#i'm way too old to cry. this shit is painful though

[obsesssedblerd]

au where older brother! sukuna realizes just how much he loves his little brother when he's sick.

--

Sukuna is always pretending that he doesn't care for his younger brother, Yuuji. Always throws him around when they're play fighting, jumps out and scares him just because he thinks it's funny, and eats his snacks to get a rise out of him. Typical mean older brother behavior.

But then one morning, it takes the five year-old a little too long to get out of bed.

Sukuna immediately notices how quiet he is and the look of discomfort on his face when he finally makes it to the table for breakfast. Yuuji is usually so quick to devour his food, but today, he's not even touching it, even though it's his favorite breakfast that Sukuna makes for him all of the time despite his grumpy complaints.

"Eat your food, brat. If you keep waiting, it'll get cold," Sukuna grumbles as he nudges the fork next to the boy's plate.

Yuuji silently grabs the fork, unaware of his oldest brother watching him like a hawk. He gathers a forkful of food but drops it with a barely-audible whimper, as if he were in pain. Sukuna has never heard him make that sound before, and his gut twists as his mind starts to run wild. "Can't," he whines. "Don't feel good, Kuna."

"Don't feel good how? If you're—" The room resounds with his loud gasp when Yuuji suddenly whips around faces the ground and vomits. Sukuna's arm shoots forward to stop the young boy from falling off of the chair and onto the floor. "Shit," he hisses through his teeth.

Once he was finished, Yuuji faces him. His labored breathing, teary eyes and trembling body made Sukuna's heart ache within his ribs. "I'm sorry," Yuuji says, and he makes that pained, whimpering sound again. "Know you hate w-when I make a mess. My tummy hurts."

"No, 's okay," Sukuna whispers as he rubs his back in an attempt to comfort him. His crimson eyes are still wide, and his heart is beating so fast and so loud that he can hear it in his ears. "You're okay. It can be cleaned up. Do you feel better?"

Yuuji shakes his head quietly. Sukuna tries to get Yuuji to go to his room to lay down, but he struggles to leave the table. So, he gently lifts him into his arms, avoiding the mess on the floor and walks down the hallway. Sukuna stops by the bathroom and has him rinse his mouth with some mouthwash, then makes it to Yuuji's bedroom and lays him in bed.

"Just stay here, okay? Hey, look, here's your tiger!" Sukuna holds up Yuuji's favorite stuffed animal to try and cheer him up, and his heart sinks when the kid doesn't react excitedly as he usually does. He doesn't gasp happily, his eyes don't light up, and he doesn't smile. Yuuji just weakly tugs the tiger towards him and cuddles against it with a low whine.

"If you need to throw up again, use this bucket, okay? I'll be back in a little bit." Sukuna places an empty trash can next to Yuuji's bed, then leaves his room, going straight back to the kitchen so he can find the cause of his sickness. His mind races as he goes through the contents of the fridge.

He said his stomach hurts. It had to have been something he ate yesterday. Breakfast was the same as usual, we went to that restaurant for lunch, and I made dinner yesterday. The meat was cooked all the way through and the vegetables were fresh. So, maybe it was what he ate at that restaurant for lunch? What could've made him throw up?

Shit, speaking of, he still needed to clean the mess from earlier. He closes the fridge, cleans up the floor, then looks at Yuuji's untouched plate of food. He had to get him to eat somehow.

As Sukuna's putting away the cleaning supplies, he hears Yuuji whine again. He drops what's in his hands and rushes back into his room, only to wince when sees him coughing after throwing up into the bucket he left. Like before, Yuuji frantically apologizes, even though he's begun crying because of the discomfort. "Why are you apologizing, brat? You got into the bucket, so..." Sukuna trails off as he starts thinking about it.

He's apologizing so much because I shout at him so much.

Any little mess, any little mistake that kids his age usually make, any accident at all, and Sukuna would get upset at him. Though Yuuji loves Sukuna and isn't afraid to show it, he's developed a habit of apologizing for every little thing, and it's led to this; him, telling him that he's sorry even though he's sick.

The revelation has him feeling a bit nauseous now. He looks down at his baby brother, who's now laying on his bed with his eyes shut and sniffling, and soothingly strokes his head. "I'm sorry, Yuuji," Sukuna's apology is too quiet, and since Yuuji is exhausted and half-asleep, he doesn't hear it. "I'm gonna help you get better. Promise."

Yuuji takes a small nap as Sukuna frantically searches the internet for an answer, each click only adding to his fear and anxiety. Over the next few hours, Yuuji cycles between refusing food, throwing up, and sleeping. Sukuna knew that he was going to have to get him to a hospital, and he knows how much Yuuji hates hospitals since his grandfather passed away. It would only add to the boy's discomfort.

But he didn't have a choice. If this kept up, it would only get worse. He hasn't eaten anything. As he cleaned up another accident that Yuuji had, all he could think of was how much he missed hearing him laugh as he chased him around, his mischievous giggles as he popped him with rubber bands or drawing stick figures and trying his best to get his tattoos right. Seeing him so sick, so weak, and hearing him cry like this was gut-wrenching.

He's reaching for his phone. Since his car is currently in the shop for repairs—thanks, Gojo—, he's going to need to ask someone for help. Choso is out of town, so there's no point in calling him. But, he does know someone else who will drop everything for Yuuji.

He calls you.

---

pt. 2 coming soon. promise. <3

[flymetosnarryland]

We have a problem...

There is only one person you can ask for help when Harry disappears, right?

I'm stressed, super tired and in pain, so… going to vent a little, because feeling a bit helpless, eh. The thing is, I have this nasty cough and I have it all my life. 30+ years of endless months of freaking cough that no doctor knows why I have it and how to fix it. I know people have worse health problems, so I'm not complaining. I'm just living with it, even if it's really hard sometimes, because my body is too tired to deal with it. Imagine coughing every day for couple months in a row like you spit your lungs and other inside stuff out. Your throat is sore all the time. You have hoarse and your chest muscles are on their limits, everything just hurts. Every time it ends, I'm feeling fucking blessed. Now it's going for two months after a month or so break and I'm pretty sure one of my chest muscles tore up or something. The doc I went to, said by hearing what I feel, that it's some in between ribs nerve issue. She gave me some fat painkillers and say goodbye, heh. (They works half way though) I hate to take pills and trying to avoid it as much as I can. But I started this year with different pills for different shit and I just want… I want this cough to stop. I want to be free from other not fully understood health issues than was born from that stupid flu and go back to my good, free from stress life. It was so good before, eh. I just cross my fingers that the lungs specialist I have a visit at Monday will not treat me like a pest and actually will be able to help solving some of the 30 years old cough's mystery. I'm not dying or something. I'm happy, because I'm pretty healthy in general. But I'm so freaking and dead tired because of stupid, neverending cough and can only cry. Just cry, cus can't do a shit with it. Normally I was swallowing it all. It's a shame to talk about something such trivial like this, isn't it? But as my psychologist said, I shouldn't ignore things that makes me feel really bad. And to be honest, talking about it, venting here and even crying, eh, it helps. Next day is a little bit better. Every time. And I'm really happy and grateful for having something to do. To be able to draw at least, since I'm slow with writing cus of the pain. But Snarry truly is my comfy blanket and helps me a lot dealing with stress.

Whoever managed to read that wall of cry, thank you. Hopefully you will not count me as stupid, heh. It's hard as fuck to share personal stuff for me. Especially knowing that other people have bigger problems... mines sounds silly compare to others. I know...

[kokonoiis]

tattoo canvas── ❝ just like the tattoo you just got, being a part of bonten is was lifetime decision. ❞

Ⅰ. tokyo revengers ft. BONTEN. s. manjiro, h. ran, h. rindou, kakucho, k. hajime, a. takeomi, s. haruchiyo & gender neutral reader ! Ⅱ. drabble / 1.9k wc Ⅲ. tw. blood mention, pain, embarrassment, tears, sfw nudity, sfw but horny undertones, sanzu being cruel to reader as he tattoos reader, cursing, name calling ( bitch ), mention of death / corpses / killing, sadism & masochism, power play if you squint, pain with little comfort, small mention of drugs ( sanzu. ), mention of mocchi but i forgot about him deadass Ⅳ. a/n. i took getting the bonten tattoo and i gave it horny undertones because that's who i am as a person. it's sfw but ,,, well, you know. they're sadistic little shits who love seeing other people in pain. and that's okay, that's what i'm here for. strong warning to read the tw's they might be important this time bestie.

" can this bitch stop fuckin' squirmin' ? " you could hear sanzu's voice cut through your thoughts and the sound of the tattoo gun whirling that made your head spin a little bit. you felt a little pathetic, around all of these important men, shirtless and sat in a dirty old metal chair in the warehouse where a few men lost their lives because of you today. your hand was covering your chest, keeping the skin taunt for sanzu as he hovered over you in between your spread legs.

" hey, that bitch just caught the traitors and killed them all, you should be thankful they were doing your job, " ran's almost cheery voice hummed from somewhere behind you, leaning in forward as he inspected your face. you were trying to keep it together, you really were, but your entire body was shaking from the pain of the tattoo needle repeatedly going into the delicate skin of the center of your chest, and it didn't help that it was sanzu of all people who was doing your tattoo. sanzu, who was most definitely doped up and seconds away from passing out at any given moment.

with a scrunched up face, you tore open one of your eyes to see kokonoi staring down at you, his features unreadable other than a small little smile on his lips. you couldn't be sure of what any of them were thinking, and you'd given up on trying to figure that out a long time ago. " i guess this means mikey's gonna let you into his close ranks, right ? excited about that ? "

entirely unsure whether or not he was just trying to ask you in earnestness, or if he was trying to keep you focused on something other than the sharp, unending pain burning at your chest, you opened your mouth to say something, anything, whether it was a smart retort or just a short answer, but the only thing that came out was a small whimper that came from deep within your throat. you could hear laughter spread throughout the men. even sanzu himself had to stop what he was doing to laugh at pitiful you were right now. you, who was supposed to be so dangerous, couldn't even handle a little tattoo.

" that was actually kind of cute, " rindou haitani chuckled softly as he teased you, squeezing in between his brother and kokonoi to get a look at you. " they're actually really cute when they cry out like that. " something about the way that he said that snapped something within you, or maybe it was the pain of sanzu digging a little too deep into your skin, threatening a blowout even though he said he had done this for a few of the other members and mikey gave the go ahead, and you couldn't stop yourself from feeling the hot tears form in your eyes, your bottom lip wobbling as you squeezed your eyes shut so you wouldn't cry as bad. you were crying, you were really crying like a poor little school kid.

" they're crying ? " if you didn't know any better, you'd really think that kakucho almost sounded worried for you, but no one there had any intention of stopping sanzu from finishing your tattoo. this was something that all bonten executives had to go through, almost like an initiation of sorts, and of course you were no exception to this case. but it didn't help that you were shirtless, and you could feel the eyes of seven men staring at your body, taking in the sight before them. a few seemed to be enjoying your pain far, far too much, but you were in no position to reprimand them at this very moment, not when you could barely get out a sentence without whimpering.

takeomi lit a cigarette, tapping his foot almost impatiently as he listened to a few of his coworkers coo over you, sounding more than a little annoyed that he was still here and not half way home right now. you were the one getting stabbed repeatedly by sanzu and he was the one who was upset ? that was just typical of takeomi. but infuriating nonetheless. " aren't you almost done, sanzu ? how long does it take to tattoo someone ? "

" i have to do it right ! " sanzu argued back, his voice dragging on at the last word, stopping only for a moment to wipe away the spilled ink from his masterpiece. " and this is their first tattoo, they're not exactly sitting down for me the best right now, you know ? "

" maybe you're just not the best when it comes to tattooing someone, " ran joked underneath his breath, and you swore you could feel the anger emanating from sanzu, but he was forced to keep quiet as he continued to draw permanently on your skin. you really didn't know what you were going to do if they started arguing while in the middle of your tattoo, but you were also crying too hard to really notice the bickering going on around you. " but you're almost done, so you can breathe easy in a bit. "

" until we pull out the alcohol, " rindou joked, earning a chuckle from his brother, while kakucho sat his hand on your shoulder from the side of your chair, leaning down slightly.

" you're alright, " he mumbled, and you could feel yourself wanting to hiccup from how heavy you had been crying, the tears flowing down your cheeks in a way that you couldn't stop them even if you wanted to. you wanted to kick your feet and thrash about, but you were forcing your muscles to tense up and feel like lead so you didn't do something like that and fuck up the tattoo or, worse, elongate this process even more than it already was.

" yeah, you're almost there, " kokonoi joined in to comfort you from behind you his hand ghosting over your neck, holding your chin and tilting your head back. " just a little more. you can take it, right ? just a little more, and then you're done. "

" n-no, " you finally managed out, shaking your head adamantly. there was no way you could do this, it hurt way too much, but at the same time, it's not like you were given a choice in the matter, anyways. the tattoo was already started, all you could do was finish it now. it felt like your skin was on fire, the pain was so bad you involuntarily shook from it. you couldn't even take any deep breaths, forced to take quick, shallow breaths, making you feel almost lightheaded and claustrophobic in the musty warehouse; the scent of blood never truly gone from this entire place and filling your nostrils.

" pathetic.. " sanzu muttered, shaking his head as he looked up at you through his long lashes, although your eyes were trained on the sickeningly sweet face of kokonoi, as if he would come to your rescue or save you from this. the haitani brothers seemed to revel in your pain, while kakucho and kokonoi aimed to give you some semblance of comfort. and sanzu ? he was making it worse on purpose. " you wanna be part of bonten and you can't even take a little needle ? you're miserable, really. "

" maybe we should toughen you up, " rindou agreed, his voice holding a hint of playfulness as if he were just teasing about something typical, although it was much less of a serious suggestion and much more of a tease aimed towards you. " some pain practice could be good, you know ? can't have you squealing if you get caught by the cops and they decide to torture you. "

" we can do so, so much worse than the cops, " ran laughed softly, and you could hear his footsteps as he walked away from the rest of the bonten executives. finally, after a moment, ran's voice spoke up again, this time further away, carried by the echoing of the warehouse. " boss, the tattoo is done. "

as if ran announcing it to mikey was the sign sanzu was looking for, he pulled the tattoo gun away and turned it off, standing up straight and sitting it down on the roller cart beside him. " it's gonna be cold and then painful. don't be a bitch about it. " was all that sanzu said to warn you as he grabbed a wet rag, cleaning off the spilled ink from your chest. the coldness shocked you, causing you to jump up a little bit, and you felt kakucho's hand on your shoulder tighten just slightly.

then, completely out of the blue, sanzu squirted the isopropyl alcohol directly onto your chest from the bottle, before wiping it off with some soaked gauze. you gasped, letting out a truly pathetic little scream as he cleaned the area almost too harshly for you. you'd been told that the alcohol hurt a thousand times worse than the actual tattoo itself, but it still managed to completely take your breath away, especially with sanzu's cruelty. kokonoi's hand moved from your chin to your cheek, gently wiping the tears that fell from your eyes. the act itself was so much kinder compared to the spinning in your head, almost enough to make you forget about everything around you. you wanted to nuzzle into his hand and cry, but you stopped yourself from doing that.

" sit up straight, " rindou's voice cut through to remind you, and you to your eyes away from kokonoi to look up at him, realizing that mikey was on his way, the footsteps of two men slowly echoing a few yards away from you. you picked yourself up, straightening up as you tried to make yourself look even remotely in control of yourself. you knew without looking that your face was red and your eyes were puffy, and there was a layer of sweat that thoroughly coated your skin, in part because there was no air conditioning in the warehouse. you looked miserable, that much you could already tell. but hopefully mikey approved of the tattoo.

kakucho and kokonoi stood up straight as well, stepping back away from you to be in line with takeomi and the haitani brothers. you wondered for a moment where mocchi was, and if he was going to be coming back for a few more bodies for the rest of you to dispose of. mikey walked around from behind your chair, moving sanzu so he stood in between your spread legs as well, admiring the scrutinizing tattoo on your chest.

" you whine a lot, " mikey pointed out simply, his dead eyes flicking from your chest to your face, and then back down. " but the tattoo is done and it's not that shaky. you can put your shirt back on now. "

reaching for the fabric you had sat in your lap, you felt something drip down from your chest, and when you looked down, you saw a line of your own blood fall from the tattoo down your stomach, before soaking into your pants. " it's gonna bleed a little, " ran mentioned, as if hearing your unspoken surprise. " don't worry about it. "

" welcome to the inner ranking of bonten, " kakucho gave you a look, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. " pray you don't disappoint. "

you figured, just like the tattoo you just got etched permanently into your skin, being a part of bonten was a lifetime decision. there was no going back after this, just finding a way to move forward with all of the blood on your hands, even if it's your own. you had an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach, but as you threw on your shirt and shakily stood up from the chair to approach the men, you refused to acknowledge it.

──kokonoiis 2024

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Someone Like You - A Raindro Drabble

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader Rating: I'm gonna say mature. There's a hell of a lot of swearing in here, as well as some more mature themes including violence against Lucy, but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2138 a/n: Raindro concludes with RED and we're just pretending that everything is fine today and nothing bad happened ever hahahahahahaha. Anyway, this was actually a request that came to me from a dear friend, and the moment we began discussing the plot it occurred to me that it might work incredibly well for this final day! I'll admit that this challenge has been a difficult one, but it's also been so fulfilling to try and make each piece feel like the color. I hope, in some way, I've been able to do that. Anyway, without further ado, here's a bit of Harry Castillo to round things out!

You're not exactly sure what color it is that you're seeing, but then again, you're not sure you're really seeing anything at all.

The fucking audacity of this woman. How could anyone be so fucking self-centered, especially someone who claims to be helping people? Honestly, how anyone managed to find a soul mate with her assistance was beyond you, but this? This was a step too far.

"You left him," you shout, far beyond any level of anger you've felt in recent years. "You stood him up at the alter after cheating on him with your fucking bartender boyfriend and now you think you can just waltz back in here and claim him for yourself?" Fierce loyalty is basically written into your DNA, and you'd had enough of her shit even before she'd dumped your best friend, but usually you were able to remain calm and collected, even in the heat of the moment.

Right now, though, you're livid.

Lucy looks shocked, not just by your outburst but by the fact that for the first time she's not in control. "I made a mistake," she emphasizes as though it will do anything to change your mind, her voice lowering as a few people around you at the party begin to stare. She obviously doesn't want to make a scene, but you couldn't care less, especially if it proves to every single person at this wedding that she's shit at her so-called job.

"So what?" you return, teeth grinding and fists already clenched as you try your best to hang onto the single ounce of control you have left, "you think he's just gonna come running back to you?"

"Well," she pauses, drawing out her next words as though she's enjoying this far more than she should, "it just makes sense. We're a perfect match and..."

You don't let her finish, and you're no longer sure if it's adrenaline or loyalty or jealousy that's powering the crunch of your fist against her jaw. There's no pain, none that you can feel in the moment at least, your opposite hand returning with another crushing blow that has an old woman nearby screaming for help.

"What the fuck?" Lucy shouts, stepping back as quickly as she can in a feeble attempt to get away from you. She's clutching at her face, a red mark already forming on her otherwise perfect skin, and it only fuels you further.

"You don't deserve him," you argue as you take another step toward her, landing a strike against her ribs before you even realize what you're doing. She fumbles, just for a second, and then she's fighting back, a scream erupting from her lungs as she lunges at you.

Predictably, she goes for your hair, tugging at the loose strands of your updo until the bobby pins are pulling tightly against your scalp. It causes you to cry out, head thrown back as you try to free yourself, a punch to her stomach doing the trick a moment later. She's yelling, and so are you, as the circle around you both grows, drunken spectators tuning in for the evening's entertainment.

"He's meant to be with me," Lucy shouts, one of her heels flying off as she attempts to knee you. It doesn't work, your body just far enough out of reach that it allows you to land a hit to her shoulder instead. "I know he is."

"Is that why you left him, then?"

Someone in the crowd makes a sound, their surprise evident as you reveal a plot point of the story unfolding in front of them.

"Is that why you led him on for months only to fuck him over in the end and leave him heartbroken?"

Lucy stares at you, breathing heavily. "I didn't mean to..."

"The fuck you didn't," you cut her off again, kicking off your own heels before beginning to circle her. No one in the crowd makes any effort to stop you since the old woman from earlier has presumably gone to find help, so you keep going. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you landed in someone else's bed, only to leave me to pick up the pieces for Harry."

"Oh I'm sure you loved that," Lucy scoffs. "You think I didn't see the way you look at him? Like you couldn't wait for me to leave just so you could sneak in? Like you didn't want to fuck him the entire time?"

There's a whisper of damn from somewhere around you, but you pay it no mind. She's right, of course. You've been in love with Harry for longer than you can remember, emotions disguised as friendship, but that's beside the point. You didn't sleep with him when he was still in a relationship with someone else.

Hell, you haven't slept with him period.

The blasting beat of the DJ surrounds you, your eyes locked on hers, and you know what's coming next before she even says it. In fact, you will her to say it, to give you an excuse.

"Too bad he'd never actually want someone like you."

The crowd roars when you're on top of her again, fully blinded by the pure rage in your veins when you tug at her hair. Lucy scratches along your face, managing to land a decently sized cut on your lip, and you fall back when her elbow makes contact with your side. She doesn't fare any better, your fists pounding against any part of her you can reach, wedding guests chanting around you as the fight continues.

It's only when strong hands tug you backward that you start to break from the haze, even if your arms still flail wildly. You're barely conscious of the fact that someone is pulling Lucy away too, removing her from the conflict as the circle quickly begins to dissipate, and soon you find yourself ushered to a stairwell, the concrete walls immediately dulling your senses.

"What the hell just happened in there?"

You turn, for some reason surprised to see Harry staring down at you even though you came to this wedding together and you just spent the better part of ten minutes fighting with his shitty ex-fiancé. "She had it coming," you spit out before running your tongue over your lip, the metallic taste of blood lingering.

He sucks in a breath, some of your own anger reflected in his gaze, and for just a second you're almost frightened. It's never something you've felt from him before, but just as quickly as the emotion appeared on his face, it's gone, replaced once again by the soft understanding he so often wears.

"Come on," he whispers before grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you carefully down the stairs. They're easy to manage, your heels long forgotten back at the reception, and by the time he has you out in the chilly night air something that feels a little like guilt begins to settle in your stomach.

Harry says nothing as he calls his car, ushering you into the back seat in silence. The ride is quiet too, all the way back to the massive apartment he barely sees these days, more apt to arrive on your doorstep than to invite you past his own, but you suspect he has his reasons for bringing you here instead. You settle on a chair at the oversized dining table when he quickly disappears into his bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp washcloth and a first aid kit that was probably given to him as a shitty congratulations gift for purchasing his twelve million dollar apartment.

He removes his suit jacket and drapes it over a nearby chair before beginning his search through the array of bandages and gauze. You wait, watching as he finds what he needs, your eyes meeting his when he kneels in front of you.

Your breath catches, and so does his. Years of friendship and understanding and shared experiences and heartbreak leading you both to this moment.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, even though you really aren't. But at the same time, you're well aware that he didn't deserve any of this. Not Lucy, not the breakup, and certainly not you fighting his battles for him with legitimate violence.

He remains quiet, carefully reaching out to dab at the cut on your lip with the washcloth. You can feel the pain now that you've finally calmed down, and it causes you to flinch, head shifting away from him for just a second before he tries again, gentle as always.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry whispers eventually, focus locked on his work. "She knows what she did, and she has to live with it and that has to be enough for me."

This causes you to pause, because he's right, and also because you're not really sure when he got so wise.

"She was going to come after you," you explain, as though that will make all the pieces fit together in his mind. Like it will offer some kind of reasonable excuse for your actions, even though he's not asking for you to give one. "I just wanted to..."

"She's not worth it," he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and guiding it to hold the already bloody cloth against your lip before he stands.

"No," you agree, mumbling a bit as you try your best to speak without further irritating your wound, "she's not." You watch as he finds another towel to fill with ice, slowly making his way back to your side as you contemplate your next words carefully, "but you are."

It's unclear if he's even heard you, although you don't see how he wouldn't have. Not when he's kneeling in front of you again, gently exchanging the cloth in your hand for the one filled with ice. But still, he remains quiet enough to unnerve you, and it's only when your eyes lock again that you finally understand.

He wasn't worried about himself. He wasn't worried about Lucy either, or the way your outburst would likely be the talk of New York for weeks to come. No, Harry was worried about you.

You set the ice down on the table before cautiously reaching out to curl your fingers in the hair just behind his ear. He's nearly eye-level like this, bent down on one knee, which makes it all too easy for you to pull him closer. You drop your forehead against his, eyes falling shut.

"I'm sorry," you say again, your voice just a whisper this time, but the intention behind the statement is far more true than when you uttered it earlier. "I really am."

Harry doesn't respond, not at first, your heart beating loudly in your ears as you wait, but you find some comfort in the fact that he's not pushing you away. He's here, his hand gently finding yours so he can run his thumb over your bruising knuckles.

"She's wrong, you know," he murmurs eventually, close enough that you can feel his words against your lips. Your mind races through the evening, trying to pinpoint exactly what he could be referring to, but he clarifies before you can ask.

"I would actually want someone like you."

The cut on your lip stings a bit as you break into a soft smile. "I didn't think you'd heard that part."

He hums, squeezing your hand, "I did. I heard most of it, actually." His nose nuzzles against your own, the tips brushing in a way that makes you feel giddy. You struggle to contemplate the reality of this moment, so incredibly close to him that you can smell his aftershave and the expensive cologne he only puts on for weddings. You've longed for this for what feels like forever, spent countless nights imagining what it might feel like, but nothing could have ever compared to this.

"She was right about one thing, though," you admit, leaning just a bit closer so your lips brush against his when you speak.

"What's that?" Harry asks, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head.

"I did want to fuck you the whole time."

You both laugh, smiles erupting on your faces even as he captures you in a kiss, holding you against him. It makes the cut sting, but you're too lost in the moment, in him, to really care.

"But for the record," you continue when you come up from air, "I want a lot more than that, too."

Harry stands quickly, a grin still on his lips as he maneuvers you into his arms, one tucked behind your back and the other under your knees. "I want that too, love," he confirms as he escorts you to his bed, "I want that, too."

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Guys with an S/O on their Period: Waking up with a Mess and Cramps Edition (Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Itto)

A/N: Now that I can do more than curl up on the couch letting the heating pad do it's job kind of here we go.

Do we even know what period products people on Teyvat use? And have they even invented Midol? Like, what does a Teyvat medicine cabinet look like?

CW: mentions of blood because period, duh, hurt/comfort

Diluc x fem!reader, Kaeya x fem!reader, Neuvillette x fem!reader, Itto x fem!reader

Requests are OPEN

Diluc

Diluc is a heaven send at a time like this, no doubt it

The man is on it

Let's say he comes home from some Mondstadt batman-ing and goes to curl up in bed with you

Only to find you asleep, but curled up in pain and a growing red spot on the sheets

Thanks be to Adelinde for making sure he's not clueless about female issues. If he didn't know anything before dating you, she made sure he had an clue after

He wakes you up, gently, and helps you get to the bathroom so he can help clean you up, while Adelinde (who makes a habit of staying up when Diluc does his vigilante thing) makes sure the sheets are changed and gets you whatever pain relief Mondstadt has available

After you're clean and have whatever products you use on, you go back to bed and he curls up behind you. He uses his vision to warm his hands and uses them as a hot pad for you

Let's be real, you don't get better than a pyro vision for dealing with cramps

Kaeya

Kaeya is not quite as good as Diluc (mostly because of his vision, lol)

In this case he has the decency to not tease and poke fun. Even if he didn't know that doing so would result in his premature death, he actually feels sympathy

When he wakes up next to you, finding you curled up and nearly crying, he's momentarily very concerned. After all, his pretty little s/o is in pain and that just won't do

A quick once over and he spots the blood pooling between your legs and the concern subsides. This isn't the first time this has happened, especially if you're not possessed of a clock-work cycle, though your cramps usually aren't this bad

Because both of you are familiar with this routine, he''s got a lot of stuff on hand. Like Diluc, he makes sure you wake up and get cleaned up while he changes sheets and runs to pester Barbara about something to help the cramps. Again, he doesn't have the advantage of a pyro vision

If he has a mission that day, he does it as quick as possible, but if he just has paper work, he carries that shit home and does it while taking care of you

He wants you to focus on not hurting, so any chores you would do he takes over (it gives him a way to avoid paperwork, lol)

Neuvillette

I'm not saying Neuvie would freak, the first time this happened, but yeah, the man freaks the fuck out

I mean, dragon boy doesn't spend that much time in close proximity to human females. He conceivably is fully unaware of what exactly a period entails.

When you wake up cursing and hissing in pain, which wakes him up in the process, he's genuinely scared for you

After all, you look like you're in huge amounts of pain and that's blood on the sheets. It takes you several minutes to calm Neuvie down, to make sure than he's not blowing things too far out of proportion

Eventually you manage to enlist his help cleaning up. He's perfectly happy to give a little help making sure the bloodstains on your thighs are gone and changing the sheets

He still calls one of the Melusine nurses. A) you're in pain and that's unacceptable to him and b) he's still not 100% certain that you're OK

You roll your eyes, but it does hurt and I'm not sure what kind of over the counter period relief Teyvat has. Either way, you'll have something that might help

After the Melusine leaves, you pull him back to bed and cuddle while you explain female biology in depth. First time a 500 year old dragon has had to take sex-ed lol

Once you're done he feels a little embarrassed over his overreaction

Needless to say, your next period goes much smoother. Once he's aware of the issue, he does some research on his own, talks to some other girls about ways to make it easier (basically being a stand up, super loyal boyfriend.n outstanding boyfriend)

Eventually the entire ordeal is something the two of you will laugh over

Itto

I rarely write for Itto, but I think the idea of Itto seeing the period mess and cramps would be kinda funny. At least from the outside. I would not want to be the s/o in this situation. It's a mess

He thinks the world is ending. Blows it waaaay out of proportion, and unlike Neuvie, he doesn't really listen.

Once you convince him you're not dying, he thinks you're the absolute coolest for being able to bleed every month and be in that much pain and not die

You might have to stop him from trying to "join his most awesome girlfriend ". Like, if you're so cool for this, obviously the One and Oni must be able to as well? Right.

You immediately call Shinobu because, "No. Itto. You have a dick. If you try and bleed like this. you'll die."

You and Shinobu stop him from trying to have a period too, because he'd try...somehow, and send him on basic errands or something. Anything to distract him.

Honestly, I feel like dealing with Itto's...whatever he has going on...would be more exhausting than the period and cramps

In this situation, Shinobu is your girl. She is prepared, both with the ability to redirect Itto and whatever you don't have on hand in case of mess and cramps

[some-stars]

logan/wade rough sex with wade crying!!!

okay, so obviously you know the context for this but for everyone else: this is a canon-divergence AU sequel to a fic of mine that I haven't finished yet. all you need to know is that Logan and Wade hooked up during Origins, fell for each other and ran off together, and also they are both fucked up but wade is very fucked up.

content notes: consensual sex but it's fucked up, face slapping, painful sex, possessiveness, masochism, praise, spit, kind of sweet despite all that. i'm high so i might have forgotten something, read at your own risk. i don't think i did tho!

--

The only thing that stops Logan from slamming Wade up against the wall the second the last body drops is the urgent need for them to get clear of the scene before the cops show up. As it is, they make it about half a mile before he snaps and drags Wade down an alley, the simmering anger in his skull boiling over at the way Wade laughs when he does it. It's clear Wade's still riding the high from the fight, and when his back hits the bricks he grins like crazy.

"All that killing got you so hot and bothered, huh, cupcake?" He bats his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon. "You just can't wait till we get home to take it out on me? I'm not complaining, I love a nice nasty back alley fuck. Something about getting reamed five feet from a dumpster really tickles the old pickle."

Logan would love to be able to say that his hand moves without him meaning to move it, that he slaps Wade across the face on a blind, furious impulse. But that would be a lie. He chooses to do it.

He kisses Wade right after, because the flash of hurt and fear that crosses his face is too much to look at. Too much to think about, how right it feels to put it there. Wade melts into the kiss just like he always does, permanently desperate for affection no matter how much of it Logan gives him. Logan holds his face with one hand--the side he hit, hot and flushed with blood--and kisses Wade like he's claiming him, deep and demanding. When Logan takes his lower lip between his teeth Wade tenses and whimpers, anticipating pain, but Logan doesn't break the skin. He's already smelled enough of Wade's blood tonight, enough for a fucking lifetime.

He pulls back just enough to look Wade in the eye. "What the fuck were you thinking back there?"

The slap shook him but he’s already recovering, raising his eyebrows and starting to smirk. "Well, you know how it is when that battle haze comes over you. It’s all just flow state and instinct. And a dash of horny, once things really get going--"

Logan gives him a shake, maybe harder than he means to. It shuts him up, though, so maybe just hard enough. "You still don’t give a shit if you get killed," he says, low and dangerous. "Is that why you wanted to get into this mercenary gig? You got bored of not nearly fucking dying all the time?"

"I didn’t--" 

"You got shot!"

"Grazed," Wade snaps, starting to struggle against Logan’s bruising grip. "I got lightly grazed, all those guys had terrible aim, it doesn’t even hurt anymore--"

This time when Logan kisses him he can't make himself hold back. The taste of blood sizzles on his tongue like lightning, sweet and hot, and the high hurt noise his teeth tear from Wade makes it hard to find any regret.

"You don't get to do that shit anymore," Logan growls. "You don't get to throw away what's mine."

It slides home as smooth as a skeleton key, unlocking Wade like he knew it would. His hips jerk forward and his head falls back against the bricks, already babbling an apology as he offers up his throat. Logan rewards him with a hand fisted tight in his hair to pull his head back even farther, and sharp teeth clamped down hard around the thick cord of muscle that runs from neck to shoulder. Not tearing him open, now, because he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want the blood, really, not when he's in his right mind. It's just that Wade still wants so badly to give it to him.

Logan hurts him like that until the apologies turn into begging, until his cock is as hard as Wade's where they're grinding together. "Please," Wade repeats, choked and thick.

"Yeah? You want something?" Logan kisses him again before he can answer, just long enough to feel Wade open up for him. It's not enough, though. Three fingers in his mouth feels closer to what he wants, and Wade sucks on them gratefully, moaning. Like any way Logan wants to be inside him is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't close his eyes, either, even though Logan knows he wants to, how hard it is for Wade to let Logan watch him like this. But Logan asked him for it, once. Before he knew just how careful he had to be about asking Wade to give him things.

"You want me to show you how you're mine?" Logan asks, and Wade nods and mumbles around the fingers in his mouth, incoherent and desperately affirmative. Logan pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Wade's cheek, leaving a thick smear of wet that glitters in the faint, distant glow of the streetlights. Wade shivers, finally squeezing his eyes shut, but offers no other protest.

(Not that he would. Logan's seen him come from being spat on, which was so nightmarishly arousing to watch that he hasn't tried it again since.)

When Wade had finally realized Logan was serious about refusing to fuck him dry, he'd become obsessive about stashing lube everywhere, including the pockets of his work clothes. Logan fishes the packet out now, and when Wade realizes what he's reaching for he almost trips over his own feet turning around so fast. With his cheek pressed to the wall, eyes closed, back arched to present himself, he looks ripped from the kind of magazine that gets sold in brown paper wrapping. The kind you have to ask for, at very specific stores. He looks obscene, and Logan hasn't even gotten his pants down yet.

It's the work of a moment to shove them down around his knees and get his own belt and fly open just enough so he can use the scant handful of lube on himself. Wade shudders at the wet sound, his back curving into an even deeper arch. A cat in heat, desperate to be put down. No matter how sweet Logan is to him it's always this waiting underneath, this shape that other hands bent Wade into long before Logan ever met him.

He loves Wade like this, because there isn't any way he doesn't love Wade; no possible shape of him that Logan wouldn't want exactly this much.

Logan pulls him open and forces his way in too fast, offering not even a breath for Wade's body to welcome him the way it always does, surely would if Logan gave him the chance, but he doesn't and Wade can't entirely swallow the little scream that slips out. His whole back tenses as his body struggles on instinct to get away from what's hurting it, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at his face and Logan boxing him in everywhere else.

Logan leans in close as he settles into a quick hard pace. Already Wade's breathing fast and scared, his hands balled into useless fists, all fear and misery, forgetting why he wanted this so fucking bad. 

"You need someone to hurt you," he rasps into Wade's ear, "you don't pull that kind of dumb shit. You come to me."

Another harsh snap of his hips makes Wade's breath hitch. For a moment he goes even more tense and tight beneath Logan, and a trembling little moan slides past his lips. Logan thinks about stopping; doesn't.

"Come on, Wade," he murmurs. He licks the hollow behind Wade's ear. The slick of sweat that dissolves into his tongue tastes like honey. "Be good for me."

More magic words. Wade sobs and the panicky all-over clench of him eases a little, and a few moments later a little more. Logan's next thrust feels more like fucking, less like cruelty. Enough less, at least.

He smells Wade's tears before he sees them. "Good boy," Logan tells him, which makes him cry harder, but he thanks Logan anyway. Can't seem to stop thanking him, even as he sobs, and it's almost a shocked kind of sound, the way he cries, like a kid with their first broken arm.

God, it feels so fucking good. He's never going to be able to make Wade stop giving him everything because he likes it so much, he fucking loves it, every single time.

Wade comes almost as soon as Logan gets his hand around him, and Logan fills his ear with stupid praise as he works him through it, how he's so good, so tight, so sweet, so good for Logan, so fucking good to him, better than anybody should be. 

Logan doesn't last long either after that, way too worked up do anything but give into it. Wade shakes as Logan fills him, his sobs slowing to sniffles and hitching damp breaths. Logan wraps his arms around him and nuzzles down into his neck, breathing him in deep, and for a minute they stay like that.

Logan waits for his cock to go soft and lets himself slip out as gently as he can. As soon as he's free Wade spins in his arms and grabs his face and kisses him, demanding. It's nothing Logan doesn't want to give him, so he does, all of it, everything Wade wants. Even when Wade breaks off and looks away, swallowing roughly, and says, "Tell me again."

"That you're mine?" Logan watches his eyes close. "You know you are."

"Yeah," Wade sighs. When he opens his eyes again he looks tender, exhausted. Soft. "So take me home already, daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"I fucking hate that daddy shit," Logan mutters. Wade falls into step beside him as he starts back down the street, so close they could be sharing an umbrella, stays soft and close and quiet the whole way home.

[medicinal-doll]

Hurt.

Daddy!Henry x little!reader

Summary: You only wanted to make a simple home cooked meal for your husband but after a recent accident his cautious nature decides to make itself known.

Warnings: Fluff, love bombing, babying, kisses,petnames,injury,hint at ddlg themes,slight Dom/sub dynamic

A/N I hope this helps a bit anon

*Please don't repost without permission If you use my writing as inspiration please ask first and credit me*

..............

You try to ignore your husband's looming eyes on your body. ever since he got home from work...no.. ever since the accident he's been acting as if you're made of glass.

"Let me get that for you sweetie" A strong dominant hand encircles your waist keeping you firm as Henry reaches over your head. grabbing the pasta box from the high shelf.

And now you're frowning in the corner. not only watching him start to cook the meal you planned, but every now and then he gives you a sympathetic smile.

You stand there arms crossed with a pout trying to work up the courage to say something. to tell him that you're far from helpless, and that you can take care of yourself even though you're healing.

But you know that argument would just fall on deaf ears. Henry babied you before you hurt your back. but now, apparently you can't even manage to make dinner without his assistance and under his watchful eye.

You wait until his attention is turned to stirring the basil ridden spaghetti sauce before you sneak out of the luxurious kitchen and make your way to the wine cellar. You scan the dusty shelves looking for the perfect taste to take your mind off of your overbearing husband and the dull ache of your spine when you finally see it.

The 1942 bottle of sauvignon blanc. only it's netted to an old wooden crate. fueled by determination and denial of your altered state you instantly crouch down. gripping the handles of the crate and start applying force as your husband's warnings ring a faint lullaby in the back of your mind.

You pull your hardest with all your might before a sharp seething hot pain shoots through you. causing an involuntary drop of the heavy box with a thud and a loud cry of pain.

"Shit!"

You drop to the floor as you caress your back in anguish.

And not a moment later do you hear heavy rushed footsteps come flying down the cellar stairs. finding yourself scooped up within an instant cradled in a protective embrace. You look up to meet Henry's panicked eyes as his irises wander your form looking for any sign of further injury.

"Are you alright honey?.." he looks at you with a sincere gaze as he brushes away your hair to get a good read on your expression.

But as embarrassment starts to settle in. you just give one simple nod as you feel your tears well up. clinging to his chest for comfort, sniffling lightly in shame.

Henry sighs, his concerned expression slightly settling. relieved that you're okay but then his brows furrow as he takes on a more stern look. taking a hold of your chin as he makes you face him hesitantly.

"Look at me babygirl..." He says in that gentle tone he knows you're weak for. shyly you look up at him your face still guilt ridden as ever.

"you're hurt honey" he says gently not wanting to lecture you too harshly.

"So now... You need to be a good girl and let your daddy take care of you, Okay?"

He feels his heart flutter as he watches your little eyes cling on to his every word.

"Papa knows how big and strong you are...and I love that. but now you need to stop being so stubborn and let me take care of you"

"that's what I'm here for angel" he nuzzles your face and you can't help the giggle that slips.

You pout at your husband feeling self conscious of your silly behavior and needless display of false strength. You bury your head into his soothing chest as you feel him carefully lift your feeble form from the ground.

.........

Settling onto the soft bed he seats you on his lap. gently rocking you back and forth. making sure to avoid shifting your injury as he places sweet kisses on your forehead and against your temple.

You meld so easily into his warm and comforting presence. relishing in the delicious concoction of his natural pheromones and faint cologne.

"I love you so much sweetie"

His big hands roam your body lovingly. caressing you from your soft thighs to your hips.then finally nestling around your ribcage delicately pulling you closer to his chest.

"Stay here and relax for me honey" he leans down giving you a deep passionate kiss to the lips. you whimper lightly savouring the softness and the light tickle of his facial hair.

"I promise i'll wake you when dinner's finished" he says in a low accent cuddling you close to him.You nod absentmindedly, not having it in you to prove your strength anymore. only wanting to be good for him now.

Grabbing at his collar for one last tender kiss. He then hushes you under the sheets. whispering his love and adoration for you. before leaving you to rest that pretty little head of yours.

[wandafiction]

I Got Him - WandaNat

Warnings: fluff, Wanda x Natasha x Reader and 3 month old.

You wake with a groan as you hear the cries echo around the bedroom from the baby monitor, opening your eyes as you grab for your phone to check the time. Closing your eyes when the harsh light of the phone practically blinds you, rubbing at your eyes, like somehow that's going to stop the pain. 

"3.08 am. Better than yesterday I guess." Slowly you get out of bed, your feet hitting the soft carpeted floor making you feel even more sleepy. "It's like a cloud." You mumble to yourself not even sure of what you're saying in such a sleepy state. 

The continued crying suddenly stops and that's all you need to be fully awake. Your mind switching into overprotective mother and panic mode. He never stops crying that quickly. You jump out of bed grabbing the hoodie that's laid haphazardly on the floor from where you had thrown it down after getting too hot in bed with it on, even though it's stupidly cold this winter. 

You hardly notice how cold the wooden floor is on your feet as you hurry down the hallway to the baby's room, panicking more when you see the door open. Running into his room your whole body tenses as you see two figures standing over his cot but not a second later completely relax when you recognise the red and blonde hair of the two figures. 

"You're okay little man. Shhh, shhh, shhh. That's it. There is no need for this much noise this early in the morning. Is there?" Nat cradles your baby boy in her arms, gently swaying from side to side as well as bouncing up and down, her voice ever so soothing. "No there's not." She coos as she boops his nose. 

"Holy shit." You whisper into the room and both women turn on their heels with slight surprise.

"Detka, what are you doing up?" Wanda makes her way over, checking over her shoulder at Nat who gives you both a small smile, Wanda's arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you against her. 

"I heard him crying." Wanda's hand starts to weave through your hair as your body practically melts into hers, both of your hands gripping on her waist for support. 

"I thought I turned the monitor off in time. We've got him so let's get you back to bed." 

"So that's why he stopped crying.' You sniffle causing Wanda to pull away slightly looking at you with slight worry. "I thought the worst. He never stops crying like that. I thought….I don't even know what I thought…but-but the moment, the moment that he went quiet…I-I-I…." 

"Okay, shhh you're okay." Wanda pulls you back into her, her hand scratching at your scalp while the other one rubs up and down your spine. "Let's get you to bed. Nat will get him settled."

All you can do is nod, your body struggling to keep you standing and your mind slowly shutting off due to how exhausted you are. Wanda feels your body fall into hers more so she slowly bends down a little, her hands moving to the back of your knees and lifting you up. Your arms lazily wrap around her neck, her arms sliding up your legs a little so they are wrapped under the top of your thighs and butt. She turns to look back at Nat, not that you are looking with your ace buried in her neck taking in her strawberry scent. 

"I got him my love. Let Wanda get you back in bed." Natasha whispers over to you as she continues to gently soothe Max back to sleep.

"I'm taking her to bed princess, will you be in soon?" Wanda's soft voice is not helping you as you try not to fall asleep in her arms but when she slowly starts swaying, knowing how soothing it is for you, your body finally succumbs to the darkness and the last thing you hear is Natasha's voice. 

"Of course I will. I love you both."

♤♡◇♧

This time when you wake up it's a lot more pleasant. The feeling of soft lips travelling around your face, from your forehead along your eyebrows, down one side of your face. Then they travel across your cheek to the bridge of your nose before a feather light kiss is pressed onto the tip of your nose causing it to scrunch. The lips then travel across the other cheek down to the hinge of your jaw, along the whole of your jaw to the other side before they finally land on your lips that quirk into a smile. 

"Good morning my love." You smile against Natasha's lips as she mumbles against yours. 

"Good morning honey." Your eyes shoot open when your brain suddenly registers how quiet it is, and your upper body moves quicker than you can register as you sit up. 

"Woah calm down. Max is fine." Natasha's hand is on your chest keeping you in the bed and it's only now you realise she is straddling your lap, your eyes flick up to meet hers and you let out a small breath. "He is okay."

“Where?” You mumble out as Natasha slowly pushes your body back down onto the bed.

“Wanda has him, she is giving him a bottle.” You just nod letting out a long drawn out sigh, your hands rubbing your face up and down trying to find the energy to get out of bed.

“Do you not have work?” Natasha leans down, shaking her head, leaving a small kiss on your furrowed brows as you ask.

“Nope. Me and Wanda finally convinced Tony to let us have some time off and to not contact us until Monday. Guess it's a positive of being his business partners.” You smile at the thought, it has been so long since you have all spent time together since they returned to work and are working extra long hours and weeks to help with payments for everything since you’re on maternity and you don’t work for Mr Tony ‘I have lots of money’ Stark so your pay decreased….dramatically. 

“Yay.” You whisper as your eyes flutter closed, but a smile playing on your lips as you hear Natasha giggling at your relaxed state.

“Mhmm. Anyway, I came in here to tell you breakfast is ready and waiting for you.” Natasha plants a few more kisses across your forehead pulling away when you open your eyes to look up at her.

“Lead the way.” 

Natasha climbs off of you holding her hand out to help you sit up, smiling as you use her to hoist yourself out of bed and stretching so much you hear a few pops from your joints. Natasha then passes you a new hoodie, now only realising you were in nothing put a shirt and underwear again assuming Wanda took the hoodie off when she got you into bed. You mumble a small thanks slipping the hoodie on, pulling at the strings to make it wrap tightly around your face; Natash giggling at your antics. 

“Let's go see the wifey.” You hum with a nod as Natasha grabs ahold of your hand and starts pulling you out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the kitchen. 

You smile to yourself when you hear humming coming from the kitchen, recognizing it as a russian lullaby, your smile only growing more when you lean against the door frame of the kitchen seeing Wanda with Max cradled in one arm. Her chin rests gently on the base of the bottle, keeping it up as your little boy takes small gulps of it, her other hand holding a spatula so she can transfer the pancakes from pan to plate. 

You jump slightly when you feel arms wrap around your waist, a head pressing between your shoulder blades. The hands rest on your abdomen over the hoodie for only a second before the venture down to the hem of it and travel under it and your shirt, her hands gently rubbing along your stomach and the skin on skin contact makes you release a content sigh. 

“Good morning darling.” You voice raspy from just waking up, feeling Natasha squeeze you gently in reply as Wanda turns to face you with a toothy smile.

“Good morning detka. Good morning princess.” You feel Natasha grumble into your back at the pet name, but you and Wanda both know she secretly likes it and will pout for a whole day if you don’t call her it, at least once.

“They smell delicious.” Your eyes travel to the stack of pancakes as Wanda puts one last one on top and before you can even offer to take it Natasha removes herself from your body and enters the kitchen to help.

“Go sit down my love, we will bring it all in.” You go to say something back to Natasha but she gives you a challenging look and you hold your hands up in fake surrender and do as you’ve been asked. 

It takes them no longer than 30 seconds to join you at the table, both taking a seat either side of you Wanda keeping your son in her lap. One arm is around his small body keeping him sat up straight against her while the other uses a fork to stab a pancake and transfer it from the stack to her plate. Before she can even ask you, lean across and start cutting them up for her, not wanting to see her struggle to eat while she holds your son, and it earns you a kiss on the temple from her and a slobbery kiss on the arm from your son. 

You manage to get through breakfast without any issues and all three of you are now lounging on the couch while Max is on the floor having some tummy time. All three of you are watching fondly as he babbles baby nonsense to himself as his hands hit the floor a few times and his legs kick out behind him. You all melt at the sight of his gummy smile as he reaches for his small teddy which is just out of reach, using his other arm on the floor trying to push himself forward.

However, in doing so he rolls himself onto his back and the three of you can’t help but smile when his arms and legs move up and down a few times as if that's what's going to get himself flipped back over. The giggle that leaves his mouth makes the three of you laugh and smile brightly until his face suddenly scrunches and starts turning red. The poop face. That is what it is known as to you, and you have learnt that he has different poop faces, and you know just by looking at him that it's going to be that of an atomic stink bomb.

You make a face when you hear the wet fart, his face relaxing into that devilish baby smirk that leads you to believe he knows exactly what he has done. You go to stand up but a hand on your shoulder pulls you back down, looking over to Wanda with confusion written all over your face before turning to see Natasha standing up and picking him up. 

"I got him." Natasha says easily as she makes a small face when she checks to see if he has actually pooped, holding him carefully by his armpits as far from her as possible as she slowly starts walking out of the room.

“Why can’t I look after our son today?” You question a slight offence to your voice, that takes Wanda a little by surprise as she brushes some hair out of your face. 

“Detka, you are exhausted. You need some you time. You have been looking after him since you gave birth to him 3 months ago, because of mine and Natasha’s schedule, so we decided to take the whole weekend off to give you a break. We have diaper duty, feeding duty, and waking up at 3 am duty. All you have to do is sit there and let us do the hard work for once.”

“I feel bad letting you take care of him and me.” You pout at the thought of being a burden but Wanda is quick to diminish the thought as she pulls your body against hers.

“We love taking care of you detka. We are taking care of him today because you need a selfcare day. That being said, why don’t you go run yourself a bath, enjoy some peace and quiet while me and Natasha keep him entertained.” You nod into her neck mumbling out a small thank you. “No need to thank us, detka, we are in this together.” 

“Holy fucking shit. How the fuck does one baby produce so much shit?” You and Wanda laugh as you hear Natasha gagging a little at whatever bomb is in the diaper.

“I am going to go help her out, she will end up putting the diaper on backwards. Go have a bath, we will join you when he goes down for his nap.” She kisses your temple before standing from the couch and quickly making her way to Max's room to help out your wife.

♤♡◇♧

A small knock at the door pulls you from your small half nap, tilting your head to look back at it, a smile growing on your face when you see the two women you love standing in the doorway.

“Can we join?” You simply nod with a smile sitting up slightly so your wives can arrange themselves.

You always loved that Natasha ensured that you had a bath made that would fit all three of you, it was one of her few requests when you guys all decided to live together. Natasha climbs in, in front of you between your legs and pushing herself backwards till her back is flush with your front; pulling your arms around her waist so your arms rest on her toned body. She would never admit that she was the little spoon and the softest of the three of you in the relationship, she had an image to uphold as the scary business partner of Tony Stark. 

Once Natasha was settled Wanda climbs in at the opposite end of the bath, facing the both of you as her legs tangle with yours, her hands resting on Nat’s calves that lay next to her. Your chin rests on the top of Natasha’s head as her body slumps down into the water more, both you and Wanda smiling at each other at her relaxed state. Natasha pulls your hands up to her face peppering your knuckles and palms with gentle kisses, a soft smile on your face at her actions as Wanda watches with all the love in the world swirling around her eyes. 

“I love you both so much.” You mumble into Natasha’s hair, closing your eyes as you finally allow yourself to completely relax. 

“We love you to detka.” Wanda answers for the both of them as Natasha simply hums in agreement nodding her head. 

“So how has work been?” You move your head off of Natasha’s to plant a small kiss on her temple, resting your cheek against the side of your face as she moves your hands back down to scratch at her abdomen.

“Busy, but nothing we can’t handle.” 

“Tony keeps asking when you are coming to work for him.” Natasha finally opens her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you as you purse your lips to the side.

“You know I have another year on my contract after I go back. Tell him to ask again then.”

“Why do you stay when you hate it so much?” Wanda tilts her head in question and you let out a small sigh.

“Because I was young and naive when I signed the contract and didn’t look at the small print that mentioned a minimum of 8 years of occupation. One more year and I will be free from Strucker and his silly hydra goons, who know nothing about anything.”

“Tony is holding a seat for you once you do leave.” You hum in acknowledgement not really wanting to speak about work when you are relaxing. 

“Okay so how about we go on a date tomorrow?” Wanda changes the subject easily, noticing your hesitancy to talk about anything work related.

“What about max?” Having been around max non-stop for 3 months he is all you can think about when it comes to doing anything.

That includes when you are doing small mundane tasks, your mind is always playing tricks on you by making you hear sounds that could easily be Max crying out for you. You only really manage to eat and take showers later at night once you have put him to bed, meaning you don’t normally get to sleep until 11 or 12 and then you are woken up again at 3 by a hungry screaming baby. You love him to bits, you do, but you are really starting to hate the lack of routine and selfcare you have.

“We can bring him with us. We can go for a walk in the park and stop for coffee, relax on a bench as we people watch.” Wanda suggests and your mind eases at the thought of not leaving Max with some babysitter for a few hours. 

“Yeah and then we can come home, put him down for his nap. We could maybe watch a movie, or we could.” Natasha walks her fingers up your arm as she makes the silent suggestion and you raise your eyebrow at the silent insinuation. “It’s been three months. Doctor said three months.”

“It has been three months.” You reply with a smirk, dragging your nails down Natasha’s abs feeling her shiver against you. 

“I mean I for one have missed your body detka.” Your eyes dart to look at Wanda who has her bottom lip between her teeth as she eyes you and Natasha up and down. “Me and Natasha have missed you taking control. Telling us how good we are.”

“Is that right my girls?” Your voice is sultry and both of them hum with a nod as they look at you. “Well I guess since you have been good and waited so long you should at least get a reward.” 

Before any of you can continue a cry echoes around the hallways of the house and you lean your head back against the edge of the bath a small ‘for fuck sake’ leaving your lips causing the both of them to giggle. You go to haul Natasha off of you but she presses herself against you more and tilts her head at Wanda.

“I cleaned that absolute fucking stick bomb of a diaper, you can deal with the crying. I am haunted by it, I shall never sleep again as the images of it play forever in my mind.” You and Wanda give Natasha a look as she rambles on and on about her poor eyes and nose, but soon she is made to go quiet when Wanda hits her leg and makes a move to stand. 

“Why did we ask her to join our relationship again?” You shrug at Wanda’s question, Natasha pouting as her body sinks into the water more now Wanda is out of the tub and isn’t stopping her from sliding down. 

“I guess it’s because we both love her.” You make it sound more like a question and the small whine that leaves Natasha’s lips makes you and Wanda giggle. 

Wanda leans over the edge of the bath as she holds a towel around herself with one hand, her other tilts Natasha’s chin up so the Russian is looking directly up to the Sokovian. Wanda presses her lips against Natasha’s, who sighs at the action and you press your lips along her bare shoulder. Natasha smiles against Wanda’s lips before the latter pulls away and wraps her towel around herself properly and your  lips come to rest at the top of Natasha’s collarbone. Suddenly you are all brought back to why Wanda is out of the bath as the cries get a little stronger and Wanda leans down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“I got him.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[thdrama2]

This is thdrama2's girlfriend with very sad news ☹️. I'm scheduling this for after the holiday because I didn't want to ruin anybody's Christmas. It took a while to get the courage to type it, but, I think she told you that he got hit by a bus several weeks back and had been in the hospital. We were lucky that it wasn't too bad but they did suffer a concussion and we thought there may have been mild brain damage, even though the doctors didn't see anything "officially."

It's been a really difficult season for us... because not long after that he got hit by another bus in a second freak accident, it's really hard tp type this and read it back because I've been so heartbroken. He didn't make it. But I know she wanted me to tell all bun's friends and take care of her social media in the event of their death so here I am, crying on the keyboard telling the people on xer's shit-ass drama blog (that's right babe, I'm still calling it a shit-ass blog even though you're dead, i miss you). There's nothing else to say besides idk just. Go touch grass, breathe the fresh winter air and hug your friends. There's way more to life than whining about stupid petty arguments on some site for selling toys, the only thing that matters is the people you love. Or maybe go to therapy, idk

I'll post all the old messages in the inbox the day I'm typing this (22nd) and get them cleared out fast, so you'll probably see that before this gets posed. But then that's it, I won't monitor this blog, I don't know anything about the site and it's just too painful to keep looking at it.

[sunohws]

fuck you - choi yeonjun

pairing: sub!yeonjun x dom!male!reader

synopsis: You find out Yeonjun has a degradation kink after an argument.

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni.. degrading, semi-public sex, college au

word count: 0.8k words

a/n: yeonjun. i finally made smth for yeonjun. I CRIED FOR 2 DAYS JUST FOR THIS TO BE LIKE 800 WORDS. IM SO ASHAMED. I WANTED TO MAKE SMTH LONH AND UNFORGETTABLE FOR YEONJUN BUT I CANT CUS I GET FRUSTRATED..

im sorry its so short..

"You are so annoying, you know that?"

"Maybe you should cry about it."

"I don't know how you're even allowed to walk into this fucking college with that peanut brain."

"No swearing please Mr. Kim!" The teacher piped in, though she knew both students were much too caught up in their argument to listen to anyone.

"Oh my god, did you get any love as a child?"

"Apparently much more than you did."

"What shoes your mom got on?"

"Are you trying to get killed?"

"Try, you fucking lunatic."

"I'm not all bark like you are Babyboy I don't recommend saying shit like that."

"Oh, I'm so scared."

"Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim, would you please sit back down? I'd like to continue my class."

The looks she received was enough to nod her head and sit herself down, letting them continue. The entire class even looked entertained.

"You are just so entirely pathetic it's hard to even look at you."

"Oh really?"

Yeonjun looked a little taken aback, spitting out a "yes? you're so hopeless." You gave him an amused look, challenging almost. You leaned down, face coming terribly close to Yeonjun's ear so that no one else could possibly see what you were saying.

"Then why are you hard?" You whisper, lingering there for a second to watch Yeonjun's face go red. He sat down, faced forward, and told the teacher to continue with class. "Finally." She huffed, carrying out the lesson. Yeonjun put his head down on his desk, realizing he was actually hard. 'What the hell,' he thought.

He heard you laughing quietly, you were way too amused by this situation. Soon class ended, and Yeonjun was too embarrassed to say absolutely anything as he tried to silently leave the class. He checked to make sure you weren't following him, then slipped into an old janitor's closet. 'God I wish there was a lock on this fucker.'

He tried to go behind some buckets and such against the wall so if anyone did enter, he wouldn't automatically be caught. Yeonjun attempted to quietly palm himself, using majority of his brain power to not think about you. Maybe he really liked arguing. Maybe he really liked being littered with insults by a very gorgeous boy with rings and piercings and a soothing voice.

"So, yeonjunie has a degradation kink, hm?" Yeonjun's eyes flew open, seeing you standing tauntingly in front of him. "I don't have a-" You moved forward suddenly, flicking Yeonjun's chin up to meet your eyes. Your knee pressed in between his thighs.

"I really never took you for a slut, you know? You can't even stop yourself from moaning my name." Yeonjun choked on a moan, his head rolling back against the wall. "It just happened, okay? I would never like you like that you fucking creep" Your knee pressed against him more making Yeonjun's eyes roll to the back of his head.

"You seem to be enjoying this a lot." You leaned in further, "Are you okay with this?" He eagerly nodded yes of course, finally admitting he wanted it. "Tell me if i go too far, please." You pulled Yeonjun forward to connect their lips, bringing their bodies as close as possible to each other.

Yeonjun grabbed at your hand to force it onto his own throat, you got the message and lightly gripping his throat. You brought your other hand to palm at Yeonjun's dick that was still hanging out for some reason. Yeonjun whined loudly, his head banging against the wall roughly every time he threw it back.

"You like pain too, hm, whore?" You said against his skin, biting on the soft flesh. Yeonjun couldn't stop shivering and groaning. You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, starting to pump at the base. "How pathetic, you're so hard for me?"

Yeonjun moaned purely at the words; tears were streaming down his face already from the stimulation. "Do you want me to suck your sad little cock, hm?" He nodded vigorously. "Words, Yeonjun."

"Yes, please! please y/n" He choked out. You slowly put the entire length into his mouth, Yeonjun rendered speechless as the moan was caught in his throat. You started to go faster, bobbing up and down until you could feel the back of your throat being hit. You gripped his thighs harshly, using all your might to bottom out each time.

"Oh my- oh my god, im-" Yeonjun suddenly came into your mouth, feeling embarrassed and scared that you might not have wanted that. Though, you swallowed every drop possible, wiping your chin and licking it off while making eye contact. You liked the bittersweet taste. Yeonjun swore he could get hard purely off of that sight alone, but he was still trying to catch his breath.

You re-did the black-haired boys' pants, making sure he was clean and okay to go back to class. Yeonjun brought their lips together again for a slower kiss once you got up. 

"Fuck you." he spat, though smiling slightly. 

"Name a time and place." you laughed, smiling as he left the closet. 

I FINALLY WROTE SMTH FOR YEONJUN...

[belit0]

Hi love, I'm loving your posts about the Uchihas in high school, LIKE SO MUCH 🙏🏻🥺❤️if you're interested, you can make Indra, Madara and Izuna having a classmate as a fuck partner? in the living room, they don't even exchange glances, but in the bedroom it's another story lmao 🙂‍↕️

This… ended up being quite dark. I mean, the usual with this AU, but it has a... r4p3 scene, that's pretty explicit, so proceed with caution.

All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age.

TW: n0n.c0n, drug$, r4p3, manipulation, yandere behaviour, psychological manipulation, violence. "She's desorientated, traumatized, and vulnerable. Just how Uchiha's like it."

PROCEED WITH CAUTION, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

Behind the gym, it smells like burnt rubber and weed. Heat clings to the concrete even in the shade, the air thick with that late afternoon buzz that always makes everything feel more surreal.

Izuna flicks his lighter shut with a snap, squinting through the smoke curling from the joint hanging off his bottom lip.

–I’m fucking bored.

Madara doesn’t answer. He’s leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded like he’s waiting for someone to piss him off just enough to bother breathing.

Indra sits on the edge of the loading dock, hoodie sleeves shoved up, legs spread wide, a cigarette loose between two fingers.

Izuna exhales, then grins. –We should get a fucktoy.–

Indra looks up first. No expression, just a blank stare that lingers a beat too long.

Madara snorts. –What the fuck are you on about.–

–Dead serious.– Izuna pops the joint back in, cheeks hollowing as he hits it deep. –Think about it. One girl. We take turns, we fuck her up proper.–

Madara doesn’t respond right away. His mouth pulls to the side, not quite a smirk. –That’s not normal.–

–And?– Izuna looks at him, eyes glassy but focused. –We aren’t exactly winning awards for mental health. You’re the one who broke that guy’s nose last week because he touched your shoulder.–

Madara’s jaw flexes.

Indra flicks ash off the end of his cigarette, staring at the ground.

–The fuck makes you think a girl'd agree to that?– Madara mutters.

–Doesn’t have to.– Izuna shrugs. –Just has to show up.–

–That’s fucked.– Indra says it flatly.

No judgment. Just a statement.

Izuna grins. –You’re thinking about it though.–

Madara pushes off the wall finally. –Sharing’s a pain in the ass.–

–You making a big deal about it. Just us, using her. You get your control shit. Indra gets his twisted pain. I get her when she’s all fucked up and crying.

Madara stares at him.

Izuna doesn't blink. –Don’t lie like that’s not exactly what you want.–

Indra’s voice comes low. –If we’re doing it, we pick well. Don't want no drama.-

Izuna barks a laugh, tossing his head back. –Jesus. You’re sicker than me.–

–Takes one to know one.

Madara finally sighs, dragging a hand down his face. –Whatever. Let’s say we do it. Who?–

–It can’t be anyone mouthy. Or anyone who talks to too many people. Has to be quiet. Desperate. Someone who doesn’t even realize how fucked this is.

–And she can’t bitch when we push her around,– Madara adds. –Like Indra said, no drama.–

–She’s gotta like it when we fuck with her head.– Izuna leans in now, eyes lighting up. –Like… wait for the hallway stares. Sleep with her phone on her chest in case one of us calls. That type of girl.–

–Someone who’ll break easy,– Indra murmurs.

They all go quiet again.

And then Izuna tilts his head, a slow grin spreading like blood in water.

–I think I know who.

//

The hallway behind the old gym isn’t supposed to echo.

But her steps do. Loud. Uneven.

She turns around the corner, hurrying, late for class, until her concern shifts.

(Y/N) stops.

Izuna stands in front of her, blocking her way forward, teeth-baring smirk cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Madara leans against the wall at her right. Arms crossed, black eyes unreadable.

Waiting.

And Indra?

He’s coming from behind her. Silent.

She didn't realize he was there when she picked that route.

Panic blooms fast. Like a match lit too close to dry skin.

–...What do you want?– Her voice is barely there.

Izuna doesn’t blink. –You.–

Madara speaks next, slow and cold. –So don’t fuck it up by running your mouth.–

She takes a step back—and hits something solid.

Indra.

His presence is a wall, unmoving.

She doesn’t dare look over her shoulder.

–You know what we are, yeah?– Izuna tilts his head. –You’ve heard the shit they say. You’ve seen how they look at us. Like we’re poison. Dangerous. That sound about right?–

She doesn’t answer.

–Good,– Madara says. –Because it means you’re smart. Smart enough to shut up and listen.–

Izuna steps forward. Too close.

Her back presses harder against Indra, breath caught in her throat.

–We want one girl. A plaything. A hole. Someone who knows how to stay quiet and take it. You.

Madara’s eyes don’t move from her face. –Not because you're special. Don’t get it twisted. You just fit. You’re quiet. You don’t talk to anyone. No one will fucking miss you.–

–You’ll do what we say, when we say it,– Izuna adds, voice tightening. –No bitching. No pouting. You’ll open your legs when told, and you’ll thank us for the attention.–

Her heart pounds. Too fast. Her lungs can’t pull enough air.

Indra finally leans in—his mouth by her ear, his breath ice against her skin.

–Run if you want. I’ll drag you back.

She trembles.

Madara watches her shake with an expression that borders on cruel amusement.

Izuna leans close from the front, boxing her in. –Say it, now. That you're in.–

–I... I-I–

–Louder, slut, no stuttering.

And in the heat of that silence, trapped between danger and obsession, something in her cracks.

–...Y-Yes...?

Madara smirks. Indra exhales—satisfied. Izuna laughs once, dark and sharp.

–Knew it. She’s gonna break real nice.

//

GROUP CHAT: locked_room (created by Izuna Uchiha) Members: Izuna, Madara, Indra, (Y/N)

Izuna this where we talk about her nothing else

Madara she in the chat?

Izuna yeah can read not like she’s gonna say shit

Indra good should see what’s coming

Madara don’t think she gets it yet

Izuna she’ll stop pretending after saturday

Indra where?

Madara here. dad’s out of the city house empty

Izuna 10PM she shows or she gets picked up

Madara don’t care how she ends up my room

Indra quiet girls don’t fight they fold

Izuna i go first girl been staring at my mouth since day one

Madara don’t care what hole i get as long as she breaks

Indra she gonna wants it too bad to run

Izuna @(Y/N) reply you already said yes no turning back

[PRIVATE DM – Izuna → (Y/N)]

Izuna check the fucking chat top to bottom

Izuna we made the call my place saturday night you showing up dont waste our time

//

The door swings open before she knocks again.

It's 10:30PM.

Izuna’s face is unreadable—no smirk this time. Just a flick of the chin.

–Get in.

No greeting. No smile.

Just fingers gripping her wrist tight enough to leave marks as he pulls her inside, already walking.

Halfway up the stairs, he cuts a look over his shoulder.

–You wore that? Jesus.– A click of his tongue. His eyes drag down her legs with zero subtlety. –Try harder. You’re not the only one we could’ve called tonight.–

He doesn’t wait for her to answer. Doesn’t care. Just pushes open Madara's bedroom door. Inside: the other two Uchihas, sharing a cigarette and talking nonsense.

They don’t look up when she walks in.

They saw her already. That was enough.

–Took long enough.– Madara’s voice is flat. –Thought she chickened out.–

Izuna shuts the door behind her with a loud click.

Her throat tightens.

The sound locks her in.

–You stand there ‘cause you’re scared, or you want attention?– Indra finally raises his eyes. Not soft. Not amused. Just cold.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes.

–That dumb look again.– Izuna's voice is sharp, biting. He walks past her toward the bed. –Don’t tell me you thought we were gonna be nice tonight.–

Indra comes closer, with that dangerous pace of his. Hands in his pockets. Not looking at her, but through her. –You’re not special just because we picked you. You’re here because we agreed to let you be.– He pauses. –You fuck that up, shit won't be good for you.–

Her hands tremble at her sides, but she says nothing.

–Say something, toy.– Madara doesn’t blink. –Or you just here to look stupid?–

Her voice barely makes it out. –I… I didn’t mean to be late.–

That earns her nothing.

No nod. No look. Just Madara standing, moving toward her as well, slow like a storm cloud, staring down without warmth.

–You think that’s what this is about? Time?– He scoffs. –You could crawl in here bleeding and we wouldn’t give a fuck.-

Izuna drops onto the bed, pulling a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it like she’s not even in the room. He exhales smoke through a grin. –Give her ten minutes.–

Indra stays quiet. But his eyes are on her.

Calculating.

Unimpressed.

She shifts, knees brushing. That’s when Madara tilts her chin up — not gently. Thumb under her jaw like he’s examining something half-broken.

–You came here. That means you’re ours for the night. Don’t care what’s in your head. Don’t care how you feel.

He lets her go, roughly. Then, like nothing, joins Izuna at the bed, sitting against the headboard and stealing his cigarette.

–You don’t speak unless told. You don’t leave unless we say so.- Indra’s voice cuts in, emotionless: –And if you ever think about backing out, remember this: we're not people to be fucked with.– Then he moves, one hand closes around her upper arm—not rough, but firm.

Unnegotiable.

He says nothing.

Just pulls her forward.

Walks her across the room like dragging furniture.

Madara doesn’t even blink as Indra brings her to the bed.

–You’re in the way.– That’s all Indra mutters before pushing her down —straight into Madara’s lap.

She stumbles, knees landing on either side of him. He doesn’t move to help. Doesn’t even look at her. Just exhales a breath, like she’s nothing more than added weight.

His hands rest on her thighs, eventually.

Heavy. Not affectionate.

–Keep still.

That’s it.

Izuna laughs, sparking the lighter with one thumb.

–Remember that one girl at Shisui's party? The clingy one with the fake lashes?

Madara finally speaks, not to her.

–The one that cried when you got her name wrong?

–Yeah, that dumb bitch.- Izuna shakes his head, –Tried to fuck her while she was mid-breakdown. Couldn't stop laughing.–

Indra walks past the bed, picks up a bottle, drinks from it, then tosses it down again with a clink.

–The short one who called you her soulmate after two days was worse.– Madara affirms.

Izuna grins. –She’s the one that brought cupcakes. Broke down when she saw her friend with me the next week.–

Madara snorts. –Cupcakes.–

(Y/N) doesn’t speak.

She’s still on Madara’s lap. His hand drifts up her waist absently, dragging her lower on him so her weight fully sinks into his. He doesn’t look at her once.

Izuna stands, fetching a joint from the desk and getting it in his mouth. He then walks over, passing it lazily to Madara, who takes it with one hand, the other still on her hip.

–We gonna keep talking or we doing something?– Izuna asks, fingers ghosting over the back of her neck.

–She’s too quiet.– Indra again. Leaning against the wall now, arms crossed. –Might think we give a shit what she’s feeling.–

Madara taps ash onto the floor.

–She knows what this is.

(Y/N) stays still. Heat floods up her chest, her throat.

Madara shifts under her, finally. The first movement with intention. He takes another drag, fingers tightening on her hip.

They’re not done talking. Not done ignoring her.

But she’s in position.

Exactly where they want her.

Then Indra moves, lowers himself to Madara’s side on the bed, phone in hand, swiping through photos of metal parts and custom dashboards.

–I swapped the console, carbon finish. Ordered the new clutch too.

Madara flicks ash into the tray without looking up.

–Hydraulic or no?

–Hydraulic. Not fucking around with anything less.– Indra’s voice is low, unconcerned. His knee bumps against hers. He doesn’t acknowledge it.

Madara gives a slow nod. –About time.–

(Y/N) sits still. Silent. Knees on either side of Madara’s thighs. Her weight barely shifts the bed.

She could disappear and neither of them would notice.

Behind her, Izuna moves.

No warning—just fingers curling into her hair. Not gentle. He pulls her head back without a word, exposing her neck. She gasps, spine arching as his mouth grazes the side of her throat.

His breath is hot. His other hand slides under her shirt, palm cold against her skin.

She makes a sound—quiet, involuntary. A moan caught somewhere between her teeth.

Indra doesn't lift his gaze. –Did she say something?–

Madara doesn't even blink. –Told her to keep quiet.–

(Y/N) stiffens.

Izuna doesn't stop. His hand drags lower, lips still at her neck, breath heavy like he’s not even hearing them. Or maybe he is—and doesn’t care. His grip in her hair tightens, forcing her to hold position, spine taut like a puppet’s.

Indra flips to the next photo. –Installed the LEDs under the seats too. Custom switch under the dash.–

–Clean work. You wire it yourself?

–Obviously.

Izuna hums low behind her.

Maybe in approval. Maybe in distraction.

(Y/N) doesn’t dare move.

Her breath stutters. The weight of Madara beneath her, Indra beside her, Izuna behind—none of them focused on her. Not fully. Not the way normal people would be. But she can feel the ownership in every hand that touches her.

Every word spoken around her.

Presence without care.

–If she makes another sound, take her out of the room.- Indra speaks.

Izuna lets go of her hair slowly, drags his palm down her spine, deliberate and slow. –She not gonna say shit. Dumb as hell, but even worse? Dick-starved.-

She’s barely balanced in Madara’s lap when Izuna’s fingers wrap around her wrist and yank.

No warning. No softness.

Just take.

–Get off.– he mutters, barely louder than a breath, but it’s an order.

Madara doesn’t even glance down when her weight lifts. He exhales through his nose, more interested in the car mods Indra’s showing than the girl being dragged off his lap like she’s an accessory that overstayed her use.

Izuna pulls her across the room like she’s weightless.

He drops into the desk chair, leather creaking, and pulls her down with him—hard. One motion. Her knees hit the outside of his thighs. Her breath catches.

Straddling him now.

No space left between them.

His hands are already moving—one sliding under her thigh, the other gripping the back of her neck, fingers pressing into her skin like he wants to fuse her spine to his palm.

He kisses her like he’s punishing her for not doing it first. Rough. Possessive. All teeth and breath, like he’s not chasing pleasure—just control.

She makes a noise. Too soft. Too revealing.

Indra doesn't look up. –You're still using that busted intake?-

Madara scoffs. –Not after last week. Swapped it for the high-flow.–

Izuna’s hand slides higher on her leg. His knee bounces once, jolting her in place, but he doesn’t stop kissing her. Doesn’t speak to her. Doesn’t ask for permission.

Her mouth breaks from his, breathing sharply.

He follows immediately, dragging his mouth along her jaw, down to the base of her throat.

(Y/N) squirms. One of her hands lifts—maybe to push—but Izuna catches it midair and shoves it down against his chest. No room for choices here.

Madara flicks ash from a new cigarette. –Tell me you didn’t cheap out on the suspension.–

Indra snorts. –What do I look like, a charity case? I don’t half-ass anything.–

She’s still trying to breathe right.

Still trying to decide if she’s allowed to move, to speak, to look at them.

But they never told her she could.

Izuna kisses her again, harsher now. Less about her and more about him.

Like she’s just a way to quiet something in his chest.

And the other two don’t even pause their conversation.

Because she’s not important in that room.

Izuna tears her shirt off like it insulted him, the fabric hitting the floor and disappearing from his mind the second it leaves her skin. His fingers find the clasp of her bra, but he doesn’t rush.

He leans in instead, his voice a low rasp against her ear, cruel and amused. –Wearing this shit like you didn’t know what was gonna happen. Fuckin’ clueless. Lemme guess—you’re still a virgin?-

He lets both pieces fall, eyes locked on her, and when she stays silent, when she doesn't even try to lie, something in him lights up.

That stillness… that shame. It answers louder than words.

His laugh slices through the air—sharp, guttural, brutal. One hand wraps around her breast, pinching until she jolts. Over her shoulder, he throws a glance back at the others, grin wicked, unrestrained. –No fucking way! You hear that? She’s still whole. A fucking virgin.–

He keeps laughing, unbothered, cruel. 

And when Indra rises, silent and slow, reaching for her like claiming prey, Izuna doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop him. Just watches as his cousin drags her from his lap, pale and trembling, and tosses her onto the bed like something meant to be used.

She lands hard—bare skin against linen, legs open, breath catching.

Madara rises with the kind of stillness that makes silence feel like violence. –Stupid as hell, aren’t you? Walked right into this without a clue.-

He moves, kneeling where her head rests, his presence suffocating. Then his hand meets her cheek—sharp, deliberate. Not anger. Not discipline. Just because he enjoys the sting it leaves.

Below, Indra peels away what’s left. Her underwear doesn’t slide—it’s torn, split in his fists, not because it’s in the way, but because destruction lives in his blood, and softness never satisfied him.

Izuna tosses something onto the bed with a flick of his wrist, the foil packet landing near her hip like an afterthought. He moves closer, slow and sure, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress without saying a word.

His gaze flicks toward Madara, who’s already getting ride of his clothes with that same clinical precision he applies to everything—swift, sharp, indifferent.

Indra doesn’t even glance her way. He tears the foil open with his teeth, all focus and force, like prep or foreplay doesn’t exist in his vocabulary. Efficiency over empathy. Control over everything else.

Madara doesn’t pause. His voice is flat, commanding—no heat, just pressure, squeezing her cheeks with one hand to signal what he wants. –Open. And don’t even think about using teeth.–

She obeys. Of course she does. There’s no room for protest here, not when their silence is heavier than any threat. Madara positions inside her mouth without care, both hands braced on either side of her ribs as he sets the rhythm, using her body like it’s just a function in the moment.

None of them look at her like a person right now. 

-Pathetic,- Izuna leans back on his palms, smirking. He watches like it’s a show, fingers tightening into the sheets as he waits for his turn, his other hand stroking himself. -Dumb, messy little cumdump. Fuckin’ knew it soon as I saw you.-

Indra finally thrusts into her—one hard, unforgiving motion that wrenches a cry from deep inside her, penetrating with no mercy. Her body jerks beneath Madara’s weight, spine arching in a futile attempt to escape the sudden stretch, the pain, the intrusion.

Above her, Madara growls when her mouth tightens reflexively around him, teeth brushing where they shouldn't.

His palm comes down across her breast, sharp, stinging. 

Indra throws his head back, hips snapping forward again and again, brutal, ruthless, lost in the rhythm he sets for himself. He doesn’t slow. He moves in the way he needs.

Madara’s hips press forward with cruel weight, forcing her to take him deeper.

Izuna watches, eyes fixed, and even with his brother’s ball hitting her eyes and nose, he can see the sheen of tears on her cheeks as she struggles for air.

Her nails dig into Madara’s thighs, desperate, wild—but it only earns her another slap to her breasts, harder this time. -Stay fucking still whore.-

Then he shifts, planting more of his weight on either side of her head, sinking in with full intent until she’s choking on the length of him, throat stretched tight, the shape of his cock visible under that soft skin.

The room fills with slick sounds—wet, messy, brutal gagging.

Only when he decides she’s had enough does he pull back, letting her breathe in broken gasps, eyes glassy, lips red and wet, spit all over her face.

But the reprieve is short. A few seconds, maybe. 

Indra moves like her body is a toy—like it's not even hers to resist anymore. -Useless bitch. Just a hole now, can’t even fight back, can’t even scream right.- One hand bruises her thigh as he spreads her wide, pushing down on her lower belly with the flat of his other palm, forcing her to feel every inch of him inside. Not just the stretch, but the burn, the pressure, the pain and intrusion, the raw throb of something too big and too brutal for her to take quietly, for a first time to be like this. -Bet you’ll start liking it.-

He keeps her open, locked in place beneath him, hands pinning her like prey that tried to run too late. But she still squirms, fights, resists, trembling with the kind of panic that tastes like regret.

Izuna joins without a word. His hands slide over her legs, holding her down beside his cousin—not to comfort, never that, but to steady her, to still her, so Indra can keep taking whatever he wants at the pace he needs.

The air smells like sweat and sex, and the bed creaks under the weight of what she’s being pulled through. Indra’s hand slaps her skin—thighs, hips, anywhere he can reach. With fury, dominance, correction, reminder that she doesn’t get to fight anymore.

When he finishes, he pulls out with a final grunt, knot of tension snapping loose from his spine. He ties off the condom, dripping with a mixture of blood and fluids, and tosses it aside, stripping the last of his clothes as if the heat still burns under his skin. 

The flick of a lighter joins the other sounds while he sits on the edge of the bed, and smoke curls around his face as he leans back, satisfied for now.

Izuna moves in next—not in a rush, but with the slow, deliberate hunger of a wolf circling a weakened doe.

He undresses fully while taking Indra’s previous position, cock already thick and flushed. He presses the head against her slick, swollen folds, not to enter, not yet—but to rub against the mess left behind. -Already fucked stupid, and I haven’t even touched her yet. Bet she’ll still clamp down like a goddamn vice.- Her pussy is red, abused, sensitive after that punishing pace, but he watches the friction, watches her flinch and twitch, watches the way her body reacts to the pain.

Madara finishes too, deep in her throat.

She gags around him, spit and heat and cum dripping from the corners of her lips when he finally pulls away. Some of it lands on her cheek, sliding down her flushed skin as her body collapses onto the bed in a mess of limbs and shaking breath, no hands holding her down or restricting her movements.

She coughs, blinking like she’s trying to remember where she is, what world she just fell into. Her lungs drag in air like it’s her first breath in minutes.

She’s desorientated, traumatized, vulnerable.

Just how the Uchihas like it.

–Where’s the weed?– Madara’s voice is lazy, thick with release, as he stretches against the headboard. 

Indra tosses him a joint with two fingers.

But Izuna’s waited long enough.

He grabs her by the hips and flips her easily, forcing her onto her knees. One palm presses between her shoulder blades, driving her chest to the mattress. –Should’ve thought it through, slut.– His voice is low, dangerous, sick. –Might’ve been gentler if you'd told us “no”.–

He uses the swollen head of his cock, slick with the fluid dripping from her pussy, to glide down her trembling seam—sliding from her freshly stretched opening to that second ring of tense muscle above, untouched, tight, and offering no invitation.

Izuna doesn’t ask. He never has to. He knows what he wants. And he never goes after what someone else has already claimed. –Cover her mouth, cousin. Don’t want neighbors banging on the door or calling Dad.– He says it to Indra, taking a drag from the joint Madara just handed him.

Indra gets the joint next, while working the screaming.

With her mouth muffled beneath the weight of a pillow, breath smothered into the fabric, Izuna takes a path she never imagined was even on offer tonight.

-Hope you’re ready, whore. I’m not the nice one.

Pain sears through her—raw, immediate.

Her body lurches forward on instinct, trying to flee the intrusion. But Madara shifts behind her, gripping her hips and angling her just right for Izuna to push in deeper.

The screams that tear through her are guttural, near animal, but buried in the bedding they go unheard—except by the three guys who crave them. 

Uchiha blood only burns hotter when it hears suffering wrapped in surrender.

Indra gives Madara the joint, all three way too high.

Izuna sinks to the hilt, lost in the impossibly tight hole he’s taken without permission, fully aware he won’t last more than a few thrusts before this little bitch pulls the orgasm out of him. –Gonna sound like a fucking virgin but swear to God… you don’t get how stupidly tight she is.–

The joint finally dies, so Madara drops it into the ashtray and shifts. 

Indra removes the pillow from her face, noticing the screams have fallen silent.

The fabric has done its work—left her pliant, dazed, open. 

Madara slides beneath her with purpose, his movement fluid and silent, and Izuna catches on fast. Together, they lower her hips, positioning her just right. With a slow, deliberate thrust, Madara fills her cunt, the slick drag of dual penetration creating a dark symphony of wet sounds and flesh meeting flesh.

(Y/N) seems to regain consciousness just enough to try and scream, but Indra positions himself inside her mouth, lodging deep and making her choke again. The three move like a trained trio, each taking what they want, how they want it, the girl between them nothing more than a simple object to use and discard.

And eventually, she blacks out for good—maybe from the pain, maybe from the shame, or from the sheer submission her body has been forced to endure.

When each Uchiha finishes one last time, her body is left behind, limp and used, sprawled across the bed like an afterthought.

The three of them clean up and get dressed amid the haze of weed and laughing, already talking about doing it again.

They cover the girl’s limp, unconscious body without ceremony and carry her out to Madara’s car.

The drive is quiet. No one speaks.

At her doorstep, one of them drops her on the porch without a second thought—no concern for the aftermath, no care for what might follow.

After all, this is what happens when you get involved with the Uchiha family

[arjudy224]

Tea Time with Alfred

Context: Alfred has always been a close family friend of your Grandma. After her death both of you haven't been dealing with the grief very well, so you decide to start hanging out more to ease the pain. (Y/G/N: your grandma’s name)

Knocking on the door to Wayne Manor, I fumble with the basket of muffins in my left hand. A very confused Jason opens the door.

"Look Y/N..." He begins awkwardly shifting his balance. Guilt spreads across his sculpted features.

"With love, I'm not here for you." I interrupt putting my hand up to silence him, "Whatever you have to say, save it for another time."

Brushing past him, I wander down the hallway past a dozen or so portraits of the Wayne family. With the high ceilings and shelves filled with books older than my great Grandma, I narrowly get lost in the grandeur. One of the glass shelves catches my attention. A much younger looking Alfred beams up at me while a soaked brunette angrily swats at his shoulder with a shoe. My heart contracts when I recognize the woman. Years before she got sick, Y/G/N was radiant. Although the photo is in black and white, I know for certain she is wearing her faithful orange sweater that was in rags by the time I came around. The photo reads: Alfred's revenge London 1965. My eyes well up with tears at the thought of her being so healthy. The image of how frail she looked in that hospice bed will forever be burned in my heart.

The next photo over shows Alfred, Grandma, and I at my first visit to Gotham. Freshly nine, Gotham was such an adventure. Driving into the city was... nothing short of magical. There may have been crime in every corner, but her stories brought much needed light into the city. My 9 year old self hadn't yet grown into herself. With cracked glasses I had broken moments prior and aggressively neon braces, my fashion had a long way to go. I was probably too big to go on Alfred's shoulders at that point, but he picked me up anyway for the walk around the city. The crowded boardwalk behind us sold the best deep fried oreos in Gotham city. A teenager at the time, Dick had convinced me that the secret ingredient was cocaine... As an adult looking at Gotham city, that joke may not be too far off.

The infamous smell of Alfred's baking grounds me to the present. Dickie isn't stealing my gameboy anymore. He's happily living in Bludhaven revamping their police force. Shit, I really need to call him back. How do you tell someone that if you talk about it there is no guarantee that the crying will ever stop?

It doesn't matter what he’s been saying. It's better to not burden him with this. I take a deep breath to avoid a breakdown. Cookies. Tea time. Glancing at my watch, I realize I'm five minutes late. Classic y/n.

Alfred's back is to me when I finally stumble into the kitchen. A mischievous grin emerges on my face as I creep closer making a conscious effort to silence my footsteps. Jason used to say that watching the two of us sneak up on each other was like watching a cheetah stalking its prey. Of course, Alfred always made it look so easy though. Halfway there....

Stirring a bowl of brownie batter by hand, he calls out to me.

"You've got to do a lot better than that if you want to sneak up on me."

I stifle a laugh throwing my hands up in surrender.

"Sorry Alfie.... Old habits die hard. You would not believe what happened to me today..."

Conversing with the older man fills a void, I have been missing. Telling him about life made everything less scary. If I can spin these horrifying events into a joke during tea time.. well I guess I can survive it.

Alfred isn't one to diverge intense grief, yet I will never forget how heartbroken he was when he explained how painful it was to talk to me. Although our features may be completely different, it was the mannerisms that hurt the most to see: the way I held my hands when I was nervous, the anxious laughter in stressful situations, the silly regency romance novels that sat on my bedside table, the intense hatred of the barren winter... My entire being has been shrouded by her love. For better or worse.

The first couple months, I could almost pretend she wasn't gone. Working two jobs while attending school doesn't give me much time to reflect. However, the holidays left an unspoken hollow void. The empty seat at dinner. The contact I would instinctively dial. The horrible sinking in my chest when I remembered the phone would ring forever.

At the beginning, I think we both pretended we were talking to her. Now as I cackle over his photo collection of Tim falling asleep in public places, I realize how much I love the man who was so important to her. This pain may always stay with me, but what is grief if not love persevering?

[idontplaytrack]

Rejanis request!?! I'm at your service :)

Could you write some angst around Regina finding maybe an old suicide scar or maybe Janis wanting to get a semicolon tattoo? Ofc if that makes you uncomfortable you don't have to write it!

She left that girl at home

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: mature themes. Mentions to suicide, past struggles with mental health. Coarse language, little bit of smut.

“Know a lot of girls

She's not the same

Waist long hair

Hides the pain

And the way she talks

About beauty and change

I still can't believe

What she was up against”

“Hey, Reg? I want to get a new tattoo.”

Regina hummed, “Yeah? What?”

It took Janis a couple of seconds to respond since she was looking in the mirror in front of her to picture where she wanted the new tattoo. “A semicolon.” Janis answered, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she walked over to join Regina on the couch. Regina stopped moving, as though that one word was a big speech that was hard to process.

Janis let out a chuckle at Regina’s concerned expression then nodded, “You know what it means. I got through that part of my life and I’m okay, I’m happier than ever.”

“Was…was it because of…me?”

“A lot of things led up to it. You know how my parents were…fighting all the time. So I was at yours a lot until we fell out. But then I was just home all the time with all the yelling, cursing and swearing, the broken walls and doors and glass. I don’t know, one night…I just lost it. I wanted all that chaos and fear to end, but I had nowhere else to go to. No one else to turn to. You were…my only friend at the time. It felt like it even though I had Karen and Gretchen, because you were the only one I could trust. So…I…attempted.” Janis explained, pushing down the several bracelets on her wrist. Regina looked at it in a whole new light. It was an unspoken fact, how she got those scars on her wrist. But knowing why? Regina’s heart began to hurt.

“It wasn’t because of you, no. It was because somehow, losing my best friend felt like my world came to an end. You gave my life purpose, gave me a safe space. And then shit happened and all that went away without me having any other way to cope.” Janis continued, Regina held onto the brunette’s hands, listening attentively.

“When did that happen?” Regina’s voice was quiet, small. Unheard of for the Apex Predator.

“Like, two, three weeks after I got kicked out of school for lighting your backpack on fire.” Janis replied. A painful lump formed in Reina’s throat. She gulped, eyes glossing over with tears. “I’m okay.” Janis squeezed her hand.

“Anyway, I woke up in the hospital. And my Dad, he uh, I’ve never seen him cry in my life. I saw him sobbing. Then he saw me, awake. He hugged me. I don’t remember him showing me any affection growing up. And as shocked as I was, I needed that hug. Other than for the obvious reason, he also later told me Mom gave him divorce papers to sign. He signed them, we moved out into an apartment after I got released from the psych ward. The last time I saw my mom… was at dinner the night I ended up in the hospital. I don’t know where she went, but I was glad to have her out of my life. She…”

“She was a bitch, I know. You put tinsel in your hair and she freaked the fuck out and cussed you out.”

“She only wanted me to talk to her in Hawaiian.” Janis recalled, “It was so hard because no one else used it at home, and she just expected me to know. Well she tried to teach me at one point but I could never really sit still, so.”

“Well now you’re pretty much fluent.” Regina remarked, brushing her thumb over her knuckles, “So jokes on her, she was just pushing you too hard and had too little patience.”

“Yeah, Dad taught me. Spending summers here at home definitely helped.”

“So when are you planning on getting the new tattoo?”

“Well…I already have an appointment for tomorrow to get the traditional tattoo so I’m just going to ask while I’m there if they’re okay to do the semicolon for me too. Otherwise I’ll just find another place around here or go back another day.”

Regina liked the fact that the heaviness didn’t linger. Janis said she was okay, and she was. She was more than just ‘okay’. Her girlfriend was thriving, as was she. “Alright.” Regina nodded, leaning closer to press a kiss to the artist’s lips. “That was a pretty heavy conversation.” Janis started, “If you need a minute to just…feel, I get that. I can go to the other room for a bit.”

“It was, but thank you for telling me all of that. Thank you for trusting me, thank you for still being here. I love you.”

“I know, I know you do. I love you too.” Janis kissed her back, stroking the blonde’s cheek with her thumb.

Regina broke away from the kiss with a smile, “Are you nervous? About the tattoo? The traditional one. It looks very intricate.”

“Little bit.” Janis admitted, chuckling, “It’ll be worth it. It’ll mean a lot to me too, to have that part of my culture be a part of me.”

Their evening went on to be great. They had dinner at a fancy restaurant for the night— Regina made the reservation to give Janis a treat. And with the view of the ocean? Warm breeze blowing in their face? They couldn’t have felt more content.

After dinner came a walk on the beach near where they were staying for the remainder of the trip. They were staying with Janis’ family in the beginning but then moved over to a hotel after a week because they wanted some privacy. “Do you ever think about moving home?”

“I do, and I did. But I need more…opportunities. I don;t think I could get that here, though. Spent five years of my life here before uprooting to Chicago now we’re living in New York, as much as it sounds like a cliche. That’s where I could see me, be myself.”

“I agree with you, it’s a nice place to be. For creative things, the food, broadway shows. You said you’ve only ever seen The Lion King the whole time you lived here. I get it.” Regina chimed in, “We’re building a pretty great life for ourselves right now.”

They’ve been together coming up to a year now, and with a year left until college is officially done. So far, everything looks pretty damn good. After a good thirty minutes on the beach, the pair trekked back to their hotel before the sun fully set. They took a shower together, got dressed in comfy pyjamas and cuddled together under the covers to watch some TV to end off their night. Or not.

An innocent peck on the cheek swiftly turned into something longing and passionate. Regina kissed her over and over, slowly easing her onto her back, their lips never separated. “You wanna?” Regina muttered.

“Yeah.” Janis nodded eagerly, kissing Regina harder. Regina laughed, and retaliated. Janis moaned softly, making Regina want to hear more of that.

“I love you.”

“Mm.” Regina hummed, “I know, I know you do.”

“Fuck.” Janis whined, “Fuck me.”

Regina squished the smaller girl’s face by holding her chin, “As you wish.”

Their trip to Hawaii was much needed. It was Regina’s first time meeting Janis’ extended family and got to know them. But getting to know Janis like that, her opening up that much? Regina just wound up feeling more love and admiration for her girl.

“Good to be home.” Janis sighed, dropping her duffle bag on the hardwood floors.

“I actually can’t wait to go back.” Regina admitted.

“Yeah?” Janis chuckled, “The humidity didn’t bother you?”

“Well, actually the weather was pretty damn good for my back.”

“Oh, that’s true.” Janis recalled, smiling then leaning in for another kiss, “We’ll go back on our next break. Promise.”

🏷️Tag list:

@arandomeee @ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

This one turned out way shorter than I thought it would. I’m sorry😭

[artatruc]

I just watched the first episodes of the new Devil may cry anime and here's my live reaction to the episodes if you want to hear me ramble about my favorite franchise as i descend into madness (it's not that bad actually from the 2 episodes i've seen)

Episode 1

-Too much exposition

-Why is there politicians in my demon hunting show

-When you're happy we're finally getting a Dante centered thing because it's been a while and they hit you with random politicians talking for 30 minutes and 2 to 3 minutes of dante

-Loving my 2 minutes of Dante though

-TOO MUCH EXPOSITION

-Why did they name drop New York, where is my time and place blurry world building, like every place we saw in the games/novels where based on real places but weren't real places like Mallet island, Dumary Island, Fortuna, Red Grave. Also not every show has to be set in New York ok netflix

-Again who put these politicians in my demon hunting show and why are they talking about irrelevent things like demon dna and the quantum physics of opening portals to hell i don't want science i want dante

-Vergil introduced way too fast where is the mystery netflix? We don't need answers right away mystery is not a crime i beg of you stop over explaining all the lore in the very first episode

Episode 2:

-Cool that they introduced Dante's mercenary past from the novel

-Jet pack boots thingy Lady??? (She looks really cool tho)

-The dialogues are very netflix show coded, not insufferable but it can get annoying at time

-Why are they introducing so many random characters can we see Dante for more than 2 minutes per episode

-Enzo you little rat (very in character tho)

-After another painful 10 minutes of politicians we are allowed a minute of dante, how lucky, now let's wait another 20 minutes before seeing him again

-I don't really see Dante opening up to people that much

-Ok a Dante scene longer than 2 minutes WE ARE SO BACKK

-Dante's backstory in episode 2, again, a bit of mystery won't kill us netflix

-Billiards fighting scene yess that's what we want to see, Dante and his over the top "never let them know your next move" fighting style

-"who are we shooting at" ok that was actually funny

-Why is lady swearing so much and acting like an angsty teenager (i guess she IS an angsty teenager but still)

-She said shit and fuck so much that's very netflix animated show coded and i'm not a big fan of that brand of edgy writing

-There's a bunch of random people introduced like i wouldn't mind 1 or 2 new people but this show doesn't even focus on the main character. Can't we have 1 DMC media centered around dante (that's not 2 decades old)

-Nooo Dante is not stupid, even if he didn't know his dad was a demon he'd still know he's part demon like come on, insane regenerative power/super strenght/etc... he can put 2 and 2 together

-Cyber jetpack boots and now hologram traps, netflix you listen, not every show has to be cyperpunk

Anyways despite all my complaints the show is fun so far and it's not canon anyway, so far i'd give it a 7/10 (could have been an 8 maybe if there wasn't so much exposition and again ??politicians???)

[smaller-comfort]

For the WIP ask thing:

1, 2, 10, 11 (!!! Shovel Knight, of course!), 12, annnd 17. Really, I wanna know ALL the SoS WIPs, but let's start off with these.

Whew, okay, let's go!

Staycation/Monday

Me: I can definitely come up with enough fun kinky scenarios to write a week's worth of stories for Aephorul's vacation

Also me: he's a 45 year old man with chronic back pain, there's no way he's having this much sex on the floor without suffering Consequences. By Wednesday he's going to be too sore to get out of bed and Resh'an is going to be anemic from blood loss.

Anyway, Monday is the petplay story. I am currently stuck at a crossroads: do I write some relatively straightforward smut with collars and leashes and a dash of breeding kink? Or do I commit to Resh'an's sexual dysfunction, and the fact that he's really not supposed to orgasm until Friday- in which case I will have to figure out how to describe one of these, and its wearable counterpart. (link is very nsfw.)

The other staycation wips that I've made some progress on are the play piercing and shibari scene and the nipple torture/caning/general bondage scene. Plus a little bit of Friday, which is when they see how many times Resh'an can come after being stuck in a cage all week. (spoiler: they lose count.)

A scene that I want to write for them eventually, but maybe not within the Staycation series, is where they do some silly Mad Scientist roleplay- because even in this AU, there's going to be tentacle sex, damnit.

2. I fuckin hate the eagles, man

This is actually mostly a Messenger wip, and is the sequel to Hotel California. The title is, uh. because. Hotel California-> The Eagles-> The Great Eagle-> everything is Resh'an's fault-> I think I'm very funny-> at some point they're going to watch The Big Lebowski during movie night in the Tower of Time. There are currently 4 wips in that file; the first is a scene I didn't include in HC, where Ninja and Arty talk about the Sunken Shrine.

The second one is the Monk/Ninja pegging fic. Ninja can't even spell "PTSD", nevermind "queerplatonic". It's fine. He'll be fine! Eventually. Probably. ...maybe.

Third wip is the Ninja/Phantom smut, which is mostly just a wholesome good time for everybody, but Ninja does still cry during sex. I'm sorry, I keep doing this to him, I can't seem to help it.

The fourth one isn't even a wip, it's just a scene where Ninja meets Resh'an and hits on him. I feel like this one might be your fault, honestly. If this ever goes anywhere, I swear Ninja won't cry about it. Resh'an might, though.

--

"So are you like. A skeleton under there?"

Resh'an laughed. "Sometimes. I can use alchemy to temporarily approximate my living body. It doesn't work for very long, though."

"Can I see?" Resh'an wasn't a Blue Robe; there wasn't any taboo about asking to see his face.

"I- I suppose so." Resh'an seemed a little taken aback at the question. He fiddled with his alchemy vial for a moment. "I haven't done this in a while, give me a minute-"

Watching people do magic never got old. Maybe in a few hundred years he'd graduate to being ready to learn it himself; it was something to look forward to.

When the glowy light from the spell faded, Resh'an tugged down his face mask and squinted a little.

"Oh- wow. You're cute!" Shit. But the Archivist was- he'd been expecting a wrinkled old man, not this bright-eyed, adorable nerd.

"I- what?" Resh'an's eyes widened; he lifted a hand to touch his face. "Th-thank you?"

---

10. all we need of hell

This is part 4 of parting is all we know of heaven, which is the series where all of my B'st/Resh'an fic takes place. As the title kind of suggests, this one is a bit darker than the rest of the series; I get to dig into B'st's backstory a little, and all of the things he's kept hidden from Resh'an over the years. Aephorul shows up and is awful. (Everybody gets to be a little bit awful in this one, actually!) Resh'an has a few moments of badassery, but they're tempered with an equal number of moments where he's a sad wet rag.

Here he is being badass:

----

Aephorul's laughter came out as a dry hiss. “Are you threatening me?”

“I'm making a statement of fact.” The time shards hanging in the air all had razor sharp edges.

Aephorul leaned a little closer, as if he were examining Resh'an. “You're actually serious. How novel! What would you even do, I wonder?”

Resh'an narrowed his eyes. The ground beneath them began to shake, just a faint, distant tremor at first, followed by a shrieking howl.

The mountain broke open. In the heart of the shattered earth was something terrible, and hungry-

“Are you out of your mind?”

-snap-

The ground beneath them began to shake, just a faint, distant tremor at first, followed by a shrieking howl.

The mountain broke open. A darkness yawned open in the depths of the shattered earth, swallowing up the remains of the mountain, the fortress, the continent. Magma burst forth explosively, sublimating into superheated plasma. Reality warped around them, as the dead star Resh'an had summoned began to devour the planet.

-snap-

The ground began to shake.

“Stop! Stop- enough- are you mad- Fine!” Aephorul sat on a fallen piece of masonry with his head in his hands. “Fine. I'll help you. What do you want, Resh'an.”

----

11. shovel knight

There are 2 wips in this file. The first is Donovan/Luan, with an "and there was only one bed" recurring scenario taken to ridiculous extremes. I don't know if this one will actually end with them getting together or if it just stays angsty and one-sided; most of what I've written so far has just been Donovan in a state of "Oh fuck oh no he's hot".

The second is the one where Specter gets gang banged by the Enchantress and the Knights of No Quarter. Most of them, anyway. The Enchantress is probably going to mind control anyone who tries to protest or decline. Specter gets to keep his helmet on, but that's pretty much the only mercy he gets here. (I keep thinking of ways to make this one much, much worse but I'm probably going to chicken out.)

17. isolation

Oh god, okay, this file is a mess. Most of it is more B'st/Resh'an in the parting universe, although it's probably more of an AU to that series than anything else. A lot of it is wildly self indulgent Resh'an angst, where he ends up reenacting some of the abuse he experienced at Aephorul's hands with B'st, and it's kind of fucked up and unhealthy for everyone involved. There's also an angsty breakup scene, unrelated to the psychosexual torture. And there's a fairly innocuous and cute scene where they meet up on the Vespertine and Hortense roasts Resh'an mercilessly.

Like I said, a mess.

There's also this bit of Messenger wip, which is extremely silly but I don't really care. This might get thrown into I fuckin hate the eagles, man.

---

The Key of Love was melting.

“Arty! A little help over here?” he yelled.

He heard a few loud clanks from the workroom behind him. The music note dripped slowly onto the floor, leaving a glassy pink puddle on the ground. Ninja looked around frantically for a bucket or something- it couldn't be good to have the embodiment of divine love just kind of slopped all over the floor.

The last bit of the floating music note dripped onto the floor. Ninja stared at the puddle. It stared back.

“What the-” He jumped back and drew his sword. The puddle rippled, blinked, and began to rise up from the ground. Shit. “Shit. Arty! Prophet! C'mon, you guys, Monk is too busy making out with Shopkeeper- shit-”

One last crash from behind him, and Arty finally popped across the hall. “What's going on over he- B'ST!”

Ninja startled a little as Arty launched himself at the hulking mass that had been the Key of Love. It sprouted a pair of arms and caught him with a clang, and staggered back on two blocky legs from Arty's momentum.

The leap had knocked Arty's hood askew; his froggy face was beaming, and now he was talking too fast to really follow- "I searched the crypt six times and I couldn't find you, but all my calculations said you had to make it, Shopkeeper even said Prophet might have been wrong but I knew it, I knew you would make it, you're here, you finally came back, you have to meet everybody and we can show you the thing and-"

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