#everyone else in the array agrees

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Hua Cheng entering the communication array as Mu Qing and Feng Xin fight: you guys still use fights as an excuse to touch each other? Lame

[rabotimagines]

I know for a fact that if you were to take the Decepticon! Reader jerking off and switch the roles that it WOULD work 💀

Autobot! Reader offering to sleep with ANY decepticon and they would take it in a HEARTBEAT 😭 everyone wondering how tf they escaped and they're just like 'You REALLY don't know how weak the decepticons are.' 💀💀

Lololololol THEY WOULD RISK IT ALL FOR A CHANCE! Autobot array got 'em acting unwise.

"Weak" GN BOT Reader + Ironhide

Summary: The aftermath of you getting yourself out of your own hostage situation.

Warnings: Ironhide assumes you got taken advantage of, short horny descriptions near the end

Genre/Theme: Platonic and Ironhide can be read as crushing but he's your concerned friend first and foremost.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: Direct aftermath of this encounter with Skywarp. Reader genuinely doesn't mind what happened. It gets silly/a little meta at the end.

Ironhide had been planning to charge right after the Cons when Perceptor finally came back alone. Saying how you’d offered up your obedience as a prisoner for his function. Jazz stopped Ironhide first saying the cons would be expecting them. So they’d need to hit a bit harder than just the four of 'em. The thought made Ironhide's plating clamp down in anger. How was he gonna just sit on his aft when they had a hold of ya!? Especially now that Ironhide knew- Knew exactly what Megatron and half the other slagging Decepticreeps were thinking about doing to ya!

Optimus stopped him next and told him they’d plan immediate rescue, But agreed Jazz was right that they’d need a bit more to make sure they do rescue you. Blaster had Steeljaw track down your scent and they were following it as well as they could've- The trail being hard to track due to you being stolen via air by those slagging seekers. And just when Ironhide was about to throw his servos up with a shout to go challenge Megatron preemptively to make things easier- he got a com message.

Ironhide glanced at it instinctively with a glare only his optic ridge creased harsh when he realized it was you that was messaging him.

> Cancel the rescue party. I got myself out :)

Ironhide cycled his optics at the message and then sighed roughly. His stress tampering back down to a more manageable worry almost instantly.

Sure it could’ve been a trick- maybe. But the stupid little smile Chip had shown ya to make that you’d tack onto your com messages so often made him guess it really was you. So Ironhide chose to believe it was probably real. You messaged coordinates by of the edge of the closest human town. So after telling everyone else the backup they’d ordered picked them up in the form of Skyfire and they’d flown there.

Skyfire landed with a soft thunk in a clearing of the trees. They'd cleared out onto the ground with their helms held high and senses on alert. There wasn't any sparkdamn sign of you or anyone else.

Ironhide’s com pinged again.

> That shuttle I hear just landed Skyfire?

Ironhide replied a yeah and asked where the pit ya were at. The shrubbery parted and out came you in root mode.

Slag! It was you-!

They rushed over to ya and you just smiled and waved. Bluestreak got to ya first and he almost barreled into ya from how fast he was running only stopping when you grabbed his paldrons- nearly taking the both of ya down before you caught yourself and him. Bluestreak's mouth was already moving a mile a minute when the rest of 'em caught up.

“Are sure you’re okay-? I mean I know you probably aren’t, and you probably risked a lot getting yourself free- but you busted yourself out just like that?”

You just huffed and patted Bluestreak on his pauldrons. “Ah, They’re a bit too stupid to stop me from getting one over on them. Even when they think they’ve got me cornered and out of options.” You chuckled “They’re also… a bit weaker than you guys assume.”

Ironhide’s optics were assessing your frame for himself. He knew you sparkdamn well enough to know you’d usually down play anythin’ that wasn’t critical injury. But you did look alright... mostly just scratches and nicks-

You turned towards Blaster when he asked how you were and that let Ironhide see it. The fragging full servo imprint left embedded into your outer thigh. Your metal warped into the shape of whoever grabbed you hard enough to leave deep evidence. There were also deeper scratches all around the imprint-

Ironhide’s processor slowed real quick when you shifted again and his optics caught the dark gray paint transfers on your inner thighs. His optics scanned fast over the rest of your frame and caught purple also on your outer thigh by the other damage. The rest of your frame was clean of paint transfers.

Except for the immediate area around your modesty panel.

Ironhide’s expression turns dark and he has to bite back his engines growl. A tap on his left makes him swing his helm around and glare absolute murder at Jazz. Jazz unbothered just gestured towards you with his helm than towards Bluestreak and the rest of ya’. Jazz wasn't smillin’, his expression just neutral.

Ironhide grits his jaw and forces his frame to let out the building tension with a heavy steam heated vent. His plating loosens slightly but doesn’t relax. Slag it all- Slag it all! Ironhide was gonna fragging pot shot those good for nothin’ perverts the next time he saw even a glimpse 'o them! But Ironhide wouldn’t be letting ya play like all of this was just fine. No sir he would not.

-

You're finally alone while y’all are ridin’ Skyfire back to The Ark and Ironhide takes the chance to get close to ya and say your designation. You perk up and smile at him when you make optic contact. “Ah, Ironhide. How you doing, Doll?”

“Should be askin’ you that.” Ironhide keeps his tone low and even, not letting his own anger shimmer back up even when it’s tryin’ real hard to do just that.

“I’m fine, just a little banged up.”

Ironhide can feel his optic ridge wanna twitch. “Really now?” You just nod again and Ironhide just knows he's gonna be puffing steam if he vents right about now. “Alright. Whats with all the damage left around your panel than?”

You don’t even falter at Ironhide pointin’ it out “Ah- Just a little transaction, nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Ironhide can feel the heat enter his own tone. “A transaction- is that what you’d call it? Really?” His gaze finds yours and Ironhide doesn’t feel any better when you look away first.

You finally just sigh and close the distance between ya “Ironhide-” Your servo squeezes his arm, your grips firm but your em field fans soft and warm along the side of his plating. Ironhide’s frown deepens when his optics instinctively wanna heat up under your attention “It’s sweet you care, really,” You level him with an even look “But honestly, it was nothing serious.” Your em fields so loose and open Ironhide almost wants to believe ya.

But Ironhide knew ya and he knew you didn’t like worrying who ya cared about. But you just continue on seeing his unconvinced expression. “And if you don’t believe me I'll write a report on exactly what happened. I’ll com Jazz the permission to let you read it even, if that’ll calm your plating down.”

Ironhide lets himself break his gaze when your optics stay locked on his. “Fine.”

“Great.” You patted his arm and continued to walk over to where Blaster was.

“I’m gonna read it!” Ironhide calls back reminding you, ya weren’t exactly clear of him yet.

“Hope you enjoy it then, Darling!” You wave and leave Ironhide behind stewing in his own thoughts. He finally just scoffed.

He’d find out just what happened just you wait.

-

What the frag was this?!

Ironhide's worry had fizzled into his now wide opticed aggravated state the longer he read through your report. His optics re reading over the blasted sparkdamn “report” a second time still in disbelief. Ironhide should have known something was wrong when Jazz handed him the report on the datapad. Jazz’s faceplate utterly blank besides the fact he was lightly chewing on his own bottom derma. Ironhide just worried more over the expression assuming the worst.

But low and beholden Jazz was actually trying his sparkdamnest not to laugh! Beacuse this was- It was more like some sparkdamn erotica!

You’d written down your encounter with Skywarp- Including seducing Skywarp (Your words!), to Skywarp between your thighs- to you crushing his facplate between them! And- That wasn’t even mentioning the rest of it!

Every sentence he read had Ironhide's optics wanting to burn hotter.

"C'mon Skywarp, you're practically cleaning my modesty panel with your glossia. If you overload right here for me, I'll pull my thighs away and let you vent correctly." I wrapped my thighs even tighter around Skywarp's helm. Then I rocked my pelvis forward, and my modesty panel grinds down on his faceplate again. A string of oral lubricant slides right down Skywarp's jaw when his glossia presses flat against my panel. He was almost pretty like.

"You're doing so good so far. C'mon Sweetspark, you can do it." I'd said before I dragged my em field along right along his defenseless wings-”

ironhide yanked his gaze away from the datapad and shut it off with a heated curse. Ironhide stops where he is when he remembers just what you’d told him before you’d left.

“Hope you enjoy it then Darling!”

Ironhide finally just curses the air blue and drags a heavy servo over his faceplate. Trying real hard to ignore how flustered he felt imagining you like that- Primus. And he was genuinely worried about ya...

What the frag was Ironhide gonna do with ya..?

[kairawrites]

sweet escape.

🌺 masterlist 🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x his wife

requested: A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

summary: It's your turn to host the sleepover, and the house is crawling with kids. All Lewis wants is to enjoy his favorite snack in peace, but someone else has beaten him to it.

words: 1.7k

It was your turn to host the sleepover, and Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, had been buzzing with excitement all week. Their friends always claimed that you hosted the best sleepovers, and tonight was no exception. The living room had been transformed into a comfort kingdom, a cozy haven that would make any child’s sleepover dreams come true.

The sofa was covered in blankets and pillows, perfectly prepared for you and Lewis to cuddle up later. Roscoe was already settled in, burrowed into one of the blankets. Air mattresses, each adorned with fluffy blankets and an array of pillows, covered the remainder of the living room floor. Pressed together and ready for the kids, they formed cozy nests. String lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, twinkling glow over the room, and each air mattress had a customized snack basket placed at the foot, filled with treats specially chosen for each child.

In the kitchen, boxes of freshly delivered pizza sat waiting on the island, their aroma mingling with the sweet scent of the homemade treats you had prepared. After picking up the kids and their friends from their respective homes, Lewis had returned to find this magical setup already prepared and waiting for the night’s festivities. The sight of it had brought a smile to his face—this was exactly what a sleepover should be.

Once Ariel and Mason, along with their friends, were fed and changed into their pajamas, you managed to get them to agree on a movie. They were going to watch Monsters, Inc., a classic that never failed to entertain. The kids settled into their cozy nests of blankets and pillows, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the string lights as you switched off the overhead light. Lewis watched in awe as you effortlessly managed all eight of them, your voice calm and soothing as you adjusted the volume and made sure everyone was comfortable.

You were wearing pajamas that matched Ariel’s and her friends’—a cute set in soft pink with Hello Kitty prints scattered across the fabric. Lewis, on the other hand, was dressed in black pajamas adorned with Spider-Man prints, matching those of Mason and his friends. His pajama top was emblazoned with the superhero’s web design, while the pants were red with a Miles Morales pattern.

As the kids finally settled into their makeshift beds, Lewis watched you walk over, a smile playing on his lips as you let out a breath, clearly relieved that the evening was under control. He reached out, his fingers lightly touching the hem of your shorts. “Cute pajamas,” he noted.

You giggled as you glanced up at him. “Thanks, but you’re one to talk.” You gestured to his Spider-Man pajamas, and he grinned.

“Hey, don’t be mad I got the better pair,” Lewis said with a chuckle, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.

“I have something for you,” you said, reaching around him. Lewis’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement as you produced a personalized snack basket just for him. “The kids wanted to try the peanut butter bites, so I had to give you only two,” you said with a playful grin.

Lewis’s grin widened as he took the basket from you. His hand instantly moved to retrieve a peanut butter bite. A soft moan of appreciation was muffled as he bit into the sweet treat. He’d been looking forward to this moment all day, from the moment he found you pulling out the ingredients in the morning.

“You always spoil me,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before moving to join Roscoe on the sofa, ready to enjoy the treats.

Lewis was sprawled comfortably on the sofa, Roscoe resting contentedly against his chest as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. The kids were thoroughly engrossed, laughing at the antics of Sulley and Mike.

However, something felt off. The absence of your laughter was unusual. You were always the one who laughed the loudest at this film. Lewis lifted his head from the armrest behind him and scanned the room, searching for you.

Seeing that you were nowhere in sight, he figured you might have slipped upstairs for a bit of peace and quiet. With a small smile, he reached into his personalized snack basket, hoping to grab another peanut butter bite. To his dismay, he found that there were none left.

He set the basket aside and rose from the sofa, leaving Roscoe to stretch out in his spot. Lewis headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and checked every shelf and corner for any remaining peanut butter bites. His search proved fruitless, leaving him mildly frustrated. He sighed, shutting the fridge.

A thought crossed his mind—maybe, just maybe, there was one last stash hidden away in the pantry. You had the habit of storing treats in the pantry when you wanted to keep them away from the kids.

Lewis opened the pantry door, only to stop in his tracks. There you were, standing in the small pantry, looking a little too guilty for someone just grabbing a snack. Your hand was tucked behind your back, your eyes wide with surprise as you met his gaze.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding?”

“Just…getting a snack,” you replied.

Lewis’s gaze passed over your face, his eyes lingering for just a moment. He had known you long enough to recognize the subtle signs when you were hiding something. The way your eyes shifted slightly to the side and the faintest of smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes were all dead giveaways.

He could tell you were trying to play it cool, but he could see through it. “What are you hiding back there?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. His expression was one of playful suspicion, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but you took a step back as he advanced.

Lewis leaned in, the familiar scent of chocolate and peanut butter widening his smile. “Is that the last of the peanut butter bites?”

Before he could say another word, you quickly stepped forward, covering his mouth with your hand. “Shh!” you hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen as if expecting the kids to burst in at any moment.

Lewis chuckled, his laughter muffled against your hand. You guided him by the front of his shirt, pulling him inside the pantry as he reached back to shut the door behind him. The small space felt even smaller with the two of you squeezed inside.

You tried to maintain your composure, but with him this close you failed.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you looked up at him. “Alright, fine,” you admitted, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. “I took the last of the peanut butter bites.”

Lewis’s eyes lit up with a mix of triumph and amusement. “So, you were hiding them?” he asked, his voice full of mock surprise. “I thought you made these for me.”

Your eyes rolled, yet you allowed him to take a bite out of the bar in your hand. “What if I want them for myself?”

Lewis paused, a mock-serious expression on his face. “Then you shouldn’t have made them so good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you watched him take a second bite. “Guess that’s on me, huh?”

“Yeah, means you gotta share.” Lewis leaned in, his smile widening as he kissed you softly.

You broke the remainder of the bar in half. You held out one piece to Lewis.

“You know,” he said with a chuckle, “I didn’t kiss you just to get that bar.”

You giggled, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

With a mischievous grin, Lewis leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he placed a second, more lingering kiss on your lips. The sweet taste of peanut butter lingered between you. You could feel the warmth of his hand against the back of your neck.

As he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a playful glint. “Maybe that's all I'm after,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours again.

Despite the warmth of your husband's lips against yours, you can't help but giggle. “Why are we hiding snacks in our own home?”

The sound of your laughter pulled a smile to your husband’s lips.

“Have you seen the way those kids look at me the second they realize I have food?” His brows raised, Lewis popped the last of his bar into his mouth. “They’ve got their mother’s eyes—big, innocent, and impossible to say no to.”

The two of you stayed there for a few more minutes, savoring a few moments of quiet. Eventually, the sound of muffled laughter pulled your gaze to your husband’s.

“Thanks for sharing,” he smiled softly, gently cupping your face, leaning in for a kiss.

You found yourself pressed against the pantry door, your breath catching as his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate intensity. His touch slipping beneath your pajama top.

When he finally pulled back, you were both slightly dazed, your heart racing in your chest. Lewis rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “Whose idea was it to invite a bunch of kids to our house again?”

You giggled, remembering the enthusiasm in his voice when he suggested it. “Yours.”

He groaned, shaking his head as he kissed you again, a little less serious this time, more playful. “Remind me to never get any bright ideas.”

“Don’t let them stay up too late,” you warned with a smile. “Or you'll have to wait until tomorrow to get what you want.”

“They’re not the issue,” Lewis teased, his voice soft as his fingers traced your jawline. “Keeping you quiet is.”

You gently rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your heart fluttered as his gaze drifted back to your lips.

“Get rid of the evidence,” you whispered, your smile widening as you reached behind you to open the pantry door.

But before you step out, you stood on your toes and kissed him quickly, a soft, sweet peck that was over almost as soon as it began. Lewis watched you go with a lingering smile.

[targaryenluvs]

VICTORS SPOILS

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader

warnings: obsession, following/stalking, creepy behaviour, naive/younger reader, age gap, (reader is 19 and finnick's around 25), non-con touching and kissing, manipulation, bj mentions/insinuations, sex mentions, prostitution mentions, finnick lowkey preying on you - descriptions of brown reader (i was self indulgent since i’m indian 😁) condescending/nit picking mother and pushy parents!

summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

a/n: ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!! HERES A GIFT FROM ME TO YOU ❤️GUESS WHO MADE HER OWN LITTLE HEADER GAHH!! i tried my bestttt - ive been away for a littleeee!! sorry babes <33 it was like 3am and i cooked this up in my head before opening my brewing pot (notes app) and jotting it down - NOT PROOFREAD

the hall was so loud.

they always were at capitol parties. your mother and father always dragged you along, stating that a young lady should be getting out, meeting people, friends, becoming well versed and established in the capitol. and that they wouldn’t always be here. “you need to learn to be alone, fend for yourself and stand your ground. how are you gonna do that if you’re always trying to keep to yourself dear?” your mother sweetly smiled as she looked over you, “i think you still have time to change that dress, not the most flattering sweetie.”

you scoffed as she walked away ever so elegantly. you looked over yourself in the mirror, the green dress was gorgeous, to you at least. but the blue dress your mother had chosen was breath-taking, as much as you hated to agree with her opinion. so you bit your tongue and put the chosen dress on.

mother knows best right?

the sun was setting with an especially beautiful array of colours to which you figured no one would really notice you were gone if they were all focused on something else. there was probably a screen upstairs which you could watch something on. a few things to eat and drink then you’d head up there.

finnick was glancing over to you the whole night. you’d worn blue, and he’d taken it as an ode to him. you hadn’t looked over at him yet but your leaving of the party seemed like an invitation to him to finally introduce himself.

as you settled down on the plush couch you felt all your tensions melt away. but finnick wouldn’t leave you alone for long. “i’m sorry i didn’t know this was occupied.” finnick looked sad and you had no clue why, so being as nice as you are had you opening the room in invitation to him. “no, no! i just wanted to get away from the party. you’re welcome to sit with me finnick.” it felt odd to you for some reason, calling him by his name as if he was a friend. you’d only ever seen him through screens and from afar yet he looked as amazing as always.

“are you sure?” you nodded and smiled, moving down the couch to make room for him. he sat down, respectful of your space. he looked drained and you felt the same way. “tired of the party?” you asked as he smiled and nodded, “a lot of people asking a lot of questions.” you spoke, “everyone has something to say or ask. my dad told me he got three men asking for my hand. we haven’t even been here for two hours. it’s like being in a room with vultures. and if i do accept i’ll just be, nothing. someone stuck to the side of some ugly guy who just wants a pretty face.” you didn’t know what it was about him but you felt as if you could tell him anything.

and he sat, and listened. nodding his head and adding it where appropriate. it felt, nice. having someone actually listen to what you said rather than just asking what you were wearing. he was nothing like what you expected. you’d heard the whispers. that he was a playboy, he was with and had been with multiple women and men over the years. and that he liked it, the gifts, the people, the uhm, other aspects.

“but you, i’m sure you have people to meet, scope out.” you wanted to curl up and die as soon as the words left your mouth. “no! oh my god, i do not mean it like that. you- i- you should not feel ashamed of what you like. i am so sorry- i didn’t mean to imply-” god would you stop droning on? finnick pressed his lips into a thin line, “hey it’s okay. you’re fine. in all honestly, i know everyone has mis-conceptions of me.” you took his place in attentive listening as he explained the truth.

the threats, the people pawing at him, him being sold from fourteen.

you were crying. it all sounded unbelievable and unbearable for someone to go through at such a young age, his life was ruined all because he was pretty, desirable. no child should even have to think of such things let alone experience them. and rather than you comforting him, he was sitting with his arms around you. he was too good to be true.

“i- no i’m so sorry that happened to you finnick. i had no clue, no one does. you are such an amazing person, from the little time i’ve known you. you don’t deserve any of this. how could you get away from this? we could- we could expose snow we could-” finnick cut you off with teary eyes, “there’s nothing we can do. trust me, if there was i would have tried. but i think, if i got married perhaps. i’d have a reason to stay away from the captiol. we’d live in district four, in peace.”

the idea was pretty decent, you’d give him that. and you couldn’t help your heart running a little faster at the prospect of potentially marrying him. you were already fast friends, at least you’d marry a friend? even if he potentially loved someone else or you loved another.

“what if- if you married me?”

he’d hoped you’d say that.

“you’d do that for me? seriously?” finnick faked shock as you nodded, “we’re friends, i’d much rather marry you than anyone else here to be honest. we could be happy.” you smiled as he wiped away his last tear. “y/n, that’s an amazing idea.”

your wedding was marvellous.

your parents pushed out buck after buck, no expense spared for their little girl. as if they actually cared for you. your wedding dress was white and pristine, courtesy of snow. your brown hair in curls and your brown skin glistening. but you added blue accents for finnick, or you thought you did. it’s not like he pushed for you to wear the things he bought by incessantly reminding the makeup artists and helpers that you were marrying the finnick odair, his wife deserved nothing but the best.

you stood infront of a friend, smiling, happy to be marrying a kind soul.

he stood in front of the object of his affection, his desire and love.

in the first few weeks you were undeniably happy, finnick was as sweet as ever and respected you. it was your best outcome. but overtime you seemed to notice changes in his behaviour. when you’d want to go out into town for dinner he’d always have an excuse up his sleeve.

“there’s roadworks towards your favourite restaurant honey. maybe another time?”

“apparently they’re all booked out, maybe in a few weeks time?”

“wouldn’t you rather have a home-cooked meal? i made your favourite sweetheart.”

it began to annoy after the sixth time. “it can’t always be busy can it? we use to go all the time, and it’s not like they’d refuse you finnick. what’s going on?”

“i give you everything you could ever want. why the hell do you want to go out so much? am i not enough? are you- are you seeing someone?” finnick slumped in his seat.

your eyes widened as you rushed over to him, settling on your knees as your hands were placed on his thighs, “finnick how could you say such a thing? i would never do that to you. i swear there’s nothing going on, i just, i’m bored. i’d like to go out with you, explore your district with you, meet new people with you.” finnicks eyes burnt into yours. this is certainly not how he first wanted to see you on your knees, but at least you were whining.

“yeah? you like me? you promise there’s nothing going on?” you nodded dumbly, “yes yes! nothing i promise.” finnick looked down at your hands in his lap, “how do i know you’re not lying?” your hands were on his knees as you straightened your back, coming closer to his eye level, “i promise finnick. you are my husband, i’m with you. i’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

finnick was fighting off every muscle in his cheeks to not start grinning whilst the sad look on his face was breaking your heart, “yeah? anything?” oh this was going to be good. your cheeks were flushed as you heard the words come of out his mouth, “undo my belt sweetheart, show me how much you mean it.” wavering hands hovered over his belt buckle as finnick relaxed into his seat, it couldn’t get better than this right?

wrong.

every time you asked to go out, to meet a friend, to go to the capitol he’d always sulk. and the night would end with you on your knees, him on his to make you forget, or the two of you tangled in sheets.

finnick was finally happy, he had the girl of his dreams after such a long period of sadness, of exploitation and terror. fake smiles and lingering eyes.

he finally got something out of the games.

and his gift?

the victors spoils.

[dandelions4us]

Party’s Over

Regina George x Reader Summary: Where Regina ends her own party for her cramping lover Words: 1,1k A/N: Is it noticeable I’m having period cramps and need some comfort from the prettiest (and meanest) queen bee of all? I hope not

As the night went on, Y/N couldn’t believe how many more people could crash into her girlfriend’s party. To say the house was full would be an understatement. She sipped on her solo cup, something she could not pinpoint, even if her life depended on it, and searched for Regina with her eyes.

Spotting the blonde head among the croud was easy, though, she could recognize the girl with her eyes closed. She was talking with some people, standing confident in her beautiful maroon dress – it hugged her soft curves perfectly –, her signature smirk adorning her crimson lips and she gently flipped her hair off her shoulder.

Y/N smiled to herself, feeling lucky to have such a wonderful girlfriend. But it faltered quickly as she felt the pressure she knew way too well right at the bottom of her belly. It wasn’t surprising, giving the ache she felt on her lower back since the moment she woke up.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, walking off towards a bathroom to make sure she didn’t just start her period. She didn’t, which was good, as she sighs in relief. Washing her hands and splashing a bit of cold water on her neck, she embraces herself ready to play it cool for a few more hours, not wanting to ruin the party for her girl.

“Hey, I was looking for you. Everything ok?” Regina asks when she finds her, hands gingerly resting or her waist. “Yeah, I’m good. Just went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.” Y/N smiles, placing her own hands on the blonde’s shoulders.

“Good. Come here, I have a few people I’d like to introduce you.” She responds, kissing her girlfriend quickly before pulling her by the hand to a small group of peers.

To be honest, Y/N did a fairly good job of play pretend for two hours, but it was starting to get to her. The cramps were just getting stronger, making her whole body achy and tense. But she kept her facade as better as she could, not willing to spoil Regina’s fun, knowing she would drop everything to make sure she was fine.

They were now sitting outside by the pool, an array of chairs and couches, talking animatedly with everyone else. I mean, most likely Regina talked and Y/N just agreed and nodded along, smiling every now and then.

When a strong cramp came, she scrunched her face and pressed on the pillow covering her stomach. The blonde must have felt how her body tensed under the hand she had on her girlfriend’s thighs ‘cause she turned her head, a concerned look on her eyes as she looked in hers.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She whispered, her thumb caressing soft shapes where it rested. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Y/N tried reassuring, but it wasn’t as convencing as the previous times. Sensing her discomfort, Regina excuses both of them and walks away to a more secluded area, hand now on the small of her partner’s back.

“Wanna try again and tell me what’s bothering you?” She asks softly, looking down with honeyed eyes. Y/N sighs and relents. “It’s just cramps. I have them a few days before my period also. Nothing too bad, I promise.” Right after she ends her sentence, another wave of piercing pain stabs at her womb, making her fold and frown.

“Oh, I can see that.” Her girlfriend says, sarcastically, but sighs, concerned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve got you some painkillers and a hot water bottle, maybe also put you to bed.” “Thay’s exactly why.” She furrows her eyebrowns, confused. “I didn’t want you to step out of your own party just to take care of me.”

“That’s nonsense. Baby, I would drop everything to take care of you, gladly.” She takes the shorter girl’s cheek on her hands, soft but firm, to prove her point. “You’re my girlfriend and I love you. Of course taking care of you and making sure you’re ok is my priority. Not some silly party that wouldn’t be as joyful if you weren’t with me, ok?”

Y/N couldn’t help but tear up a bit, but she blamed her hormones. “Okay.” She agreed quietly. Regina smiles, leaning in for a brief but passionate kiss, trying to show all of her love and care through it.

“Now, come on, let’s get you upstairs. Somewhere quieter and confier.” And holding hands, they both walk up Regina’s room. She sat her girlfriend in her bed and then rummages through her closet for comfortable clothes she could wear.

“Here, love. Change into these while I go downstairs to grab you some medicine and put an end to the noise.” She hands her the pile of clothes. “You don't have to end the party just because of me, Gina. I can rest just fine.” She frowns. “Don’t be silly. I’m coming back to cuddle you so there’s no reason to keep randos in my house. So stay put, I’ll be right back.”

She leaves, closing the door and Y/N can’t help but smile like a school girl over her affectionate lover. She changes clothes, relaxing breathing Regina’s perfume on them. She also puts a pad on, just in case her period comes while she sleeps – she’d die of embarrassement if she bleeds on her girl’s bed.

The noise disappears quickly, Y/N can hear the commotion of people leaving and a faint voice of her girlfriend shouting. In about ten minutes, she returns, bearing meds, water and snacks.

“I have no idea where my mom put our water bag and my heating pad broke, so I’m sorry.” “Gina, it’s okay! This is more than I could ask for, thank you.” “Only the best for my baby.” She smiles and walks over to the bed, giving her partner a few pills and the water.

The hurting girl drinks half the water bottle and nibs on the snacks so her stomach wouldn’t be so upset because of the meds and alcohol she consumed.

“There you go. You should rest now. I’m sure you'll be feeling better tomorrow.” She fluff the pillows and covers her sweet girl with the thick duvet before climbing in bed herself (now in her sleep attire).

She scooches closer, tangling their legs as she holds her tight against her chest, kissing her head lovingly.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Gina.” Y/N whispers, face nuzzling oh the blonde’s neck. “Of course, baby. You don’t even have to thank me. I’d do it over and over again, just for you.” She responds, one hand scratching her girlfriend’s scalp while the other held her as close as possible.

“I love you.” Y/N says, feeling relaxed, loved and safe. “I love you, too, princess. Sleep tight, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Regina whispers, kissing her temple tenderly.

And just like that, they both fell asleep in each other’s arms, secured in a cocoon built with pure love and care.

A/N: I had to take matters into my own hands. I could not go any longer without more fanfictions of my favorite blonde. Hope you guys liked it! <3

[codywanfirstkissbingo]

CWFKB2025 Stats Round-Up

"What are we looking at, Cody?"

"It's the stats from the Codywan First Kiss Bingo 2025 event, sir."

"Ah, you do like your statistics, Commander. Run them down for us, if you please."

"Gladly, sir. If I've sorted and organized my spexcel sheet correctly, then CWFKB2025 bingo wrapped up with:"

66 registered participants (really!)

144 total fills

29 art fills

114 fic fills

11 fills for sapphic/wlw codywan

2 trans!Cody fills

2 fanmixes

9 bingoers with blackouts

1 bingoer with 4 bingos

2 bingoers with 3 bingos

16 bingoers with 2 bingos

16 bingoers with 1 bingo

1 bingoer with a one-shot blackout

2 bingoers whose fills led to fanart or memes

1 bonus fic

"That's quite an array of accomplishments, Cody."

"Agreed, general. Every kiss is a winner, even if any one participant didn't hit bingo."

"I'll say. 144 separate kisses published over the course of just two short weeks is truly astounding."

"It's enough to make me reach for my spchapstick in sympathy, sir."

"Yes, I agree. Quite exhausting to contemplate, really."

"Fortunately, many of the stories and some of the art are hosted at the AO3 Collection, so members of Codywan Nation and bingoers who haven't had time to check out everyone else's fills yet can start there-- and any bingoer who hasn't had time to cross-post on AO3 has until February 28, 2025, to add their work to the collection for posterity's sake."

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Commander, though I do want to remind the gentlebeings reading this post to please comment, kudos, and reblog the works if you enjoyed them to spread the Codywan love!"

"Exactly right, sir."

"Well then, what's next?"

"Well, the bingo mods will be working on some roundups to congratulate the bingoers who hit a bingo or a blackout, as well as to shout out some other noteworthy accomplishments, but that may take another week or so.'"

"And what will you do now, Cody?"

"I'm going to scroll back through the bingo blog and make sure I didn't miss anything."

"A good idea. If you're agreeable, I'd like to join you. Say, 1800 hours, your quarters?"

"I'll be there with greaves on, sir. I'll even let you bring me some tea."

"Very kind of you. Well, until then, Commander."

"Yes, general-- until then."

[moonstruckme]

if you aren’t interested literally delete this request but jealous sirius?? mayhaps a jealous sirius that thinks he couldn’t possibly be jealous but then sees you literally talking to another person and is like ‘oh fuck’??? perchance a jealous sirius, in any fashion you may choose???

Thanks for requesting :)

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 714 words

Sirius is waiting outside your work with iced coffees in both hands and a pastry bag tucked under his arm, because he’s an idiot. He’s been doing more and more boyfriend shit like this lately. He realizes that he’s not supposed to, that it sort of violates the arrangement you’d agreed on all those weeks ago, but you haven’t called him on it and he doesn’t think he’ll stop unless you do. 

Really, the line separating what you have from a relationship is gossamer thin anyway. You’re one of each other’s closest friends, you do nearly everything together, and you also fuck sometimes. The only thing missing from the equation is exclusivity, but Sirius isn’t concerned with that. You’d agreed when you’d started this thing that you could both date whomever you liked, and he’s had no problem with that, with you (because you never tell him about your other dates) or with anyone else (because he’s never wanted to date anyone else). And he isn’t the jealous type anyway. But what he finds himself craving now is the officiality of it. Sirius wants to break the rules. He wants to take you out to nice dinners and buy you flowers and kiss you on the cheek whenever he feels like it. 

He’s become a total sap, basically. 

It’s that sappiness that seeps warm and satisfying into his chest when he sees you appear at the door. You’re smiling, eyes all lit up and—there’s someone else with you. All that shit in his chest crashes straight through to his gut. 

The guy’s wearing your same not-quite uniform, slacks and a black shirt. A coworker. He grins down at you as you talk animatedly, gesturing this way and that to make your point. Sirius loves it when you talk like that. He doesn’t love it that this guy’s getting to see it. 

You see Sirius, and your eyes light all over again, grin spreading. 

“Siri!” You wave goodbye to your coworker, bounding over. “Hi, what’re you doing here?” 

“I thought you might want a pick-me-up,” he says, passing you your iced coffee. 

Your mouth drops open, still quirked up at the corners in a dorky sort of grin. “No way, thank you!” 

“Sure.” Sirius wants to be better than this, and he really thought he was, but— “Who was that?” he asks, keeping his tone blasé as he starts to walk towards your place. 

You glance behind you as if you’ve forgotten who he could mean. “Oh, that was Marc.” You take a sip of your coffee, eyes closing blissfully. 

Sirius nods slowly, doing the same. “Does he work here?”

“Mhm. Yeah, he’s cool.” 

“Neat.” 

It's possible a bit more rancor slips into his tone than he intends, because you look over at him curiously. Sirius is suddenly cognizant of the urge to kiss you fast and hard, making fucking sure Marc and everyone else in your work sees. He opens up the pastry bag to distract you both. 

“Got some snacks too.” 

“Ooh.” You peer into the bag, drawing in a delighted gasp at the array of treats inside. “Can I have the chocolate donut?” 

“Course.” He grins down at you, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in return. “You can have whatever you want.” 

“Thanks.” You take it from the bag, biting into the soft pastry eagerly. A bit of frosting gets on the skin just below your lip. Sirius thumbs it away before he can stop himself. “S’this a precursor for sex?” you say through a mouthful. “Are you buttering me up for something?” 

And Sirius wants to tell you that it’s not, wants to say that he likes doing things for you and that there doesn’t need to be more to it than that, but his tongue is more practiced in bawdiness than sincerity. 

“It is if you want it to be, sweet thing,” he says smoothly. 

Your laughter twinkles through him like starlight, and you link your arm through his, tugging him closer as you walk.

“Fine,” you drawl with false reluctance. “But we don’t have that long, my flatmate will probably be home just after five.” 

Sirius flexes his bicep, drawing you closer still. Tells himself that at least you’re not still thinking about Marc. 

“I can work with that.” 

[kezzanza]

ME, YOU & HENNESSY.

Pairing: Jude x Fem ! Reader Tags: Drunk Sex, One Night Stand Word Count: 5.4k Content Warning: Drunk Sex, Smut, 18+ Jude is the perfect guy to make you forget about your cheating ex.

The black dress you wear is revealing. Its silky fabric clings to every curve on your body in a way that's both exciting and unsettling. No part of your body is left to the imagination.

You move through the entryway and feel the weight of curious eyes drifting toward you, drawn in by the boldness of your outfit. It's been a while since you've dressed up like this.

Two weeks ago, you left a year-long relationship. One where you never got to wear what you wanted without your ex complaining. You more than deserved the appreciative eyes on your figure. It felt good to make yourself look pretty and not have your insecure ex in your ear whining about it.

Inside the villa, the energy is vibrant and lively. A mix of music, laughter, and chatter fills the air. The vibrant purple lighting on the walls makes the modern, all-white interior feel electric. You look around the room, the strangers that look back at you remind you that you have no idea who is hosting the party.

This isn't your usual scene—more uptown and expensive than you're used to. It's Lily, your best friend, that showed up at your place tonight with an invitation. She took one look at you sprawled on the couch in your pajamas and forced you to get ready. But after spending this month eating ice cream and watching comfort shows after being broken up with, it didn't take much convincing—you knew you needed to have some fun.

You're wearing the outfit you've been saving for a special occasion. Lily is clear about her intentions: she wants you to have fun and get laid. You couldn't help but agree with her.

She pulls you along as she navigates the crowd in search of the bar. Through the bodies, you catch a glimpse of the backyard. Large windows and open sliding doors blur the boundaries between indoors and out. People spill onto the grass and into the evening air. If there's a pool out there, you'd swear you're in Ibiza rather than Birmingham.

It's obvious as you look around the room that the guests are both well-dressed and well-off. You often wondered how rich people partied. Now you have your answer: just like everyone else, except they're grinding on each other in thousand-dollar outfits.

"Stop thinking so much," Lily says. You hadn't even realized she's looking at you. Too lost in thought for it to register. "What you need is shots," she concludes, flashing a smile at you.

You roll your eyes playfully. No matter the problem, her go-to solution always seems to be alcohol. Lily tells you that you need a drink to forget everything about your ex and let loose. You can barely hear her over the music—loud and heavy with a bass you can feel in your chest. But you know she's right, so you let her pull you to the bar.

There's a bartender expertly mixing drinks. An impressive array of liquor is lined up against the wall behind him. Rich people's parties really are different. Every detail, from the selection of spirits to the polished bar setup, speaks of an attention to detail you haven't quite experienced before. You're not surprised to see names of liquor you can't even pronounce.

Lily positions herself confidently in front of the bartender, half ordering and half flirting to get your drinks. Whenever you're with her, you don't need to speak much, which is fortunate because you're not good at sweet talking. You always had too much bite in your words.

The bartender pours two shots of a clear liquid. Lily hands you yours with a grin. You both clink your glasses together before downing the shots. The potent burn of the alcohol sears a trail down your throat. Despite its likely high price, the sharp taste is undeniable. The second round of shots is just as horrible, making you scrunch up your face as it burns down your throat.

"You're too beautiful to be pulling faces like that," a deep voice says from your left.

You turn, prepared to dismiss whoever's intruding with little patience for nonsense. But there, standing before you, is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He's clad in a crisp white short-sleeve button-up that clings to his broad shoulders and powerful arms. A few buttons are left undone to reveal a sculpted chest beneath. In black jeans that accentuate his long, strong legs, he's a vision of effortless allure.

As you look back at his face, it feels like the world goes silent, leaving just you and him in a private moment. It's embarrassing how attracted you are to him. The irritation you felt at his comment is helplessly replaced by an urge to hear him call you beautiful once more.

His presence is practically magnetic.

Men that make you feel like this are dangerous. You know you shouldn't be so quick to be swayed by him. And just by looking at him, you can tell he's a player, someone stringing along multiple women. You probably wouldn't even have his attention if you weren't dressed as sexy as you are now. It would be a bad idea to get involved with him.

But you've just come out of a rough breakup. One that hit you hard when you realized you had been left because your ex had cheated and chosen his side thing. This stranger seems like he'd make you forget about your ex. That's exactly what you need for the night.

"Jude," he says, offering his name with a knowing smile when it becomes clear that you're curious to know more about him. "But you probably already knew that."

He looks familiar even though you can't quite place his face to a name. Maybe he's a celebrity you've seen on the rare occasions you dip into social media. With his striking looks, he could easily be a famous internet personality. But you never really kept up with who or what was popular, so it's no surprise you don't know him nor his name.

"I'm not one of your fangirls, so no, I didn't know your name," you snap, eyeing him coolly. "Try impressing me with more than just your ego."

He regards you with a hint of disbelief, as if struggling to grasp that someone wouldn't know who he is. His cocky assumption that everyone recognizes him is both amusing and exactly the kind of audacity you need tonight.

"You want me to impress you? That's a first," Jude says with a smirk. "But if I'm making an exception, I need your name—so I know what to sign on the autograph you'll inevitably ask for."

You roll your eyes, but you're undeniably fascinated. "I'll tell you my name when I think you deserve it," you reply eventually, a playful glint in your eye. "But I don't mind dancing with you."

Sweet nothings and surface-level compliments quickly lose their charm for someone with a personality like yours. What you need is someone with a way with words. Someone who can make your pulse race and your core tighten with just a few carefully chosen sentences—Jude seems to be that person.

As you study his face, you're caught between hesitation and intrigue. The attention he's giving you feels different from what you usually get from other guys. It sparks something within you that's impossible to ignore. It doesn't hurt that every time you look at him, you feel a rush of desire.

Jude looks down at you, his gaze flickering with curiosity. It's as if he's trying to piece together the enigma that you are. You revel in this moment—loving the feeling of making him work for a chance with you.

With a flutter of anticipation, you offer your manicured hand. He grasps it confidently and guides you through the crowd. As you watch the muscles of his back flex with each step, you can't help but think this: tonight is going to be unforgettable.

Before you disappear into the sea of bodies, you glance back at Lily, managing to catch her eye as her face lights up with excitement. She mouths the words have fun with an animated enthusiasm that hints at something more. You can't help but wonder if Jude is a celebrity that Lily knows well. Her reaction suggests there's more to his presence than meets the eye.

You watch for a second as a tall, impeccably dressed man approaches Lily. He embodies the refined elegance of someone accustomed to a life of luxury. His groomed beard adds a rugged charm to an otherwise polished appearance. He looks a few years older, which was exactly Lily's type. You already can't wait for the stories you will both share tomorrow.

Turning your head back forward, you notice as the crowd's gaze subtly shifts toward you. 

Their eyes are bright with curiosity and a hint of intrigue as they follow your movement through the throng of bodies. A few onlookers exchange whispers, their heads tilted slightly as they try to piece together the scene unfolding before them. The murmurs and sidelong glances create a ripple of speculation and fascination.

You and Jude become the center of a quiet, yet palpable, spectacle. Despite the curious stares and whispered speculation surrounding you, your attention remains fixed on Jude. The peripheral buzz of the crowd fades into insignificance as you focus on his wide back and broad shoulders.

Jude stops in a pocket of space that isn't as crowded, turning around to face you. His hands find your hips and pull you close. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of desire lighting up his features. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under your fingertips. You can feel the muscles shifting beneath your fingers with every movement he makes.

The song playing is slow and sensual, with a sultry melody that wraps you in its embrace. Its rhythm pulses through the room, creating an irresistible urge for bodies to press together and move in sync. The rhythm of the music merges with the pounding of your heart, making it hard to distinguish one from the other.

"You're stunning," Jude compliments with a husky voice as he looks appreciatively down at you.

"How many girls have you said that to tonight?" you reply nonchalantly.

His lips curve into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Stop fighting this and dance with me," he says with a seductive whisper.

Without waiting for a response, he begins to move. Guiding your body in sync with his to the rhythm of the music. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder so you press yourself closer to him. Feeling the firmness of his chest against your softer curves.

The strength in his arms as they hold you securely stirs your desire. Each subtle movement, each brush of skin against skin—it heightens the connection between you. There are shivers of excitement coursing through your body. Jude's fingers tighten a fraction around your waist, pulling you even closer still. You can feel the power in his grip and it lights a fire inside you.

"Fuck," he groans in your ear, his voice thick with want.

You wonder why, but then you feel it—his hard length pressing against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

"You already want me that badly?" you ask, your voice sharp and teasing.

Despite the challenge in your tone, your body leans into him, clearly contradicting your words. Your hips grind against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The heat between you grows palpable—a tangible force that threatens to consume you both. His hands move from your hips to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You could feel every inch of him now. The hefty size of his bulge was the unmistakable evidence of his desire for you. The thought of exploring this further, of letting him lead you upstairs and into bed, becomes increasingly enticing with each passing moment.

"I want you so fucking badly," he whispers in your ear, his voice rough with need.

His hands explore your body, tracing your curves with a bold familiarity. One rests at your waist, while the other lingers possessively on the curve of your ass. His body feels like a furnace pressed against you. But it's not the heat that ignites your desire, it's the electrifying knowledge that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You tiptoe and put your lips beside his ear. "So, what are you going to do about it?" you ask, your voice firm and deliberate, cutting through the music.

"I'm going to take us upstairs to my room," he replies in a low, husky voice, "Then, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget my name."

Your heart races as his words hang in the air—the promise in them sending a thrill down your spine. The arousal that hits you is almost strong enough to make you fall into his arms right there, but you can't ignore what he says.

"This is your place?" you ask, your voice edged with skepticism. You pull back slightly, eyes narrowing as you assess him critically.

You scan the opulent surroundings—the sleek modern furniture, the expansive room, the high-end decor. You had pegged him as just another party guest. Now, with the realization sinking in that he could be more than that, you briefly question if you're out of your league with someone of his caliber.

He laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers grip your ass. You lean into his touch as your own hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You really don't know me." He says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm not just any guy attending a party. I'm the host."

As the words sink in, you pause for a moment, letting the revelation register.

"Should I be worried that someone as young as you can afford all this?" you ask, your tone unconvinced. "I'm not going to be kidnapped, am I?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about," he says, "But don't be surprised if you see my face in the newspaper tomorrow." He smirks. "The media always makes me the headline when I throw a party."

The moment stretches, and as you look at him, a powerful urge overrules your rational thoughts. You wanted this, wanted him and tonight, that's all that mattered. The attraction you feel is a craving that eclipses all other considerations.

In a split second, you make up your mind, letting desire take the lead.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss that conveys all your unspoken hunger. As the kiss deepens, Jude's hands roam your body, exploring with a confident touch. His fingers trace your curves. You respond by running your hands over his shoulders. When you finally pull back, your eyes lock onto his with a burning intensity, your gaze filled with a steely determination. The need in your eyes makes it clear that tonight, he is all you want.

"Let's go upstairs," you say, your voice low and purposeful.

Jude's hand is firm around yours as he guides you across the room, effortlessly parting the sea of bodies. Each step up the staircase feels heavy, the murmurs and curious glances of the crowd providing a backdrop to your ascent.

As you reach the upstairs hallway, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. The corridor—bathed in soft, muted light—is a stark contrast to the vibrant purple glow and energy of the party below. The quiet emptiness of the pathway makes it feel like you're separated from the lively festivities, creating a sense of intimacy and romance.

Suddenly, Jude stops and gently presses you against the nearest wall. Under the soft yellow lights, his features become even more striking. The warm glow highlights the strong lines of his jaw and the depth of his eyes, making him look even more attractive.

His dark eyes trace the contours of your face before he leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's both fierce and tender. Your inhibitions melt away as his hands caress you, lighting a trail of fire wherever they go. You feel a surge of want as his breath grazes your ear.

"I could fuck you right here," he whispers into your ear. His fingers dance along your back, and you realize with a start that his fingers are slowly pulling your zipper down. "Nobody would ever know."

The words are like a match to dry tinder, sparking a fire deep within you. As you consider Jude's idea, a shiver of excitement courses through you. The more you think about it, the clearer it becomes: you're ready to surrender to his every desire.

"You're right," you reply, the sound of your voice thick with lust. "Nobody would know."

You feel the warmth of his fingers against your back. His hand pulls away after a moment, having fully unzipped your dress. The silky cloth remains on your body only through your shoulder straps and the tightness of the fabric.

Without another word, he hoists you up with hands against your ass. He does so with an ease that turns you on intensely as you feel the power in his muscular arms. It's a thrilling sensation, being manhandled by someone so strong and so capable.

He walks with a never-wavering stride, as if you weigh nothing at all. You tighten your grip around his neck, not for support, but out of a deep, insatiable need to keep him close to you.

Jude leads you into a room you assume is his. With one hand holding you up, he flicks on one of the two light switches. Soft, warm light from two side lamps bathes the room in a romantic glow. With that same free hand, he locks the door with a resonant click.

The sudden sound makes your heart skip a beat, highlighting how quiet the room is. The distant bass of the party is almost inaudible now. It's just you and him with the sound of your ragged breaths mingling.

He sets you down onto his plush, black bedspread. The tension is almost unbearable—a delicious cocktail of excitement and passion that leaves you breathless. It feels unreal when you look at his handsome face and realize what the two of you were going to do together.

Jude stands at the end of the bed and looks down at your figure. You sit up on your elbows to watch as his hands—strong and sure—start to unbutton his shirt. One by one, each button reveals more of his chiseled torso to the cool air. He drops the garment to the floor when he finishes, leaving him shirtless.

He climbs onto the bed and then above you, bracketing your body with his arms . "Tell me how badly you want me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper,

"I need you inside me, Jude." The words escape your lips before you can second-guess yourself.

With a swift and decisive motion, Jude pushes you flat onto the bed, following your body down. The mattress sighs beneath the weight of your entangled forms. His lips claim yours in a dominant kiss—the kind that leaves you moaning. Jude's teeth graze your lower lip, demanding a response that you can't help but give. Your hands instinctively grasp at his broad shoulders, feeling his warm skin under your fingers.

You feel like prey caught in the grip of his hungry mouth. But there's an undeniable thrill in the way he handles you, making your heart race with a delicious kind of fear. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing and probing. It's as if he's trying to leave no part of you untouched.

His hand slides gently down your neck then arms, easing the straps of your dress off your shoulders. With unbridled eagerness, he continues to undress you, pulling the tight material down your body. As the fabric falls away, it leaves you in just your lacy black lingerie, leaving you exposed to his dark gaze.

You feel the rush of cool air against your body as he drops your dress onto the floor. He climbs off the bed and walks to his nightstand as you lie on your back, sprawled against the bed. The sound of the drawer opening echoes softly in the quiet room, punctuating the heavy silence. He pulls out a shimmering packet that makes you feel heated when you recognize its contents.

This was really happening, you think with a rush of desire.

As Jude returns to the bed, the tension in the air is palpable. He climbs back on the bed, kneeling over your thighs. When he places the condom into your hand, you wonder if your heart can escape your chest from beating too hard.

"Put it on," Jude commands, his tone demanding and leaving no room for hesitation.

With hands that slightly tremble, you unbutton Jude's tight-fitting jeans, revealing the mouthwatering bulge that lies beneath his black boxer briefs. You trace the outline of his arousal with your fingertips as he groans. The fabric clings to him like a second skin, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from his body.

When you finally pull the waistband down, his huge length springs free, making your mouth water with desire. His cock is thick and veiny—standing proudly at attention as if eager to be released from its confines.

You take a moment to admire the sheer size of him, tracing the path from his tip to the groomed curly hair at the base. The head glistens with a bead of pre-cum, begging for your touch.

You put the condom wrapper on your teeth, tearing the foil and holding the condom in your hand. Gently, you grasp his shaft, the soft skin sliding under your hand as you stroke him from base to tip. He lets out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a hunger that mirrors your own.

Carefully, you unroll the rubber over his erection, watching as it stretches to accommodate his size. The condom snaps into place with a final caress.

Jude's eyes darken with desire as he took in the sight of you. One of his hands trace the delicate lace of your black lingerie. Your breath hitches as Jude reaches behind your back to unclasp your bra with ease.

The cool air of the room brushes against your exposed flesh as he pulls the garment off you. His gentle hands cup your breasts as his thumbs graze the sensitive peaks, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

He settles over you with a single arm supporting him. Leaning in, he captures your mouth in a deep kiss. With warm hands, he fondles one of your breasts, his touch growing more insistent with each passing moment. You moan into his mouth, the sensation of his thumbs circling your nipples almost too much to bear.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with awe. It's as if he couldn't believe his luck in having you here, willing and eager for his touch.

Jude's hand leaves your chest to continue their journey down your body. They trace the curve of your hips before teasing your upper thigh. He lingers there, caressing the sensitive flesh. He smirks when you part your thighs slightly, giving him more space, and he slides a hand between your legs.

You gasp when he touches your damp, wet core through your panties. Then, with a firm grip, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, exposing your most intimate secret.

"So wet for me," he whispers, his voice thick with lust as he tosses the scrap of fabric aside.

You fluster at his words, but the embarrassment quickly disappears as he explores the soft folds of your pussy. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he spreads your lips, revealing the swollen bud of your clit. His thumb circles it lightly, sending waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

He repositions your legs, pressing your knees into your chest. Then, with a suddenness that takes your breath away, he slides two fingers inside you, moving inside you.

As if he's known your body for years, he finds your g-spot. You can't help but let out a loud moan as his fingers curl in that magical way that makes your eyes flutter shut. Your hips tremble, seeking more of his touch, begging for the pleasure that you know he can give you. Instead, he only slides his fingers out of you.

But you knew what was coming next.

Jude's breath brushes against your face as he leans in closer. "Look at me," he says softly.

His eyes search yours when they open, looking for any sign of hesitation. All he finds is a reflection of the desire that mirrored his own. The promise of what was to come ignited a flame that neither of you could resist.

"Jude," you whisper, your voice weak with desire. "I need you."

"What do you need?" he asks, looking down at you with unbridled lust, his voice a seductive promise.

You hesitate for a moment, caught between fear and passion. But then his hand moved to your core, his thumb brushing against the swell of your clit, and all thoughts fled. There was no turning back now.

"You," you moan, your voice barely a whisper. "Everything you can give to me."

"Then let me show you," he says, his voice a command.

Jude aligns his length with your warm, wet entrance. The thick head of his cock presses against it. The initial resistance sends a jolt of sensation through your body, making you gasp. You feel a twinge of apprehension at his size. His gaze locks onto yours, reassuring and filled with passion.

His warm hands caress the back of your knees, urging you to relax as he begins to ease himself inside you. The discomfort is present, but the wetness of your desire provides a slippery path for his invasion.

With a soft moan, you yield to the pressure, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. The pain is sharp but fleeting. The tension slowly morphs into a delicious ache that sends waves of pleasure rippling through your core.

Jude's eyes shutter as he enters you fully. He feels the velvety warmth of your body enveloping him, groaning at the sensation of being sheathed so completely. The way you moaned, your walls quivering around him—it only served to heighten his desire.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers a string of sweet nothings, promising to take you to heights of pleasure you've never known.

With the utmost care, he begins to rock his hips, his movements slow, allowing you to adjust to his size. Each gentle thrust sends sparks of sensation through your body. You respond with soft, breathy moans, but you can't deny you wanted more.

You weren't some delicate virgin—you could take more than this.

You wrap your legs tightly around Jude's waist, urging him to pick up the pace. His eyes, dark with desire, stare into yours as he reads the unspoken challenge in your gaze. You dig your nails into his back.

"Faster," you breath out, your voice a siren's call.

His rhythm quickens, the force of his thrusts increasing as he claims you fully. Hard and rough and fast—each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You bite your bottom lip to hold back a moan, but it escapes anyway, a sweet sound that spurs him on.

Jude leans down and presses his lips to your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. You gasp, your hands finding his hair, gripping it tightly as pleasure washes over you. Every nerve ending in your body was alive, hypersensitive to his touch, his taste, his very presence.

Jude's deep, gravelly voice whispers in your ear, "You feel so good, baby. So tight around me. All mine."

His words are a declaration of ownership that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel his dominance in every inch of his body pressing into yours, in every pulse of his hips that drives you closer to the edge. His grip on your waist tightens. Fingers digging into your flesh as he leaves you no room to escape the overwhelming sensations he's creating.

Your moan helplessly as he leaves a mark on your neck, the sting of pain melding with pleasure as he says, "Take all of me."

The command in his voice is absolute, and you can't help but submit to him completely, your body arching into his touch, eager for more of this delicious torment. You cling to him as your body responds to his every touch.

You arch your back as he continues pounding into you. Jude's rhythm becomes more demanding. His hips piston against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

"You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a dark promise that sends heat pooling in your core.

Your nails drag down his back as you try to hold on, to anchor yourself in the maelstrom of sensation he's creating. Each thrust hits that perfect spot, making your thighs tremble and your eyes flutter shut.

His pace is relentless, pushing you closer and closer. With every movement, you feel yourself losing a little more control. The tension coils tighter, a delicious ache that's almost unbearable. You whimper. Your body begging for the release that you know he's going to give you.

"Jude," you plead against his lips.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he whispers, "Come for me."

Like shattering into a million pieces, your orgasm rips into you, responding to the authority in his voice. You cry out. Your nails dig into his back, leaving half-moons in his skin as you try to hold onto him, to hold onto this moment of pure ecstasy. Jude's eyes flash with triumph as he feels your body convulse around him, your orgasm clenching him tightly.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his own release approaching.

His hips continue to move, each thrust now slower and more deliberate. He draws out the last remnants of your climax until you're limp and boneless under him. He kisses you deeply, his tongue claiming your mouth as surely as his body claims your body, leaving no doubt in your mind who you belong to.

Jude's powerful hips drive into you one last time. With a groan, he stills, his entire body tensing as he follows you over the edge. The rush of his climax fills the condom. He holds you tightly, his breathing harsh and uneven, as he rides out his own wave of pleasure.

He collapses beside you, his breathing ragged, his body slick with sweat. You lie there, your heart still racing, your body tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing. You turn to look at him, basking in the afterglow of your passion. His eyes lock onto yours with a fierce possession.

Jude's hand reaches out, brushing a stray hair from your face. You lean into his touch, craving the contact. You close your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. When you open them again, his face is inches away from yours.

He gently kisses your forehead before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He stands up with the grace of a man who's done this a hundred times before and walks into the bathroom.

You lie there, catching your breath, and waiting for him to come back.

His movements are careful and precise as he wipes away the evidence of your shared passion, tenderly cleaning you up with a soft cloth. His gaze never leaves yours, and you can't help but feel butterflies at the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

Once you're clean, he tucks you into bed, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You're not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff with emotion. "Not out of my sight."

With that, he settles back into the bed, pulling you into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that have finally found their match. And as you lay there, safe in his arms, you know that, for now at least, you have no intention of going anywhere.

[katharsisboy101]

Winter Phos, caught between Reason and Emotion.

Winter Phos serves as the middle ground between the emotional and reckless OG Phos and the cold and hyperrational Moon Phos, jumping between kindness and utilitarianism and failing miserably at both, because he's approaching it from a place of overcompensation.

Self-Imposed Burdens

I’d say that the word that defines Winter Phos best is “burdens”, because that’s how he acts in regards to every single one of his decisions from now on. He just keeps piling them on—the burden to redeem himself because of what happened to Antarc, the burden to find out Sensei’s secrets in order to protect the gems, the burden to not be responsible for anyone’s (Ghost) disappearance anymore…

Despite his best intentions, all these endeavors end up in failure, all because Phos keeps trying to compensate for his mistakes by immediately going to extremes instead of actually achieving any semblance of balance in regards to his reasoning and his emotions, which as you will see later on, are always at constant odds with each other.

Because the things Phos wants to do aren’t things he *truly* wants to do or feels as much as it’s what, logically, should be done—AKA, burdens.

Even if he was happier idling away before, now he must fight alongside everyone else even if it’s meaningless.

Even if he loves Sensei deeply, he must discover his secret for the sake of the gems.

Even if it’s not his fault and he’s only a small piece of a whole array of events and circumstances outside of his control, he takes responsibility all by himself, claiming that it’s only his fault when things go wrong—that all his thoughts lead to are mistakes.

Winter Phos abandons OG Phos’ pettiness and laziness, which from one perspective are seemingly bad—but from another it allowed him to at least appreciate things for what they were, while now he keeps favoring soulless tasks such as staying awake in winter.

In this sense, I’d say that the winter symbolizes not only growing up, but also duty—doing the things you don’t want to because it’s your task. That’s the lesson Antarc teaches Phos through his philosophy:

Overextend yourself. Even that which you can’t do, do, no matter how much you break. 

Once Antarc dies, Phos takes after him in his self-demand, once more casting away what actually makes him special in favor of an imitation that ignores his actual strong points. In this sense, we see less and less of the empathetic and naive Phos that could reach out to Cinnabar (which is also signified by the latter’s more sparse appearances in this part of the manga), replaced by Winter Phos, who is colder, more reserved, and always tries to be up to the task— inspired by Antarc’s diligence, but even more importantly, by his courage.

Courage

This word is repeated constantly throughout this part of the manga, in reference to Antarc every single time. 

But why? What is courage?

Usually, it means to act despite being afraid, right? Well, I’d say Houseki no Kuni more or less agrees with that definition, with the twist that it’s constantly used in contexts of Phos’ burden—Phos is pushed to act by the illusion of Antarc (his guilt), pushed to stray away from the things that he actually finds meaning in or that he actually cares about (Cinnabar), in favor of the lonely duty to find out the truth, as unfulfilling and harmful as that task may be to him. 

Phos is doing something SO uncharacteristic of him, that it eats him away from the inside— it makes him forget what he actually desired (to be understood and appreciated) by focusing on the future and the problems it may hold instead, looking for acceptance by being useful and yet also realizing that everyone’s admiration isn’t worth much when he can’t even accept himself. 

In this sense, Winter Phos is the ultimate soulless employee—the slave to a self-imposed burden so typical of the current capitalist society, the man who forgets what he wanted in the beginning favoring complicated matters that place him further and further away from his happiness.

Phos following Antarc’s philosophy seemingly makes him stronger and more capable, but it also discards his individuality. He is simultaneously and paradoxically the perfect dehumanized soldier for Kongo, while also the only one with enough humanity to question the status quo and deviate from the rest. It’s a paradox, a constant battle between reason and duty vs emotion and empathy.

And this is Winter Phos’ tragedy.

Because the winter symbolizes maturity, growing up, losing your childlike innocence and starting to think and reason, and the trap that comes with it.

Reason vs Emotion

We are introduced to Winter Phos with this scene: 

All Phos needed to save Antarc was to use his head more—to act not out of instinct but using his abilities logically in order to reach the right outcome. This scene tells the reader that reason, rather than raw feeling, is fundamental in actually changing things meaningfully, while at the same time questioning the need to take on that burden to begin with—after all, doesn’t he look miserable?

Because of his trauma and the pain of being out of control due to not being strong or smart enough when Antarc was taken away, Winter Phos starts to process things much more rationally than OG Phos, while still having so much empathy that he can’t handle the way his decisions seem to affect others—he grew up, in the sense that now he can’t afford to not make rational decisions anymore, and that weighs heavily on his shoulders.

It’s a constant clash between knowing what “has to be done”, or rather, what Antarc would have done vs how much acting that way actually hurts Phos because of his sensibility. 

He has a kind heart underneath the cold exterior that pushes him to act for the sake of others, while, paradoxically, his methodical actions to save them also hurt them the most—because instead of acting with discretion, Phos overcompensates by acting uncharacteristically rational, to the point of abandoning his empathy and paying the consequences because of it.

His true wishes don’t align anymore with what Phos has actually been doing—he’s kind inside, and yet he was cruel enough to abandon Ghost just to confirm his suspicions regarding Sensei. 

It really is the opposite from what he wished to achieve.

I’d argue this tragic chain of events occurs because Phos’ biggest issue is that he looks at his rationality and his emotions as if they were in conflict with each other, which leads him to be reckless when he feels as if he’s overcompensated more in one area than another. In every version of Phos, he tries to be rational and discreet, but paradoxically, his feelings always get the better of him and he ends up messing everything up. 

Maybe, just maybe, emotions and feelings come together, and it's all about a balance. Phos doesn't need to be less rational or less emotional... he needs to be more rational AND emotional. That is what it means to be composed. 

To have the balance Padparascha is talking about, to be discreet enough to know when the truth (reason) will result in feelings being hurt (emotions) and whether that is worth it or not—to distinguish between the two and use them accordingly, is what Phos doesn't do, because he always overcompensates and goes from one extreme to the other instead of finding balance and discretion.

Whatever the case, due to Winter Phos choosing the facade of cold rationality, he even abandons Cinnabar, the person who before he spent hours thinking about how to help. He doesn’t pay attention to his words carefully anymore—He disregards Cinnabar's wishes, and even when the gem is begging for emotion, all that Phos can offer him is the stressful job of finding out Sensei’s secret, forgetting about the “fun” of it. 

And of course Phos doesn’t remember about the fun part—fun is the last thing in his mind, unlike the original Phos.

Despite Cinnabar’s expectations to partner up, the key that could solve many of these two gems’ self-inflicted problems, what Phos proposes instead is cold, rational utilitarism. If Phos was connected to his emotions, then this wouldn't have happened—if he was connected to what he truly wanted, he could have paired up with Cinnabar, and perhaps, found happiness. 

It’s stupid, but it’s these small, seemingly mundane moments, that held the key that could have changed these two’s fates for the better—together, rather than apart.

The worst part is that Phos is still thinking about Cinnabar even while partnering up with Ghost—he knows what he craves for, what he wants, but he doesn’t stop and think about it enough to actually pursue it due to being too much inside his head, too caught up in what he has to do rather what he wants to do.

In fact, I’d say Phos’ overcompensation through following a self-imposed duty is perfectly reflected in the main source of his internal conflict in these chapters—the suspicion of the parental figure who represents unconditional love, Kongo-sensei.

Suspecting Love

I’d say it’s no coincidence that Winter Phos’ character is so closely related to a breaking point in his relationship with Kongo. It’s this suspicion and paranoia of the person who raised him that pushes him to start dancing into immorality (and let’s not even mention what he does as Moon Phos because of this same suspicion afterwards), which I would say is a fundamental part of growing up.

Because Winter Phos has grown up, now he questions the love that his parental figure gave him, and where every gem chose to trust him, Phos chose to shatter that trust into pieces.

Why? Is Phos just built diffy?

Of course not. It’s because he’s now acting rationally—he’s becoming human, and that means realizing that your parent isn’t the perfect figure you thought it was.

The issue here, though, is that Phos faces extreme pressure after realizing that he’s the only one going so far with his distrust—if even Cinnabar and Antarc, the two most rational and discreet figures in Phos’ eyes, chose to trust him, why the hell shouldn’t he?

There’s this constant sensation that the more Phos pushes to try and find out Sensei’s secret, thus undermining his relationship with him, the more he strays away from what’s actually meaningful—from the affection he truly wants. This idea is repeated in Moon Phos’ arc, too.

Maybe, just maybe, Phos should have gone with his gut, and valued the fact that, no matter how many lies, the fact that Sensei loved him was indisputable.

His suspicion of the one person who loved him unconditionally sends Phos into a downwards spiral he can’t get out of, and doing so alone eats away at him.

However, after finally accepting to share his burden with Ghost, Phos pays the consequences of his overthinking and lack of being in the moment by being cut in half due to not paying attention. 

And because of this blunder, Ghost is taken away.

Repression

Of course, Phos loses his mind after this fact, and he overcompensates once more by shutting off the two main factors that contributed to his mistakes—his rational suspicion of Sensei, and the fact that he opened up to a person.

This is tragic, because while the first factor is clearly showcased to be the right choice, and Phos seems to truly enjoy the company of others for the first time in ages, the fact that he also closed his heart off means that it’s just a facade. He can’t truly experience the love of the people that care for him, and it doesn’t help that he hates himself too much for it to make a difference.

In the fight with the board pieces, Phos is too hard on himself due to his past mistakes, despite the fact that he constantly tries to make the best calls—to call Bortz, to regain the pieces they were losing... He was trying, but instead of acknowledging that, he chooses to attribute everything that goes wrong to his flaws, further isolating himself into his self-hatred and immensely high expectations.

At this point Phos has just changed too much to pretend he hasn’t, and sealing away his problematic thoughts and feelings only causes them to explode once they do come out.

I’d argue this is why he loses his head.

Literally but also metaphorically, he risked everything because his self-imposed burden and guilt were too heavy, and that caused him o try and redeem himself instead of accepting that he can’t save everything and everyone on his own.

But to actually practice what I preach, I’d argue we should look at it in a deeper manner, because I actually think that saying that “Phos should have done x, y, z”, is missing the point and further pushing expectations of perfection onto the gem.

Phos is not Perfect

Yeah, Phos lost his head because he cared too much, but should he have cared less? Should he just let the Lunarians steal away the people he loves and have blind faith in Sensei? The answer isn’t a simple yes or no, because Phos wasn’t in a simple situation. 

Expecting Phos to achieve a perfect balance between his emotions and feelings considering his context and lack of support system is impossible, and not only that, but Phos should be allowed to make mistakes without it being a death sentence.

By asking of Phos to be perfect, to have the existentialist truth that “he already had what he needed” at this point of the story, would be foolish, and it wouldn’t respect the process of Phos’ transformation, that, if you remember correctly, does end up with him in a better place overall.

So maybe Phos shouldn’t be perfect, and that’s okay, too. Maybe, despite all the mistrials and tragedies, the happy accidents should be celebrated, in order to be grateful for both the good and the bad at the end of it all.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: worlds collide

Like everyone else, I have seen the BikeTok and BookTok simp city and im eating it up. (except some of the comments, some are insane and cringey but!) 

So naturally I thought of Az on a bike then passed out. Then thought of him with a bookish girlfriend, and passed out again. 

Let's go!!

(also this fic exposes how much TikTok I watch and!! I don’t want to hear it!!)

Regular headcanons: 

-You two met because of Feyre and Nesta (and technically Elain since her and Azriel were besties). But Nesta got you to agree to a blind date with Azriel, you didn’t even know what he looked like. Elain and her husband assured you that Azriel was hot. 

-They didn’t let you down. 

-You and Azriel had been texting a bit but agreed to no photos of yourselves so you could get to know each other without the pressure of looks. 

-He was also nervous about his hands, he didn’t want you to think of him as a gross creature. 

-You sent him an array of outfits to pick from. He picked a blue sweater, you picked out a black button up for him. So you two knew what you’d be wearing on the date. 

-When he walked into the restaurant, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. He was sex on legs. Gorgeous tanned skin, hands that you wanted wrapped around your throat. You knew he would talk someone through an orgasm. 

-When he saw you, he almost fell to the ground and thanked whatever god put you in front of him. You were beautiful. Your eyes were twinkling. He saw your luscious curves, he wanted to sink his teeth into your plump ass. He wanted your thighs wrapped around his neck. 

-Then your smile, your laugh and just you enchanted him. 

-You were no better, you were infatuated with him. 

-After three dates he officially asked to be his girlfriend. 

-You were terrified to ride the bike the first time. He made sure you were safe obviously but you were nervous. And now? You’re obsessed. 

-He always got the door for you, pulled out your chair, he was always bringing you flowers. 

-Obviously he was a god in bed, perfect even. Even when you two weren’t doing intense kinky shit you had a safe word just in case. Even after assuring him that you were fine, he felt better when you had a safe word. He made your first time together special too. 

-You gave him a handjob on the bike in the comfort of your garage. 

-He’s fingered you and eaten you out on the bike. You have no idea how he did so well balancing the bike to ensure you didn’t fall. 

-He held your books for you as you shopped. And at bookish events he always took pictures for you and encouraged your followers to go up and meet you. 

-After a year you two moved in together. A 3 bedroom townhouse. He got an office, you got a library room and then the bedroom for you two. 

-The Archeron Sisters took full credit for you two being together. His brothers adored you even before the relationship and now that you’re “officially” a little sister (because Az isn’t letting you go) they love you even more. 

When your relationship was shown online:

-Azriel was one of the most popular BikeTokers and you were one of the most popular BookTokers 

-You two had been dating for a few years when both your respective areas of the internet merged. 

-He was just like “everyones finally catching up on how hot reading is huh” like it’s been his life. Reenacting famous sex scenes was one of his favorite things. Zade Meadows scenes with consent discussed beforehand??? (cough funhouse scene cough) (However he is not a fan of Zade meadows) 

-You just couldn’t stop laughing at the guys being like “these girls are freaks!” and Azriel always commenting “you guys are just finding this out?” 

-Which then leads to gossip pages talking about him and who his potential partner is. 

-You were used to your man getting steamy comments and DMs, he’s tried to get people to stop but they won’t so he stopped opening them and didn’t respond. 

-Then you started getting comments and DMS from bikers asking for a date. And then Az began pouting, which you ruthlessly teased him about. 

-”Can I post you on my page?” Az asked one night in bed. “Something without your face, but something?”

“Are you gonna send it to these guys and demand they take out their dicks for a measuring contest?” You asked dryly. 

He grumbled, and you turned off your kindle. You were done reading for the night. You had a big baby to comfort. “You do know, I’ve been dealing with his shit on your page since we began dating right?” 

“But…there’s no chance of me leaving you.” Your blood turned to ice. “Do you think so little of me that I’d leave you for some random person on the internet?”

His eyes widened when he saw how pissed off you were. “No I just…” He sighed, “I worry because I don’t see me as anything.”

“Let me put it this way: You are everything to me. No, you’re not anything, because you are everything to me. And I am the only girl that’s gonna ride your dick, and your bike. You a’re the only guy that gets to fuck me.” You said bluntly. “Capiche?” 

He blinked at you, then smiled, “I love you.” “I love you too, you’re on thin ice for even suggesting that bullshit.” You huffed even as your head hit his chest to go to bed. 

He kissed your forehead. And held you even tighter. 

-So he asked if you guys could film a video, just his hands would be in it, so some mystery was still there. 

You had wanted to redecorate your kindle and film it. So just your hands would be in it. You sighed and let the fool join. 

“Hey everyone, so join me today with a very special guest. My boyfriend!” You said happily into the mic but also sounded annoyed, “the fool wanted to join because of all the comments and DMs I get hitting on me.” 

He waved gleefully in the camera. Once again, only his hands were visible against your dining room table. His nails were painted black, and frankly well taken care of (because of you). He had a singular ring on his ring finger, one with your initial. You had one on yours as well, his initial. 

“Alright, baby. What’re we doing today?” You asked. 

“Redecorating your kindle.” It was easy to hear the adoration in his voice. 

“I went to a few local bookstores and picked these up.” You showed them to the camera. Your nails were painted the color of Azriel’s tip, but nobody knew that but you two. You hoped. 

“Alright let’s start.” 

Azriel picked up the biggest sticker and placed it in the middle, “how about here?” It was a sticker that was a tarot card style with a girl reading in it that said “the reader”. 

“Nah my popsocket is gonna block it, and that’s too pretty to be hidden.” You placed it up on the top corner. 

Then he picked up a candy heart style sticker that said “smut slut”. The camera couldn’t see his grin. “Shut up.” You said. “Nah, I love when you’re a smut…” He hesitated and looked sheepish. 

“Can you not say the word?” You laughed. 

“I don’t like the idea of calling you a slut.” “Nothngs wrong with being a slut.” You said. 

“Yeah but, I’m trying to be a gentleman!” 

“Baby, nothing you did last night was-” “Aye!” He laughed lightly. 

Throughout the video, you two teased each other, and all around had a good time. You smacked his hands away when he tried to take your sticker-fictional boyfriend away from you. He smacked your hands away when he tried to put a motorcycle sticker on it. But you let him put it there in the end, and happily kept it there. 

Tons of comments rolled in. All of them were talking about how cute you guys were. 

He posted a video later and he got a comment that talked about how nice his hands were. Naturally, others began agreeing. So he posted a video labeled, “I hope you guys realize that the reason my hands look so nice is because of my girlfriend.” 

And the video involved you being his backpack. And then you were tagged in the video as well. So your followers increased drastically, then when you posted a few pictures of you two from when you went to your cousin's wedding, even more followers and comments rolled in. 

You were wearing a cobalt blue dress that hugged your curves, he was in a black button up with nice dress pants and shoes. You had strappy silver heels on, even with the heels you came up to that mans chin. The first one was you two just looking at each other and smiling, clearly you both were laughing. Then the other one was a smiling one, but he wasn’t looking at the camera, he was looking at you. 

Some other videos he’s in are bookshopping vlogs or random tiktoks he makes appearances in. 

You also got the comments of “does he have siblings” and “are you looking for a sister-in-law” to which you responded, “I already have two <3 but wish you the best!!” 

You didn’t play about your sister-in-laws relationships either. Girl code, man. Also, you genuinely loved Azriels brothers and their girlfriends. 

Even Nesta and Feyre joined in on the BookTok craze. Talking about books the three of you liked. Book recs for Feyre because she was just getting into reading. Feyre’s reaction to Haunting Adeline. 

On the video where your sister-in-laws were in, you got a few comments that were golden.

“Idk who im more in love with azriel or y/n”

“Do any of you need a third in your relationship? I can cook” 

Of course there were still assholes who didn’t respect your relationship. The block button was a blessing. But for the most part, everyone was kind. 

The internet could be a bad place, but sometimes, sometimes it wasn’t so bad.

[saturn-zer0]

Academic vent post?-

It's a pain balancing between dark academia, light academia, and chaotic academia.

Dark academia: That strong desire to be better, to do better, to succeed above everyone else because that's what you've been told to be your whole life. Not even that. I was that person, I did succeed over everyone else. Wrapping myself away in literature and fine arts and history and languages. And I did find enjoyment in it all, but it was taken from me by the cruel hands of my family, my peers, my past partners, the institutions that chewed me up for my talents and spat me out to be left with an empty heart. And I was told I would succeed my whole life, and that kind of pressure destroys children. Now I'm desperately clinging onto the little talent I have left but it's not enough anymore. I can scream all I want to be better than my classmates, but in the end I just feel like a foolish child. Late to classes, missing classes entirely, forgetting homework, no revision done, and no time to even endulge in my own personal study. But the desire to be better will always be the bitter taste left upon my tongue, choking me out.

Light academia: The pure joy produced from the one topic that settled in your heart and never left. Literature comes to me naturely, the analysis, the imagery, the symbolism, the metaphors, the rhyming, the stage settings, it all combines into what I like to call my soul. People talk of soulmates, and literature is what I would call my soulsubject. The love I had as a kid only grew, and while the dreams to be an author dissappeared over time, it has only been crafted into my dream to be a lecturer. Proclaiming and sharing the adoration that I have for the one thing that has kept me going in my life, fueling my very being, in the hopes that at least one student, at least one, will find the solace that I also found myself. But the pressure that comes with that? The pressure to help those understand literature when at times I struggle to even understand myself? And if I fail? What comes next? I cannot help but put the weight of the world in my hands.

Chaotic academia: The rebellion, and the excitement that emits from it. The detachment of pressures that come with both dark and light academia. That feeling when you do skip a class, and yet can come back the next lesson and prove that you know what you're doing. The chaotic array of notes that can be barely defined as revision. But it works. The pressure is alleviated but at what cost? What am I to do when the chaos needs to be calmed? Because chaos is not agreed upon by the rest of the world, and in thriving in chaos, you are simply subjecting yourself to a life filled with hatred.

[ki56]

Sonadow Pride Month Prompts

I’ve seen a sonadow prompt calendar floating around and I really wanted to try writing some prompts from it. I did prompts 1-5 to cover the first five days of the month. Yeah, I did one day early, but I felt I could make it work.

I wrote these together to make a scene. It was a bit strange to since I don’t normally write quite like this when I make my fics, but it was a lot of fun honestly!

Credit for the sonadow calendar goes to @bloojay28. Thank you for creating this and sharing it! And Happy Pride Month everyone!

—————

Sonadow Prompts

*Shadow POV 3rd Person*

Prompt 1: Glitter

Shadow couldn’t believe he got talked into this. After constant nagging from Amy and begging from Cream, he found himself seated in the pink hedgehog’s living room. They practically ate his brain until he finally begrudgingly agreed to come over for arts and crafts. However, just because he came, didn’t mean he had to participate.

And thankfully, he hadn’t been the only one roped into this, or he would’ve thought that, if the other person who got dragged here hadn’t been Sonic of all people. To make matters worse, Amy and Cream decided they’d go to the kitchen to make treats; leaving the two male hedgehogs alone.

“Why the sour face?” Sonic probed with a smirk playing on his lips.

That stupid knowing grin meant the other was ready to tease and irritate him, which always made Shadow want to punch him. He didn’t hide this fact either as he muttered, "You hate this just as much as I do, so shut it.”

“Ah, don’t be like that,” Sonic chuckled as he laid an arm along his charcoal furred shoulders. “It’s not so bad now that we’re both here.”

“Get your arm off me.”

“Hmm~?”

Sonic hummed that annoying hum of his before invading his space even more. Shadow was on the verge of decking him, but then heard a whisper tickle one of his ears.

“You know you like this just as much as I do.”

Cheeks red as a tomato, the black speedster growled before he lunged towards Sonic, ready to knock him out.

The two hedgehogs got tangled in Shadow’s attempt to smack him, and they ended up fumbling off the pink cushions and onto the carpeted floor; not before the two heavily bumped into the wooden table beside them.

“Ah!”

Hitting the table caused an array of small bottles to topple over onto them, and to Shadow’s horror, it was a bunch of different colors of glitter that coated them both.

“You look like a sparkling rainbow Shads,” Sonic teased as he let out a breathy laugh, not even remotely bothered that he had just as much on himself. “Messing with you is always worth it.”

“Really now, because whenever I’m with you, I always wanna beat your face in.”

“Heh, you sure that’s really what you want to do in our current predicament?”

One dark brow rose curiously, until realizing what the azure speedster was referring to. Shadow had his hands by Sonic’s head while straddling his hips; their position making his tanned cheeks darken again.

“You’re so annoying.”

Giving a silly grin, Sonic made a shape with his hands to match his next words, “I heart you too Shads.”

Prompt 2: Heartbeat

Hearing Sonic’s stupid catchphrase he’s been using lately made Shadow grumble irritably. However, he didn’t get the chance to do anything else because Sonic suddenly lifted himself up on his elbows and instantly invaded his personal bubble.

“I think there’s other fun things we could do than just beating each other up,” Sonic whispered, his lips very subtly touching Shadow’s as he finished in a thick sensual tone, “Don’t you?”

Shadow’s heartbeat could probably be heard, it thumped so loud. He knew Sonic was messing with him. This wasn’t the first time the blue hedgehog did this teasing/flirting thing with him, but it was a more recent development between them, as it used to just be races and competitions. One day, Sonic randomly started adding all this suggestiveness to his words and actions that went beyond their usual ‘rivalry’.

Shadow didn’t know what prompted the other to change his antics, his best guess being that Sonic was just bored and trying to change things up a bit. Though, the azure hero didn’t pull this crap with anyone else, that he knew of anyway, which puzzled him.

“Not moving away? Finally realize you like this position?”

Sonic purred in a way that Shadow had never heard from him before and it made his heart race even faster while the equivalent to an electrical shock ran through his veins.

“Because let me tell you, I like us like this.”

Prompt 3: Quiet

Shadow was about at his limit with Sonic’s shit. This was their normal, sure, but that never changed how the other knew how to press his buttons because there was about to be a fight.

It was then he saw Sonic wiggle his eyebrows suggestively while giving, what would they call that expression, bedroom eyes? Whatever it was screamed things more on the risqué side, and not the adventurous/fighting kind.

“Are you gonna finally make the first move? Or should I just bite the bullet and do it?” Was questioned while Sonic oddly licked his own lips. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold back, especially with you holding that peeved look of yours.”

“Would you be quiet?!”

This would usually be the time that Shadow would shove himself off or push the other away from him, which always amused the blue blur since he’d laugh loudly after the fact.

However, Shadow didn’t know what came over him, rather than doing their norm, rather than partaking in what was to be expected, which would be to get up, instead, the ebony male pushed forward and captured the other’s mouth with his own — effectively silencing him.

Though this was not at all on Shadow’s to-do list, he did have to admit that the peaceful quiet that finally fell over the room was much preferable, and if Sonic questioned his actions, he could easily retort that he had been asking for it.

Prompt 4: Vortex

All was at a standstill after Shadow’s daring move. But that didn’t last long. The obsidian hedgehog hadn’t expected Sonic to suddenly grab both sides of his face and pull him down — their lips very much still connected.

With no idea what was happening, Shadow’s mind warped into a sudden vortex as a whirlwind of questions and thoughts raced through his mind, the loudest of those being, ‘What is going on!?’. He never actually expected the hero to not only allow him to do this, but become a willing participant in it.

Sonic broke the kiss, and Shadow felt the chill from the lost contact hit his lips.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that for forever.”

Those words cut through the vortex swirling in his mind. Finding it peculiar, Shadow couldn’t help but question, “Why didn’t you do it then?”

“Cause I figured you’d punch me.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. “But if you did it, then I could reciprocate.”

“I might have still punched you after the fact.”

“True,” Sonic agreed, before cheekily pointing out, “But you didn’t.”

Shadow wanted to argue, anything to not let the other be right, but the words were caught in his throat. It shouldn’t have been hard to give some kind of retort about how shocked he’d been, because he had in fact been stunned that Sonic had pulled his face down and kept the kiss going.

But maybe…no, he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t admit the real reason why he hadn’t pulled away from Sonic the moment he returned the kiss.

Out of the blue, his lips became warm again as Sonic closed the gap between them once more.

No, Shadow hadn’t wanted to accept it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to deny it either. Red eyes slowly shut as he gently pressed into the gentle liplock; the two sharing a quiet, sweet moment together.

Prompt 5: Memories

This predicament was nothing like how things were between them previously. Shadow never saw anything but a rival and occasional ally in Sonic. All the times they spent together, all of his memories of them in his head, showed this.

But now, if an outsider were to look in, what would they think of this chain of events? In the future, when Shadow looks back on this moment in time between them, what would he see?

This didn’t change their rivalry, and this didn’t make them friends, but what exactly did this make them then?

“Shadow,” Sonic whispered against his mouth once the two very slightly broke for breath. “I really like kissing you.”

No, there was nothing in his memories that could have helped him guess this shift between them. He had never participated in such activities, nor had he ever wanted to, but seeing Sonic below him with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes made Shadow feel things he never has before.

A certain temptation to draw nearer was there, a temptation he didn’t want to fight against, despite that normally he would have. And as if under a trance, Shadow couldn’t stop himself from coming back for more and connected their mouths again, drawing a pleased hum from the blue blur below him.

What took place today would be memories Shadow wouldn’t forget anytime soon; memories he didn’t want to forget. And truth be told, he was okay with that.

————

I hope anyone who read this enjoyed it! If I’m able to do more of these, I’m not sure if I’ll continue this or just start fresh. Either way, I had a good time making this!

Happy Pride Month!

**Update: I just realized the first prompt I wrote was very similar to bloojay28’s art for that same prompt. I wanted to make a note that was unintentional because I didn’t see their artwork for that day until after I wrote and posted this.**

[rashoumon-homo]

Kiss Marks (Dazai x Reader)

-> Content Warnings: sfw, terrible emo impression, fluff to comedy

-> 750 words

Prompt from @suru1990 - sorry this took me so long to get to!

You stop by the ADA office around lunchtime one afternoon to visit Dazai. He’s always happy to see you when you drop by unexpectedly, but this time he specifically asked you to come by.

The office is empty save for Dazai; everyone else having gone out for lunch. Dazai is sitting at his desk, frowning at his reflection in a compact mirror. An array of makeup supplies have been dumped out over his workspace.

He spots you out of the corner of his eye and perks up. “Ah good, you’re here! I need your help with something.”

“Yeah..?” you ask cautiously. Your Dazai-mischief-sense is tingling, so you’re a little hesitant to get involved in whatever he’s scheming about this time.

“I have all these lipsticks, you see,” he drawls, gesturing at the table in front of him, “and I’m trying to decide on the best shade.”

“Where do I come in?” you ask.

Dazai uncaps a lipstick and swipes it over his lips. It’s a bold, fire engine red, and it looks great on him. Before you can tell him that, he grabs your face and kisses your cheek. He pulls away, still holding your face, and hums thoughtfully while looking at the kiss mark he left. “Not quite what I’m looking for…” he mumbles. “Gonna try another one.”

“Dazai,” you grumble. He catches your hand before you can wipe the sticky mark off your cheek and gives you a warning look.

Dazai hastily wipes off his lips with a spare napkin, then applies another shade, this one a rich burgundy. “Kinda sexy, don’t ya think?” he asks, checking his reflection in the compact mirror again. There’s a playful glint in his eye as he lunges for your face again, this time kissing your other cheek. When you try to squirm away, he plants another kiss on your jaw.

“Come on!” you laugh, shoving him away. “What’s all this about?”

“Can’t I mark my pretty boy up with kisses?” he replies innocently.

You give him an unimpressed look, but the effect is rendered largely ineffective due to the lipstick marks all over your face.

“Ooh!” Dazai says suddenly, picking up another from the desk. He twists it up to reveal the matte black color of the lipstick. “Emo,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. You laugh as he puts it on and checks the mirror. “Think the emo look’s for me?” he asks.

You make a face. “Nah, you can’t pull it off.”

Dazai pretends to be shocked and offended. “I totally could!” he insists. He pulls his hair down over his forehead to cover one eye and tries to look broody. “The only things I love in this world are Gerard Way and death,” he says, mimicking a “teenager” accent.

You burst out laughing. “C’mon idiot, just kiss me so you can try the next one.”

He kisses your face as many times as he can get away with it (three) and wipes the lipstick off his mouth as well as he can. He doesn’t do a very good job of cleaning it off, so you take the napkin from him and sit on his lap, facing him.

“Hold still,” you say, then carefully wipe off the spots he missed. He does as he’s told, though he has a hard time keeping his mouth from curving up into a smile.

You’re suddenly hit with a suspicious thought. “I didn’t know you owned makeup,” you say nonchalantly.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “This is Yosano’s.”

You put the napkin aside. “Damn, I’m surprised she agreed to let you borrow it.”

Dazai looks up at you guiltily. “She… didn’t.”

“What?!” you shout. Just as you’re about to really lay into him about getting proper permission before taking other people’s things, the door to the office opens and the other ADA members spill in, still chattering happily from lunch.

Kunikida freezes in his tracks, eyes wide. Atsushi hides his eyes and mutters a stream of apologies for interrupting. Ranpo comes in behind him and says, “Told you not to go in yet.”

You awkwardly scramble off Dazai’s lap, scrubbing your sleeves at your face to wipe the marks off. Yosano enters the office after Kenji and points angrily from Dazai to the makeup scattered across his desk. “You!” she shouts.

Dazai grabs your hand. “Now we run,” he whispers, then takes off, tugging you behind him. The two of you laugh together while Yosano chases you up and down the streets for the next half hour.

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[ravenna-reid]

Kisses, Lulls and Incoherent Ramblings

~ what happens when the lights cut out at one of Bruce's galas? ~

You and Jason were attending the last gala of the year when suddenly, there was a power outage and you two were asked to explore the manor.

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None <3

The gala was magnificent. Golden chandeliers littered the ceiling with their crystals cascading down and shimmering. Waiters went around handing out decorated tarts and some of the most expensive wines and champagnes in Gotham. Distinguished guests were dressed in their best tailored suits and array of velvet and satin dresses.

Hours had passed, and given only you and Jason were so reclusive when it came to Galas, you eventually gravitated towards each other. Bruce and Dick were both socialising with all of the guests, Dick’s charm coming more natural to him then Bruce’s forced persona. Tim was with Stephanie and the boy he’d been seeing, laughing in the corner of the opulent room. Lucky for Cassandra, she was on a ballet trip across Europe right now. 

And Damian. Well, no one knew where Damian was.

Nevertheless, you were just content that everyone was happy and safe right now.

Drinking your what, third? Fourth drink of the night? You began to feel the tipsiness seep into your bones. Usually, you were great with alcohol. Always pacing yourself and knowing when to stop. But given it was the last gala of the year, and you, Cassandra, and Jason had been left to deal with Deathstroke whilst Bruce went off somewhere to fight Ra’s, you were in dire need of some fun. You wanted to drown the thoughts out in your mind that constantly gnawed away at you. Hell, it had been a rough five months, and you deserved this. 

You couldn't help but notice Jason seemed to have the same idea as you. Maybe he needed the champagne to get through this evening, as you knew that these sorts of things were more unbearable for him than anyone else.

Unexpectedly, the lights had all cut out as darkness quickly enveloped the room. Gasps filled the room before Bruce and Dick began to calm everyone down and try to figure out what caused the sudden power outage. Dread filled their stomachs as they all hoped it wasn’t an attack orchestrated by some villain that had a vendetta against the Wayne’s. After a while, Alfred had come over to you and Jason, explaining how Master Bruce had informed him to tell everyone to search the Wayne Manor for any unwanted visitors. Just in case. You and Jason agreed, Jason more so happy to leave the watchful eyes and prying questions of the guests. Setting your glasses down on the nearest table you both headed up the winding stairs to the West wing. 

As you cautiously walked down the hall, Jason poured over how the moon beams streamed through the windows beside you, casting soft shadows across your face. He didn’t think you could look any more angelic, but you seemed to always prove him wrong. Hands beside your glistening navy silk dress as you scouted your surroundings, he wanted nothing more than to tenderly grab hold of your hand. To pull you in closer to him as you strolled around the dark manor. 

“Hey look, this door is slightly open.” You whispered dramatically as you edged back towards him. The alcohol seemed to still be in your system. 

Jason was suddenly torn from his thoughts. Clearing his throat and raising his brows, he spoke up. “What?” He slurred. 

“That door, it’s open. Let’s go take a look.”

As you both neared one of the manors libraries, Jason instinctively stood closer to you, just in case there was someone in there. Slowly pushing the door open, you both walked into the room, the strong scent of antiques and old books filling your senses. You and Jason split up and roamed around the room, taken aback by its sheer beauty, especially in the moonlight. Meeting in the centre of the library once you both realised the room was empty, your gazes met each other. 

A small small crept onto your face when you noticed Jason was hiding something behind his back.

“What’s that you got there?” You asked with a light laugh. 

With his signature smirk on his handsome face, Jason revealed a wine bottle he had found hidden amongst the books. 

You laughed, grabbing the large bottle from him.

“Probably Bruce’s.” He said, watching you read the golden label. 

It was an expensive bottle. A well known wine. Probably thousands of dollars. 

Either way, you handed it to Jason and he did the honours of opening it. 

Weaving through the many bookshelves with Jason and the wine was far better than anything that was happening downstairs at the gala. Here you could relax. You could be yourself rather than this ‘uptight, pretentious socialite’ everyone wanted you to be. 

Taking turns of having swigs of the bottle, your laughs soon filled the air. Jason’s smile was so perfect as he flashed you his pearly whites. A flutter began in your stomach once you realised you’d never seen him like this before. He was acting so carefree and open. Not like the stoic, intimidating, sarcastic Jason he usually was. You didn’t mind either side of him, but this one made your smile grow. 

Twirling around with the bottle in your hand, you turned to go down the Classical Literature section of the library. Following behind, the wine made Jason admit something he would have never admitted to anyone sober.

“This is my favourite section.” He said sheepishly. 

“No way.” You smiled, running your hands along all of the lined up dusty books. “Let me guess. Wuthering Heights?” 

 “Pride and Prejudice.” He admitted, a blush creeping onto his face. 

You laughed and jokingly nudged his arm. “You big marshmallow.” 

Turning the corner, you hadn’t seen the wooden carving stuck onto the wall, a design meant to hold candles. You smacked your head on it and a turrent of curse words left your lips. 

Jason quickly made his way over to you, his hand on your arm.

“Are you alright?” 

You held your hand over the spot on your forehead you hit. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You giggled, slightly embarrassed. 

“Are you sure?” 

Before he could stop himself, Jason’s hand was tenderly moving yours so he could see if you had a mark, his thumb running over the skin on your forehead.

“Should we go get some ice?”

“Jason,” You laughed, grabbing his hand and cupping it in yours to grab his attention. 

Suddenly, his entire world froze as he gazed back at you. 

Heavens, you were gorgeous. You were just…everything. 

And it made him giddy. And hopelessly devoted to you. And also sick, although he was sure the alcohol was to blame for that. 

“I promise, I’m alright.” You said. 

Your mind was dragged to the music you could hear beginning again downstairs. The power must be back on. Swaying to its rhythm, you began to hum along, poking Jason on the tip of his nose at the end of the verse. With the confidence from the wine and the admiration he had for you, Jason went for it. Leaning in, he gingerly placed a kiss on your cheek. Warm and firm. His kiss cut you short, a soft gasp escaping you as your body stilled. When he pulled away, his head was bent down, his soft, raven black hair brushed against your face.

You couldn’t stop yourself. You just had to do it. Bringing your hand up to his face, your fingers began to trace his skin. 

“Pretty boy.” You murmured. 

And with that, Jason fell back into your embrace. His soothing, slurred words played against your ear. Each soft kiss brought lulls and incoherent ramblings from Jason in attempts to show his undying affection for you. But given that he was tipsy, probably more than tipsy, you didn’t know how much of what he said was true. You could hardly focus yourself. 

Sweet promises and loving remarks. So foreign from the Jason you knew. It was like an entirely different person stood before you. Instead of a scowl, there was a soft expression that brushed upon his features. Instead of the aggressive and brutish nature that he acted in so naturally, there was a tender and gentle side of him you had never seen before. Instead of holding guns in his hands, he held you. The sudden display of affection towards you had your cheeks burning and heart beating in your chest. You never wanted this night to end.

[fulcrum-021]

Cw: unsafe medical practices, internalized transphobia

I really like to headcanon that Kallus transitioned before joining the Empire, through less legal and safe means. For this I also headcanon him as having grown up in the lower levels of Coruscant. He first got on puberty blockers as a young (pre) teen by either buying them on the black market or stealing them (usually the second, as money was tight.) When he got older he got on testosterone the same way.

For top surgery, I feel like there would be a fair lot of unregistered/illegal surgeons with fake licenses in the underbelly of Coruscant. I imagine Kallus would be desperate enough to go to one of these, though he still did his best to find someone who came with recommendations from patients still alive to whisper about the results in dark alleys.

Kallus knew him being trans wouldn't fly with the Empire, but he's fine with that. Internalized transphobia is a bitch and in he agrees with their views on trans people. He thinks being trans is a mental illness, one he's highly ashamed for having given into. Regardless, he fakes his papers and gets his hands on fake credentials to fool the system. The Empire is none the wiser as Kallus rises through its ranks.

It isn't 'til he starts working as Fulcrum that Kallus finally dares begin to question the way he views himself and others like him. Even so, it takes him a long time to come to terms with it and to truly consider changing his mind. After all, if he's sick, can he really trust his own judgement? But is he sick? The Empire has lied about everyone else. Is it possible this is a lie too?

It isn't 'til he fully joins the Rebellion that he's finally able to truly confront his own biases and bigotry. The Rebellion gives him a safe environment to finally process everything he has believed; about others and about himself. He meets an array of trans rebels. All truly brilliant and unapologetically themselves. And Kallus for the first time doesn't feel the knee jerk instinct to feel sorry for them. To feel shame for them. Instead, he feels jealous. Jealous of the joy and pride with which they exist. But he also feels immensely happy for them. And slowly, he manages to feel happy for himself.

[dark-elf-writes]

Birthday Prompt: HP/MHA crossover Teddy gets into 1-A hero course (replacing Mineta) and they get to do a home visit with Harry to convince him (or them if prefer to toss gender from the window) to send Teddy to the dorms.

Shouta wasn't surprised when Teddy Potter met him and Kan outside their house, with dirt on their face and their hair flashing from their usual bright blue to an inquisitive yellow before settling on messy black curls. They always seemed to be most at home when outdoors, like that edge of wildness he always felt from them demanded space to stretch out.

"You must want to talk to dad!" They chirped, grinning up at them. "He just went in to make lunch, c'mon I'm sure he made enough for you too."

Teddy was gone before Shouta or Kan could refuse, leading the way across the yard and into the rather cozy looking home. They left the door open behind them without even checking to see if they were being followed. Innocent and trusting even after everything they had been through with their class. After they had worn Bakugou's face after hearing the Villains had been after him and been kidnapped in the process.

(He still wasn't entirely sure what to make of their escape. One second they had all been scrambling to trace the villains, and the next, with an earsplitting crack, Teddy Potter had appeared, sans eyebrows, cursing a blue streak as they tumbled off of the table they had landed on.)

He had to convince Potter-san to agree to the dorms. Had to make him see it was the safest option.

Shouta couldn't stand another shrine in UA's halls. Not for this little wild thing that had taken his class by storm.

Potter-san wasn't what Shouta was expecting.

If he was entirely honest, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the short figure wearing a faded shirt for some English rock band with two crossed sticks of all things keeping his black curls in a bun, was not what he had thought Teddy Potter's father would look like. Then his eyes caught on the scar, a branching Lichtenberg figure that took up most of his face and crawled its way down a slender throat, and Shouta nearly forgot how to breathe.

Potter-san smiled as wide as the scar would allow and gestured to the table where an array of sandwiches and steaming mugs of what looked like tea already sat. Four mugs. Like he had somehow known they were coming despite the fact they hadn't called in advance.

Couldn't call in advance. Teddy had laughed after the chaos of their sudden unexplainable appearance after being kidnapped had calmed and the reality of the situation had reasserted themself when they told him their dad went through phones constantly. "Never met someone clumsier," They had claimed.

Potter-san didn't look clumsy as he gestured them to the table while he gathered yet another plate of food before joining them. Every one of his movements was perfect. Calculated. It was the way heroes moved, Shouta realized with a jolt. The kind of economy of movement that only came with years of mastering every inch of the body.

Steady hands set the tray on the table. Shouta caught more scars on them. Words instead of the lightning strike on his face.

"I must not tell lies."

"Please," Potter-san's voice was as full of laughter as his child's so often was. Like he had pulled off some grand prank and was waiting for everyone else to realize. "Eat. I'm sure you've both had your hands full today and could use an energy boost."

He sat without thinking, the stunned look on Kan's face telling him the other hero had done much the same. The two of them shared a quick glance before they started to eat. Silent understanding flowing between them.

Potter Harry was more than he seemed, just like his child.

The older Potter didn't interrupt after they finished eating and started their pitch, their plea, for the dorms. He simply listened as he cradled his cup between scarred hands until they finished. Only after did his gaze shift from Kan to Shouta, looking so deep into his eyes Shouta was half convinced the odd man could see his soul.

"What do you want for my child, Aizawa Shouta?"

"Dad," Teddy started, but subsided with the wave of a scarred hand.

Those green eyes never wavered from Shouta's. Never seemed to so much as blink.

He could almost swear they were glowing.

"I want them to live." The truth spilled from his mouth before he could stop it. "I want them to live long enough to decide if heroics is truly what they want, and to have the skill to let them live long after that too."

Potter-san's smile looked different this time. Brighter. Warmer. "Good. Then we're on the same page." He flicked his wrist and two glasses of water floated over to rest in front of Kan and Shouta. "Make sure you drink all of that before you leave, Aizawa-san, Sekijiro-san. It's so important to stay hydrated on days like this. Pup? Can you grab me a quill so I can sign the permission slip please?"

Teddy's hair flashed an angry red for... some reason before they nodded, leaving the room and returning with an honest to god feather quill and ink pot that Harry took without hesitation. Like it was normal. Like he wrote with them every day.

Yes, there was far more to the Potter family than Shouta had ever imagined.