this interaction make a lot more sense. Pre chapter three, I assumed Ralsei based his face on Asriel to either try appealing to Kris or as fanservice for the player/red soul, however, now that we've slowly started learning more about Ralsei, it's beginning to seem more like Ralsei just wants to have a face and more distinct appearance, like the lightners do. However, because of how dark worlds work, he can only base it off of what already exists, with that already existing 'model' being Asriel, although with modifications to make himself cuter— pink horns and eyes, and his usual glasses. It's why Kris is always quick to point out differences between them, and why Ralsei is embarrassed at being told that they look similar, he didn't have a choice other than be based off something that already exists.

Alright, so Ralsei is a shapeshifter. He still has to have some equivalent in the Light World though, since that's how Dark Worlds work. He was literally about to tell Susie what he was before getting interrupted, and Toby Fox is deliberately dancing around the topic.

However, I think the answer is actually pretty obvious. Ralsei is a being of 'pure darkness', which is why he can exist in any Dark World, unlike Lancer and Rouxls, who need to be objects that 'belong' in their respective worlds. His form is made up by the original dark fountain, and he describes himself as a 'Prince of the Dark'. Characters in the Dark World know about what happens to and around their real world equivalents, but Ralsei in particular seems to be especially aware of all of Susie and Kris's actions and movements. He doesn't need to be brought in by Kris like Lancer and Rouxls do, and he always appears in the Dark World a few moments after Susie and Kris do, while somehow almost always having pretty intimate knowledge of how the world came to be. Ralsei is also the most adamant on being depended on by Lightners, even more than people like Tenna. He talks about how a Darkners role is to be used by Lightners and to make them happy, and his character development in Chapter 3 especially goes into how he wants to be needed and how he's afraid he's slowly developing his own personality, and why he believes darkners shouldn't do that.

So, taking all of that into account, I feel like the most obvious answer for what Ralsei is is a shadow.

He's a literal prince of the dark. It explains why he can shapeshift, since shadows can be made to look like anything— I'm specifically thinking of things like shadow puppets, and why when he gets knocked out he seems to literally disappear, returning to the shadows. A shadow is also the most dependant on light, shadows literally cannot exist without light, or they'll just be darkness. It even explains his empty room.

His insistence that his only role is to help the Lightners, the way that people can never find anything notable about him (asking swatch for specials his suggestion for Ralsei is based purely on how he dresses and Queen literally forgets to get him a cage), and his ability to be in any dark world (since there's literally nowhere without shadows) all seem to point towards Ralsei being a shadow.

Ralsei being a shadow also means he's literally with you in the dark, could probably straight up not exist if the world was plunged into darkness, and also makes him a weaker version of a titan (explaining the 'prince' title. not quite king, but noble nontheless).

[thatnerduknow98]

I don’t exactly remember how this happened. One minute I’m having a good time in a bar with my friends, the next minute I’m waking up roped up in some kind of sex dungeon.

I figured my drink had been spiked, which is a little weird because my super strength makes narcotics not work so well for me, but I am a woman so I do still abide by the same misandry from the male world. Especially in this town, where most of the men think they can get away with their toxic masculinity.

This perpetrator must’ve seriously dosed my drink, like maybe with intent to kill. When he came downstairs and saw I was still alive, his look of surprise confirmed it.

“That should’ve killed you,” the idiot said. He wasn’t bothering to hide his identity at all.

“Well I have a tolerance to drugs like that,” I replied.

He smirked and pulled a butcher knife out of his pocket. “You’re gonna wish it had killed you.”

I wasn’t scared. In any second, I could’ve snapped the chains and leather straps binding me to this table. I could’ve whipped the chains still bound to my wrists at this dude and beheaded him. I was more concerned about missing and letting this dude figure out that I’m the hero of this town.

So I let him get closer and closer and closer until he could put the knife on my neck, and at that moment, as I went to lift my leg and knee this jerk in the balls, my nemesis burst through the locked, metal basement door and punched the perp into the ceiling. My nemesis prided himself on his ability to fly, often punching people into the air and then letting them fall to their death.

This perp went up through the ceiling and came back down to his death. My nemesis took the keys from his pocket and unlocked my bindings.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I was about to kick his ass.”

He laughed. “Sure, bound up like that. I’m Allen. Sorry to be creepy, but you caught my eye at the bar and I was trying to summon the courage to talk to you, so I went to the bathroom with my wingman and then when I came back you were gone and the cops were there. The bartender said some dude drugged your drink and took you. So I tracked him here.”

I realized then he didn’t know I was his nemesis. Truthfully, I’m not sure how I knew. Something about him just gave me that familiarity.

“Thanks. I’m Rene.”

We shook hands. It was awkward.

“So, umm,” he said, trying to break the silence. “Do you need an escort home or are you ok?”

“I would rather you not figure out where I live, but you can walk me to the bus stop,” I said, looking around for my satchel bag. I found it on a table and pulled out a bus pass. Yes — I take the bus.

He smiled kind of a weird smile, like he didn’t have the muscles to do an honest smile properly, and then we left the building. It was only three blocks north of the bar.

“So, umm,” Allen said as we walked down the sidewalk. The sun was beginning to rise. “What do you do for a living?”

Internally I was laughing hysterically. Outside, I smiled. “I work from home for a call center.” It was only a partial lie. “You?”

He deadpanned: “I am a vigilante. I try to take down awful people who legally are exploiting others. You may know me as The Viper.”

“Oh. Yeah I think I’ve seen that super girl kick your ass on the news.”

He scoffed, then laughed. “It’s funny, Mass actually agrees with me on the corporate corruption and tryna eliminate it, but she won’t go about it the same way. She takes them through the justice system, which only rarely actually delivers justice.”

I winced at him using my super name.

“I can see that,” I said. I recalled many times where the criminal in question bought a judge. But I also recalled times where that behavior was called out by the media, and both criminals were socially disgraced and unable to continue their exploitation, despite the lack of prison time. “I think she relies on the news and public perception to keep people righteous.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah, but it takes longer.”

He wasn’t wrong. By this point we reached the bus stop and were waiting for the first bus of the morning to arrive.

It got silent again as we watched the sun breach the horizon. I was starting to doze off when he asked, “Was my saving you method okay? I’m not used to saving people so I think I may have been a little too bold.”

The bus turned the corner and approached the stop. I laughed at his question. “It was definitely bold,” I replied. The bus opened its doors and I stepped onto the vehicle. With one foot still on the sidewalk, I turned and said, “I think I would’ve done the same thing though. I have a habit of breaking down buildings to save people.”

I boarded the bus and the doors closed before he could reply.

Getting kidnapped as a superhero is rather embarrassing, but at least you were certain that your friends would rescue you. Which is why it came as a massive shock to you to see one of your villains bust the door of you cell open and unlock your restraints.

[ovaryacted]

moreee about jack abbott and aftercare please 🚬🐤

─ Jack Abbot x fem! reader || WC: 1.1k

CW: Mentions of past smut. Soft dom! Jack Abbot. Post-coitus aftercare. Subspace if you squint. Loving affection. Use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, kid). Mentions of Jack Abbot's leg stump. Jack Abbot being the best partner ever.

I meant to post this the other day but I waited a little bit. I absolutely LOVE how you're using the duck emoji combos, please keep using it! (even though that's a chick, I'm sure, but idgaf!). But yes god I think Jack would be soooo good with aftercare no matter what he does. He definitely gives me pleasure dom vibes, he gets off on your pleasure, and really knows how to drag it out and give you a run for your money. This also turned into an analysis of aftercare on both ends, because Jack deserves to know he's being cared for & loved too.

He's the kinda man that will give you exactly what you need, the right pressure, the right force, the right touch. Thing is, he's consistent, patient, steady...he keeps you close to him and talks you through your climaxes every single time, and yes he always tends to give you more than one orgasm if your body can handle it. That becomes a standard in your relationship very early on, and he won’t let you take anything less than that. Whether it be from his mouth, his fingers, his cock, or even your toys, you always come first, and he'll fill you up in any way you need and ask.

As for the aftercare, Jack grounds you, brings you back down to Earth after turning your mind and body to mush. His large hands caress over your shaking legs, rubbing into your skin and skimming over the new bruises and marks that will bloom in the morning. He doesn't pull out just yet, he keeps himself inside your cunt until your body is done flexing around him, until you’re finally relaxed enough for him to give your body a proper break. He hovers over you, gently kissing your jaw and cheek, lightly pecking the corner of your mouth as he wraps his big arms around you and keeps you close.

"Cmon, sweetheart. Come back to me, I'm right here."

He's so good, so patient. Jack watches your face carefully for any signs of discomfort, attentive to the way your eyes are still rolling to the back of your head. He cups your hand to rub his thumb over your jaw in a swiping motion, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. You lean into the touch, humming lowly as you swim through the residual high of your climaxes, your body melting into the mattress, trying to steady your breathing through your nose with every pass of Jack's hands on your cheekbone.

"Don't fall asleep on me just yet, baby. Need to get you cleaned up."

A whine punches out of you then, limp legs wrapping tighter around Jack's waist in defiance. He knows you can fall asleep like this, with his cock still nestled inside you. You actually prefer it sometimes, but he knows how uncomfortable you'll be if you were sticky and covered with sweat. 

"You gotta let me go so we can head to bed. C'mon, kid. The sooner you let me pull out, the faster you'll be asleep, yeah?"

You reluctantly peel your legs off of him, reciprocating his soft kiss and whimpering when Jack moves to pull his softening cock out of you, sighing in relief from the change in pressure. He doesn't mention how his spend dribbles out of you, your slick walls flexing to keep most of it inside.

Sometimes if you really don't have the energy to move or get up, he'll use the wipes specifically for your post-coitus sessions in the bedside drawer and clean you up that way, carefully making sure your lower body was all taken care of.

Other times, he'll bring you to your feet and guide you over to the bathroom and use a crutch to keep himself steady, letting you pee while he starts the shower at the temperature you liked. Jack will join you under the warm spray, running his hands over your body with reverent affection and starts rinsing you off, using the calming lavender body wash to put you at ease. You don't mind him sitting on the built-in shower stool, laughing at the ticklish sensation of his hands rubbing down your waist and your twitching legs. With some of the remaining energy you had left, you also rinse Jack off with your body wash, running your hands through his hair and washing his scalp for the night, making sure he’s all cleaned up just like you.

Afterwards, you help each other wind down for the night, Jack sitting on the toilet seat and massaging body oil and lotion into your sore limbs, making sure to really knead into your body and release any knots and remaining tension. He doesn't miss an inch of skin, moisturizing your thighs, breasts, your back, and down your arms. Jack dresses you in one of his baggy t-shirts, not bothering to bring you panties, figuring it would be more comfortable to just let your body breathe with no restricting material.

He throws on some boxers after you mimic his previous action and moisturize his body, placing light kisses here and there, giggling to yourself in between every smooch. You also help massage Jack’s stump if he absolutely needs it, putting whatever necessary skin care he used to protect the skin where it was the most sensitive. You’ll do it with a smile and without question, and his kiss after you’re done is all the thanks you needed to hear from him.

If you were hungry, he'd whip you a snack to eat really quick before you went to sleep for either the full night or just a nap. But if all you wanted to do was close your eyes, he'd simply tell you to brush your teeth as he gets the bed all prepped for you. You flop into the mattress, now with clean fresh sheets thanks to Jack changing them. Your eyes flutter closed instantly, bringing the covers up to your waist and sleeping on your stomach, digging your face into your pillow.

You only mumble a curt "love you" before you doze off, your breathing even and deep as you go to the land of dreams. And Jack? He smiles in the dim lighting of your shared bedroom, kissing your forehead and your nose, whispering those three words back to you, silently hoping they would follow you wherever your happy place was. He stays up a little longer just looking at you, admiring you, thanking whatever prayer he said to have you in his life. He brings you into his arms and positions your head against his chest, feeling you nuzzle closer into him and chase his warmth.

He falls asleep like that with your body against his, cradling the back of your neck and caressing your nape over and over again. With one more kiss to your temple, he breathes you in, answering the call of sleep and keeping in mind to make breakfast for you in the morning.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[katscki]

hiiii it’s me 🌷 currently obsessing over kats using my throat as long as he wants :3

also random but do u think he’s a titties or ass guy ? i really can’t decide im leaning more towards titties but idkkkk!

Omg

Sex Hcs for bkg

He would loveeeee when you lay down on the bed asking him to fuck your throat. He could never ask you himself because he doesn’t want to hurt you but when you ask… one hand is on your tit and the other is feeling him fuck your mouth through your neck. He loves it even more when you spread your legs to play with your pretty pussy while he does it, gives him a show.

He loves every single part of you but I believe he is an ass man through and through. It all started back in your third year when he began to have a crush on you. He noticed all the little things and that lead to him staring at where your perfect legs met your uniform skirt, dying to see what underwear you had over your gorgeous ass. He was a very respectful boy but he couldn’t help tilting his head a little bit as you walked away trying to get a good view.

Speaking of third year, you were his first everything. So when you finally made out for the first time and he got two handfuls of your ass? He was a mess.

He loves watching your pretty pussy stretch around his cock then looking up at your half lidded eyes that beg him to keep going. And once his thumb finds your clit they flutter closed in the most beautiful way.

He’s a slut for dirty talk, he knows that you can’t really respond to him, just moan out his name. And that’s why he loves it so much. It makes you make the noises he’s addicted to and your cunt tighten up around him. “Yeah~ that’s it baby… look so fuckin perfect under me. Feel good sweet girl?” All to have you nod uncontrollably.

He can get off on the sounds you make alone, nothing even has to touch his dick but when you’re moaning so sweetly it’s like the cum is already dripping from his cock. However It becomes a problem when you’re sitting in the common room just stretching out and then moan a little, the poor boy is so fucking hard and all it took was a little “ngh~” while your arms are above your head.

He would never tell you this but he knows exactly when you’re going to ovulate. As sad as it is he waits all month for this time because he knows that when he goes home you’re going to jump his bones and fuck him till he can’t speak. Waits at the agency all day like a teenager touching a girl for the first time. And he was right, when he got home you’re kissing him sweet nothings, asking about his day but not really caring. Then somehow you’re riding him right there on the floor. He loves when you ovulate because you force him to cum five times just to “make it stick Suki~”

As much as he wants to deny it, he was so horny when he was a teenager n when you get him in bed, it’s clear he tried to make up for lost time fucking you over and over again. He tries to have sex or at least make you cum once a day at least. Unless one of you is sick or he’s gone for work.

The first time he knew he wanted to marry you was when he came home to your shared apartment and found you in your room, wearing his hoodie moaning his name, as you plunged a dildo, that he got specially made to be like his dick, into you. Instantly he opens the door and comes over to you on his knees to eat you like a mf. Fucking you with the toy himself as he tongues at your clit.

All in all he is just fucking addicted to everything about you and wants to experience all the lovin you have to give.

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

"Sorta..." Daichi begins, "It's hard to explain. She's a vessel for Kinie, but at the same time, she's a demon. But...it's not my place to tell." Daichi said.

"I see," Konekomura said. From the looks of sorcerers, it must be really serious. And the way Itadori is talking about this. Kinie isn't the only one who is pissed off here. Shima, Izumo, and Shemei can tell this match is going to get bloody. "Well...we know that guy fucked up," Ryuji said. "So let's hope Rin beats up his teammate, too. They played around too much." Ryuji said.

"Shut up! I got this." Kris said, switching back into his form. Well..this is something. He didn't expect something like this. "I don't know what's going on here. But yeah...you're right." He said, wiping the bleeding from his nose and mouth. "I can do more than just turn into anyone that people love. I can also turn into your greatest fears!" He said, transforming his hand into scales and bear claws. "I can turn into a dog, a bear, a vampire, a demon, an oni, a werewolf, an alien, or maybe a-"

"Enough. Are you going to keep yapping like a dog or get to it. Anymore talking and I might just have to kill you."

"Huh?" Kris asked. "Kill me?"

"That's right. You're not even worth putting a mount. You're just an insect to be stomped on." Kinie said.

Kris grits his teeth and begins to laugh, "Oh! So you think I'm easy to kill. This bitch..." He begins to change now as he turns himself into something else. Not a human. But first, a bear but its arms grew humanoid as it has scales and claws, it sprouts horns as its neck grows, has talons for feet, and sports a long tail. He has a lion's head with red eyes.

"Hahahaha!" The monster named Kris laughs. "I show you what happens when you underestimate me!" He lunges at him, and Kinie smiles.

"Better..." She said before dodging a swipe from Kris. Meanwhile, Rina bit her bottom lip now as she began to take her sword out. "Those flames aren't going to scare me.

"..S..switch places? So...Kinie is part of Taz?" she didn't know that but Izumo can tell. This is a dangerous yet powerful demon. How did Taz make a contract with someone this powerful!?

"So that explains it...no wonder..." Miwa mutters nervous seeing KInie not happy right now.

"Well, knowing her, she's done with the mind games.......even when he pissed her off." Yuji said in a cold tone but they look seeing he was just as mad. He wanted to get at Kris for what he did but..again, Sukuna told him Kinie has this.

"Kris, get up! Do something!" Rina shouts to see him on the ground before she tries to stand, blue fire surrounds her as she tenses feeling the heat. It was a lot more hotter that she looks seeing Rin standing but he was now coated in azure flames. His eyes were different too while gripping Kurikara.

"E..eh...."

"You...will..pay for that.." he snarled at her.

"Oh damn it.." she said.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Hello lovely!! I saw your post that you're open to request, can I request a male reader x phainon with breeding kink, you can also add any kinks you want! I adore your writing sm (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) (🤍)

ALL MINE

★ tws : nsfw / smut, breeding kink, male!reader, orgasm denial/edging, cockwarming, a lil praise, multiple of rounds, degradation, slight dumbfied reader at the end and lots of cum. mdni : 18+ only.

★ sum : you’re are phainon’s precious boy. And he’s gonna fill you up until you’re leaking and begging for more.

★ note : not proofread, I’m too lazy to correct my mistakes.

You don’t know what you said.

Maybe you called him pretty. Maybe you teased him in that little smug voice you always do, saying something about how he couldn’t last without touching you. Maybe you just looked at him for too long.

Whatever it was, it broke something in Phainon.

His clothes hit the floor. His pants tossed aside with trembling fingers. And now?

You’re on your back, legs trembling around his hips, clawing at the sheets while his cock pulses deep inside you—raw, hot, unrelenting.

“Haaah… ngh—Phainon…”

“Shh. Take it. You can take it.” He growls into your neck, voice deeper, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “You’re mine, aren’t you? My pretty boy. All fucking mine.”

He thrusts in, hard, like he’s trying to plant his whole soul inside you. You jolt, a broken moan spilling from your lips as he grinds his hips down, refusing to pull out.

“P-Phai—fuck, baby, you’re s-so deep, you’re—”

“Say it,” he snaps. “Say you want me to breed you.”

You whine. He grabs your hips and slams in again, dizzying you with the weight of his cock, his heat, the thick length dragging along all your spots like he knows them by instinct.

“Phainon, I—I want it,” you gasp, arching up against his chest. “Fuck, I want your cum, I want you to fill me, please—”

“There it is.” He kisses you, messy, almost angry with how much he wants you. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve dreamed of this. Of stuffing you full, making sure it takes. Again. And again. Until you can’t think about anything except how full I got you.”

He fucks you with purpose. Long, deliberate thrusts, then a sharp grind that leaves you gasping. You’re clenching around him so tight he groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

“Feel that?” he huffs. “That’s my cock. That’s your lover—ruining you.”

You nod, tears pricking your eyes from the pressure of it all. “Y-Yeah… yeah, ruin me…”

Phainon growls, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll keep you like this. Warm, dripping, so full you forget what it’s like to be empty. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t even speak. Just a nod. Just a wrecked moan.

He reaches down and grips your cock, already leaking. “You’re not allowed to cum yet,” he says sweetly, cruelly. “Not until I’m sure my seed’s in you. Not until you’re bred.”

You cry out, hips bucking—and he pins you down with a firm hand on your stomach.

“Don’t move.”

He starts thrusting harder. Faster. His balls slap your ass with every thrust, lewd, wet, devastating. His cock pulses and you know it’s coming.

Then—

“Fuck—fuck—take it—” he snarls, slamming in and staying there as his cock throbs. And pulses. And pulses.

Hot, thick cum floods into you. Rope after rope. So much it aches. So much it leaks out around the base of his cock, dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets.

He doesn’t move. Just keeps himself buried to the hilt, panting over your shoulder, muttering how perfect you are, how tight you are, how he’s not done.

You’re still shaking when he pulls your hips up and says with a hungry smirk,

“Let’s make sure it takes.”

Your legs are already shaking—and he hasn’t even let you cum yet.

Phainon’s voice is low, his breath hot against your ear, and his cock is buried deep inside you, pulsing with each heavy grind of his hips.

“Still holding back for me?” he murmurs, smirking against your neck. “Good boy. That’s it. Stay just like that for me, yeah?”

You whimper, your arms trembling from where they’re locked around his shoulders. “P-Phainon, I—please—”

“Please what?” he coos, slowly thrusting in again, so slow it’s maddening. “Please ruin you? Please fill this tight hole up with my cum until you’re leaking all over my cock?”

You gasp—he laughs.

“You like this. You like being stretched and used and stuffed full, don’t you?”

You nod fast, clinging to him as he starts to thrust—real thrusts now, brutal and deep. Every time his hips slam into yours, you feel the slap of his skin, the obscene slick of his cock grinding inside you.

And every time you get close?

He stops.

He fucking stops.

“You’re gonna cum when I say,” he growls, dragging his teeth along your throat. “You wanna be my perfect boy? Then act like it.”

He grips your thighs, pushing them up, folding you until you’re fully exposed under him. His cock hits that spot that makes you sob, and he doesn’t let up—not this time.

You’re panting, leaking, your own cock untouched and twitching.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Beg for it.”

“I—I wanna cum,” you cry. “Please, baby, please, I’ve been good—!”

“Say what you’re begging for,” he snarls. “Say it.”

“Please fill me up, make me yours—!”

That breaks him.

He thrusts hard, fast, his breath hitching as he pants, “Yeah? You want it? Wanna be stuffed full with all my cum, huh? Wanna walk around dripping, knowing I used you?”

You’re barely able to respond—just moaning, shaking, stars in your eyes—and then he slams in one last time.

His whole body shudders.

“F—fuck—fuck, take it, take it all—” he snarls as he spills everything into you. It’s hot, thick, endless. You feel it flood inside, pooling deep, leaking out before he’s even done.

But he doesn’t pull out.

No.

He stays in.

Presses his hips flush to yours, his cock still twitching inside your soaked hole.

“Shhh… stay like this,” he whispers, kissing your sweaty cheek. “I’m not done yet. I want you cockwarming me while it sinks in.”

You whimper. He hums.

“Such a good boy,” he breathes, voice soft again. “Took me so well. Let me fuck you dumb and fill you up just like you deserve.”

You’re dazed, fucked-out, stuffed to the brim, barely able to hold a thought. Your own orgasm hit somewhere in the middle—maybe more than once—but it’s all a blur now.

Phainon strokes your cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he says, smug. “I’ll clean you up after. After I make sure you’re nice and full.”

And he smiles.

Because you’re his.

And he’s not letting a drop go to waste.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[solarstranger]

a/n. wrote this for my drabble writing game but ended up liking it a lot so i'm posting this as an official drabble lol. all thanks to @lostwrlds for the wonderful prompt (i.e., 'honeyed') <3 this is also inspired by my love for the sun, which is a central motif behind my url and blog theme. particularly, this scene revolves around the left image in my current pinned post, which is such a stunning photo. i hope you enjoy this! (0.9k)

c.w. very slightly suggestive themes.

“let me just—”

from where he’s standing at the side—conveniently shielded in the shadows and topless with a fresh shirt slung over his shoulder—bakugou watches you carefully, features riddled with skepticism you refuse to acknowledge as you tinker with the tripod, trying to set the legs at the perfect height.

“there,” you finally announce, satisfied, leaning back so you can admire the contraption in front of you, perched at the top of which is your camera.

“are you sure this is gonna work?” bakugou asks beside you, eyeing you as you pull out your phone to check your hair through your reflection.

at that, you don’t say anything for a beat, focus solely trained on patting down the stray strands, before deciding that this is as good as it’s gonna get and pocketing the device. you then turn to and reach for bakugou, who only lets you fix his hair in anticipatory silence, gaze never leaving your face as you tousle his notoriously unruly locks into place.

“it will,” you reassure him with a smile after a minute, pulling away with a nod that is more for yourself than him. “the sun’s bright enough.”

“whatever you say,” bakugou replies coolly, before tossing the shirt messily to the side. and when you only shoot him a deadpan look: “i’m gonna wear it afterwards, anyway.”

you frown. “you’re not gonna wear it for the photo?”

bakugou pauses for a moment. “nah.”

“…you do know we’re keeping this pg, right?” you chuckle, which makes him flame almost instantaneously.

“of course, dumbass,” he spews, masking his embarrassment with anger the way he always does when you tease him. “it’s just hot, is all.”

“sure,” you quip, and you have to fight to bite back a laugh at the way he sputters in response.

“i was thinking—” you cut him off before he can say anything more, biting your lip to suppress your grin, “we stand at this spot,” you say, pointing to the sunlit space a few feet away from both of you, “and we can, i don’t know, kiss or something.”

“kiss?” he chokes—so blatantly surprised—you’d think the man has never touched your lips, let alone shoved his tongue in your mouth a million times before.

“unless you have a better pose in mind?” you retort defensively, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “and be quick about it,” you say—almost snap, “the sun’s almost setting.”

“okay, okay,” he relents promptly, stepping towards the small, sundrenched area, tugging you along with him by your wrist until you’re standing face-to-face and smack dab behind the camera, at which he glances. “is it on already?”

“yeah. wait, i’ll just set the timer—”

you quickly approach the tripod and crouch down to peer at the screen, making a few clicks before you finally tap the capture button, and the telltale sound of the timer counting down immediately resounds throughout the airbnb, breaking the suspenseful silence.

you instantly straighten up just as bakugou beckons you towards him, and you waste no time in running towards the pro-hero until you’re standing right in front of him, both of you bathed in the honeyed yellow of the sunlight piercing through the beach-facing windows of your room.

and for a brief moment, you freeze. you’ve always known bakugou was beautiful—it was one of the many things that first drew you towards him, after all—that is, before you eventually found out about the even more beautiful things inside of him that made you fall in love with him even more.

but now, as he stands still in front of you, pale skin and ash-blonde hair and bright, crimson eyes all reflecting the sunset bursting through the screens of your window, you can’t help but stare.

because how did you get so lucky?

“hey.”

at the sound of bakugou’s familiar, gruff voice, you startle, and only then do you remember that you still have a picture to pose for.

bakugou doesn’t wait for you to gather your bearings, taking it upon himself to grab your arms and loop them around his neck, before placing his firm hands on your hips. then, he smirks, an all-too-familiar expression that almost always means ‘kiss me’, and so you do.

kiss him.

lifting yourself on your tippy toes, you crane your neck to meet him, closing your eyes just as you press your lips onto his, the camera shutter going off the moment you do as if on cue.

you let your mouths linger against each other for another beat before you finally make the move to pull away, smiling brightly. bakugou smiles back at you, a shy one he reserves for you and moments like these— a smile that stays on as you step back and detach the camera from the tripod, swiftly clicking on the gallery button.

and you all but gasp when you’re greeted with the artful image of your intertwined silhouettes surrounded by sunlight, just as bakugou barks out a delighted laugh.

you turn to regard bakugou with a look that says, ‘are you seeing this?!’, to which the pro-hero only nods, chuckling. you grin, turning back to study the picture, although bakugou doesn’t follow suit.

instead, he only lets his gaze stay trained on your face, a proud look on his face.

because while you were wondering how you got so lucky, he was already busy being the lucky one.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[sunflowerry-vol6]

FAMILY FIRST || Harry x Reader

characters count: 11553

summary: paparazzi take pictures of your son, while you try to protect him

“Then maybe we could just grab takeout,” I say softly, not to wake up our two-year-old son who is safely sleeping on your shoulder, his little fingers gripping your shirt. I keep my hand on the small of your back as we walk. We just got back from Italy, where our son spent most of his life—a decision we made together.

Our house in Italy was practically in the middle of nowhere, which gave us privacy and security. Who wants to deal with paparazzi, stalkers, and thousands of fans while taking care of a newborn? I also recognized that you needed time to heal and rest, away from all the buzz, so that decision was really a no-brainer. When we would go out in Rome or Florence, my fans were surprisingly understanding when I said “no pictures.” There wasn’t even one sneaky photo of Dorian, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could actually breathe.

Today, we were taking a stroll around London, enjoying the sunny weather. Dorian perhaps had too much fun on the playground. You picked him up when you noticed how he was rubbing his eyes—a sign that he was sleepy. The warmth of your body and the familiar scent of your perfume lulled our little one to sleep pretty fast. He was resting safely in your arms.

“Yeah, I think it’s a good idea. Dorian loves their pasta, so we…” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as we both snap our heads at the sound of a camera shutter going off along with a flash. I can feel your body tense as you cover Dorian’s head with your palm, hiding his face.

“What the fuck did you just do?” I dart to the paparazzo across the street, and you don’t even attempt to stop me. Usually, you would be the one to calm me down, but this time I know we both need those pictures deleted.

“Delete them or I will fuck you up and you’ll have to deal with my whole legal team,” I practically bark at him.

The man lowers his camera slightly, startled but not apologetic. He’s one of the cocky ones, the kind who think a public sidewalk gives him the right to anything. I can feel the rage blooming hot under my skin as I close the distance.

“I said delete them.” My voice is low now, deadly. Controlled in that way I only get when I’m past the point of losing it.

He smirks. “It’s just a photo, mate. You’re in public. You of all people should know that.”

“That’s my son you photographed.” I jab a finger toward his chest. “He’s two. He didn’t sign up for this shit. You take pictures of me, fine. But him? That’s off-limits. Always.”

He shrugs, eyes flicking down to his camera screen. “Could’ve blurred his face later—”

“I don’t care what you could do. Delete it. Now. You don’t fucking understand that one picture of him online—face blurred or not—can put him in danger?”

There’s a shift in his expression, the faintest flicker of discomfort, of realizing maybe this wasn’t worth it. Then, a few taps on his camera. I watch the screen. He deletes not just the photo, but the whole damn set.

“Happy?” he mutters.

“No. But that’s a start.” I step closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Next time you even think about pointing a lens at my family, I will make sure you can’t sell a picture to a tabloid ever again.”

He swallows. Good.

I turn away, my pulse still pounding, and jog back across the street.

You’re standing where I left you, arms wrapped protectively around Dorian, your cheek resting on his head. You don’t say anything when I reach you, but your eyes are darker than usual—with fury. The kind of fury that comes from watching someone threaten the peace we fought so hard to build.

“He deleted them,” I say, breath still ragged.

“I’ll have the lawyers put pressure on the outlet he works for. Just in case.” I reach out, brushing a hand down Dorian’s back as he shifts slightly, still asleep.

“He didn’t even stir.”

“He trusts us,” you murmur. “He knows he’s safe.”

And he is. Because we made damn sure of it.

We start walking again, slower now, and my hand finds your side.

“Still up for takeout?” I ask, trying to soften the weight between us.

You glance up at me, a faint smile forming. “Only if we eat it in bed.”

I laugh quietly. “Deal.”

“You ever think about just… vanishing? Not permanently. Just… renting a cabin in Iceland or something,” you say after a long pause.

“Every time someone points a lens at you or him,” I sigh.

“You’ve always been the one to protect us. But I’ve never asked—who protects you?”

“You do. When you make things simple again. When you look at me like I’m not some headline.”

You stop in your tracks. “You’re not. You’re just—ours.”

I reach for your hand, threading our fingers together. “And that’s more than enough.”

“I hate that we have to think like this,” you say finally. “Always ten steps ahead. Always defensive. Even here, in a random corner of London, just walking with our kid.”

I don’t answer right away. You’re not asking for solutions—you’re naming the truth, the life we carved out and the cost that comes with being visible.

“I know,” I say quietly. “And I hate it too. But we knew this wasn’t forever. Italy was… a pause. A beautiful one. But we always said we’d come back when it felt right.”

You nod slowly. “Do you still think it was the right time?”

I look at you—really look. The way your free hand rests over Dorian’s back. The way your jaw is tight, but your shoulders are starting to ease.

“I think the right time doesn’t mean the easy time,” I say. “It means when we’re strong enough to face it again. And we are. You are.”

That earns me a sideways glance and a faint, skeptical smile. “You’re getting very philosophical for someone who was threatening legal apocalypse three minutes ago.”

“I contain multitudes.”

You snort, but your smile softens. I can feel you letting go of the tension, piece by piece.

“I’m glad he slept through this,” you sigh softly, stroking his back gently.

“Me too. He’s too young to understand it.” I brush the curls away from his face. “Are you okay?” My eyes meet yours.

“It’ll take some time for the anger to wear off, but I’m glad he’s safe.”

I wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”

We walk in silence for a bit, the tension from the encounter still clinging to us. Finally, I speak again.

“I hate that we can’t just enjoy a simple walk without worrying about a paparazzo. It’s not fair.”

“I’m okay with them sneaking a picture of us, but he’s just a child. He should be able to have a normal childhood.” You lean into me, softly stroking Dorian’s back.

I sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders melt away a bit as you lean into me. “You’re right. He deserves a normal life, not one where we have to constantly look over our shoulders.”

I look down at Dorian, his little face still peaceful in sleep. “I don’t want him growing up feeling like he’s under constant scrutiny. It’s not right.”

We reach a quiet spot, away from any crowds, and I stop, turning to face you.

“Promise me something?” I cup your face in my hand, looking into your eyes. “Promise me that, no matter what happens, we keep fighting for our family. Promise me that nothing will break us or come between us.”

I lean in closer, my voice softening. “I love you. And I love that little boy more than anything. We won’t let anything shatter this.”

Your expression softens as you lean into my touch. “Baby, I know that none of this is your fault. It’s a part of your job, and it’s something I knew came with you. I would never let them win.”

I exhale, the weight on my shoulders lightening a bit at your understanding.

“I know you get it. But sometimes it feels like I’m not doing enough to protect you and Dorian. Like I’m failing you both.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt mixing in my words. “It’s just… I hate feeling so powerless.”

“Hey.” You reach to gently stroke my cheek. “I feel safe and protected when you’re around. So does Dorian. Remember, cats don’t sleep with their bellies up if they don’t feel safe.”

I smile weakly at the metaphor. “Always with the animal facts.” I look down at the little one in your arms. “You and Dorian are everything to me. I just… I wish I could shield you from everything.”

“You are, love. You are our shield and our rock.” Your eyes hold nothing but sincerity in them.

“Promise me you’ll never doubt that. No matter what storms come our way.”

“I’m planning to grow old with you and watch him get married, together.” You smile softly.

I chuckle, picturing our future together. The thought warms my heart, though there’s a hint of worry too.

“Sounds like an ideal plan to me. But growing old together requires us to stay sane through all this chaos.”

I place a tender kiss on your forehead, holding you close.

“Together, right?”

“Always.” You smile.

I return your smile, feeling a bit lighter. “Good, because I can’t imagine going through any of this without you.”

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other in quiet solidarity. The city around us keeps buzzing, and the paparazzi incident is still on my mind. But right now, all I care about is you and our little family.

Dorian shifts a little in your arms. “Let’s get that takeout and go home.”

I nod, reluctantly letting go of you. “Yeah, let’s go.”

I take your hand, and we start walking again, this time a little quicker. I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of paparazzi, though it seems like the incident outside the playground has scared them off for now.

“How’s our little sleepyhead doing?” I ask, peeking over to look at Dorian.

“Still sleeping,” you smile softly.

I smile at the sight, my heart swelling with love. “He looks so peaceful.”

We grab pasta for Dorian from one of those fancy Italian restaurants and finally reach the Chinese takeout place—a little hole in the wall that we’ve grown to love. The smell of sizzling kung pao chicken and fried rice fills the air as we step inside.

I order our usual: a couple of beef teriyaki dishes and some crab rangoons. The owner, an old lady named Mrs. Liu, smiles warmly at us.

“Haven’t seen you two in a while.”

“We took a little vacation in Italy to grow this one,” you chuckle softly. “We did miss your cooking.”

Mrs. Liu beams at you. “Italy, eh? Sounds romantic.”

I nod, grinning. “It was. But nothing quite compares to your kung pao chicken.”

She chuckles, handing us our order in a brown paper bag. “You young folks and your lovey-dovey vacations. You’re making me miss my younger years.” She looks at Dorian with admiration in her eyes. “Ah, they grow up so fast. One day you’re changing diapers, and the next they’re off to university.”

I smile softly. “That’s why we try to cherish every moment with him.”

Mrs. Liu smiles. “Smart. I’m sure you two are great parents for a little one.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Liu,” your voice is soft. “We’ll be coming more often.”

“You’re always welcome here, my dear, you know that,” she beams. “And the little one too—he’s too adorable to say no to.”

Our house is dimly lit, takeout spread out on the bed, Dorian nestled safely between both of us, fast asleep, some movie playing in the background.

You’re picking at your food, quiet again—but this time, it’s the good kind of quiet. The kind that feels full.

I glance over. “You still thinking about it? The photo?”

You nod. “Not because of what he saw. But because he didn’t. He just slept through it all. Like he knew we had him.”

“We do,” I say simply.

You look over at me, eyes soft now, almost shimmering. “Can we keep doing this? Building something real, even in the middle of all the chaos?”

I lean over and press a kiss to your lips—slow and certain.

“We already are.”

And outside, the city keeps moving. But here, in this little pocket of stillness, we’re exactly where we need to be.

Current taglist: @pauli-loveslouistomlinson @cherryberrystompers @hontpwk @avensgreenvans @venusnettles @nanaisinmars @sincerely-yours-marsbar

[ysrjune]

ok james kelly…maybe him and reader have had an on an off thing since high school or something…..also something something criminal by britney spears…….also smut ‼️

(idk if this is specific enough if not lmk 😭😭😭)

-🌪️

ᯓ HE'S A BAD BOY

. . . WITH A TAINTED HEART .ᐟ

a/n: College student James Kelly. I didn't specify a major for reader! That's all up for you to imagine. I don't remember if James parents were named in the movie, so I gave them names. This is more James pov.

15-year-old James Kelly and 15-year-old you were friends since the first day of high school. Sharing the same algebra class and sitting next to each other started all this. James wasn't shy, but he wasn't talkative.. and you were. You were talkative, so he had no other choice but to talk back because he didn't want to be rude and cause any drama.

“James, can I borrow a pencil, please?”

“James, do you have the notes from yesterday?”

“James, what are you doing today?”

James, James, James, James, James! Always asking him a question or telling him something. He never minded it. He actually appreciated that you wanted to talk to him.

Towards the end of freshman year, James and you started going out. On weekends, he'd take you to the park or to see a movie, or really anything you wanted to do. But things didn't really go the way you wanted them to. You broke up two times over the summer, once your sophomore year, again in 11th grade (and closed a 3rd time that year), and then twice again senior year. Everyone called your relationship toxic and confusing. But they just didn't understand. You weren't toxic.. confusing, sure, but not toxic. Or so you thought.

Those breakups were dumb and unnecessary anyway! You didn't even consider them breakups. They were just breaks.

Now you've been in college for a year, and coincidentally, James attends the same school. Your freshman year was chill. He didn't go up to you at all since your breakup back in senior year. The last one. For real this time. You were done with him, and he respected your wish of not wanting him to sweet-talk you back into a relationship.

James' major is Mechanical Engineering, which is way different than yours. There's no way you'd cross paths with him, and if you did, it's not like you'd try to talk to him. Both of you are busy. Way too busy for a relationship. James doesn't just go to school. He also has a (part-time) job at a body shop near his house.

After a long day at school, James returns home and is greeted by the family dog and his mother. “How was school, hon?” His mother asks. “Tiring. A little stressful. Same old same old.” James stretches and cracks his back. “Hey ma, 'M goin' out in a little while, so I won't be here for dinner.” He leaned against the counter where, on the other side, his mother was making dinner. “Are you off to see a girl?” His father asks from the dining table as he flips to the next page of the newspaper.

“No,” James responds. “Good. I want'chu to focus on your studies and not a girlfriend. The last one you had was no good.” His father responds. “Marty,” Mary says his name with a hint of anger. “Don't you talk about that sweet girl that way. You know, I ran into her at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago, and she's still respectful and very nice.” Mary stirs the pot of pasta. Mary has always liked you.

James's eyes shot up from the counter to his mom. “Did you? What did she say?” He was obviously eager to hear about what happened between you and his mother. “Oh, not much. She said hello and we hugged.. I asked her how her studies were going, and she told me a little bit about them. She asked how everyone here was doing, and then that was all.”

“Did she.. uh.” James hesitantly starts. “Specifically ask about you? No, son. She didn't.” Mary sighs. “It's okay that she didn't, Jimmy. You two should keep your minds off each other. What's done is done.”

James sighs and returns his sight to the counter. “Yeah, you're right, ma.” And then Frankie walked in. “Hey everybody.” He says, and Marty groans: "Gahh!" throwing his head back. “Can we have peace for five minutes?” Their father complains. “Come on, pa. I only said hi.” Frankie moves over to the kitchen to snag a water out of the refrigerator. “Oh yeah? Oh yeah?! You says hi, and then what happens, ah? A whole fight breaks out between you and ya brother, and who's gotta break it up? Me! Ya mutha' cant do it so I have to!”

James and Frankie give each other a confused look. “Dad, there ain't nothin' to be fighting about,” James says. “Yet.” Frankie chuckles and stands against the refrigerator. “What is this, what you doin' to my refrige'ra'ta? Awf Awf of it, boy! You see what I mean?! No peace! You're givin' me a heart attack!” Marty was making no sense with his complaining, but the boys didn't want to argue with him.

“Jimmy, where did you say you were going today?” Mary suddenly asks. “Oh. I'm just gonna sell some car parts to a guy. I won't be too late.”

That was sort of true. He was selling something alright, but not car parts. He was selling illegal drugs to teenagers in an alley. “Do you want it or not, kid?” James asks in a low, rough voice. He was frustrated. These high schoolers were practically chickening out. “Yeah, but..” One of the boys says nervously. “No buts. Look, if you take this, all your troubles are gone. You're relaxed and don't have a care in the world. Don't you want that?” James persuaded. The boys all look at each other and agree, then give their splits of money to James. And the deal was done. Well.. that one was. He still had 4 other ones to make.

By the end of all of them, it was already late night and he was tired, but he was hungry.. and he wasn't in the mood for pasta, so he went to some burger joint that was 24 hours. James heard the burgers were amazing because they were big, packed with add-ins, and their fries were amazing.

He pulls in through the drive-thru and places his order, then drives to the window. As he waited, he zoned out on whatever was in front of him until the window opened. “James.” A familiar voice calls his name. It sent chills up his spine. He looks over to the window to see you. “Y/n.” He calls back, and he can't help the grin that possesses his face. “You work in fast food? I thought you said you'd never do somethin' like this.” He laughs. You smile warmly. That laugh brings so many memories back.

“I guess I lied.” You reply. “Yeah, big time.” James keeps smiling. You give him the bag of hot food and a drink. “Here's your order.” James takes the food and drink and puts them to the side. “Thank you darlin'.”

Your heart stops. “Don't say that.” You mumble. “Oh come on, it ain't hurtin' nobody.” You shake your head. “James.. It's just.. not the time, okay? I don't think there will ever be a time for it either.” James looks down at the concrete wall and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. I get it.” He taps his finger on the wheel. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to upset ya.” He apologizes. “See you 'round school.” He gives you a small smile. “See you around.” You said back. See. Not talk, not catch. See.

Later that night, James was up thinking about you. He messed up so badly. It was the first time he talked to you in two years, and he screwed it up by making things awkward. What he didn't know was that you, too, were thinking of him.

Why did he have to call that name again? Your mind went back to fetch the memories of how loving and affectionate he was, how nice and such a gentleman.. even the fights and breakups were coming back, but you would still find your way back to each other, and it just proved how much you loved each other. Or at least that's how you thought of it.

He didn't actually see you around. His classes are way on the other side of the campus and were also in the morning, and yours were at noon.

It's a Friday evening, and James didn't work after school, which was great. He could just rest. No deals anything to make either. The only thing he had planned out for later was going to a house party that his buddy had invited him to. Did he think of you? Unfortunately, no. He was more focused on what drinks there would be, what snacks, and which of his other buddies were going. It was going to be fun, that's all he knew.

When he got home, it was just him. Peace and quiet. Great for a nap. He has a whole thing for when he naps. He closes the blinds, turns the AC on, locks his door, and gets all comfy in his bed. He has a big, warm, thick blanket as well. He likes his room to be cold so that he can go underneath the blanket. It's a little odd, but it makes him comfortable.

“Jimmy” knock knock

“Jimmy.” knock knock knock

“James!” knock knock knock knock knock

“JAMES!!!!!!” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The yell of his father and banging on the door were heard outside, and it woke James right up. “What pa?! I'm busy!” James whines sleepily. “Busy doing what? Messing with your pecker, you disgusting perv? Get out here and take this trash out!” His dad yelled, and his stomps were heard leaving. James groans into a pillow and forces himself to get up from his comfy environment. He shivers at the cold air and digs into his closet for a hoodie.

He looks at the time.. oh, he took a long nap. He came home at 2:30 and it's almost 7.

James walks to the kitchen and grabs the trash bag out of the can. “I don't want any of that disgusting trash juice on the floor. Your mutha just mopped.”

James tunes Marty out and steps outside to where the garbage can is. Frankie is outside smoking a cigarette. “Dad's right inside, you know? If he sees you smoking, he'll have a cow.” Frankie removes the stick from his mouth and blows out the smoke. “Nah. He dont care no more about what I do and dont.” He leans against the stairs. “A little birdy told me you're planning to go to a party.”

“How do you know about that?” James asks. “Don't worry 'bout it,” Frankie replies and digs in his pocket to give James a few bags of something something. “I told a few folks you'd be there. You sell these to them.” James takes the baggies and puts them inside his hoodie pocket. “I don't know if I can do this tonight, Frankie. I'm supposed to be having fun.”

Frankie sniffs and takes another puff. “I wasn't asking for you to do this. I'm telling you. You bring me half the money, and the rest is yours.” Frankie points a ringed finger. James sighs and hesitates. “Frankie, I wasn't supposed to be doing any deals tonight. I just wanted to take a break and have fun with my friends.”

The older man stands up and looks down at his brother. “There ain't no breaks in this business, Jimmy. No bitching out. Do you wanna stay affording college? Cause that man in there ain't gonna help you, he dont care.” He points to the door. James rolls his eyes and inhales a deep breath. “Them old heads don't give a fuck about you or me, James. You're 20, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

James was staring at his brother with angry eyes but they also had the 'okay' look. “That's a good boy, Jimmy,” Frankie says and pats his brothers cheek. “Remember. Half.” He says and then walks away.

James stays in place for a couple of seconds and walks back into the house to get ready.

He showers, throws on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket over it. He wore regular everyday shoes to pair with. His cologne wasn't doing too much, but just enough for someone to smell when they or he walked past. He got a ride from his friend.

James was only at that party for 10 minutes before some guy went up to him for business. They went out to the back and dealt. It went smoothly. He was just wondering how many more times this was going to happen. In the span of 2 hours, he had sold all 3 baggies. Now he could finally have fun and drink as much as he wanted.

He joked and laughed with his friends for a while as they drank out of red plastic cups with liquor in them, they sang along to songs, and flirted with a couple of girls - they were just young men having fun at a party. “Hey isn't that Anthony?” Gerard, one of the guys in the group, asks. “Yeah, they call him ATM now, ya know? Because of his initials.” Someone else adds.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That's kinda stupid if you ask me.” Gerard laughs. “But who's that girl he's with? I've never seen him with her before.” All the guys look over at Anthony and the girl. “He's always got a new girl every month,” James states the already known information. “She looks kind of familiar.”

“What if it's your ex, ah? She's got the same hair and everything.” Tony tries his best not to make it look like he's staring. “Nah, man. Every girl looks the same from the back. Plus, I doubt she'd even be at this party or any party at all.” James says, but even though he said he doubted it was you, it was a lie. He just didn't want to seem anxious about it in front of his friends.

“Are you sure?” Tony smirks as the girl turns to the side, showing off her side profile that was.. yours. James furrowed his eyebrows as Tony said that, and he looked right at you. His heart dropped. Why were you with EBT, Anthony? Whatever the hell they call him. Anthony isn't your type at all. You don't like guys who have a new girlfriend almost every two months, so what are you doing with him?

“Mister steal your girl.” Lucas laughs and puts a hand on James's shoulder. “What are you gonna do about that?” James turns his head to Lucas. “Man, get your dirty hand off of me. I don't know where that's been.” He tosses his shoulder, making the hand fall off. “I ain't gonna do nothing about that. It's not my business. She's not my girl anymore. I left her in the past.”

“Come on, we know you're not over her, Jimmy,” Gerard says after sipping on his cup. “You told us you talked to her the other day, right? Do it again. It won't hurt to catch up.” “You think AKA is gonna let me near his date? Get outta here.” James scoffs. “Let them be, I don't care.” Yes, he did. He cared a lot.

For the next half hour, James kept glancing over at you and ATM. His group of friends noticed, but they didn't say anything. They knew James would probably punch them in the throat if they tried bringing it up. As for Anthony, he also noticed James watching. The thing was that James didn't know that Anthony knew.

Anthony says something in your ear that James obviously and unfortunately couldn't hear or read from his lips in the room that was only lit up by dozens of different colored lights. You raise an eyebrow and look behind you to find James looking. He doesn't stop. He just lets the eye contact go on. “I don't know him.” You tell Anthony with a small shake of your head. James has an idea of what you're saying. “I think you're lying to me. James has been staring at us forever..”

You sigh softly. “Okay fine. He's my ex-boyfriend, but we haven't spoken since high school.” You weren't counting the time a few days ago. Anthony glances at James, who isn't staring anymore. “Change that. Go tell him to stop staring and mind his own business.” Anthony taps your ass and nudges you to walk off. “What? Why..”

“Because it's obvious he wants to say something. If talking to you again will make him stop being a creep, then go. This is the only time I won't be mad about it, though. I don't want you talking to your ex ever again.” Anthony says and nudges you again.

“God, you're so annoying,” you mumble as you head toward the corner where James and his friends are standing. The boys notice your approach, and Tony smirks. “Look who's coming,” he says to James. When James turns to see what Tony is talking about, his heart sinks again. “No, there's no way she's coming over here,” he says.

“Well, she is, so you better not embarrass yourself, tough guy.” Tony laughs. “Shut up,” James replied and tried his best not to look at you as you approached them.

Awkwardly, you stand in front of the group of young men. They don’t say anything; they just remain in place, waiting for you to speak first. “Hello,” you manage to say. “Hey,” Gerard responds. “Do any of you mind if I borrow James for a second?” You say and make eye contact with James.

James kept his gaze on you. Were you actually serious, or was this just a sick trick to embarrass him? The group of boys looks at each other as if they really needed a moment to think about it. “We don't mind at all, sweetie.” Tony gives the green flag.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at James expectantly. He exhales through his nose. “Lead the way,” he replies, following you to the back of the house, where fewer people are gathered. Outside is the best place for a conversation since it isn’t loud with music.

James is leaning against the tall brown fence. “Why did you bring me out here?” He asks. “Because Anthony told me that you wouldn't keep your eyes to yourself. He said it was because you wanted to talk to me.”

James raises an eyebrow. “I don't have anything to say.”

“Then why were you staring?” You shoot back.

James crosses his arms and replies, “Do I really need a reason?”

“Yes, you do. Obviously, you have one; you just don't want to tell me.”

“I don't know. I guess it's just weird seeing you with another guy, especially Anthony. At a party.””

“So you're saying that you're jealous.”

James huffs a laugh. “Am I?” He shakes his head. “Darlin', I ain't jealous of no one, okay? All I said was that it was weird. Don't put words in my mouth.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You should stop worrying about what I call you and start focusing on how dumb this is; us going back and forth. If we're gonna talk, I wanna have a nice conversation, not an argument.” James confesses.

You look down at the ground and mirror his stance. “Okay, okay.” You sigh. “Okay.” He repeats. A few awkward seconds pass by before he starts to speak again. “So, Anthony,” He brings up. “Are you really going out with him, or are you just friends?”

“I knew you were jealous.” You smirk. “I told you I'm not jealous.” He grumbles. “Just answer the question. I'm only curious.” You smile and uncross your arms. “Yeah, we're seeing each other.” James nods. “How long?” “Almost a month.”

Okay. It's not too serious.. James thinks.

“And what about you? Are you seeing anyone?” You question. James shakes his head and licks his lips before answering. “No. I'm focusing on school, and I get busy with work and other things. I don't have time for a girlfriend.” He responds.

“Ah.” You nod. “So you don't have a hookup buddy either?” That catches James off guard, but he laughs. “No.. I don't.” He says with a grin. “Not a hookup buddy.”

“So then it's usually just random girls?”

“Not totally random. It's only happened two times, and both girls are ones I know from last year. They're nice.. and I mean, it's not ĺike they wanted a relationship out of me either, so.. they were fine with just..”

“Getting dicked down and you leaving right after?” You offer.

“Yeah.” He responds. “Except I didn't leave right after. I stayed until the morning.” He says. “It wasn't awkward after we did it, so we would either just talk or go get something to eat, go back home, and then sleep it off.”

You hum in response. “I haven't done anything with Anthony.”

“How come?”

“Because I feel like that's all he wants, and if he gets it, he'll leave me right after.” James's face relaxes into a small frown. “You shouldn't be with him, then. If he doesn't like you for who you are, then you should leave and find someone who does.”

“I'm just gonna see how long we can last. Maybe he'll eventually not think like that.”

Oh, here we go. The “I can fix him” mentality. You're so pathetic.

“That's the stupidest thing you've ever said. You can't be serious.”

“Excuse you?” You give him a weirded-out expression. “Who are you to tell me that I'm stupid, James?” “An even stupider person.” He declares. “Y/n, he's not good for you. He's not good to you. Fuck, hes not good to anyone!”

“Don't take his bullshit. You need to realize that you dont deserve a douche bag like that. You need a guy who's gonna love you for who you are no matter what. A guy who wants to be there for you through everything.”

“Oh yeah, so you? You're describing yourself?”

James let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I distinctly remember telling you to stop putting words in my mouth,” he said, his voice edged with annoyance. “And for the record, no, I'm not describing myself. The reality is that you and I are finished, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change that. I’m not the right person for you, and you’re not the right person for me. We simply don’t match. Im just trying to help you realize that LOL over there isn't a guy you should be with if you want something serious.”

“Really? You mean ATM?” You exhale sharply, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “ATM, LOL, EBT, whatever—Anthony isn't a good guy. I know you’re not naïve, so please don’t pretend to be.” He grips your shoulders, his expression earnest and concerned. “Seriously, just break up with him before he ends up hurting you.”

“James, it's clear we can't have a nice conversation like you wanted. So before this turns into something it shouldn't, I'm going to walk away. Please let me go.”

James removes his hands and sighs, lolling his head to the side. “Alright.” He mumbles. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You too.” You say and walk away. James watches you and bites his lower lip. He wished he just minded his business. He wished you didn't have to bring up relationships and hooking up. It really could have gone well if it hadn't been brought up.

For the rest of the party, James stayed in a corner where he couldn't see you. Tony was the one who stayed with him while the other boys were on the dance floor. James told him everything that happened. “No dude, she was in the wrong. She's being an idiot.” Tony says. “Don't call her an Idiot.” James defends you even though you were being an idiot. “My bad.” Tony chuckles.

“Can you give me a ride home? I just can’t deal with this party any longer. It’s even harder with her here,” James said, glancing towards the crowded living room where laughter and music filled the air but failed to lift his spirits.

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Are you really sure about this? Don’t let a girl ruin your night, man. You've got to stay and enjoy yourself, at least a little,” he replied, trying to gauge James's mood.

James sighed, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. “I appreciate it, Tony, but I really need to go. I just want to get home, crawl into bed, and forget about all this for a while,” he admitted, his tone firm but weary. “Okay, let's go then,” Tony says.

Back at the house, James locks himself in his still-cold room. Already changed into sweats and shirtless, he replays the whole day in his mind

The day at school, receiving a reality check from Frankie and then dealing to his customers, having fun.. and then arguing with his first love. He tosses and turns in bed as he remembers. He can't sleep. He's overthinking.

What if she hates me now?

Should I have kept my mouth shut? Yes. No. Maybe. Somebody had to check her.

Is she right? Maybe I am jealous.

Jealous? What am I talking about. I'm over her. I can't get back with her anyway. I told her that already. If I asked, I'd look pathetic. I'm not pathetic.

Am I?

He falls asleep after hours of hundreds of thoughts. Hopefully, soon, he can apologize for upsetting you and OMG.

This will eventually have a part two, I just want to take a break from putting all my attention on this so I can work on my other asks. I wanted to really put in a lot of smaller details in this without smut because I wanted to prove to myself that I could write a good story without it having something sexual at the end. (Yes, there were sexual references in this, but hopefully, you know what I mean). I think this turned out well, and I hope you do too. Please let me know if it was boring and if I should leave those smaller details out and just stick to what I usually post haha.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @prettiestmini @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne @chanelluvstvd @hearts4sammonroe @fratbrochrisgf

[rainrot4me]

What are each of the creeps' way of claiming the reader as theirs? Like, a subtle way of letting others know "this one is mine." ex: An accessory, a visible mark they left, etc.

✦ . jeff the killer

Visible bite marks and nail scratches in intimate places, usually where others just barely catch a glimpse.

He also makes you wear his hoodie, bloodstains and all, and doesn’t care that it’s oversized. It smells like him. That’s the point.

“Let ’em stare. If they’re lookin’, they’re learnin’. That’s mine. Touch them, and I’ll carve a smile so wide, you’ll never close your mouth again.”

✦ . ticci toby

Carves little symbols into your belt or your shoes. Subtle at first… but they’re coded. He knows what they mean. So do the others.

He likes to linger when others are around—palming the back of your neck, whispering close to your ear, keeping eye contact with whoever’s watching.

“Cute shoes. Wonder who put tha-that symbol there… Huh. Looks familiar, doesn’t it, Brian?”

✦ . eyeless jack

He’ll whisper your name low against your skin or speak to you in an ancient tongue only you can hear, a language no one else understands. It clings to you like smoke. People can feel it.

He also leaves very faint, almost animalistic bite marks where no one but you or another monster would know to look.

“They’re staring again. Maybe I should remind you you’re mine.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

You’ve always got bruises—some from “training,” others from rough kisses. He smudges your lipstick with his thumb and doesn’t wipe it off his hand.

Makes you wear his jacket when others are too close. Smells like smoke and leather.

“That jacket look familiar? Good. Keep starin’. They don’t need you to talk to them—they’re already taken.”

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

He’s a photographer—he takes candid, blurry, intimate Polaroids of you and keeps one in his pocket. Sometimes he leaves one where others will find it.

He lets you wear one of his flannel shirts or hoodies and always has a hand low on your back, guiding you. Never obvious. But dominant.

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart. I want them to remember your face when they realize they can’t have it.”

✦ . kate the chaser

Paints your nails black with a blood-red tip. Her version of tagging you. She does it after missions, bruised knuckles and all.

She never lets anyone stand between you. When they try, she moves closer. No words. Just a glare.

“Touch them again. I never miss what I’m hunting. Especially not what’s mine.”

✦ . ben drowned

He codes a secret signature into your laptop wallpaper or phone lock screen—an old pixel heart that flickers with his name.

His bites leave a glitch-like welt on your skin, faint but digital-looking. “A part of the game,” he says.

“Nice background, huh? Yeah. That’s them. Try touching them and you’ll get debugged.”

✦ . clockwork

Leaves lipstick marks on your neck and jaw. She wants people to see them. Also occasionally loans you one of her knives.

Will randomly pull you into her lap during conversations with others, resting her chin on your shoulder like, mine.

“See this? Yeah, I left it there. Right next to that vein. Thought about nicking it, but… they purr too pretty.”

✦ . laughing jack

Paints a tiny symbol behind your ear or under your wrist in invisible ink that glows under blacklight. He’s the only one who can see it.

Gifts you creepy handmade trinkets: a little clown charm with your initials. Keeps the matching one around his neck.

“You’re part of the act now, sugar. And every circus has its star. Too bad for them—you’re already taken by the ringmaster.”

✦ . slenderman

His tendrils wrap briefly around your wrist when someone gets too close. Like a leash. Or a warning.

Your voice echoes differently when you say his name. Like it vibrates with something unnatural.

“They are not to touch what is mine. Let them feel the air still and the forest turn its gaze. You are claimed in ways they cannot comprehend.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

hiiii

I really love your jake and y/n drabbles and hope that you’ll always keep writing about them since they’re so cuteeeeeee

But I was wondering if maybe we could get a Drabble about jungwon and y/n since they’re still besties and I really loved their dynamic!

I know that you focus on the couple but I thought it would be really cool to read about the besties again and I don’t have something specific in mind so I’d give you freedom to write about anything

I really hope you can do it but If you don’t want to it’s also okay and you can just ignore it :))

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS ONE 😭 but yes omg i was actually thinking of doing one abt these two to begin with so you literally read my mind anon <33 hope you like itttttt. i included a little easter egg/throwback to the pretty privilege drabble i wrote too heheh & thank u for ur kind words🥺❤️

──── GROWING UP WITH CHILDHOOD BFF!JUNGWON 🤸‍♂️🍭 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

Jungwon's room is the same as always.

The dim lamp glowing. The soft click-clack of his keyboard. The faint, slightly concerning scent of instant ramen still lingering in the air—despite the fact that you finished eating it two hours ago.

He said he'd throw the cups away.

Eventually.

You're starfished across his bed, head dangling slightly off the edge, aimlessly scrolling through your phone.

Jungwon's at his desk, headset on, fingers moving fast across his keyboard as he mumbles something under his breath—probably trash-talking Heeseung on League. Even though Heeseung is quite literally behind the adjacent wall right now.

"Hey," you say suddenly, voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" Jungwon doesn't look away from the screen.

"Do you ever think about how we were basically forced to be friends?"

That makes him pause—just enough for his character to die.

He slams the spacebar. Takes his headset off. Swivels around in his chair to face you.

"Bro."

You grin at him upside-down, "Oops."

"Why are you here," he groans, "and not bothering Jake instead of me?"

You gasp dramatically, "Rude. I'm here because I wanted to hang out with my best friend."

"Uh huh," Jungwon's eyes narrow at you, unconvinced. "Jake's busy isn't he?"

"He's at some fancy ambassador photo shoot and they told him no guests allowed," you sigh, grumbling in your spot.

Jungwon snorts, stands up, and kicks your leg aside to make room for himself on the bed. He flops down next to you with a sigh, both of you staring up at the ceiling.

"And to answer your question—probably not," he says. "We would not be friends. You were a bully in kindergarten."

You mouth falls open and you whip your head to look at him. "Hey—what? No I wasn't!"

He side-eyes you, "You literally used to chase me around the playground threatening to hit me with that weird Hello Kitty recorder. Remember that?"

You blink. Then laugh.

"Okay—that's only because you stole my favorite multi-colored pen I bought from the book fair! The one with the sparkle grip and glitter ink!"

"You also tried to feed me dirt. You told me it was a crumbled up cookie you baked."

"Yeah—that one was kinda evil, but to be fai—"

"—you also made me eat a leaf."

"And did you die? No. You're welcome for your advanced immune system."

Jungwon laughs, crossing his arms, "If we weren't forced to be friends and have playdates practically everyday, I probably would've acted like I didn't know you in high school."

Your eyes widen as you gasp again, grabbing the pillow next to you, "Take that back right now."

He laughs, quickly blocking his face, moving to hug the pillow between his arms instead.

"Who else would've let you cheat off their math homework every week?"

"True, you did save me multiple times in the fifth grade," Jungwon shrugs, eyes glinting with nostalgia. "Who else would've made a fake email account with me just so we could prank Miss Lee about canceling the science fair?"

"Who else would've climbed onto the garage roof with me at 2AM to see if we could spot aliens?"

"Who else would've gone shot for shot with me in tequila and get trashed?"

"Jungwon, that was literally last weekend. And I woke up with the worst hangover the next morning because of you."

"My point still stands."

You both pause for a moment.

Then laughter fills the air.

"We're so dumb."

"So dumb."

no doubt m. list

tag list! pt. 1 (open)

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