#playing around with patterns!! it is now an addiction..

[quinttyz]

THE HERALD OF BERATH AND HER 2 UNFORTUNATE COLLEAGUES

[tonycries]

Never Ever Seen This Before!

Synopsis. There’s a first time for everything - including trying out dirty little kínks with them.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cóckwarming, mating press, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, marking, spitting, bóndage, spanking (Nanami’s), dynamics, degradation, cúmplay, squírting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. *sigh* can’t believe I deleted this before. If you know, then YOU KNOW.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Stay still, goddammit!

Was being stuffed full of your boyfriend’s thick cock at all times really too much to ask? You think not. 

Toji, however, really didn’t see the point.

“But, doll.” he groans, dragging his tip lazily in-between your swollen folds. And it was so sloppy - slick trailing down his length, smearing across the sheets. “Jus’ wanna fuck your pretty lil’ cunt.”

It’s not that Toji doesn’t like the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. No, he loves it - is addicted even. And he loves it especially when you attack him in the morning like this - his pretty girl, all splayed out on her side, barely even blinking the sleep out of her eyes before you ache for his dick. 

But, really, what’s the use of staying still - he’d rather fuck you till you’re breathless and creaming around his cock.

“Toji, you promised we’d try. Jus’ want to be stuffed full of your cock.” you pout, batting your lashes behind at him. “Don’ make me go on a sex ban.”

Oh, you little minx. He knew all your dirty tricks - yet, fell for them each time anyway. “Fine. Then fucking-” he lifts your legs a little higher, hips pulling back ever-so-slightly. “Take it.”

You barely even hear the rest of his sentence because Toji’s immediately bullying his throbbing dick into your pussy. Pushing against the resistance as you struggle to take his thick cock, not stopping till he’s buried all the way in your wet cunt.

Smirking at the way you mewl and grind your hips back into his, he wraps two muscled arms around your waist, holding you still on his cock. Murmuring in your ear, low and gravelly, “Not s’pposed to move, doll. Remember?

God, he knows you feel the way he twitches inside your dripping cunt at the way you whisper out a shaky little, “Y-yeah. No moving.”

And stubbornly you grit your teeth, being able to do nothing more than clamp down so deliciously on Toji’s pulsing cock as you stay still, relishing in the burn of him stretching you impossibly.

And maybe it’s been minutes - or even hours, because God did it feel that way to Toji as he watched you being broken by the mere feeling of being split apart on his cock. Patience slowly waning, he snakes down a hand to your poor, forgotten clit. Index tracing lightly over the sensitive bud. 

“T-Toji what-” you immediately jolt, finally getting an ounce of the friction your cunt has been aching for this whole time. Mindlessly grinding into his erection - only to be stopped by a large hand on your hip. 

“No moving, doll. Remember?”

“But-”

“Didn’t say anything about playing with your pretty lil’ clit now, did you?” he hums, knowing you were playing right into his hands. “Now. Don’t move.”

Ah, you can do nothing but lay there and take it as Toji presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Fingers starting to press, frantic, hard little circles on your swollen clit. Over and over- Like he was fucking you with his fingers the way he couldn’t with his dick. 

Ugh, damn him. Damn him and his fingers that knew you so well.

It was maddening.

“Toji- please.” you sob out, powerless against the bruising grip keeping you in place. You wanted to move. You wanted him so bad. 

“‘Please’ what?” he grunts. Clearly torn between focusing on drawing steady, agonizing patterns on your clit and fighting that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy over and over. Not stopping till you were cockdrunk and crying to cum.

“Please just fuck me- ah!”

Oh, you didn’t have to tell Toji twice. Because in one, fluid move, Toji’s pulling back, fucking you with harsh, jerky little movements of his hips. Twitching balls smacking you with each thrust. Not even caring to wait and let you adjust because fuck cockwarming, he’s wanted this so long and your needy lil’ pussy is milking him so good- “Shhh, it’s okay, doll. We have lotsa time to practice.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - So mean!

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. Always holding the door open, guiding you through crowds, gifting you bouquets even when there wasn’t a special occasion. 

The only problem was that Nanami was a gentleman even when you didn’t want him to be. Even when what you really wanted was for him to push you down and tease you till you were crying and begging for his cock. 

Like right now - kissing softly down your neck, large hands trailing across your skin as he lays you gently on your bed. Long fingers dipping into your soaked panties, drawing delicate patterns on your quivering thighs. But you’re not in the mood for delicate.

“K-Kento!” you whine, hips bucking into his featherlight touches. “Can we ah- do that thing we talked about?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, darling.” he murmurs against your skin. 

You let out a pouty whine, one that you knew would make him break. “But I want you to, Kento. Wan’ you to break me. Please.”

He lets out a resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair. A loaded second of silence passes. One. Two. And just as you’re about to admit defeat, surprisingly, it’s Nanami that breaks the silence. “Fine then. Face down, ass up if you want to act like such a lil’ slut.”

You scramble to do what he says, mind reeling from the fact that oh this was Nanami - the same Nanami who’d never raised his voice or ever called you anything other than terms of endearment.

“Hm, good.” he grits out.

And that’s all you hear before a deafening rip! rings through the heady room. Looking back in shock, you realize with a jolt that Nanami had your tattered panties in his hands, your dripping cunt on full display for him. 

As he positions himself behind you, resting his swollen cock the curve of your ass. Mindlessly, you push back against the feeling of Nanami’s achingly hard cock, hot and heavy on your skin, precum smearing everywhere. “Ken-”

Smack!

“Not Kento, darling.” he murmurs, palms smoothing over your ass. Lips kissing down your spine, in a way that would be so sweet if it wasn’t for the way he had you under his mercy. 

You let out a strangled moan at the sharp sting, his large handprint searing into your skin.  “S-sir?” you whisper, almost-experimentally. And oh was it the right answer - because he groans appreciatively, dick jumping so animalistically at the term leaving your swollen lips. 

“Oh? So my slutty girl does know how to be good, huh?” he murmurs, voice so uncharacteristically dangerous. Hands spreading your swollen folds to take in the sight of your wet pussy. “Shit. Since m’feeling so nice, count to five n’ I’ll fill that tight lil’ cunt with my cock.”

You barely have the time to wonder what he means before you feel a sharp slap against your ass. Forcing you to yelp out a strained little, “O-one, sir.”

Nanami hungry eyes greedily take in the fat tears clinging to your lashes, hips bucking into his for more. Your mouth dropping into such a delicious little oh! as you’re torn between pain and pleasure. 

You were so sweet falling apart underneath him that he can’t help but do it again. Smack! And again. Smack! 

“Two. Hah! N’ t-three.”

Good, now it was time to put his good girl to the test. 

With a low hiss of appreciation, he drags his throbbing cock across your wet folds, gathering your sweet juices on his tip. At the same time, Nanami’s hand connects with your ass again. Hard. Smack! 

“Ah! Oh-”

“Count.”

“Four! Ngh- four, sir.”

Nanami’s amusement spikes at the way you were so desperately rutting into his cock. And, well, what his pretty slut wants - she gets, right?

Several things happen at once,  he swiftly raises his hand for a final, hard smack. Hips reeling back ever-so-slightly to ram his cock into your snug cunt at the same time. Smack! 

“Ah! Kento- Kento hgnh- shit feel s’good inside me.” you mewl, drunk off both the sharp sting on your ass and Nanami bullying his thick cock into your tight pussy, filling you up so good. 

But not for long - because as soon as he was stuffing you full of his cock, Nanami’s pulling out just as fast. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you whirl behind to pout at him. Only for whatever whine to get stuck in your throat at two fingers shoving something flimsy and wet in your mouth. Forcing you to taste yourself.

Gagging around your soaked panties, a jolt runs down your spine at the positively feral glint in his eyes. Blinking away the tears in your eyes to take in the cruel little smile playing on his lips as he leans in closer to whisper, “My lil’ slut can’t even seem to remember what to call me, huh? I think she should be punished.”

Oh.

What have you done?

♡ GETO SUGURU - Drown me in it!

Geto Suguru has done it all - folded you in half, stuffed you full from all ends, had you begging and crying for more underneath him. He can confidently say that he hasn’t shied away from ticking off everything on the list.

That is until one random night in the shower, when he gets an epiphany - oh shit, Geto hasn’t made you squirt yet. Yes, it was the sudden image of you covering him in all your sweet juices. But more importantly - how dare he let his pretty girl go so long without cumming so hard you see the pearly gates of heaven? 

So - like any good boyfriend - Geto has you splayed out on his navy sheets, your legs in the air, his painfully hard cock buried in your dripping cunt. 

“Hngh- please. Shit shit shit m’cumming-” you whine, hips bucking wildly into his. Tears streaming down your face, clenching so hard around his dick that it makes it hard for Geto to thrust in and out at his steady, torturous rhythm. Fucking you through- which number orgasm was this again? 

Ah, it doesn’t matter - because you didn’t squirt. Again. 

“Awww…” you can barely hear his words over the blood roaring in your ears. “Didn’t squirt on that one either. C’mon now, my love, I know y’can do it f’me.”

Not wasting a second, Geto’s ramming his cock into your snug cunt once more. Heavy balls stinging your ass with each thrust - not even easing you into it any more because oh your little sobs were so pretty. Squirming and bucking into his touch despite your protests. “S-Sugu- I hah-, can’t-”

Now, as much as Geto loved your smart mouth - he loved it even more when you’re cockdrunk and babbling underneath him. Huffing out a laugh, he murmurs in your ear, “Yes, my love?” Veins grazing that one spot. Hard. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t cum anymore!”

Well - greedy gaze drinking in the way your swollen cunt swallowed him up so well, slick dripping down to his twitching balls - Geto begged to differ.

“Shut up. You will.” he mutters, shifting the angle to hit that one spot that has you gasping and bucking your hips for more. Your fists bunching up the soaked sheets below you, fucking yourself desperately into his throbbing cock. Curling deftly against that one spot. Over and over-

“Close, my love?” Geto sing-songs, “Think this could be the one?”

And oh does he find out. Because you’re cumming again - stars behind your eyes, walls clamping down so sinfully as he fucks you through your high. Your nails claw at his shoulders in an effort to get him to fucking slow down - but no, Geto is ruthless with his abuse. Hips faltering only once you show signs of your high bating. 

And before you can even react, your boyfriend’s starting his movements again. Milking himself on your heavenly pussy. 

You can’t even form coherent sentences at this point, only fucked-out whimpers leaving your swollen lips - it’s been like this for hours now. You’ve cum more times than you can probably count, yet here Geto was - not even once tonight. A slow, agonizing torture for the both of you. All because he wanted you to fucking squirt.

His thumb was ravaging your sensitive clit, pleasure nothing more than tingles now as Geto fucking ruins you. Hips bullying his thick cock into your heated pussy, thrusts no more than sloppy little movements. Your pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor.

Unforgiving. Geto Suguru was absolutely unforgiving. 

“C’mon, my love.” his words were so sweetly whispered in your ear - barely audible over your cries. Geto nips at your earlobe, purring lowly, “Squirt on this one, n’ I’ll fill your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum like you want s’bad.”

And then, it happens - something snaps.

Your orgasm crashes through you. So violent and hard that you see flashes of white behind your eyes. You cry out, trembling as your sloppy pussy squirts all over Geto. Covering him in all your sweet juices till his abs are glistening with your slick. Dripping down his body and absolutely soaking the sheets below.

And oh how he was entranced. Geto barely registers his own orgasm, hips faltering as he pumps thick, hot ropes of seed into your quivering cunt. Cumming at the mere sight of you creaming on his cock. His pretty girl was so gorgeous squirting all over him.

It was so so worth edging the both of you to the brink of insanity. He thinks his only regret was not having you squirt all over his face too.

Well…now he only had to see if he could do it twice.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Lollipop!

Shit, you thought your best friend would have a huge dick - but this was ridiculous. 

So intimidatingly long and pretty, swollen tip flushed your favorite shade of pink, matching his blushing cheeks. Beads of precum leaking down, down, down the side so mouth-wateringly as you seat yourself in-between those sculpted thighs.

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” Choso hisses, despite the way his cock throbs animalistically in your soft hands. 

You raise a brow, batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently. “Are you sure, Cho? S’your first, after all.”

He should say no. He should laugh it off as a joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his dick. Have you choking and gagging around him. So, any rationality thrown out the window, Choso nods slowly. Entranced. 

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, hot breath making his angry cock twitch “Thought so.” 

“But are you su- hngh!” Whatever sentence at the tip of his tongue is cut off as you spit on his length. Once. Twice. Your palms smearing the saliva along his throbbing length. Enough of an answer. And then there’s no more talking. 

Choso’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief as your tongue darts out to collect the saliva and precum pooling at his head. 

Moaning at his slightly salty taste, you take in as much of him as you can - inch by fucking inch. Not stopping till your nose meets the small tufts of black hair at this toned pelvis. Because this was your devastatingly sexy best friend and he deserved the best. 

God, Choso already thinks he could pass out. 

Heavy balls squeezing so painfully, his veins graze against the roof of your mouth as you start bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless pace. Milking Choso’s pretty cock for all he’s worth. Not even easing him into his first, because fuck only one taste and you’re already addicted. 

So, really, it only makes sense that Choso was the same. “Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good hngh-” he babbles, hips bucking up involuntarily into your warm, plush mouth. “Shit shit shit oh-.” 

Was this what heaven felt like? He really was missing out.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, feel s’good around me, sweetheart.” he groans, as you tongue at his sensitive slit. Fingers digging into the soft armrest while he tries to keep himself together.

You notice - of course you do - because soon enough you’re grabbing his arms to rest on your head, teary eyes blinking up at him so sinfully as you suck the soul out of him. 

In a split-second, Choso’s carding his fingers through your hair, holding you steady as he rams his cock down your throat. 

“Fuck- m’s-sorry, sweetheart. S’too ngh- fucking good.” his words slur together, drunk off the way you gag around him. Letting yourself be so used as he fucks your mouth so ferally. Not half the man he was just a moment ago.

By God were you a vision, he thinks deliriously - tears stinging your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, lips stretching so lewdly around him as you take him in and out in and out in and- And if he angled your head just right he could see the bulge in your throat. Him - all him. “Sorry- ah! s’pretty hgnh- pretty when you’re full of my cock.”

“Gonna be m’first, huh?” he moans deliriously, “”Gonna let me fuck up into that pretty lil’ mouth whenever I want?” 

The only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles, and the smacking of his heavy balls hitting your chin. This was heaven and you were an angel.

And that only makes Choso speed up his sloppy thrusts more. Each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Balls tightening, feeling his sanity crumbling away each time his throbbing erection hits the back of your throat. Over and over-

“Ah! Sweetheart- m’not gonna last long. M’close-” he lets out a guttural groan, tugging on your hair to pull you away.

But alas, you seemed every bit intent on ruining him. Because the only response he gets are your nails digging deeper into his milky hips, leaving angry, red marks in their wake. Ones for him to remember you by - not that he thinks he could ever forget this.

And that itself is enough to have Choso spilling into your mouth. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed down your waiting throat. 

Messy. It was so fucking messy.

Heart in his throat, breaths ragged, Choso has to blink his vision back. And if he thought he was going to pass out before then he wasn’t ready for you to proudly stick out your tongue - showing absolutely no trace of his cum. Swallowing everything he gives.

“I-I think,” he starts, voice shot, “S’time for me to return the favor.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Drunk on you(r cunt)!

Why the hell would the King of Curses ever kneel down to anyone? 

Why would he ever wrestle your legs so shamefully open, dive nose-first into your pretty pussy, and tease you with his tongue for hours? Ignoring his angry, achingly hard cock for the sole purpose of making you cum and only making you cum?

But, well, that’s exactly what happened. 

“Oh- Kuna! Please-” you mewl, big fat tears dripping down your face at this point. Not knowing whether to move your hips away or buck up into his tongue for more more more-

“What now, brat?” he hums into your dripping cunt, vibrations making you squeal. “Complained that I don’t eat out your pretty lil’ cunt n’ now you’re acting so spoiled?”

Ah, there it was - that offhand little remark that got you into this mess. “B-but,” you whine, stars behind your eyes each time Sukuna laps at your sweet juices. “Didn’t think you’d be so mean-”

All you get is a dark chuckle as Sukuna sucks on your throbbing clit, so sensitive from his relentless abuse. Rolling his tongue over it so teasingly. 

Now, this might be his first time eating you out, but he knows exactly what you need - what you crave. And the way your body trembled under his touch told Sukuna everything about how you were brinking so dangerously close to the edge. Too close. 

“Please, Kuna! Wan’ cum s’bad.” you cry out, broken little moans of pleasure leaving your swollen lips. Ones which quickly turn into disappointed whines as he pulls away. Again.

“M’not being mean.” he murmurs in your ear, drinking in that adorable little pout on your face. 

In the haze of your lust-addled mind, you barely register the way he flips you two to lay on his back. Manhandling you further up the mattress you to be splayed out so sinfully above him - thighs straddling his devastatingly handsome face, hot breath hitting your dripping cunt.

“See?” Sukuna hums, tongue darting out to catch the obscene drip! drip! drip! of your slick. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “M’the best fucking boyfriend you’ll ever have.” And with that, he’s bullying his tongue through your swollen fold. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over-

“Ngh- feels s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Sukuna’s tongue. 

Why was he so reluctant again? Something about stupid fucking pride? Fuck that, Sukuna would be on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal.

God, you were pretty sure you’d be collapsing onto him if it wasn’t for the strong hand holding your hips. Grip almost bruising as he rocks you harder - more obscenely - on his tongue. The other snakes down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your swollen clit - as if you weren’t losing your sanity enough

And maybe if you were in a better state of mind you’d have noticed that Sukuna was, too. Eyes half-lidded, slick glistening down his jaw, pussy-drunk and watching awe-struck at the sinful sight of you. Devouring the sight of you the way he was with your cunt. 

Fuck, why does this feel so good? He wasn’t even fucking getting off, but the more he made out with your sweet cunt, the more he could feel himself edging closer and closer to the edge. Rock-hard cock angry and leaking precum all over his abs. The great Ryomen Sukuna cumming in his pants from eating his pretty girl out? 

Shit, Sukuna thinks deliriously, he was gonna have to make you cum. Soon. 

“Kuna- m’close.” you whimper, voice so soft as if you were afraid of being teased again.

“Oh yeah, brat?” he mutters into your folds, “Want it s’badly, huh? Wan’ cum on my tongue?” 

The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Yes yes yes! Can’t take it anymore, wan’ cum. Make me cum, please!” you keen. Fucked-out little whines of Sukuna’s name leaving your mouth as he speeds up his movements.

“Then cum.”

And you are, clenching so lewdly around his soft tongue as you ride out your high on his face. Your juices glossing his lips so prettily. And oh Sukuna’s so entranced by you creaming around his tongue that he almost misses the feel of thick, hot spurts of his cum now pooling on his abs. Fuck, he was going to have to do this very often.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Break him!

Gojo always fucked you like his own personal sextoy. And now, it was only time for you to pay back the favor. Which is why you had him handcuffed to the bed, shirtless and splayed out to absolutely fucking ruin. 

“Hah, don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle.” Gojo chuckles, tugging on the metal cuffs. Still so cocky despite the way his throbbing dick was leaking all over his sculpted abs, twitching at the mere sound of your voice. 

“How nice.” you hum, sliding your pussy across his swollen cock, drenching him in your juices. “Because I won’t be.” And before Gojo can retort, you’re sinking down on his achingly hard cock, squeezing him inside your tight cunt as much as you can. 

“Shit shit shit, yes. Your pretty lil’ pussy feel s’amazing wrapped around me. You sure you can handle it all, baby?” 

You waste no time. Slamming down on Gojo’s leaking cock in one, abrupt motion, walls burning at the stretch as your ass meets his heavy balls. They twitch against you as you start moving in steady little bounces, sliding his thick cock in and out of your dripping cunt. In out in and out in and-

“Shit, baby. Fuckin’ me s’good ah! Hngh-” Gojo’s sinful moans come in ragged bursts. Fucking up into your pussy in shallow, defiant little thrusts to bully himself deeper and deeper inside you. But not for long - because you’re pushing his hips down, nails digging into the milky skin of his hips.

“Nope.” you hum, grinning at his pout. “Not till you admit defeat, Toru.”

“What defeat? That all you got, baby?” Gojo scoffs.

Stubborn bastard.

“‘What defeat’, huh?” you taunt. Leaning down so your breath fans his pretty face, “Said I couldn’t- handle it-” Each word is punctuated by you slamming down hard onto his swollen cock. Snug cunt massaging his veins as you pull up all the way - till his leaking tip is just kissing your sloppy hole, rocking your hips down hard at a punishing pace. “Look at you now, huh?”

You risk a glance into his eyes and oh- he liked it.

The great Gojo Satoru - revered like a God since birth - liked being treated like a mere fucktoy at your hands. Loved it even - if the way he twitched inside you was anything to go by it. Oh how you enjoyed being the one to bring him down to his knees.

Immediately, your hand reaches to grab the blindfold hanging haphazardly on his neck. “C’mon, Toru.” you warn, breaths ragged at the way his fat tip kissed your cervix. Tugging - hard - Gojo breath hitches in his throat as you whisper, “Jus’ give up.”

His pretty lips part slightly as you speed up your movements. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out. 

“God, fuck- hah. Nah, more talk than walk, huh?”

Your hand tightens around the delicate blindfold, relishing in the wet little gurgles that leave him at the pressure around his throat. Balls squeezing painfully as you hypnotize him with your heavenly cunt. Alternating between agonizingly slow strokes and a sloppy, erratic bouncing - edging him closer and closer to the edge. Only to shatter his orgasm and his ego. Fuck.

“I know you want to cum, Toru.” your sweet voice snaps him out of his reverie, and Gojo stares up into your hazy, powerdrunk eyes. “Just admit defeat.”

“No.”

“Toru.” you start, sultry and dangerous. “Admit it.”

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out through those long lashes. “No.” he repeats, jaw clenched tight.

A hand wraps around his blindfold, pulling him impossibly closer, not even a hair’s breadth between your sticky bodies. “Admit defeat, Toru.” your lips ghosting his, nipping at his bottom lip. “Admit defeat, n’ I’ll make your cock cum hard enough to see stars.”

And finally, “I hah- a-admit defeat.”

“Louder.”

“I was wrong! Was wrong, m’girl. Lemme cum please lemme cum-”

Throwing his head back, Gojo’s hips buck wildly into yours as you let him bully his dick into you with reckless abandon. Over and over- Using you just as much as you were using him. Not even an ounce of the God he was raised to be.

And oh does Gojo see stars - and you do too. Because with a strangled gasp of your name, he’s painting your snug cunt white with thick, hot ropes of his cum. 

Fucking his seed deeper and deeper, he fucks you through your high. Dazed blue eyes widening at the way your tight pussy was so overfilled, sticky seed dribbling out of you.  The sight of you creaming around his cock has his balls twitching exhaustedly. Fuck it was all too much. Flimsy handcuffs shattering with one pull, Gojo mutters raggedly, words sending shivers down your spine, “My turn, baby.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[vent-stink]

Animal Crossing (Seonghwa x Reader SMUT)

You used to complain a little about how Seonghwa would play animal crossing on his switch for the majority of time he was with you. Those complaints were quickly remedied, though, as he made enough space in his arms for you to comfortably cuddle him as he played, pressing sweet kisses to whatever skin was available to you while he'd excitedly show you the villagers he'd worked so hard to find and the items he had collected. It was cute, and you liked watching him be happy over such a small thing.

It helped that you were also an avid player of animal crossing, so more often than not when you finally had the motivation to work on your own island instead of watching Seonghwa work on his, you'd excitedly invite him to your island to show him your progress and he'd be even happier that you have something to show him. He'd visit Able Sisters every day to buy himself outfits, but when he'd see stuff he'd like to see your avatar wearing, he collects them and gifts them all to you when he visits your island.

Things like that were what motivated you to play animal crossing more, and he was happy, especially when you brought your switch to his dorm and played it on his TV, but when once or twice, became three or four times, and three or four times became every time, he suddenly saw why you used to complain all that time ago.

He was now in your position previously, tucked into your arms as you played mindlessly, pressing needy kisses along your neck making you giggle. He loved the sound of it, but that wasn't what he wanted to hear from your mouth. His hands started to wander, up your shirt, under your bra, and you were so engrossed in your game that you didn't even realize until you felt him run his finger tips over your nipple making you gasp. "Seonghwa-" "You're spending an awful long time on that game," he grumbled, lifing your shirt unabashedly to stick his nose in the valley of your breasts. You merely chuckled, patting his head once before wrapping your arms around his head to continue playing, "You're the one who decided to get me addicted, oppa." "I was wrong, I don't approve anymore," he whined into your chest.

"I'm getting the freaking tarantulas, don't distract me," she mumbled, focus back on the game. Seonghwa sighed, deciding to not do just that as his lips attached to the swell of your breast, leaving wet kisses as his arms made their way under you, unclasping your bra.

"Hey," she complained, but she didn't stop or even look to see what he was doing. "I don't even know why you're wearing a bra in my room," he said. Your arms were occupied, so instead of fully taking your shirt and bra off, he opted to just push them up, mouth latching on your nipple. The little whimpers that left you were closer to the sounds he was looking for, twirling your perked bud with his tongue while twisting the other between his thumb and forefinger, switching sides to his discretion.

"You're distracting me, but ngh I'm a gamer and I caught two," you taunted him, a light laugh leaving you." "I'm not trying to distract you, you're just getting distracted," he said childishly. His other hand that had been rubbing the side of your waist started traveling lower, tracing the waistband of your panties. You didn't usually leave your pants off in the dorm, always cautious that someone would come in, but this time San and Mingi had gone off to do something with the rest of the 99-line, so you didn't have to worry. The door was still locked, though.

His fingers dipped into your cute heart-patterned underwear that Seonghwa had bought you and brushed them over your folds making your hips twitch. "Oh-" "Don't get distracted from catching tarantulas, baby," he teased, swiping over her folds again. Your face unconsciously turned into a deep pout as you tried to focus away from what Seonghwa was doing. "I'm not gonna get fucking distracted- ngh!" You tried to speak through clenched teeth but shivered in pleasure.

Seonghwa prodded your entrance slightly and you let out a noise but kept your gaze fixated on the screen as your avatar inched closer to a tarantula. You were about to get it when Seonghwa finally put a finger in and you jumped, making the taratula bite your character. "NOOO!" Seonghwa only chuckled at your anger, "Gonna change your mind now?"

"No, this is only making me want to ignore you more." Seonghwa took it as a challenge just as much as you did, and he was going to win.

He moved down lower to level himself with your hips, pressing his nose into your pelvis making you glance down at him quickly. He was now going to take his time. You'd give up soon, he was sure. If the heaviness of your breathing was anything to go by, your hands would be in his hair instead of holding that controller soon enough.

He couldn't tell what you were doing on screen, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he pulled your panties off, cold air exposing your heat to the air, making you shiver. He started with slow and calculated licks causing you to bite your lip. When he noticed, he slapped your pussy making you shriek and look at him with disbelief.

"If you're not going to pay attention, then you're at least not going to hold your moans back," he ordered, diving back in between your legs, punishing your further by wrapping his mouth around the whole area and sucking. At this point you were barely doing anything in the game, just holding the controller with a white-knuckled grip to maintain your farce.

His pace was still slow and when you got used to it, he could hear the clicking of the controller start up again, agitating him. He'd been making out with your pussy for a good few minutes now, and he was tired of not getting attention.

Finally, he pushed your thighs up slurping your pussy like his life depended on it, and you finally relented, throwing the controller somewhere else on the bed as you cried out and gripped his hair in your hands. He grinned, moving away for a second to take a look at your almost pained face. He spat on your pussy to taunt you, and you moaned loudly, "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Feels so good, Seonghwa, ngh!"

"Do you want me to finish you off or do you want my cock?" He asked in between the lewd sounds of his mouth on you. "I- I- fuck, please finish. Then fuck me, please, fuck me."

Seonghwa was a good man and an even better boyfriend, so he followed your orders, bringing you to your climax as vigorously as possible until your body was convulsing with pleasure, hips trying to thrash against his face. You keened when you reached it and whimpered as Seonghwa let you ride it out, mouth still attached to your hole.

When your body relaxed and all he could feel was the twitch of your pussy in his mouth, he pulled away, grinning at your as he leaned up to your face, taking it in his hands and kissing you. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked. "You were challenging me. Succumbing was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life," you grumbled, "but you win. Please fuck me now." He laughed, simply following your orders.

When you both were sweaty and exhausted, heaving against each other's bodies, Seonghwa noticed the Animal Crossing music still playing in the background. "You don't let it sleep automatically?" he asked tiredly. "It was shutting off too fast so I just turned it off," she breathed, "But I also like the game music."

"What were you even doing when I was eating you out? I know for a fact you lost the fucking tarantulas," he chuckled. You huffed, "You made me waste a Nook Miles Ticket, thanks for that. I only got like 3 of them." "Were you just holding the controller to piss me off?"

You gave him a cheeky grin, "Why don't you find out another day?"

He did find out another day when he was casually playing, not even thinking of you when he opened his bulletin board to see if there would be a fishing tourney or bug off soon.

No, instead he was met with a poorly written message, clearly written in haste. "fck hwa eat m pusy so ogod." He died laughing.

[bimb0fy]

— 03; i watched you change

pairings; luke castellan x hephaestus!reader

warnings; kissing, angst at the end, dark!luke, choking, mentions of swords, swearing, violent tendencies.

summary; luke castellan was always a saint, it was a wonder how he would date a hephaestus girl over the dozens of aphrodite girls wrapped around his finger, he saw you, and he loved you for it. you'd be an idiot if you said you didn't love him to, but something was going on, he was. changing.

word count; 2.07k words.

a/n; a part is kinda inspired by that one scene of nate jacobs and maddie perez, yes the one where he choked her, also I am on my last stray since I finished, then tumble deleted the whole thing which I loved, alsooo uh sorry for the late upload i had so many exams :((.

masterlist!! | navigation!!

i. I love everything you do, when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do.

— high-school sweethearts, melanie martinez.

You smiled as you sat down at the breakfast table, your hair in a bun and your were still in your pj's. It was your day off so you decided to take breakfast, then snuggle up to your new boyfriend's, Luke, cabin.

"Hey mender." Luke said as he sat down beside you, kissing your cheek as you smiled, you took a bite of your mac and cheese, Luke's hand wrapped around you.

"So, tell me, how's the best swordsman at camp huh?" You joked as he smiled. You both took your scraps, placing it into the fire before walking off back to the hermes cabin.

Even though most of the Campers lived in the hermes cabin, it somehow was always empty during the morning, most people going back during either lunch or at the end of the day.

So here you were, on the bed with Luke's mouth latched onto your neck.

Ever since that night, Luke was addicted to you, the way you tasted, the sweet noises that erupted your mouth whenever he touched that one spot on your skin.

"Luke. You'll make marks!" You giggled as he laughed, slowly raises his head to look at you.

"Too late baby." He winked before rasing your shirt, pressing soft kisses to your stomach as you laughed. You playfully shoved him as he smiled, looking up and laying down beside you, moving his hand so you'd lay on his chest. "Fine. You win mender."

"No way, I beat the Luke Castellan?" You teased as he rolled his eyes, placing a soft kiss to your forhead before taking out a scrap book you had made and a Polaroid.

"Cmon let's get your first win into our amazing book of memories." He snaped a picture as you giggled, he smiled at the picture as he glued it on.

Her first win!!

Luke castellan gets beat up by a woman half his size. NOT CLICKBATE. CANON EVENT!!

Baby wtf.

Luke closes the book, taking the pen and placing it on top of the book as he turned back to face you. He watched as you traced soft patterns onto his hand. "I love everything you do. You're mine, and I love that."

He pushed your hair to the side to see your giggling face. You couldn't help but smile, kissing his lips. "I'm all yours."

He grabbed your waist, pushing you down onto the mattress as you groaned. "Luke-. I have to go to work."

"And suddenly my names work." He jokes as he hugged your waist, placing soft kisses onto your neck. You giggled before wrapping your arms around the boy. "You mean the world to me. You know that right?"

"I know luke. I know." You whispered as you played with his hair. You sat in silence, playing with his hair as he closed his eyes, falling asleep on your chest. "Ten minutes."

Luke smiled at your words as he hugged you tighter. "Thirty and you got yourself a deal."

ii. just trust me, you'll be fine.

— end of beginning, djo

Chris smiled as he passed by you. It was weird being the center of attention now, everyone needed to figure out the hot gossip about Luke Castellan's new girlfriend, and to their shock, she wasn't an aphrodite girl.

Everyone knew that Hephaestus' daughters were rather, boyish, only because there were very little, being surrounded by men in a job that most people would assume a man to do was well, difficult.

Luke saw you. He saw who you were. Not what your sibling saw, not what camp saw. He saw what he wanted to see, and that was all of you.

You sat down by the docks, the same docks of that night. You two would always meet up there to catch up and spend time together, but here you were, an hour later still sitting alone on the dock.

You started to give up, standing up to walk away but you heard Luke's faint calls. You turned around to find a man you almost didn't recognise.

The once shining Luke had eyebags under his eyes that were bigger than yours. He was wearing sweatpants and a tank top, yet you could see tracs of sweat around it. He wasn't out of breath so he hadn't ran, maybe he did, what was going on?

"Luke? Heavens have you been sleeping?" You asked him as he held your hands away from his face. He gave he a small smile.

"I'm fine." He rasped. You shook your head, holding onto his cheek as you looked at him. "Don't."

"Luke." you scoffed as he shoved your arms off of him. You had a pained expression on your face, hugging yourself with your jacket as you looked at him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking towards you, placing his hands onto your shoulders.

"I'm sorry I'm just, really tired." Luke muttered before hugging you. "And I'm sorry I was late, I uh, took a nap after training and lost track of time I suppose."

You hugged back, he quickly carried you which caused you to squeal as he set you down onto the dock. He smiled as he sat down in front of you, the picnic basket empty as he chuckled. "Someone was hungry."

"And someone was late." You giggled as he dramatically rolled his eyes, he smiled before taking your hand in his, looking out to the lake, clearly thinking about something. "Are you okay Luke?"

You waited for a response but he just stared out. You were starting to get worried, what the hell was going on? "Luke?"

"hm?" He said as he turned back to you. You could feel his arms tense around you, his breath hitched as you said his name. You needed to know what was going on.

"You know you can talk to me. Right baby?" You asked the boy who kissed your cheek before turning to the soft waves.

You didn't understand why he was keeping secrets from you, were you that bad? Were you not as supporting as you thought you were?

"I know mender. I know." He whispered in your ear as you melted into his grasp. A smile on your face.

He's fine, he says he's fine so he has to be. Right?

iii. Was it my August? Shit, I don't remember

— Gone gone/thank you, Tyler the creator.

"Where is he?" You asked Chris as he sat quietly, playing with his food. You glared at him, leaning onto the table as you glared at him, your eyes glowing orange, fire swimming in them.

Luke had been ignoring you for two weeks now, you had no clue if it was because you did something wrong, and if you did, you wanted to solve it.

That was until Max, your brother, had told you that he was giving Stacy Evans, aphrodite's prettiest daughter, extra sword fighting lessons.

"Hermes cabin bathroom." Chris muttered as you hummed in approval, walking off to find Luke.

Ever since your last interaction on the beach, you haven't seen him. Some would say you were worried, and if the right person asked, you were worried.

Little did you know, that Luke wasn't running from you. He was protecting you. From himself.

He did know how, how the he'll could everything about you agitate him. He hated it, he hated how every time he heard your name, he wanted to punch someone.

He hated how whenever he saw you laughing with your brothers, he wanted to smash your head against the wall, he wanted to hurt you.

He didn't know why. Why you out of everyone. You were a Saint, you were perfect to him, perfect for him. Suddenly, without warning now he's ignoring you.

You loved Luke, and Luke loved you, but now. Even at the mention of you, he wanted to stab you with his sword and watch you bleed.

You knocked on the door, hearing shuffling as you waited for him. Your eyes widened as you heard muttering coming from the other end of the door.

You barged in, finding Luke huddled up over the sink, clearly irritated by you. You glanced at the sword on the bathroom counter.

"What the fuck is wrong with you mender! You can't just barge into the men's bathroom." He spat out as you scoffed, you locked the door, walking towards him.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? What's wrong with you?!" You spat out as he let out an agitated sigh, clutching the sinks frame as his eye twitched. You shoved him to look at you, his breathe staggering as he stared at you.

"You know you're a real shit boyfriend you know! Missing out breakfast because im there, wow I mean. Master of communi-fucking-cation right!" You laughed as you watched his reaction. His eye twitched more, his mouth agap as he panted, he was controlling himself. He was on his last straw.

He wasn't even listening to what you were saying now. He was just trying to keep his thoughts at bay, he couldn't hurt you. If je hurts you, it was over.

"You really are your father's son huh?!" You spat out, that was all it took for him to lose his sense of control. He grabbed you by the throat, shoving you into the wall as he smashed your head against the wall, before wrapping his hand around your neck again.

He lifted you up, you kicked your feet as you tried to pry him off, stopping as he shoves you against the wall again, clearly agitated by the fact that you tried to pry him off.

"What the fuck is wrong with you. Don't you ever say that again you little bitch." He Luke spat. An evil laugh escaped his lips as he leaned in to face you. "You really are a pathetic whore huh. No wonder your mom left you."

Soft cries left your lips as he tightened his grip around your throat. You started to feel nauseous as you found it harder to breathe. Clawing at his hands.

"L...Luke..." You struggled under him, even though he was two times your size, even though you had no chance against him. You watched as the darkness in his eyes was replaced by realisation.

He let go, allowing you to fall on your knees as you sobbed and panted. The air suddenly returning to your lungs. Luke hovered over you, panting as he realised who was on her knees before him.

"Y/n." He breathed out, you shook your head at the mention of your name. He sighed grabbing a rag and before wetting it and holding it out for you.

You took it, holding it against the bruises that already formed.

He did it, he hurt you and he wanted to kill himself right at that moment.

"Mender. I... I." He didn't know what to say. You kept your gaze onto the floor as you cried. Unsure of what to do, what to say, as you rubbed the bruises. "Listen, I know you want to run of to Chiron and-."

"I won't. Don't worry." Your voice cracked as you looked up at him, standing up and walking to the door. But Luke's voice stopped you.

"Why?" Luke asked you as you shrugged. You hovered over the doorknob, sighing as you opened the door, leaving Luke alone in the bathroom.

He glanced at his hands, sobbing as he fell to his knees, he hurt you. He hurt you. He did the one thing he was afraid to do. The voices in his head won, he had lost you, the only thing that mattered to him.

He was weak, he allowed him to hurt you, he allowed this to happen. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, and somehow he messed it up.

You were special, not like the aphrodite girls who only cared about looks and who hooked up with who, most people saw him as Luke Castellan, most popular guy at camp.

In your eyes, he was Luke Castellan, another mediocre privileged guy, but he was yours, and you loved him for the good and bad in him.

Don't cry my child, it'll be over soon.

[princesssmars]

a few ellie headcanons bc i like her c: sfw.

she is a backpack lesbian. always has a tiny backpack. they are always black or a dark green. will sometimes get a patterned one. maybe has bananas on it. wants to put stickers on basically all of them but won’t because she gets paranoid they’ll get ruined.

i can’t find the post and ong i don’t remember what type of snack girlie i said ellie was but yes. this bitch loves snacks. always snacking. had a four month long addiction to jello it was a little scary.

she can cook for herself! she can make a damn good burger. hates tomato’s because she’s a baby 👎🏽

feel like she likes the weirdest cereals ever…like bae why are you eating kit kat cereal

runs super cold and always has a blanket. lovesss those super thick fluffy blankets that make you wanna fall asleep immediately. begged joel for one of those full body blanket snuggie things and he kept forgetting so she bought a matching dinosaur set with jessie and she loves it.

despite running cold her bedroom fan has not turned off in thirty years.

loves trivia. likes to play are you smarter than a fifth grader because you are NOT gonna catch her fuckin lackin.

likes mixmatched socks. her dryer is always eating half of her pairs so she grows to like it.

calls things pretentious and overrated as a joke bc she is annoying. watching a popular movie? she hates it the author is trying too hard. if she has a letterboxd she is either giving the most in depth review you’ve ever seen or a five star rating with a “cool”.

super nervous at the start of relationship yo show affection but when she’s locked in she is always on you…cuddles all the time. if you’re getting up to do something she is gripping around your waist. it’s cute until you need to go to the bathroom and she is insistent on going with you. once when she was high she told you she’d get a second toilet so you could go together 🫤

playstation girl yawn. she was hyped for elden ring then got her ass beat and didn’t play for a month before randomly deciding to finish it in two weeks.

whoever said she loves spongebob first was right…binges regular show when high. loves breaking bad. will act like she doesn’t like romance shows but if you make her watch the first episode she hasssss to finish it she can’t help ittt… sorry not sorry i’m making her watch bridgerton.

secretly watches those family guy adhd tiktoks

has a habit of watching movies through tiktok

and those space tiktok’s… comparing the gravity of different planets, what’s it’s like to fall through jupiters atmosphere.

likes orcas… watches marine life documentaries and gets emotional.

would know ur birth chart. ever forget ur big three signs? she knows. kind of scary. weird talent. doesn’t believe in astronomy buts knows every basic fact about every sign?? 😭

has two instagrams. her main is for her art and to post pictures with her friends and you. second she posts anything. and i do mean anything. will go from an introspective into idk why hoodwinked is underrated to

loves green it’s literally her color. needs some green in her dorm/apartment. thinks about this ahead of time so when she’s in middle school she starts buying tiny plants to take care of. at the start they’d die in like a week but now she has a dozen and they’re all healthy <3

bunch of posters on her bedroom walls. hates bare walls.

likes to try new hobbies every so often! is lazy about working out but when she does she gets on the treadmill and doesn’t break a sweat no matter how fast. kind of scary.

likes to go on the most random dates. you’ll be sitting on the couch and she’ll show you some random restaurant she saw on like instagram and be like let’s go. right now.

likes when you touch her hair. rest her on top of you while watching a movie and run your fingers through her hair? she’s out like a light. if you want to try different styles on it at home she will let you. doesn’t care if she has stupid looking like stubs everywhere she’s like c:

jesse told her she had a fuck ass bob once and she almost hit him :c

such a bike girl omg. i know she used to put water bottles in the back to make it sound like a motorcycle.

who first came up with that she loves spongebob because you’re so right. tried to act like she’s grown out of it but when she’s high and you’re trying to go to bed she’ll whisper “twenty five” to herself and laugh for five minutes straight.

spider-man girl because she’s cool.

pretends to hate all the dumb nicknames you give her when she does stuff. she makes a pb&j? shes now 'ellie jellie' for the rest of the week. has a stomach ache? now she gets to hear 'ellie bellie' for a month.

links for palestine, sudan, drc

[tswhiisftteedr]

Not to be rude but you accidentally put val's story in vox's masterlist instead. Srry I didn't feel comfy dming you. Nothing against you at all I'm just a coward wanting to hide in anon haha. Ig while I'm here could I get vox general hcs pls?

What the Tv do? ☆ Vox General Headcanon + Drabbles (SFW & NSFW)

☆ Vox General headcanon + Vox x Gn!Reader(Employee!Reader??):

Some general thoughts about the tv man and also his relationship with the ‘reader’. This is silly, this is fun, fluffy and smutty.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, Death(literally overdose on coffe nothing gruesome), Drug use(c0caine and others substances), Sadistic Tendencies, Dub-Con, Power Imbalance/Power Play, Obsessive and Possessive Tendencies and Acts, Stalking, Voyeurism & Exhibitionism, Boss x Employee, Pet Play?(Just collaring and slight animal based pet names), Valentino.

Words: Total: 5496 = Sfw - 2609 + Nsfw - 2887

Note: I only wrote 1 drabble, i might add more if people request it about the specific headcanon they want more on. so I’m not good with request like these, I like when they are more specific so I have sort of something to base my writing on, so sorry if you anon or people don’t like what I’ve wrote, r.i.p. >:/ Though tell me if you want more!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

SFW:

☕︎ Coffee addict and 𓏊 Alcoholic

Vox is the figurative and quite literally incarnation of the ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ phrase.

But we’re talking coffees instead of coffee with him — two cups straight out of bed to be precise. When totalling the day’s consumption, Vox indulges on average, 6-7 cups of 10 oz coffee; in addition to his morning coffees, he likes to have a mid-morning cup, then two during lunch and finally 1-2 cups during the afternoon depending how late he is working.

Is this per say, ‘healthy’? No, not at all, Vox couldn't care less — worst ‘worst’ case scenario, he quote on quote dies, the coffee he had intake ends up intoxicating him due to the splurging amount of it, turning this mondaine drink into a lethal liquid for the overlord’s body. His heart would stop, sub-consequently, him and his body would be out.

Though the good thing — or bad, it all depends on your angle — about hell is that in about the span of 10 minutes his body will have fully regenerate and be back open for business. Some sinners call it it a curse, he calls it a blessing, as this part of the ‘eternal punishment’ practically makes him immortal.

So is he going to work on regulating his caffeine intake? Obviously not!

Worst thing he gets from his ‘little problem’ is a heart attack, and they don’t permanently keep him down. — Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he would rather not be having them at all to be truthful.

But he honestly he doesn’t see his bimonthly cardiac arrests as that steep of a price to pay. (Honestly how can such a smart businessman be so dumb about his health. * face palming and baffled at the idiocy of it all *)

Now when alcohol is the subject of conversation, Vox takes a slightly different approach, albeit one still characterized by overindulgence.

You see, he prides himself on being the epitome of a charming, classy, and self-controlled casual drinker, compared to his drunkard of a pattern —Valentino— our lovely show host with anger issues and both inferiority and superiority complex is a sophisticated and savvy man.

However, beneath this facade of self-control, which he upholds quite well to the public eye, hides his obvious alcoholism issues.

While he may not be stumbling and blubbering around, picking fights,— in most instances at least— Vox is certainly what you might call a “day drinker."

In fact, this is actually a canonical trait, which was displayed in episode two of the show; Him discussing with others Vees on how to deal with the radio demon’s comeback, a drink in hand.

I presume thatit was a scotch on the rocks due to it’s colour but also it’s historical relevance in relation to Vox’s person— Scotch whisky poured over ice, gained popularity in the 1950s primarily in Western countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

It became a symbol of sophistication and leisure, often enjoyed in upscale bars, clubs, and lounges frequented by the affluent and fashionable crowd of the era.

Additionally, its popularity was bolstered by the rise of cocktail culture during the mid-20th century, as well as the increasing availability of Scotch whisky in international markets. — this fits quite nicely Vox’s character as it is both a drink of his time on earth but also one that remains relevant in the contemporary era.

It easily mirrors Vox's overarching desire to maintain relevance and significance, both in the present and in the ever-evolving future.

The overlord definitely adhere to ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ religiously. Though he does prefer to enjoy his daily drink around 5 p.m. PRT (Pride Ring Time).

He will occasionally enjoys a drink with his lunch, often opting for wine, although this isn't a regular occurrence for the man.

As someone constantly under stress, with his mind racing to keep up with the ever-changing trends and opinions in hell, Vox is a type to indulge in a nightcap or two before bed.

It helps him unwind and achieve the relaxed state of mind necessary for a restful night's sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep

While the notion of ‘Vox's dreams playing on his screen while he's asleep’ is an amusing concept for fanfiction or artwork, I personally find the idea of ‘the VoxTek logo bouncing around like the DVD logo’ to be more fitting for Vox.

Before delving further, it's important to note that initially, it wasn't necessarily the VoxTek logo projected on his screen; however, I'll address this shortly.

The reason I lean towards the DVD logo concept is because I find it unlikely that Vox's screen would be completely black during sleep. A completely dark screen would imply the device is completely off, no energy is being received or given by it, which would suggest that it is no longer alive. Having some activity on Vox’s screen while asleep would signify that his program is still active, indicating he's still functioning, essentially alive.

Now regarding the widely shared headcanon, I have my own personal take on it.

When Vox first manifested in hell, his 'real name' appeared on screen. By 'real name,' I mean the one he had on Earth, which I believe wasn't Vox —That name seems too futuristic for a person born in the early 1900s or the kind of name you'd associate with a 1950s businessman— Vox is a name he chose for himself after death, symbolizing a fresh start, though I do think that his real name might also have started with a V.

(This perspective extends to other 'Vees' as well, although Velvette seems more plausible as a given name, I suspect it might not be her original one. Valentino, on the other hand, feels like a name assigned to him, but he too might have adopted a new one after death.)

Initially, Vox was unaware of his old name appearing on his screen while he slept since he wasn't conscious during that time. It wasn't until about half a year into his time in hell, during which he introduced himself as Vox to everyone, that one of his acquaintances pointed out this aspect of his physiology. Something along the lines of "Who's V———?" or "Why does V——— show on your screen while you sleep?" triggered a cascade of reactions in him.

Firstly, he panicked, realizing that people had access to his old identity. Secondly, he was puzzled by this phenomenon since no TV he had encountered displayed such behavior, which was normal considering DVDs weren't invented before 1996. — Hell sure was weird, he possessed technological features as part of his physiology before they were even invented— Lastly, this revelation instilled in him a new fear of sleeping.

This behavior stemmed from Vox's desire to construct a fresh existence in hell, complete with a new identity, image, empire, etc. The thought of others accessing his old name and exploiting it to uncover details about his past, including his behaviors, weaknesses, and tactics, filled him with dread.

As a result, he became hyper-vigilant, refusing to sleep unless he was certain of his solitude, fearing the potential repercussions of his former identity being known.

It wasn't until the mid 1960s that Vox had finally managed to upgrade his system, replacing ‘V———‘ with 'Vox'. However, even after this upgrade, he still harboured reservations about sleeping around others for about a year or two. He feared a potential glitch that could revert his screen to displaying his previous name.

Around the late 1970s he had made an adjustment to this aspect of his body once more, replacing 'Vox' with the VoxTek logo after a certain moth had suggested it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sexuality

Our beloved Tv Demon a canonical bisexual man, but I personally believe that while he may have bisexuality as his sexual orientation, — his attraction to men was something he only came to realize after death. Although there were subtle hints of his attraction to the same gender based on how he felt about them, he unfortunately didn't grasp them while still alive;

It would have been the late 1950s, and Vox had been in hell for about a year or two. In his earthly life, he had been with his fair share of women, and even in the "surprisingly not so fiery pits of the underworld," his ability to attract partners hadn't diminished much once got over his TV head appearance and let place for his charming and savvy persona to take over.

His love life seemed unchanged, perhaps with occasional exploration of new kinks, until that fateful night of October 11, 195X...

Vox had gone out for a drink after a grueling day at work, back when he was still toiling away at a low-paying job in an electronics factory, toasters, vacuum, etc. Despite the shitty work he had to go through, he had the perk of taking home broken scraps, which eventually played a role in his rise to success. But let's refocus on his night out, shall we?

He walked into his newfound favorite spot, a comedy bar where he sought solace in laughter and libations after a hard day. Arriving just as the performer began their set, he headed straight to the bar for his usual whiskey on the rocks, with nothing else on his mind. It wasn't until the comedian delivered a particularly hilarious joke that Vox turned to look at them and found his attraction piqued.

It was evident that they were a man with the specific style flashy outfit and makeup they wore. The voice was also a dead giveaway. The person now standing on stage, delivering one funny punchline after another, was a drag queen – a stunning one in Vox's eyes.

He couldn't tear his gaze away; there was something irresistibly captivating about the humorous individual on stage.

After the performance, as they made their way to the bar, Vox seized the opportunity. He introduced himself, and they exchanged pleasantries. They shared drinks and engaged in lively conversation, making for a truly enjoyable night that ended with a bang, quite literally.

In the morning, as clarity returned, Vox couldn't help but feel confused. He had never been attracted to men before, so he initially chalked it up to the alcohol or the fact that his night companion appeared so feminine that he mistook them for a woman.

However, as memories of the night flooded back, he couldn't deny his genuine attraction to every aspect of his partner, even the unmistakably male parts.

Initially, it felt strange to Vox as he reflected on the experience. However, after hours of deep contemplation, everything started to fall into place.

Vox realized he had always felt an affinity towards men, though expressing it as "liking men" might have appeared odd to outsiders. When he used that phrase, it wasn't in the context of sexual or romantic attraction but more of an admiration.

Yet, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that his feelings surpassed mere admiration.

He had never entertained the idea of it being anything akin to sexual or romantic attraction, but his recent encounter forced him to reconsider as he contemplated his life and the events of the previous night.

Vox liked men;

— Vox had always been drawn to the men of his time who exuded masculine confidence and assertiveness, finding their presence alluring and desiring to be in their company constantly.

He liked when they wore classic masculine fashion, such as tailored suits with narrow lapels, fitted jackets, and straight-leg trousers. These outfits oozed sophistication and professionalism, and Vox admired the attention to detail displayed.

Additionally, he liked when men would add classic accessories like fedora hats, skinny ties, cufflinks, and pocket squares to their outfit, they added to the polished and stylish appearance.

The preppy style also appealed to Vox, as he admired men who wore V-neck sweaters, button-down shirts, khaki trousers, and loafers. This style exuded a sense of casual elegance and refinement that he found attractive.

He also had a penchant for rebellious men who embraced a non-conformist aesthetic, often seen in leather jackets, denim jeans, white T-shirts, and motorcycle boots.

Vox liked when men were smart and witty, could keep up with the conversation and also teach something along the way.

Vox liked men who exuded strength and athleticism, finding their ability to handle themselves physically appealing. For instance, witnessing a fistfight between coworkers would stir his emotions, initially attributing his excitement to the violence of the altercation.

However, he would inevitably find himself gravitating towards the winner, intrigued by their display of strength and skill, and feeling drawn to them in some inexplicable way. There was something about winners that captivated him and sparked his desire to get closer to them.

He like men who were daring, adventurous, and unafraid to push boundaries, they appealed to his sense of excitement and thrill-seeking.

He liked men who were ambitious, goal-oriented, and willing to pursue their dreams with determination might have resonated with Vox on a subconscious level.—

After his one-night stand, Vox was determined to clarify things once and for all. Following another grueling day of work, he ventured out again, this time to a gay bar, seeking the company of someone who embodied the traits he found most appealing in men, wanting to ensure it wasn't just the alcohol or the femininity of his previous partner. Without delving into detail, let's just say he had quite the night and afterward, there was no doubt in his mind: ‘he liked women, and he definitely also liked men.’

Following that experience, Vox began seeing more individuals of the same gender. However, he still held onto the notion that while he might be attracted to men, he didn't believe he would be interested in them as anything more than sexual partners. That was until he met Alastor...

Initially, Vox approached the radio demon seeking friendship or perhaps a partnership, given Vox's burgeoning company and rising status as an overlord. However, he soon found himself enamored with Alastor. Unfortunately for Vox, his feelings were not reciprocated. After that, Alastor distanced himself from Vox, leading our TV host to regard his old love as an enemy.

In response to the rejection, Vox decided to cease seeing men altogether, engaging in a series of short-term relationships with women. However, he soon realized he was simply idealizing Alastor and shifted his focus from woman to men for meaningless relationships, attempting to prove to himself that any other man was better than "that Bambi bitch."

But this approach only intensified the emptiness he felt. Recognizing the detrimental effects of his frantic behavior on himself and his company, Vox resolved to regulate and get back on a more business focused path.

The fact that rumours began circulating about his supposed "homoerotic relationships," was also a big push into getting back on track, as a word like that getting out was detrimental to business, since being gay was still stigmatized even in hell, during this time period.

It was around the late 1970s, with the rise of gay rights activism, that Vox began publicly dating men. Coincidentally, this was also when he met and began his business partnership (and more) with Valentino.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Names

Vox has a penchant for using endearing or patronizing nicknames, regardless of the gender of his employees. He will refer to them as "sweetheart," "doll face," or simply "doll."

In moments of frustration or when faced with resistance, he's not shy about using terms like "little girl" or "little boy," or even "kid," to belittle those who question him.

Additionally, he might employ terms like "Princess" or "your highness" as forms of condescension, no matter the gender of the person he is addressing.

NSFW

𓊔 Party

Despite Vox's obsession with his and the Vees' image, when it comes to partying, he becomes a total animal — I’m talking ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ type of wild.

Lavish gatherings marked by obscene spending and excessive drug intake, especially cocaine.

Vox typically indulged in doing lines off his desk or the luxurious crystal table in the lounge. However, what truly exited him was snorting lines off someone, getting his rocks off at their inability to refuse his advances and delighting in the control he exerted as he pinned them down to prevent any squirming.

The slight anxious tears and nervous mewls from whoever served as his snorting surface always stirred something within Vox. While he would grow irritated if they moved too much, the subtle signs of fear, such as the wetting of their eyes and trembling breath, would quickly reignite his unstable emotions. He found himself intensely aroused by their scared state, and more than once, he acted on these desires…

Drabble:

You were a VoxTek employee, more specifically; Vox’s secretary.

As Vox's secretary, navigating Alastor-related tantrums and enduring the grueling hours could be incredibly taxing, but the job itself had its perks.

Thanks to your position in the company, you enjoyed luxurious accommodations in the finest suites the V Tower had to offer.

Despite the challenges, Vox could be surprisingly pleasant, his charismatic charm reminiscent of his earlier days when his hypnosis wasn't as potent. And beneath the unconventional exterior of his TV head, there was no denying the appeal of his well-built physique.

Given the close proximity and constant interaction with Vox, it was inevitable to develop a small crush on your boss. His magnetic presence and the fact he was practically the only person you interacted with regularly since he requested you to work closer to him about three months ago only fueled this infatuation.

You liked your boss, but at this moment, you couldn't stand him;

It was 3 a.m. on a Sunday, the one day of the week you were supposed to have some semblance of off-time, with the luxury of sleeping in until noon.

But instead of enjoying your well-deserved rest in bed, you found yourself reluctantly entering the elevator, begrudgingly making your way to the usually closed-off top floor of the building.

Why? Because you had received a threatening and slightly slurry phone call from your boss, demanding your immediate presence or else face termination.

With your livelihood seemingly hanging in the balance, you complied without questioning, even though you loathed every second of it.

After punching in the code provided, you entered the lounge area of the top floor to find all three Vees lounging about. Valentino was enveloped in smoke, while music filled the air.

"Y/N! So glad you made it! Come 'ere," Vox exclaimed, his gestures frantic, urging you to approach quickly. He appeared laid-back, friendly, and strangely excited, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor of coldness and condescension.

Confusion clouded your expression as you approached the couch, unsure of what to make of Vox's sudden change in behavior. Velvette, noticing your bewilderment, chimed in with an explanation. "He took some MDMA before he called you — actually, he couldn't stop blabbing about your ass once that stuff kicked in," she divulged matter-of-factly, adding another layer of peculiarity to the already bizarre situation.

‘Ah, he’s high — that explains the weird friendliness.’ You thought to yourself.

But before you could dwell on it too long, Valentino's words snapped you out of your thoughts, "Yes, little Voxxy over there couldn't stop talking about how much he wanted his little secretary with him right here. He just had to call you, despite it being the middle of the night. I'm sorry you're losing your beauty sleep right now, cariño," he said, his tone tinged with insincerity from false remorse. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he finished speaking, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

“Val, Vel! You can’t tell them that! Or they’ll, they’ll… fuck!” Vox began to say, but something mid-sentence seemed to frustrate him.

Before you could question it for too long, Valentino answered that question for you. “They’ll figure out you have a little crush on them. Aww, don’t worry papi, it’s not like they can say no to you either way,” the moth darkly announced, frightening you, as it was technically true that you had to obey whatever order your boss gave you; it was in your contract after all.

To your somewhat relief, Vox scoffed at his part-time boyfriend's comment, as if to convey that he wouldn't behave in such a manner.

"Shut the fuck, Val!" Vox began, his frustration evident, before redirecting his attention back to you. "And you, lay down on the table." Confused by the request, you briefly wondered if he was joking, but the seriousness etched on his face made it clear that he wasn't. Resigned, you followed his instruction and laid down on the table as he commanded.

As soon as you complied, a smile spread across Vox's face. "Good, good. Now be a good little secretary and stay still as I do some lines off you, m'kay?" he instructed.

Before you could process anything or say something, he pushed your shirt all the way up, ending just under your chest, and tugged your bottoms down slightly — exposing your whole stomach.

Attempting to voice your discomfort, you were promptly shushed by Vox. "Shhh, you're being a table for me right now, and last time I checked, tables don't talk, now do they, sweetheart? So be a doll and shut up," he said, eliciting laughter from the two other Vees.

You complied with his instructions and remained silent as you felt him pour some powder onto your abdomen. Knowing the drugs he usually made you order on his behalf, it was probably coke.

With that, he quickly formed about three lines and began snorting them. The sensation felt odd and somewhat ticklish to you, but what you didn't expect was for him to lick the parts of your belly where the powder had just sat — long lines that started from top to bottom, causing you to squirm involuntarily.

Vox didn't appreciate your movement, because ‘how dare his table move?’. In response, he firmly gripped your waist on both sides and forcefully slammed your hips against the table as a warning to ‘stop moving’.

However, his claws dug into your skin, causing you to cry out slightly. Upon seeing the small tears in your eyes, his mood shifted once more, from aggravation to something more lustful.

He relished the sight of you with tears in your eyes, so he decided to inflict a bit more pain. With a predatory glint in his eyes, he bit at your sides, knowing that you couldn't retaliate due to the hierarchical difference between you.

His bites started from the top, gradually getting lower until they ended up just above your crotch. With a slight, heavy breathing, he remarked, "Now what do we have here? A snack for me? You shouldn't have." As he removed your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear, a slight moist patch formed due to the position you were in.

Sure, Vox was an entitled asshole, but god, did he look and sound incredible when he was being mean and bossy. How could you not get aroused, especially when his face and long tongue ass were so close to your intimate parts.

"You want me to play with you, darling?" Vox asked in a manner that almost made it feel like you had a choice. There was something about it that suggested he might respect your decision if you said no—sure, he wouldn't like it, but he definitely had this thing where he wanted you to want him, to beg for him, to need him. Forcing himself on you wouldn't align with that desire.

You nodded, but he tutted at you, wanting a verbal answer. "No, no, no, it's 'Could you please, sir?' or 'Would love to, Mr. Vox,' or 'Please, I need you, Vox.' You've got to speak up if you want me to do anything to you, got it, dollface?" he clarified, emphasizing the importance of explicit consent, whether it was due to genuine respect for your boundaries or just his enjoyment of your yearning for him, it was a bit unclear. However, knowing Vox, he probably just got off on your embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," you said, feeling embarrassed. "So? Do you want me to give some love to these," he asked, tracing the outline of your underwear, "lovely parts?" He perked up.

"I would love for you to, sir," you managed to speak out. With a 'perfect' from your boss, he was now eagerly devouring you with his tongue, sending small pleasurable shocks through you as he did. No part of you down there was left un-licked.

Just as you were about to reach that sweet, sweet release — Vox removed himself from you, causing you to whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Don't worry," he said, but before you could complain too much, Vox lifted you up and threw you onto the couch, your face soon hitting the satin pillows. As you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, you felt your hips being repositioned, leaving you face down and ass up.

Vox quickly pumped his cock a few times, not needing much as it was already hard from the sight of you writhing due to his tongue. Getting close to your ear, he whispered, "Cuz I'm not done with you, dollface."

Then he promptly shoved himself inside of you. Thankfully, whatever he was doing with his tongue a couple of instances ago had prepped you, because, woof, did the stretch sting.

After giving you a few moments to adjust, he began pounding you into tomorrow, playing with your front and sending small shocks here and there. With no regard for his colleagues sitting right beside him —or should I say colleague, as in singular—Velvette had left as soon as he began working you with his tongue. However, Valentino remained, watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Your soon came undone due to his rough ministrations, but he was far from done with you...

⫘⫘⫘ Ownership, ⛌⛌⛌ Humiliation & Collar

If you haven't already figured it out yet, Vox is a sadist. He thoroughly enjoys power dynamics and the act of humiliating others.

Continuing from the previous headcanon, picture yourself as either hired as his secretary or as a low-ranking demon in his company who catches his eye. If you're the latter, he'll undoubtedly arrange for you to be transferred to work closer to him.

But anyway, my point is, as soon as you're in his close proximity, he'll literally makes you his bitch on call in the blink of an eye. And obviously, you can't refuse because, one, he's your boss; two, he's an overlord; and three, he's Vox.

Who would refuse that hunk? Even if you weren't initially attracted to him, you'd find yourself becoming so after a couple of weeks, even if it's just some weird mild attraction—you're still into him.

Once he's got you in his grasp and has fucked you at least once, this is when he begins to play with you. He'll make you start wearing a vibrator under your clothes at work, ordering you to remove your clothing every morning and show him, to ensure you did it. Then he'd send you on your merry way.

If he wasn't physically with you, he'd be watching you through his cameras.

And every time you would be talking to someone and he deemed it too long, you weren't paying attention to him, or you were zoning out/getting distracted, he would turn the vibrator on to 'get you back on track'.

Though he did like to sometimes turn the vibrator on just to tease you. For example, you're in the middle of telling him about a shift in his appointment in a room full of people, and he would suddenly turn it on to fuck with you.

He also has a huge thing for pulling you by your soul chain. He just loves, loves, loves summoning it out of nowhere and just tugging you along with it.

For instance, you could be telling him about some issue concerning a recent project, and he would tell you to come closer so he could hear better.

As you walk closer towards his desk, he deems your pace too slow. Without warning, he summons and tugs at the chain around your neck, causing you to fall to the ground.

In an attempt to brace the fall, you put your arms out, catching yourself and ending up on all fours.

But as you try to get up, he would tut at you, ordering you to “Crawl to me.” You’re humiliated, but you still do it as he watches you like a hawk, a satisfied grin on his face.

If you also happen to scrape or bruise yourself when you fell and some small tears form in your eyes, let me tell you, he would get so bricked up as soon as he noticed them.

And of course, he would make you blow him, though it would end up with him face-fucking you, as it usually did.

He would also hold your head down as he dumped his cum down your throat, then he would pull your nose with his free hand, saying that “you don’t get to breathe until you’ve swallowed it all.” And of course, you would do it because you don’t want to literally choke to death on your boss’s dick.

Once he was sure you had swallowed it all, he would finally release you, allowing you to take some air in. Then he would make you stick out your tongue, and he would spit in your mouth, making you swallow that too.

𐂯 Training

He liked using small electrical charges as a ‘training method’, and this method has two stages. This would happen after he already had you as his personal toy— I mean, ‘secretary’.

At first, he uses electricity to reprimand you whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, questioned him, said no to things, or did anything that he considered as bad behaviour.

He would shock you, making you associate ‘bad behavior’ with pain, so you would end up automatically correct yourself before you even do or say something.

If you take a bit too long to ‘adjust’ to this new way of acting, he might resort to a little bit of hypnosis, but he would prefer not to.

He gets off on the fact that he can train you to behave just with his words and actions, without the help of any special ability.

Anyways, when he is sure that he has drilled into you what proper behavior is, he’ll employ phase two. He’ll start training you to enjoy the sting of his electricity.

So, whether he's fucking you, giving you head, touching you, or basically providing any sort of pleasure, every time you would be close to reaching your peak, he would send jolts of electricity through you, gradually increasing the dosage over time.

Things would get to the point that a small shock from him would be enough to get you turned on, and bigger shocks would be able to literally make you cum.

ฅ Pet

For the most part, he wouldn’t see secretary!reader as a partner. It’s only after a while, like a year or more, that he would start considering it.

He views them as his romantic interests, but not on his level. To keep face with the other Vees, even though they both knew about his crush from the beginning because he was so obvious with it, he would call you his pet.

Sometimes literal ‘pet names’ like puppy, kitty, bunny, etc. (Personally, I would love for him to call him his bunny <3.)

What he calls you all depends on your appearance and behaviors. For example, if you manifested with a more feline appearance, he would call you his kitten or kitty. If you didn’t have animal-like features but for example, were very needy, had a tendency to follow around, and were a sucker for praise, he would likely call you his puppy.

𓌏 Punishments

Besides using electric shocks, he is definitely into spanking as a form of punishment—whether it involves pulling down your pants or lifting your skirt, spanking you for every ‘transgression’ you’ve committed is something he’s totally down for.

It can be a really strange experience if you weren't a masochist to begin with because he'll end up having you conditioned to enjoy physical punishments;

For example, he would be spanking you, and you find yourself getting turned on, arousal literally leaking due to his rough treatment of your behind.

Edging and overstimulation are also big in his book, though each has its own set of circumstances where they would be implemented.

For instance, if you weren't paying attention to him because of someone else, he would overstimulate you to the point where you couldn't think about anyone but him, asserting his superiority over whoever had your attention.

If you weren't paying attention for any other reason, he would edge you, because ‘how dare you ignore him when he should be the most important to you!’.

Thanks anons for requesting!

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[vampiretendencies]

request; as a cuddler person myself i wonder how JJ would be with an s/o that just loves to initiate physical contact like he does, randomly peppering his face with kisses, sudden hugs and giving him back massages and playing with his hair, just i see him and i want to burrow myself in his embrace, so your fics are literally a bible for me, thank you for sharing them with us 🫶

a/n; of course! i love that y'all love how i've been portraying jj's character as one of physical touch, i really imagine this is how he'd be and i like that you can relate. you are so real for this anon. first blurb !!!! also a repost, because it wasn’t staying in the tags ! requests are open

warnings; fluff!!

pairing; jj x fem reader

summary; all the instances that you were as equally addicted to jj as he is to you. and what's the harm in that?

"Keep scratching, and m'gonna be snoring against this window."

"Not like you haven't before."

The Twinkie deemed to have the most shade. You and JJ sneaking off nearly an hour ago, and the Pogues still haven't caught on— a miracle really.

Sprawled out on the back floor of the vehicle. JJ's focus was rolling a joint, but he ultimately could not.

He couldn't pinpoint wether it was the sulkiness of your saccharine voice, or the dancing of your fingertips to his tanned back. You glided your nails gently against the flesh beneath his button up shirt, rhythmically and methodically.

Up and down.

Up and down.

JJ waited for every last scratch like a small child.

Shell of your ear too his back as well, whilst you made your self comfortable enough to lie there for every last scratch.

It made JJ weak that you too commence physical touch. Not that he had any issue at all doing it himself— he discerned it as feeling desire.

That you desired him.

That by any means necessary you must be touching JJ's body in some form or some way, and that he must be touching yours.

Of deriving seen and safe with the one you are infatuated with most.

So no, you and JJ are not handsy every moment either of you get because you want to (both of you really do though) it's the closeness, the sensation of sincerity, being eachother's person.

Physical touch will always be a love language of insurmountable heights to constantly chase your fulfillment of craving another.

"Little higher, baby"

Voice clouded with exhaustion, he'd given up on rolling a joint— a slumber about to overcome him.

And you were too. A beaming expression on your features, whilst your scratching slowed and JJ's face did in fact meet with the glass of the window.

"Y'all know we're in public, right?"

Kie sighed, almost embarrassed if the both of you weren't her friends and if this wasn't her family's restaurant.

Initially, the contact started because you were cold.

Seconds pass, and you're then swiveling around in JJ's lap to face him. The booth of the wreck not exactly being the most convenient place to be sat chest to chest with your boyfriend, but it works.

John B, Kie and Pope took the other side of the booth, you and JJ both arguing with them that you didn't want to be separated from each other, forcing them to sacrifice their own personal space for the couples adoration.

"How are you not use to it by now?"

Pope crunches on a greasy fry, elbowing John B whom has a mouth full of sloppy cheeseburger. All Kie could muster was a milkshake because she complained that you and JJ were making her 'lose her appetite’.

You and JJ have a sly smirk shared, legs hanging aimlessly by the sides of his. Call it lovesick, that you'd both been admiring eachother's features, sat face to face— as close as could possibly be. You thumb over the little pattern of freckles that adorn right above his jaw line. As he gently hums in the palm of your hand. JJ's hands sat low on your thighs.

"Tell the entire wreck to get use to it because it's not going anywhere."

JJ sends Kie a toothy grin, whilst your head finds its way to JJ's broad shoulder. The muscular vessel, becoming the most pleasant pillow. You giggle into Ju's neck— such a somber, breathy laugh that has him nearly bursting at the seams.

He wanted to hear that on repeat— like physically record it, take an Airpod, and drill it into his memory.

You grasp him, in a hugging manner, the warmth radiating off of his skin like that of blanket. Digits worming their way up to the tufts at the bottom of JJ's hair, the nape so forgotten, and peaceful. Showing it some attention, has goosebumps arising throughout the entirety of JJ. You feathered the thick honey-like lock around your finger, wondering how hair could suit a person so.

"Ain't that right, baby?"

"Mhm."

JJ was on the brink of losing his job at the country club again, as he's about to be late for the third time this week.

Two out of those three times were early shifts, meaning he literally could not get out of bed with you in it. Having a significant other and working, was a handful for JJ- mainly because he needed that physical touch that simply no one else could give him.

All hours of the day, 24/7, without fail, but if JJ wanted money for certain things then he was forced to. He couldn't be a kelptomaniac forever, no, not with you in the picture.

At least, todays shift was an afternoon one.

Goes without being said, that this morning he truly took advantage of the remaining time he had with you.

But now, he may or may not end up late again due to him not being able to find his truck keys.

He rummaged though all of his belongings at the chateau, upon you waiting for him to just peek around the corner and all would be solved.

"Baby, have you seen my-"

There you stood clad in one of his sleeveless tees only, arms crossed, whilst the truck keys hang off of your index finger— awaiting him to grab them and that he did.

"Really I mean it, what would I ever do without you, pretty girl?"

He resonates, foot steps pacing whilst he motioned grabby hands at you— stumbling for your embrace.

A veiny arm practically magnitates itself to your back, traveling lower and lower until it grasps the bottom of your ass. Wallowing in his last few touches for the next several hours.

"Live a horrible, horrible life...”

The imaginative like tune of your voice has JJ melting into your skin, peering down like you would be whisked away in a matter of minutes.

"Damn right, baby."

Your socked-in tippy toes in full affect, whilst you gently hold either sides of JJ's face and he closes his eye's lovingly. Knowing full well what you were up to.

A fit of small, pepper-like kisses are daintily littered across JJ's face. Fingers rubbing forward in repeated— taunting motions. The residue of your glossed over, plump lips, is shining thoroughly about his face. But he always reminds you to leave it, so he has that reminder of you throughout the day. Forehead aligning with his, flush bodies.

JJ is salivating.

"Anymore of that, and I won't have a job."

"You're going to work JJ."

[ginnsbaker]

the follow up

Summary: Sequel to 'prophylaxis'. Wanda's follow up appointment with you, her dentist. Includes ice cream, Vision playing matchmaker and Wanda's questionable taste in music

Word count: 3k | Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff. Pun intended.

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader | Platonic Wanda Maximoff X Vision

Author's note: Let's pretend that the Sokovian accords resolved itself without Tony and Steve divorcing | P.S couldn't resist inserting a T.S. lyric (sorry not sorry)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

Wanda Maximoff is strapped to a chair.

Again.

Fortunately, it's not because she'd been caught behind enemy lines or had to be restrained because of those stupid accords that nobody really cares about except Tony and Steve. 

No, Wanda Maximoff is at the dentist's office. 

Again.

Okay, so, she’s not strapped per se, but the patient bib she wears over her clothes certainly feels like one, especially when that chair starts to tilt back as soon as you nudge the adjustor with your foot. It's like being bound in place, just without the actual restraints.

Her lips are dry, and her heart is beating just a little too fast, but not from fear this time. It's a different sort of edginess that Wanda feels, especially when you lean in too close to her face to check her molars. Your face is just inches from hers, eyebrows strewn in concentration and eyes focused. Wanda tries to look away, but there's nowhere to look except the ceiling or into those scrutinizing eyes.

It also doesn’t help that you smell absolutely incredible. Last week, you smelled like raindrops on petals. Today, you smell like cinnamon and vanilla, and she finds both scents comforting and addicting. 

“So, Wanda,” you say, your voice calm and gentle, “How have you been taking care of your teeth since the last visit?”

“Uh, fine,” Wanda tries to articulate the words properly but all that comes out is a garbled “ahhh fuh”. You don't mock her in any way; instead, you display an expert understanding of your patients' speech patterns. 

“You've been brushing and flossing?”

Wanda nods.

“Good girl,” you say, and even though your smile is hidden behind the mask, she can still see it in your eyes. They crinkle at the corners, and it just sends something warm and happy in Wanda’s chest whenever she sees it. 

But there’s nervousness, too.

In fact, a lot of things about you make her nervous. After all, your kind used to be the bane of her existence.

You turn away to prepare the necessary tools, and Wanda's mind starts to wander. How many patients do you see in a day? Are you always this nice and charming to them? 

Are they also nervous around you? Or is it just her?

“Alright, Wanda,” you say, turning back to her, your eyes kind and understanding. “Let's get started. Just a small pinch, and you'll feel a little numb.”

She nods again, and the procedure begins. 

As you work, you talk about mundane things and the new plant you acquired over the weekend. You also talk a little about the Avengers compound and the unique experiences that come with being their on-call dentist, especially with a synthezoid who insists on getting their teeth checked. 

Wanda answers more freely now, her initial hesitation gone. She finds herself enjoying your company–enjoying this dental appointment, of all things–and even laughing at some of your anecdotes.

Finally, the fillings are in place, and you help her rinse her mouth.

“See?” you say, patting her shoulder. “That wasn't so bad.”

Wanda beams at you, feeling quite proud of herself. “No, it wasn't. Thank you.”

“There are still three more that might need fillings, but we can schedule that for some other time. Don’t want you to get overwhelmed,” you add with a cheeky wink that has Wanda unwittingly clutching the armchair tightly.

You carefully set your tools down on the tray, giving Wanda some room to breathe. Right then, the numbing effect of the anesthesia begins to fade and Wanda winces, her hand instinctively coming up to her jaw, fingers massaging the area where the discomfort is blooming. 

Seeing her reaction, you recall the ice cream you'd thoughtfully stashed away after she’d confirmed her appointment.

“Feeling a bit tender there?” you ask, moving towards the small refrigerator you keep in the room. “I have just the thing.”

Wanda looks at you curiously as you retrieve a container of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. Her eyes widen, and she exclaims, “How did you know this is my favorite?”

You blush as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. You hadn't expected Wanda to notice the specific flavor of the ice cream, let alone comment on how suspiciously perfect it was that you picked her favorite. 

“Well, I may have called the Avengers compound and asked around,” you say, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. “It was Vision–was it?–who knew. Said you always choose this one.”

You extend the tub of Cherry Garcia to Wanda, and as she takes it, your fingers briefly brush against hers. Both of you pause at the unexpected touch, a small gasp escaping her lips. You quickly shift your attention to the utensil drawer, pulling out a spoon and handing it to her. But instead of digging in immediately, she hesitates, glancing up at you. 

The white mask you're wearing has kept your full face hidden throughout the appointment, and now, she'd be utterly disappointed if she never gets a peek at your face, which is partly the reason she agreed to come here in the first place.

Wanda Maximoff can’t have that. After sitting through an hour in that torture chair, she needs to be rewarded. And not just with ice cream. 

“Would you... would you like to share it with me?” she asks hesitantly, trying to be subtle–

 “I'd really like to see your face, just once.”

–and then failing at subtlety half a second later.

You blink, surprised at her straightforwardness, and feel a deeper blush spread across your cheeks. Her request is unconventional, yes, but it's also earnest and endearing. Slowly, you reach up and remove the mask, unveiling the smile that Wanda's been so desperate to see.

“Well, I do have quite the sweet tooth, so I couldn't possibly refuse.” you say.

You sit side-by-side on the coach, your knees touching ever so often. You occasionally find yourself pointing to Wanda's lips, indicating where she needs to wipe away the stray cream. Wanda blushes at your attentiveness, but she can't help but appreciate the caring gesture.

Wanda truly wants to prolong this moment, this unexpected opportunity to have you all to herself. But as delightful as the company is, ice cream has its own rules, and it's not much enjoyable when it's melted. So, despite her desire to make the moment stretch on, the ice cream is finished in under ten minutes. 

Staring at the empty tub, the idea that she might not be the only one to experience this side of you fills her with both reassurance and a hint of envy. Wanda can't help but wonder if there's something special about the connection you share during these brief appointments, or if your comforting demeanor is simply part of being a skilled and compassionate dentist.

Either way, she wants to do something with you that would set her apart from all your other patients.

“Um, so,” she begins, fumbling with her words, her eyes darting around the room before landing on yours. “I was thinking, you know, if you're not too busy or anything, maybe we could... do this again? Not the dental part!” she quickly adds, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I mean, maybe dinner, or a movie, or whatever you like? If you want to, of course.”

You look at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, as if you're trying to catch the words that just slipped out of her mouth. Is it a date? Is it just a friendly outing? Regardless, it's not typically professional to see a patient outside of the clinic, especially one as renowned as Wanda Maximoff. 

“Wanda,” you start. “You’re interesting, funny, and truly amazing.”

You watch as Wanda’s face becomes hopeful, which makes you want to strangle yourself for what you have to say next. 

“But I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to consider the professional boundaries that I need to maintain.”

Wanda's eyes widen momentarily, and then she quickly masks her disappointment with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, of course, I understand,” she says, her voice light, but not quite reaching her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked. It was silly of me.”

But you can see the hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders slump just a little, the way her smile doesn't scrunch her nose the way it normally does. She's trying to brush it off, to act like it doesn't matter, but you can tell that it does.

With that, your time together draws to a close. You ask Wanda if she wants to schedule another filling for her remaining molars, but she merely shakes her head, telling you she'll have to think about it. Her eyes avoid yours, and her voice is distant, a clear indication of how your rejection has affected her.

You watch her walk away, a part of you wishing you could call her back, and another part knowing that you made the right choice. 

It's the first time you experience a profound sense of loathing towards your profession as a dentist.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t invite you back next year for another routine check-up.

-

Which makes your predicament the following day all the more baffling.

One second, you're tending to a tall, blonde, seemingly ordinary man in your dental chair, going through the routine motions of preparing for a check-up. You turn your back for a moment to prepare your tools, lost in thought and still reeling from yesterday's encounter with Wanda.

When you turn to face your patient again, your heart skips a beat, your hands freezing in place. 

The man is no longer blonde and ordinary but bald and a striking shade of red.

In a snap, it’s another Avenger in your hands.

You clear your throat, forcing a smile as you approach the chair. “Mr. Vision,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

Vision is ready to correct you with your use of ‘Mr.’ but then he tilts his head, deciding he likes the title next to his name.

“It's my pleasure to see you, Doctor,” he smiles at you, sitting perfectly still.

You blink at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that a synthezoid–one who technically doesn't even have biological teeth–is sitting in your dental chair. You can't help but wonder if this is some kind of joke or if Wanda sent him to kill you.

When you continue to stand unmoving in your position, Vision says, “I’m here for a check-up.”

Huh. 

Okay?

You reach for the mouth mirror and probe, tools typically used for human patients, and hesitate for just a moment. 

How exactly does one perform a check-up on a synthezoid?

Vision seems to read your uncertainty, his crystal-blue eyes meeting yours. “I assure you, I have all the components you would find in a human mouth,” he says. 

You nod, beginning to understand. Gathering your focus, you proceed to perform the unusual check-up he's requesting. As you explore his mouth, you find yourself fascinated by the impeccable craftsmanship that went into creating Vision. Every tooth, every gum, is a perfect imitation of its human counterpart. 

You find yourself feeling a little jealous of his orthodontic assets. 

As you continue the check-up, he starts to share some stories, his voice even and clear despite your probing.

“You know, Wanda once fed an alley full of stray cats during a mission in Bucharest,” he says, a soft chuckle in his voice. “We were on a surveillance assignment, and she noticed them, all huddled together, looking hungry. Before I knew it, she had conjured up bowls of food for them all. It was quite a sight.”

You pause, caught by the image of Wanda surrounded by furry, adorable kittens. “That sounds adorable.” you reply, moving on to examine his upper molars. 'Cute' was the word on the tip of your tongue, exactly what you meant to say. But you know as well as anyone that finding a patient cute is off-limits.

He continues, “Yes, Wanda has a way with things. Once, back at the Avengers HQ, she'd make her dinner portion smaller so the guys with big appetites could eat their fill. Even Natasha, who's quite the cook, found it a stretch sometimes to satisfy the team's hunger.”

And then as he drones on about Wanda, you slowly begin to piece together what's really happening here. Vision isn't just in your clinic for a check-up. 

He's talking up Wanda. 

To you.

As if Wanda even needed talking up.

All you could think about was the brunette with her soulful green eyes and a smile that makes you go weak in the knees. Your heart skips a beat at the very thought of her.

But it's not just because Wanda is your patient that you rejected her. There's the awe and reverence you feel towards her as an Avenger, a symbol of justice and freedom, a hero who seems to belong to the world more than to any one person. And then there's the raw, personal part of you, still healing from a toxic relationship that ended only six months ago.

And as Vision concludes his tales of Wanda by sharing how she's the only one patient enough to show him the ropes of what being human is, you see through his carefully crafted façade. 

He's here to bridge the gap, to make Wanda more accessible, more human in your eyes. He wants you to see her not just as a public figure but as a person with feelings, quirks, and simple kindnesses.

And more than that, he wants you to realize that you're an idiot for saying no to someone as wonderful as Wanda Maximoff.

“You’re not really here for a check-up, are you?” you smile at him knowingly.

Vision looks at you, his synthetic eyes almost mischievous and for a while you forget that he isn’t human. 

He pauses for a moment, as if considering his next words, and then he smiles back.

“No,” he finally says, his voice carrying a hint of both humor and sincerity. “I'm not.”

He then continues, his tone turning thoughtful. “Wanda has been... sulking. For hours, locked up in her room listening to ‘Lips of an Angel’ on repeat. She told me before that I am her 'best friend,'” he says, the term slightly foreign in his mouth. “I looked up what that means, and it included helping her be happy.”

Apart from the reveal of what kind of music Wanda listens to, you feel Vision’s words tugging at your heart strings. Well, at least until he says–

“Natasha explained to me that Wanda is being, as she put it, 'emo' because she got rejected by a possible... sexual mate.”

You'd choke on your water if you were drinking one.

That's not what you expected him to say, not in the least. The sentence hits you like a left-field curveball, utterly disrupting the flow of the conversation. It's so... so... un-Vision-like, and yet, here he is, stating it as matter-of-factly as he might describe the weather.

“Given that, I would like to ask you to reconsider going out with my ‘best friend’.”

You're still coming to grips with everything that's just happened. Vision, Wanda's “best friend” here in your clinic, attempting to play matchmaker. What he's asking isn't small, but the way he's asking, the care he's shown in understanding human relationships, his concern for Wanda's feelings–it all makes you pause.

You think about what you were doing on your computer last night, googling Wanda’s name and trying to find out all you could about the young Avenger.

Finally making a decision, you look up at Vision squarely in the eye. 

“Would you happen to know Wanda’s email address?” you ask, fiddling with the lapels of your white coat. “And also her phone number?”

-

“Oh, thank god,” Natasha sighs as she hears Wanda hit pause on the 46th replay of Lips of an Angel.

Yes, 46. Natasha had made Vision count, and that doesn't include the ones he missed when she urgently dispatched him to you to remediate the Wanda situation immediately.

She hears someone whistling a tune coming from the hallway and is surprised to see Vision, apparently adopting Steve's habit in his eagerness to act more human.

“Mission accomplished?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

Vision stops whistling, a look of satisfaction in his synthetic eyes. “I believe I made some progress. Our friend has promised to think about reconsidering the decision.”

“Just think about it? You were gone quite a while for a 'maybe.'”

Vision pauses, his head tilting slightly. “I believe I was able to present Wanda in a way that may help our friend realize her feelings for her.”

“You think she has feelings for our Wanda?” Natasha's voice betrays her surprise, and she can't quite catch herself using the word ‘our’. She continues, slightly flustered, “I was thinking maybe she'd just indulge Wanda's crush for a while, then befriend her, so as not to completely shut her down.”

“I observed her vitals while telling her about Wanda, and all the signs point to yes, she has feelings for our Wanda,” Vision answers, thoughtfully echoing Natasha's use of ‘our’. 

She smirks, leaning against the wall. “Well, let's hope your efforts pay off. I can't take another 46 replays of that song.”

Vision stoically considers Natasha's last statement. “Actually, Agent Romanoff, I must disagree. I could listen to another replay. Technically, it's a well-composed song.”

Natasha's face twists into a look of mock disgust. “I swear, if you start advocating for boy bands next, I'm holding Wanda personally responsible.”

“I'll consider that when expanding my musical repertoire.”

She waves a dismissive hand, still grinning. “Just don't start singing in the shower. We've got enough noise in the mornings as it is.”

-

Around the time that Wanda has just hit pause on the Hinder hit that has been playing on loop, a notification sounds off her laptop. 

She quickly turns her attention to it and clicks on the email that has arrived from your clinic. Inside, there's a referral letter personally written by you, referring Wanda to another colleague of yours.

You no longer want to be her dentist, the email makes that clear. Somehow, this hurts more than your rejection of her yesterday.

Before she can fully process the referral, her phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. She hesitates, before deciding to answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, Wanda. It’s Y/N. F-From the clinic?” you breathe out in a rush, the words tangled with your nerves. Wanda takes note of how your voice sounds over the phone–deeper and more intimate against her ear.

She takes a moment to reply, still a little thrown by the referral. “Oh, hi. I just read your email,” she says.

“Yes, about that…” You trail off, pausing as you try to find the right words. “I was thinking, instead of discussing that over the phone, maybe we could talk about it over dinner on Friday? If you're free–”

“I’d love to,” Wanda quickly accepts, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest.

You try to suppress a chuckle, grateful that Wanda can’t see your cheeks turning a rosy pink. 

“Great! I'll pick you up at seven?"

“Seven it is.” Her reply is soft, almost shy. You say your goodbyes, both of you grinning to yourselves as you both hang up. 

Back in her room, Wanda stares at her phone, a broad smile on her face, touching it as if it's your face.

She presses play on the song once more, not as a lament but as a triumph. 

Much to Natasha’s dismay.

[meazalykov]

caffeine addiction

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: reader struggles with a caffeine addiction

The sun peeked through the curtains of the cozy apartment Y/N and Lena shared in Munich, casting a warm glow over the room. It had been a couple of months since Lena transferred from Wolfsburg to Bayern Munich, a move they had both looked forward to. 

The couple have been together for a few years, meeting through Y/n’s German friends at Bayern since the girl isn’t German herself. Long distance for the first year was hard, but then it got easier before Lena’s move. They not only played for the same club now, but also got to wake up next to each other every morning.

Y/N stretched and yawned, her muscles taut from yesterday's practice session. In the next few days, Bayern is gonna be playing against Benfica in the last Champions League group stage game, so training was tough. 

Playing as a right back or right winger for Bayern Munich Frauen demanded peak physical condition. The girl has scored the most goals in the club (this season) so far, but she is still expected to keep them coming throughout the season. Nobody doubts y/n on scoring in games. 

Y/N thanked herself for maintaining a fit, athletic body. Her strict diet, mainly consisting of protein and grain, plus rigorous workout routines, were a testament to her dedication. Sometimes, she overworked herself (according to Lena, Sydney, Sam, and Tainara) but she knows how to bounce back. 

Except from that one indulgence she couldn’t resist: her morning iced coffee. 

Each day, without fail, she had to have her  small iced coffee with a pump of vanilla and a dash of light cream. It was the pick-me-up that jump started her day. Last season, y/n was late to training due to her need of having caffeine to keep herself awake and active.

“Y/n *laughs* Come on, we are gonna be late!” Lena looks over to see y/n’s hand covering the top of her cup, swirling the contents in the iced coffee together. 

“One second, sorry!” Y/n said and took a few big “gulps” of her iced coffee. Lena had started to notice a pattern with her girlfriend. She wondered if y/n had a caffeine addiction that needed to be talked about. 

“They have coffee in the lounge room over at Bayern, you can grab some there.” Lena said, smiling as she noticed her girlfriend place the coffee on their kitchen island before grabbing her black nike bag, filled with necessary football things. 

“The brand they use to brew their coffee is gross. Plus they don’t have sugar free syrup, just plain packets of sugar or stevia.” Y/n and Lena laughed as they left the apartment, locking the door and quickly headed to training. 

By 4 PM, without fail, Y/N would crash due to the caffeine high wearing off. Lena will chill on the couch as y/n falls asleep with her head in her lap. Y/n’s groggy state left her in need of a nap every-single-day she has coffee in the morning. While naps were common for athletes, the inconsistency in Y/N's energy levels was concerning to Lena. 

Lena put in a google search into her phone that evening, “can coffee cause you to get tired earlier?” and google confirmed to her that it did. 

So the next morning, as Y/N in her comfy PJs sipped her iced coffee at the kitchen counter, Lena hugged her from behind. Y/n sunk into the feeling of her girlfriend’s fit arms around her waist, forgetting about the iced coffee on the counter and holding her hands on top of Lena’s instead.

“Baby, we need to talk about your coffee habit,” Lena began, her whispered tone was serious yet loving. “I’ve noticed how you crash every afternoon due to this. Maybe you should consider cutting back a bit.”

Y/N looked at her cup, then turned her head to look at Lena who still held her. “I know it’s not great, but it’s hard to function without it. I need it to wake up– and for an extra boost of energy at training.”

Lena squeezed y/n’s hand in hers reassuringly. “I get it, but I worry about you. The crashes aren’t good, and this can’t be healthy in the long run. Let’s try to cut back gradually, see how you feel?”

Reluctantly, after thinking for a few minutes, Y/N agreed. 

The first day without her iced coffee was rough. By midday, y/n was battling a pounding headache and a growing sense of anxiety. Lena knew these were withdrawals from caffeine. Luckily, it was their day off before they had to play against Benfica. But Lena stayed close, offering support. “It’ll go away soon, Schatz,” Lena said as she gave y/n some medicine, helping her take a sip of cold water that she grabbed from their fridge. .

The withdrawal symptoms were intense. Y/N felt irritable and on edge, her body craving the caffeine it had grown dependent on. But with Lena’s unwavering support, she pushed through. Lena would grab medicine, prepare some herbal teas she found helpful through the internet, and offer distractions, anything to help y/n.

After their win against Benfica in the last group stage (thanks to a brace from y/n) sending Bayern to the quarter-finals to go up against Chelsea, Y/N found herself feeling more energized throughout the day. 

It was the evening and Lena relaxed on the couch after a long day of training. Y/n was in the kitchen preparing herself a salad when she looked over at her iced coffee “station” she made a long time ago. Making a note to herself to get rid of it to make space for something else eventually, Y/N joining Lena on their couch with a grateful smile. 

“You know, I feel a lot better.” Y/n randomly says as she looks ahead at the TV, which shows the men’s el clasico match live. Cuddling on the couch with y/n laying on her body, Lena looks down at y/n confused. 

“Feel better about what?” Lena asks.  

“I feel better about not relying on caffeine.” Y/n says. Lena smiles in admiration before patting her girlfriend’s head jokingly, “It took you some time.” 

“Hey! At least it happened sometime—Thank you for being patient with me.” 

<3

[thelightsandtheroses]

4. lovesick

Let's Get Lost Chapter 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to alcohol, historic argument referenced, one passing reference to body insecurity, reader is unnamed with no physical desctipton but wears a necklace, Frankie and reader are parents, yearning? Word Count: 3350 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I am so excited to share this chapter with you! The chapter title is from Laurel's song lovesick.

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The nearby town is awake and full of life this morning. Dappled light warms your skin as you walk through the main street with the rest of your group. You can smell the salt air of the sea in the distance, interspersed with enticing smells of food as you walk past a bustling restaurant.

You could stay here forever.

Clara’s ahead of you, glued to Santiago and giggling happily as she animatedly tells him about everything she wants to do today. It sounds hectic, involving the beach, the summer club, and a truly incredible amount of ice-cream.

Next to you, Frankie has a soft smile on his face as you catch him looking at your daughter. He seems more relaxed at last. There’s a lightness to him again, his smile reaches his eyes and there’s warmth in his face again. You missed that.

You missed him. You miss him.

Living a life agonising over what could have been is wrong. You made the right decision to leave Frankie at the time. You know that.

You and Clara deserved better than the life that he was promising you both at that moment. Clara was, she is, the priority and quite simply, you didn’t want your child to grow up around active addiction. That’s not a bad thing. Frankie feels the same, he’s told you.

Frankie’s changed now though. Your Frankie’s back and that’s a complication you didn’t expect.

You’re happy for him. He’s lost that haunted look in his eyes; the shadows are lighter on his face. It’s even good to see him in those ridiculous patterned holiday shirts, to notice his hair is just a little longer and the curls are peeking through again and look clean and healthy. He’s not been wearing his hat on holiday and there’s something about seeing his hair like this that makes you want to run your hands through it.

You cannot ruin Benny and Lia’s wedding though. You can suppress this.

You have to.

You’re so close to Frankie right now though.

It happens without thought. You’re not sure who initiates it , whether it’s you or Frankie, but somehow as your arms unconsciously move with the stride you take, your fingers have brushed his. Then they’re entwined. Gently, barely touching really, but linked all the same.

It feels electric.

It feels dangerous.

What are you playing at? Is this wrong? Is it cruel to Frankie? Or you? And what about your daughter? She needs consistency, she needs structure. Not the messed up will they, won’t they? you and her Frankie could develop into.

This feels natural though. It reminds of you of how things used to be. Hand in hand walking down the city streets after dinner, so incontrovertibly in love with him. Lia used to joke you were couple goals, until you weren’t.

The memories you’ve tried to avoid since your breakup, to suppress so that the heartbreak of losing him wasn’t so sharp, are flooding back. It’s too much, it’s too hard.

It’s too messy.

You need the wall back up. You need the pillow barrier to better fight these thoughts back, to fight these stupid tiny gestures.

It’s harmless though, right?

You’re holding hands, you’re hardly pressed against the wall in a sweaty mess. So it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Santi looks back and he meets your eyes. You watch him look down fleetingly and then back at you. No one else would notice it, you’re not even sure Frankie does. You do though. You see how his face changes, the disappointment, something unreadable there too. He shakes his head just slightly.

It’s enough for you to withdraw, to walk towards Clara, making a fuss of her instead.

This is meant to be a family holiday for her, it’s meant to be about Benny and Lia’s wedding.

You can’t do this.

As the steam from the shower dissipates, you notice your reflection looks just a little healthier; a little less weary. While your mind has been running away with you, you realise that the holiday itself might be helping.

You haven’t thought about checking your work emails in days, you haven’t thought about that project or any of it. You feel a little more like yourself again which probably makes sense because you’re at the halfway point now. It always feels like you just start to enjoy and relax in your breaks as the end looms closer.

You place your damp towel back on the radiator and tug at the waistband of your loose trousers one final time. You take a deep breath, applying the finishing touches to freshening up your appearance by liberally spritzing your perfume on your neck and wrists. The warmth of the cardamom scent immediately soothes you further.

You move to put your necklace back on. It’s one you wear every day, you’re not sure how it started but you feel naked without it now. You can’t seem to get the clasp on. The more you try, the more your fingers feel clunky and sweaty and panic rises in your stomach.

You need this necklace to be able to go to lunch, you irrationally tell yourself, adding more unwanted pressure, making your fingers even more slippery.

“Crap,” you exclaim as you almost drop the necklace down the sink.

“Everything okay?” You hear Frankie ask, his soft voice a balm on your panic.

“Uh, hey Frankie, can you help me for a second?”

“Sure, sure. Are you um, are you decent?”

“Yeah, yes, um …” It hadn’t occurred to you that it might have sounded like you weren’t and for a second you try and think about all the scenarios where it might have been something else.

Frankie opens the bathroom door and closes it behind him gently. “Everything okay? You look alright?”

“I can’t get my necklace and I almost dropped it down the sink and - my hands are all sweaty?”

“It’s no problem.”

You hand him the jewellery quickly and he smiles. “You wear this every day, don’t you? I think you were wearing it when we met.”

“I would have been.”

”It’s pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“Can you turn around?”

You oblige, shifting so that Frankie can easily place the necklace around your neck.

“There,” he says after a second.

“Thanks.”

You turn around so you’re facing him. He’s already ready for your late lunch and you can see he’s caught the sun just a little this morning. The guys had been zip-lining earlier after your breakfast in the town - Benny’s idea for a more inclusive, sober, stag event. All of you had already been diving earlier in the week - you love being in the water, it had been like coming home.

Right now, it feels like that moment when you first start a dive though. That momentary pause of doubt as you rely on the oxygen tank, as you sink down deeper into the water’s secrets. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.

You feel like that here with Frankie now.

You move closer to him, taking in the woody scent of his cologne, the slight hint of coconut sunscreen on his arms. He’s here, he’s real.

You’ve missed him.

Your lips are on his without thinking. It’s a move so familiar that it’s pure instinct. You loop your arms around his neck, bringing him ever closer to you so you can feel his torso pressing against you.

He responds, hands in your hair, moving you against the wall as he kisses you deeply.

The two of you don’t need words. You never did.

His hand skims your face, moves down your neck towards your waist as he traces the contours of your body, rests his hands on the edge of your shorts, breathes heavily onto your neck before returning to your lips.

You can feel how he wants you. You can feel the anticipation building in your stomach. You need him, you realises as you trace your fingers on the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling the heat of his skin, noticing the freckles coming out with all the sunshine here. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips feel against yours and his hands and you need him to move away from your waistband, beyond your cotton underwear to a point of no return.

This kiss already obliterates that barrier though, right?

His hands finally start to move down -

“Mummy,” your daughter calls and you immediately pull away from Frankie.

He looks at you, breathing raggedly.

“I’ll uh - I’ll go and check on her.”

“Yeah, I just, I just need a minute,” Frankie says in a low voice, his cheeks flushed.

“Right, yes, of course.”

“Mummy? Daddy?”

“Just coming,” you say, rolling your eyes at Frankie’s smirk and the slight shake of his head there. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Not quite,” you whisper teasingly.

“Well,” Frankie says, leaning in close again.

“MUMMY!”

“Dammit, I can tell you she’s definitely spent too much with Will. Fuck me,,” Frankie mutters. You’re not sure entirely what he means by referring to Will at that moment, but you’re too busy trying to quickly regain your composure, to get to your daughter. It’s something you can store to muse on later.

Reality calls.

The sound of the whirlpool covers the dull tones of discussion from others in the spa area. You take a sip of your tea, leaning back and shutting your eyes.

“So this is nice,” Lia says, the smile evident in the tone of her voice. “I feel like I’m finally relaxing a bit.”

“Good, you should.” How are you doing with all the prep and you - you’re marrying Benny!”

“I know, it’s … I don’t even know what to say. I love him. That’s it - I love him and I want this. I am so ready for this.” Lia smiles happily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “It’s going to be great.”

“I’m so happy for you both, ‘m happy something so good came out of the last year or so.”

“Are you and Frankie - are you two okay still?” There’s caution in her voice. The anxious part of you wonders if perhaps it’s because she’s afraid you’ll ruin her wedding, cause a scene like you did at Will’s wedding. Guilt pools in your stomach because you shouldn’t make your friend feel like this.

You’re desperate to tell her.

I kissed him. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you can feel the words forming.

You want to tell her.

It was a damn good kiss after all.

Something stops you though.

“We’re good,” you say finally. “We’re friends again and we both want the best for Clara. That’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah. I’m actually really proud of you both. This is pretty damn mature. I’m glad you’re not, I don’t know, just messing each other around. I know it was hard, I know the breakup and everything that happened - you’ve been really strong and I am proud of you.”

On any other day, her words would fill you with pride. Today though, guilt spreads through your body instead, searing heat of anxiety with it.

“So, ”

Your name is called as the massage therapist walks into the spa.

“Later,” you say to Lia apologetically before following the stranger out of the main spa, grateful for her interruption.

Massages are strange. They’re supposed to be relaxing but you find it hard to turn off your brain, the hints of anxiety about the parts of your body you’re less than comfortable with, whether or not you’re being judged and the underlying worry of what if you fall asleep? What if you snore?

This is a surprisingly relaxing experience though - your masseuse has checked her pressure, ensured you’re comfortable and you’re starting to relax a little, to lose a little of that tension you were holding. Soft piano music plays and you shut your eyes, trying to turn off your thoughts a little.

“So are you the bride? It’s a big wedding party, isn’t it?”

“No, my friend Lia is. I’m one of the bridesmaids.”

“That’s nice.”

“They met because of me though. Well, me and my ex.” You have no idea why you’re saying this but surely there’s a privacy code, right? You can’t tell Lia, or Sophia, or anyone. So why not a stranger?

“That’s nice.”

“It was … wasn’t the best scenario.”

“Oh.” The masseuse pays attention to a knot in your neck, releasing some of the waves of tension you’ve felt recently. Maybe that’s what makes you continue.

“We had an awful break up. At our friend’s wedding, who is in fact the brother of the groom. I mean awful too and public.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yep, talk about drama. And I think - no, no, I definitely did. I just kissed my ex today, like a proper in the movies, perfect cinematic kiss. That’s one thing, but I think I might still be in love with him. I’m going to ruin Lia’s wedding too, aren’t I?”

The masseuse pauses, you feel her lift her hands above your body.

“I’m going to give you a free face mask with this. I think - I think you need it.”

Eighteen Months Ago - Will’s Wedding, Florida You’ve been pretending all evening. You have become so skilled at pretending, you think you could give Meryl Streep a run for her money. It’s exhausting though. You’re exhausted. Next to you, Sophia is humming as she opens her lip gloss and tops up her makeup. She’s changed into a different dress for the evening; less dramatic and easier to dance in. She looks beautiful, there’s a warm smile on her face, her complexion is glowing and she looks serene. Part of you hates her for that. “You look great,” Sophia says as she catches you frowning at your own reflection. “I’m so glad you and Frankie are here. the way Will is with him and Santi, they’re as much his brothers as Benny. And after Tom -” “Yeah.” “It was nice that Molly came, right? I think Tom would have liked that.” “Definitely,” you say, even though from how Frankie used to talk about the divorce with Tom and Molly you are not so sure Tom is looking down grinning right now. Tom didn’t make it back though and Frankie barely did. You still don’t know much about what happened, Sophia doesn’t seem to either. The men don’t talk about it at all. You’ve lost your Frankie though. He didn’t need to die to not come back. It just means that no one knows you’re in mourning. You keep hanging on, you keep hoping. You’re sure there’s something you could do better to help get him back. “How’s Clara doing?” Sophia asks. “Great.” She hasn’t slept in weeks, maybe months. Sleep itself is a foreign concept now and no matter what you read, no matter what you try, your daughter just cannot sleep through a night. “And you and Frankie? Are you guys next - should I, uh, aim the bouquet towards you?” You laugh lightly, swallow the bitter taste in your throat and the words you can’t say. “Sure. Shall we head out?” You’re pretty sure Frankie is using again.

Now

You pull yourself out of the memories, not wanting to go any further into that night.

You remember the aftermath all too well though. The DJ was playing Murder on the Dancefloor and the irony of it still makes you almost laugh. Your relationship died on that dance floor to a fitting song.

Flashes come back to you against your will as you try and focus on the spa, on the now.

“I don’t think we can do this anymore. I love you, Frankie. God, I love you, but we can’t.” Frankie’s look of betrayal filtering through the residual high. The heaviness that here at Will’s wedding you’ve suddenly voiced the thoughts that have consumed you for weeks. Liquid courage and the image of Sophia’s face, so full of a hope you can’t imagine anymore, guided you to this moment. “Here, really? You’re just giving up on me?” “Tell me you’re sober, Frankie, swear it.” “Don’t do this here.” “We can’t do this anymore. We can’t. It’s not - I’m done, I can’t, Frankie, I can’t.” Your voice is panicked, rising. Echoed shouts, the feel of stares, so many stares. Music going quiet. Santi and Benny guiding you both away from everybody else. Tears. Yours. His. An ending. It’s over. You can’t come back from this.

You blink back tears. It was a bad break up and it would have been so much easier if you’d ever hated Frankie, if he’d ever hated you. Breaking up because you love someone but it’s not enough is a pain you hope your daughter never has to experience.

He’s different now though.

You’re different.

It would be different, wouldn’t it?

Clara’s curled up, fast asleep in her bed. Soft snores sound as you place your book on the bedside table.

“Hey,” Frankie says softly as he shuts the bathroom door carefully. “She looks exhausted.”

“It’s all that time in the playgroup and sun,” you reply affectionately.

“Do you think she’s having a good holiday?”

“Yeah, of course. I hope so.”

“Me too. It’s good to see her happy like this. I’m glad we did this. For her.”

“Same. She’s going to look adorable at their wedding, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe it’s only a couple of days away and then we’re -”

“I know.” In two days, Lia and Benny get married. You won’t wreck it, you won’t.

You look at the bed, the pillow barrier Frankie has automatically built. Neither of you have spoken about the kiss before lunch. When you returned from the spa and got ready for dinner, you had spoken about Clara and your books and anything but the kiss.

The pillows feel wrong though. You remember the start of the week, how it felt secure to have the pillows between, mature even. You are grown ups, friends and exes and the pillows protected that. However, the barrier is a merely a representation of the line you obliterated earlier. It can’t work anymore.

You’re not just co-parents.

You don’t know if Frankie feels the same though, if too much has happened now for the two of you to forge something new.

The pillows are a weight though. You look at Frankie and hesitantly move one of the pillows away from the barrier.

He smiles, almost imperceptibly and then he does the same from his side of the bed.

With the lights out, there are still so many words unsaid, so many conversations the two of you need to have.

You turn in the bed, feeling the warmth radiating from Frankie’s back. You hear him shift, the rush of air as he turns around and he’s facing you.

“Hi,” he whispers, reaching a hand to touch your face.

“Hi,” you reply.

Perhaps that’s the only word you need right now. The two of you are starting all over again.

Tag List

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[theerurishipper]

Just saw a post that said Adrien is a love bomber... are we really throwing buzzwords around for the sake of salting on Adrien, the abuse victim? Love bombing is an emotional manipulation tactic, and it is usually paired with the cycle of abuse. Adrien is not abusive. He is not emotionally manipulating Marinette. He is showing her affection. I guess we're demonizing showing our loved ones any sort of affection now...

Yeah fr, people will throw around all kinds of words istg. This is the definition of love bombing:

Love bombing is a tactic in which someone “bombs” you with extreme displays of attention and affection with the intent to manipulate you. Although being showered with "love" can seem positive at the beginning of a romantic relationship, love bombing can lead to gaslighting and abuse. Psychologists caution it might be a tactic used by a narcissist or sociopath in an attempt to control you.

Anyways, Adrien doesn't do this. In fact, this is what Gabriel does to Adrien. From this article:

In a relationship with a pathological predator, love bombing is combined with intermittent reinforcement to create a sense of instability and longing in the victim. Intermittent reinforcement (in the context of psychological abuse) is a pattern of cruel, callous treatment mixed in with periodic affection. The abuser hands out rewards such as affection, a compliment, or gifts sporadically and unpredictably throughout the abuse cycle. This causes the victim to perpetually seek their approval while settling for the crumbs of their occasional positive behavior.

This is exactly what Gabriel does. Whenever it seems like Adrien is rebelling against him because he is tired of Gabriel's neglect, Gabriel will offer him a little concession. Adrien is rebelling against him? Fine, let him go to school. In this way, Adrien doesn't rebel against his father anymore, and Gabriel can keep him under his control, because now Adrien will continue to believe the best of his father and will continue to try and earn his love. Another example is in Gorizilla. Adrien gets tired of Gabriel stopping him from seeing his mother's movie, and sneaks out. Later, Gabriel allows him to watch the movie, and throws in a little bit of gaslighting in there, essentially blaming Adrien for not being open with him and making him feel guilty, when it's his own fault his son didn't open up to him, which is because he's a neglectful asshat.

This is Gabriel and Adrien's relationship. Adrien stays with his father and tries so hard to please him, because Gabriel has instilled in him that love is something conditional that is to be earned. And whenever it seems like Adrien is breaking away from this mentality, Gabriel will do something "nice" for him, which will bring Adrien right back, because he's an abused child who wants to believe the best of his father and wants his love and affection.

Again, to quote the article:

As author Adylen Birch writes, “Creating fear of losing the relationship and then relieving it periodically with episodes of love and attention is the perfect manipulation.” Much like the way a gambler at a slot machine becomes addicted to playing the game for a potential win despite the risk of major loss, a victim in the abuse cycle can become attached to the idea of getting a return on their investment in the relationship despite the toll it takes on their well-being.

There's actually an example of this in the show. From Illusion:

Adrien: Speaking of which, Dad, I'm not really comfortable with having my face on all these rings. That's actually why I didn't want to be a model anymore, to avoid that. Do you understand? Gabriel: Of course, I understand, my son. But that's the point; it's just an image, it's not you! And since this image frees you from your obligations, we, the Agrestes, are able to spend more time together. But if you'd rather everything went back to the way it was before, just say the word. Adrien: (wears the Alliance ring on his index finger) You're probably right.

Gabriel even explicitly says what he's doing, which is holding the threat of going back to their previous relationship over his son's head to emotionally manipulate him. To refer back to the article, he creates the fear of losing the relationship in Adrien, and then makes a big deal of showing that he cares so much about Adrien and his future, and he makes him breakfast. This is love-bombing. And so, Adrien goes along with whatever Gabriel wants as long as he doesn't lose it. And so, he continues to do what Gabriel wants, which is to accept the Alliance rings and his image being used in ways he doesn't want. And true enough, Adrien goes back to defending his father after he finally worked up the courage to confront him for his shit in the beginning.

Adrien: My father? But Nino, he's changed, he's making an effort, and it's the first time he's coming to school!

I could go on, and there are several examples of this in the show, but then we'd be here forever. But I highly recommend that article. I just read it, and it is literally Gabriel and Adrien, oh my god. It's very informative and I think we should all be aware of this.

But anyways, back to your question anon (sorry for the tangent). Adrien doesn't love bomb. Adrien is just very affectionate. He doesn't withdraw affection from anyone, he doesn't make them settle for scraps. He doesn't try to manipulate anyone, he doesn't gaslight anyone, he doesn't try to make them seek his approval. Adrien is always kind and loving towards everybody he cares for.

In fact, Adrien does the exact opposite. He fawns over others, and he tries to earn their love and approval. This is because of Gabriel's abuse. And to accuse him of love bombing is so disgusting. Honestly, people just throw those words around like candy. But then again, I've seen what the side of the fandom that might have said this usually says, and it's usually the same victim-blamey abuse apologist rhetoric, so I'm not even surprised.

Thank you for your ask!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

(hi uh sorry i sent that ask very prematurely on accident could you delete the previous one? sorry i just had to rephrase it-)

i was wondering if you were interested in doing a Sozo x reader fic (GN preferably) where the reader tries to help Sozo kick his mushroom habit (as you have done before but i would really like some more in-depth mental support for ant boy) or at least help him not to lose himself even more. This next part includes spoilers for the Sins of the Flesh update so if you haven't played that feel free to wait or skip this part. I would especially like to see his Dr. Sozonius personality starting to shine through again as he gains more clarity, kinda nerding out on mushroom stuff but also extremely sorry for everything he did while under the influence of the Mushrooms

YEAH SOZO REDEMPTION ARC <3

.....

"I promise...no more shrooms...please.."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I just can't take your word for it." Sighing, you gazed hopelessly at your spouse: the belligerent ant locked up in the pillory for the third straight day now, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

This all started after you returned to Spore Grotto one evening, finding the Mushroomos there in a panic, one of them eventually leading you to the inside of Sozo's "home".

He had succumbed to the infection, as his body was laying there in such a grotesque display, covered in fungi and rotting away. Of course, the followers didn't know what to do and begged you to bring Lamb back here, as they haven't visited this place in a while.

At first you didn't want to, thinking they were the reason he was dead. You assumed he was still giving him mushrooms behind your back when you specifically told them not to do that, explaining how you're trying to get him to stop. You made him promise not to consume anymore.

It had to be Lamb's fault.

But the Mushroomos revealed something quite shocking: since he wasn't getting mushrooms, he turned to eating them all alive to satisfy his needs instead, unable to stop. The parasite that held him hostage demanded it so.

And it ended up killing him.

You grieved for a little while, before seeking out Lamb and asking if they could accompany you to Spore Grotto, explaining what happened. Yet by the time you both returned, there was hardly anything left of Sozo's body.

Nothing except his skeleton, backpack, and the smiling mushroom.

You decided to take the large fungi back to their cult, carrying it as a sort of "ironic" memento of your lover.

During the walk back, Lamb asked you if Sozo had a life before this addiction of his...and you tell them something rather surprising.

He was actually once a brilliant man: Dr. Sozonius. His research on mushrooms was known all throughout the Old Faith. He's written books, lived with family members in an ant colony, and was very wise. You two fell in love through your research and explored Anura together.

Then he brought you to his camp at Spore Grotto, the very heart and soul of Anura's fungal outbreak. He was studying the Mushroomos and their behavior patterns. They were actually very passive and social creatures, offering you two stews of menticide mushrooms.

You declined, having already ate before your journey. But Sozonius--thrilled to discover a new mushroom specimen--decided to indulge in their generosity for the sake of science.

And things haven't been the same since.

Something in that soup took root in his brain and turned him into a shadow of his former self.

He never came back to the colony, or the home you two shared, devoting himself entirely to all things mushroom-related...while that stupid smiling fungi puppeteered him around. Some days you'd visit him, and he does remember you, but as of late he's been forgetting more and more of your lives together, giggling and not taking any of your words seriously.

He tried getting you to bring him mushrooms, eat them, etc. and if you refused, his eyes turned red and he'd start yelling nonsense.

Despite all of this, you never once blamed the Mushroomos. They were only trying to be kind hosts; they didn't expect such an advanced fungi to take control of him and turn him into their "leader".

After he died, most of them dispersed throughout Anura, but some stayed behind in the hope of seeing you again.

Once you finished sharing your story, Lamb was surprised that you wanted to take the fungi back at all. They figured you'd burn it to ashes for what it did to your husband.

Yet....you didn't blame it either.

Mushrooms aren't inherently evil. It's how nature made them, and you're a strong believer in karma, deciding to instead nurture this one in hopes that it may grow into something better.

Who would've known that mentality would bring Sozo back to you a week later?

Unfortunately, as you anticipated, he was still up to his old habits and never fully understood that they killed him. He tore up the mushroom farm plots and ate any Mushroomos Lamb rescued during their crusades.

Least to say..he was being an utter nuisance in the cult. He never did any work, and none of the followers liked him.

But that's not how he really was.

You knew him better than anybody else.

Ultimately you and Lamb realized that you had to break this addiction of his for good, otherwise the cycle will just repeat..and you might lose him all over again.

Talking to him wasn't enough.

He had to go cold turkey.

Sozo got angry when you shielded a Mushroomo from his bloodlust and told them to hide in the temple, accusing you of denying him happiness and saying he'd rather be put back in the ground than look at you--and that's when Lamb locked him up in the pillory while distracted.

As much as his words hurt..you knew it was only the fungi talking, trying to trick you into thinking that's what he was feeling. But you weren't so easily fooled.

You had to starve it out.

Might it kill him, too? There's a good chance. But you had to try.

Ever since getting imprisoned, he's been shouting and begging passing followers to free him all day and all night, the fungi looking more withered as time went on. Even its smile turned upside down.

Lamb tried using the same reeducation techniques they used on dissenters. Yet they weren't quite sure how to help Sozo, as he babbled over their speeches and wanted them to go away.

You offered to take over instead, and while they hesitated..they eventually handed you a copy of one of their gospel books and said they'd pray for his healing.

If anyone could get through to him, it was you.

For a while you've kept a close eye on him, making sure he had food--all of which you cooked yourself in case anyone tried sneaking in mushrooms. He no longer screamed his head off, but he still tried bargaining with you to free him, each plea growing weaker than the last.

By the time the sun went down, most of the followers were heading to their sleeping quarters for the night--although a couple were having some concoctions at the drinkhouse. But they could usually hold their liquor and not get too befuddled, so you weren't worried about them.

Instead you just focused on Sozo..who was already looking tired. Your energy was very much spent, too, although you didn't wanna abandon him.

Alas Lamb had no moon necklaces to spare, and even if they did...they would hesitate to give it to you.

Speaking of whom, you heard their footsteps and glanced over, smiling. "Hello, Lamb."

"You can go rest, [y/n]." They nodded. "I'll watch over him for you."

"...alright." Sighing, you closed the book and looked back at your spouse, placing a hand on his cheek as you kissed the opposite one. "Sweet dreams, Sozo. For what it's worth..I'm blessed you are back on this earth with me. I promise to keep helping you."

"[Y/n]...loves Sozo that much..huh?" He huffed, sleepily opening his eyes, and you were astonished to see that they were no longer red like the eyes of dissenters.

Even so, you weren't letting your hopes get up too high. He still had a long path ahead of him.

"Of course. There's no one I love more than you. I just hope and pray...that you haven't forgotten the love you felt for me."

As you parted from his side and began walking back to the Lamb, you were confused by their dumbfounded expression. "What? Was I supposed to say-?"

"Look." They pointed behind you, and you turned back around, gawking at what you were seeing.

The fungi had completely decayed, falling off Sozo's head into a withering husk in the grass; the smaller fungi buried in his collar died off, too. It didn't cause him any pain, surprisingly enough.

Then you looked directly at his face, noticing signs of him aging rapidly judging by the wrinkles and graying furs of his collar.

But he was still alive.

And he was back to his old self.

"Wh..Where am I? Where is...my family?" His voice was quiet and raspy as he looked around, confused by the wooden contraption he was locked in.

However once he saw your face, he recognized you and smiled, feeling at total ease.

"Oh, my love. You're back."

"I-I never left.." Tears immediately blurred your vision as you rushed to unlock the pillory. "I was here the whole time. I thought you were gone forever..."

"I hope I didn't go too far." He hummed, although he felt an ache in his back from being hunched over for so long and winced. Lamb was quick to fetch him a cane so he could better support himself, but you looped your arm around one of his own to help.

"Thank you, you're very kind.." He gazed at the sheep. "My name is Dr. Sozonius. We were...studying the Mushroomos. Fascinating creatures, they are. Neither plant nor animal. They gave my partner [y/n] and I some menticide mushrooms...and.....that's the last thing I remember.." He frowned slightly.

'Ah..so he doesn't know...' You realized, but you kept your worries pushed down, too happy to care about any of that right now.

"I can't help but feel that I have you to thank for...something." He continued, smiling at Lamb. "You have my loyalty. I will remain here and serve you."

They smiled back and bowed their head respectfully. "Thank you, doctor. Welcome back."

..........

While it was such a relief to see Sozonius' sanity restored, it wasn't too long before he ended up becoming bedridden, his bones too weak to support him anymore.

You realized that the fungi somehow managed to disguise his true age, as Lamb discovered he was actually 100 years old via mindreading--making him the eldest follower in the natural sense.

Now you feared losing him again..just when you finally got him back, and wondered if Lamb could do something to help.

Sure, resurrecting him may be the easiest option, but it would be the most painful for you. They couldn't put you through that, as it would take a few days for them to be ready for the ritual.

Luckily they managed to find a quick solution:

A fountain of youth in the form of a simple egg dish.

After Sozonius ate it, the magical properties somehow reversed the clock, giving him back the energy he needed to help out with cult duties. And you didn't have to worry about losing each other again, as Lamb gifted you two golden skull necklaces as a "belated" wedding gift.

Of course, the ant was ever jubilant about his mushroom studies and continued to pursue them alongside you--in a far more controlled environment, obviously. He was allowed to tend to the plots and observe how their effects impact followers during brainwashing rituals, although he was forbidden from tasting one himself or participating in those..

At least for right now.

Even though it's been about a week since he was "cured", the few Mushroomos that lived on the cult grounds were still fretful upon seeing him, thinking he was going to eat them alive.

The one you defended couldn't believe that he was genuinely sorry and not under the fungi's influence anymore.

They were so terribly scared that Lamb mentioned that they gained a "cowardly" trait, always flinching upon you, them, or Sozonius approaching, begging to be spared from....some nonexistent threat they made up in their head. They tried to please you two how ever they could, yet were easily frightened by him simply breathing around them.

Your husband was confused until you clarified that he ruled over the Mushroomos for a long time, cannibalizing them and making threats should they fail to bring him more mushrooms--but he found it hard to fathom that he'd ever do such a thing and abandon you and his family..

Even so, he felt guilty and hoped to make things right.

.........

It was late at night when you and Sozonius were having some light brews at the drinkhouse, feeling relaxed but not entirely befuddled.

He was rambling about some of his latest discoveries in mycology, and you listened with such a loving gaze in your eyes, smiling so big your face was starting to hurt.

You were so, so grateful he came back to you..and that Lamb could save him.

But one particular Mushroomo, however, arrived in hopes of drinking their worries away...and instead found you two at the counter, disappointed.

They tried to sneak away, although Sozonius spotted them and whistled. "You, Mushroomo! Come sit with us." He offered. "We don't bite."

"Eek! I-I mean, of course Mast---I mean Sozo..I-I mean....urrgh!!" Already they were fumbling over their words, scratching at their mushroom cap and sweating. "S-Sorry, sorry! AH!" They nearly tripped over a rock on their way to the drinkhouse.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, dear?" You glanced at your husband, who just nodded reassuringly.

"It will be fine."

Even as the Mushroomo sat down and took one of the drinks left on the counter, they seemed too anxious to take a sip. Instead their gaze going to you--and Sozonius, especially. "I-I feel like I'm interrupting something.."

"No, you are not. But listen-"

"D-Do you need more 'shrooms for your studies, Sozo?? More menticide-?"

"No, no. Listen. I wanted to...apologize for what I have done to you and your fellow Mushroomos."

"Wha.....y-you do..?"

With a soft sigh, Sozonius grasped both of their hands, and although they squeaked in surprise, they didn't try running off. "I scarcely recall what I did while under the influence of the mushrooms. But...it's no excuse. I treated all of you poorly, ate your friends...and I'm sorry. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this old fool."

They meekly nodded. "W-We understand..mast-"

"From this day forward," he cut in gently, "I am no longer your master. You serve the Lamb now. Not me. And that goes for all of you Mushroomos, okay?"

"....yes, doctor." The mushroom creature exhaled a shaky breath, looking utterly relieved to have official freedom from his servitude.

"Good, thank you." Sozonius let go, smiling. "I'm glad you understand. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"I think..I will." They stood up and stared down at their untouched drink, before sliding it back over to you. "You can have this. I...don't feel like I need it anymore."

You nodded, bidding them goodnight as they headed back to their shelter, before gazing at the ant. "Seems you broke their habit, too."

"Well, I am a doctor, after all." He chuckled. "I wanna help whoever I can."

All you did was smile, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence, finishing your drinks and admiring the golden shrine at the center of the cult grounds.

Finally, everything was as it should be.

[sl-ut]

the "abby obsessed with reader pussy" is the realistic thing ever. she's a starved woman for cunt, period! the pat pat 🥺 does she slips a hand between reader thighs, holding her cunt just to feel her heat, when they're cuddling?

more college!abby

combining these two bc why not

abby is absolutely obsessed with y/n. the way she looks, the way she smells, her skin, her hair, her boobs... but don't even get me started on the love that abby has for her coochie.

this obsession began fairly early on. in fact, she hadn't even asked y/n to be her girlfriend yet. they had been going out for a few weeks by this point, though they had yet to have sex. it was during a heated makeout sesh that the fascination began; y/n was on her back on the plush sofa in abby's apartment while the beast of a woman hovered over her, body pressed snugly against her. her thigh had dipped between both of y/n's by accident, her knee nudging against the warm space between her. she hadn't meant to do it, but after feeling the blistering heat of her core through the sweatpants that she had leant her and noticing the way that y/n had jumped at the contact, abby was hooked.

from then on, her hands were all over it, even when they weren't getting down and dirty. when they were in the car or sitting side-by-side, she was sliding her hand to rest dangerously high on her thigh; when y/n was in her lap, she was savouring the warmth that radiated from it; in the rare occasion when y/n wakes up first, she'll always find her back tucked into abby's chest and one of her strong hands cupping her sex (sometimes even stuffed beneath her pajama bottoms). even when y/n's on her period, she'll slide her hand down and just rest it there, almost like a heating pack.

now when they are getting down and dirty...

abby is an addict to a few things, such as the gym, caramel corn, and the look, taste, and smell of her sweet girlfriend's dripping pussy. when she finally gets the chance to see it for the first time, she actually stops and just looks, ignoring the needy whining leaving her girl's lips. y/n will be bucking her hips, widening her legs even further, and crying for her as abby's eyes narrowed in on the glistening folds (she didn't even know someone could be that wet). her fingers touched it first, outlining the neatly groomed patch of hair on her pubis, running around the outside of her lips, and then gliding through the wetness in between. she took her time in raising her fingers to her lips, tongue eagerly licking away at the slick and moaning at the taste. when she gets down on her belly and comes face to face?? with it, she runs her nose through the wetness and sighs happily at the mouthwatering scent before finally diving in.

and when i say diving in, i mean it.

she licks and sucks and slurps from her like a woman starved. she's almost animalistic with it, providing no sense of pattern or thought with the movement of her tongue and quite literally just making out with it. and she's fucking groaning the whole time, definitely getting off on it.

when it comes to spanking, abby was a bit reserved at first. initially, it was something that she would do playfully throughout the day or sometimes before her games when she came running over for her good luck kiss. a little pat right at the apex of y/n's thighs to let her know what kind of night she was in for.

then, she did it once when y/n was being particularly bratty, whining and trying to rush her through her drawn-out process of getting her ready for the strap. a simple slap to the clit had her jumping and squealing in surprise, but managed to shut her up enough to let abby do her thing.

in this post, i talked about the different kinds of drunk!y/n's and what kind of sex she and abby have based on the liquor she drank. she especially likes to spank y/n's pussy on those nights after parties when rum!y/n has come out to play. the bitch needs to be put in her place, and abby will edge her for almost an hour before making her come over and over and over until she's absolutely soaked abby's abdomen. she'll see the telltale signs of her orgasm, and her hand will pull away only to provide a few short slaps against her swollen lips as her favourite juices come squirting out.

[lovemyavatar]

STAR GIRL

| Lo’ak x F!Avatar Reader |

Summary: on Pandora, danger is always just around the corner, but sometimes it hits a little too close to home

Warnings: angst, dramatic af, descriptions of an animal attack and injuries, THEY'RE REALLY GONNA KISS Y'ALL

dialogue in italics is Na'vi translated to English

chapter four chapter six

Chapter Five

Finally, it feels like you're starting to breathe.

After four more weeks, you've fallen into a rhythm within the clan. You've eased into the Omatikaya way of life. The first clothing you were given is now discarded, as you proudly wear items that you weaved yourself. They're far from perfect, many stitches out of place that have already needed mending, but they're yours.

Your arms and legs are adorned with the most beautiful accessories, some made with your own hand, other's from the Sully's. Kiri crafted the thin, beaded band that rests snuggly around your ankle. Seven colorful stones, one for each member of her family...and you.

Tuk made a bracelet, various dyed strands of twine braided together. And Lo'ak—he's made too many to count. He's addicted to the twinkle in your eye, the glistening adoration focused entirely on him when he gives you a new piece of jewelry. It makes his chest swell, cheeks warming, a bashful dip of his chin when you throw your arms around his neck.

Your days have begun following a familiar pattern. Every morning it's breakfast, then a couple hours of work in the Tsahik tent before Lo'ak pulls you away for training.

Training sometimes seems like a loose term for what you're doing. The two of you race through the forest, swing around treetops, swim in flowing waters, playing games at every turn. It's been...rejuvenating.

When you're with him, it feels like nothing can go wrong. He's firm, but gentle, always murmuring reminders of you can do it, trust yourself, or come on, you got this. He beams when you learn a new skill, pride warming his chest until he fears it might explode.

He pushes you, like the first time you made tsaheylu (bond) with a pa'li (direhorse). You only managed to stay on the animal's back for a mere few seconds before tumbling to the dirt harshly. He had you do it time and time again, until you learned how to urge the beast forward slowly.

When you made your first kill with the bow, he crouched beside you, strong hands guiding yours through the prayer to return its soul to Eywa. That is one skill you took on quickly, nailing arrows in the center of painted targets within only days. The weapon feels natural in your hands, like you were meant to wield it.

You still remember the way he looked at you once it was done, bright eyes slowly turning toward yours, soft smile oozing with pride.

The two of you have these moments. Touches that linger too long, glances that hold just a little too much heat. Lo'ak can't help himself, truthfully he's been enamored with you from the moment he and his siblings found you in the forest. Spending every day with you is a blessing and a curse. He's tormented with wanting you, having you right there, but still unable to reach you.

You've started to mean something more, something deeper that he hasn't yet experienced. It's just beneath the surface, begging for him to pull it free, but something always gets in the way.

Like his brother, the skxawng (idiot). He's always there, no doubt on his mother's order, ready to interfere at every turn. He has warmed up to you slightly, deadly glares have soothed to glowering stares, rude comments simmering to displeased grunts. Even so, he hasn't changed his mind about your status, about the fact that you're an outsider.

The rest of the clan is used to you by now, no longer staring openly but mostly ignoring your presence. They're polite when necessary, a small gesture you're grateful for.

You still visit the lab when you can, unable to fully let go of that piece of your life. It's hard to sneak away, but you manage to find an hour here or there. You've taken Kiri's advice and kept your satchel well hidden, always making sure no one sees when you drift off into the forest on your own.

There's been a shift within you, a change in priority. You still miss home, miss the people you grew up with, but Home Tree is beginning to feel familiar. Comfortable. You've gotten used to the communal living, even learning to appreciate the way everyone is so willing to help. The clan is one huge family, you've come to realize, smaller, tight-knit family units making up a larger whole.

You haven't felt the pull to visit your roots as often, enjoying your time frolicking with a certain forest boy. But on days like today, when there isn't much going on around the clan and he's busy working on something with his father, you find yourself wandering toward the lab.

A bow, one you've borrowed from the stash of discarded weapons used for training purposes, is slung over your chest. You've fallen into the habit of taking it with you, now more aware than ever of the dangers lurking within the moon’s lush vegetation.

Something rustles at your back and you turn, instantly on high alert. You’re now deep in the forest, at least a couple miles from the safety of the clan. Surrounded by nothing but thick foliage and the steady thrum of natural sounds that blanket the area.

A small figure leaps from behind a bush, tiny features scrunched into a snarl. You can’t help but jump at the unexpected presence, taking an alarmed step back.

Tuk rises from her crouched position, head thrown back in a deep laugh. “Oh, Eywa! You should’ve seen your face!”

“Tuk,” You admonish, fingers loosening where they'd clutched the bow slung across your chest, brows furrowing. Your gaze lifts over her shoulder, surprised to see that she's alone. “What are you doing?”

She isn’t supposed to leave Home Tree on her own, let alone venture this far. Your stomach churns with worry, but she merely rolls her eyes.

“I’ve been following you forever! Where are you going? Can I come?” She bounces on her toes, lips pulling into a grin, hopeful eyes twinkling up at you.

Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown close to the youngest Sully. When things are slow moving around Home Tree, she always ends up wandering to your side. She follows you like a shadow, pleading to take part in whatever you're doing. You've found it hard to deny her, the bright twinkle of wonder in her eye reminding you just a little too much of your younger self.

The two of you find ways to entertain yourselves, exploring close to home or playing games within the village. Most nights, you sit by the fire after dinner, talking about whatever her little heart desires. She often feels overlooked by her siblings, and though their age gap is most likely the cause, it wears on her. You offer a listening ear, sprinkling in advice when needed.

These chats have gone uninterrupted, no doubt Jake’s doing. You caught him once, scolding Neteyam, ordering him to be kinder, to give you space to find your own place within the clan. He hasn’t bothered you much since.

Irritation claws at your chest as you peer down at her. You love spending time with the little girl, but it’s been over a week since you last visited the lab. The itch to return home is growing hard to ignore. A sigh falls from pursed lips and your shoulders square, resignation settling in your stomach. Today just isn't your day.

“Come on, Tuk. Let’s get you home.” You offer gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to guide her the way you both came.

“What? No! I wanna go on an adventure. I know you were going somewhere fun!” She whines, voice rising with displeasure. She deftly twists free of your hold, spinning until she's bouncing in front of you once again.

“I was just going for a hunt.” The lie spills past your lips easily, though you quickly realize your mistake as her eyes pop wide with intrigue.

“I wanna go hunting! I’m ready, look, I have my dagger right here. Come on!” She jumps up, gesturing to the weapon sheathed at her chest. She grabs your hand and runs, pulling you along with her.

You stumble at her surprising strength, but force her to stop a few strides later. “Wait, Tuk.”

"Come on!" She draws out the last word, high pitched voice echoing through the trees as she tugs against you.

A low growl makes your ears twitch. You stagger forward a few steps as she uses all of her strength to pull forward. You're distracted, head turning from side to side. Something rustles nearby, followed by a loud snap.

"Tuk!" Her name is a sharp warning, whispered at her back as you stop, pulling her toward you easily.

She throws her head back and groans loudly, another low rumble making your head jerk to the side. "What now?"

"Quiet, Tuk!" You hush, fingers wrapping around her bicep to tug her into your stomach. Your hand cups her head protectively, holding it against you.

Your heart thrums against your ribcage, chest tightening with apprehension. Tuk squirms against you, but your hold only tightens. A sudden gasp has you lurching down to her height, afraid she'd gotten hurt. She quickly ducks free of your hold, scampering toward a nearby bush.

You instantly follow, a silent curse twisting your lips. She crouches to the ground, pulling back some of the brush, before turning to grin at you over her shoulder.

"Look, Y/N, it's only a bunch of pups!" She beams excitedly, bouncing a few times as she turns back to the bush.

You bend down beside her, peering through thick leaves. Three small nantang (viperwolf) babies wrestle in the dirt, snarling and nipping at each other. Tuk giggles, enamored with the sight. Your stomach twists, hands beginning to shake where they're clutched around your bow.

Slowly, you lift it over your head, pulling an arrow from the bag at your hip. Your eyes sweep the area, willing yourself to remember the sounds Lo'ak has taught you to listen for.

"That's not what I'm afraid of..." The admission is a quiet murmur at her back as you smoothly rise to your feet.

"What do you mean, Y/N? Oh, Eywa, they're so cute! Come look!"

Your ears flatten, wishing she'd lower her voice. Another low growl has you spinning on your feet, knocking an arrow swiftly as you raise the weapon. The bow moves with you as your body turns slowly, narrowed gaze searching the trees.

A breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as they land on a much larger, much angrier nantang. It's perched on a low-hanging branch in one of the trees just steps away, snout wrinkled in a threatening snarl. Sharpened teeth snap in your direction as it crouches, looking ready to pounce at any moment.

"Tuk." You call, hoping she picks up on the urgency in your voice. "Get behind me, Tuk."

"Huh? Oh, it's fine Y/N. The pups aren't—" Her lighthearted voice cuts off with an ear-piercing scream.

You lurch around, heart plummeting to your stomach at the sight of her on the ground, another nantang growling on top of her. Instantly, your bow is drawn. An arrow plunges into the beast, a pained whimper echoing through the trees as it slumps to the dirt.

You rush to her side, falling onto your knees as you shush her growing cries gently. Wide, panic stricken eyes flit over her small form, assessing for injuries. A thick swallow scratches down your throat when your gaze catches on a crimson puddle spreading into the dirt.

Blood gushes from a long gash in her skin, running from hip to lower ribs. She wails beneath you, chest heaving with erratic sobs.

"Tam tam (there, there), Tuk. Shit." Your hands shake, reddened palms turning toward you. You let out a shuddering breath, willing your racing heart to calm.

The ground beneath your knees rumbles as the first nantang you saw leaps from it's hiding place, razor sharp teeth snapping in your direction. Your gaze tears away from your soiled hands, forcing trembling digits to close around the bow at your side.

The animal bounds forward just as you lift the weapon. The arrow narrowly misses, barely nicking the beast's shoulder. It seems to only increase it's anger, a loud growl twisting your stomach as it closes in on you and Tuk.

With a rough gasp, you shoot another, this one landing square in the beast's heart. A quivering breath echoes through the trees, the forest settling into silence. You return to Tuk's side, one arm sliding beneath her head. She cries out, face screwing in pain, tiny fingers clutching at your arms.

"I know, Tuk, I know." The coo trembles over her as your other arm snakes under her knees. You stagger to your feet, panic tightening your chest. Blood stains her skin and yours, more than you imagined could possibly come from her small body.

You only make it a few steps before something barrels into your legs, knocking you off balance. You tuck Tuk into your chest, turning so your back hits the dirt with a painful thump. She groans lowly, steadily losing consciousness. You heave her limp body off of you, setting her onto the ground as gently as possible.

With a wince, you lurch upright, grabbing the bow that landed beside you. Only a moment later, it's ripped violently from your hold, splitting in two within the jaws of another nantang. It's head lowers, a menacing growl piercing the quiet forest. Your eyes pinch tightly, ragged breaths shaking your chest.

"Fuck." The curse is a muttered sound of defeat.

Your chin lifts, brow furrowing as you hiss at the animal as ferociously as possible. It's clawed feet thump against the dirt before it lunges forward, accepting your challenge. In an instant you lurch to your feet, moving away from Tuk's crumpled body.

It follows, leaping into the air so it's now level with your chest. You duck, sliding onto your knees, fingers clasping a loose arrow as you skid past it. You turn, plunging the pointed end into the animal's stomach as it jumps on top of you.

It snarls and thrashes, the hand-crafted weapon only sinking deeper into its dark flesh. Razor sharp fangs sink into your outer thigh, and you scream.

The sound reverberates through the trees, leaves rustling in it's wake. The beast hangs in the air, whining and twitching, until you slump onto the ground, arrow clattering to the dirt. Your gaze falls to Tuk, now completely passed out in a broken heap on the ground.

An agonized moan splits your lips as you force yourself upright. Pain lashes at your insides, emanating from your leg. Your heart pounds against your ribs, so hard you fear the bones might snap.

With a determined growl, you rip the bag, once filled with arrows but now empty, from your hip. You tear at the strap with your teeth until it breaks, then tie the long strip of material around your thigh, above the deep wound in your flesh.

You crawl toward Tuk, entire body shaking with adrenaline and pain. With great effort, you hoist her into your arms and run.

"Help, I need help!" You don't care that you're speaking Na'vi, you don't care that you look like a crazy woman, you don't care about anything but getting Tuk to the Tsahik tent.

You break through the flora surrounding Home Tree, Tuk still wrapped tightly in your arms. Pure adrenaline is the only thing that made the journey back possible, pure will that she would not die on your watch. Quickly, clan members flock to you, realizing the situation is serious. They surround you, guiding you in a large flock toward the healing tent.

Mo'at emerges at the commotion, eyes instantly blowing wide at the sight of you. She rushes forward, the crowd immediately splitting for her. She rattles off a series of orders, the words far too jumbled for your distressed brain to distinguish. The clan disperses, leaving you with the older woman.

The moment you pass through the entrance, all energy leaves your body. You set Tuk down on a woven mat at Mo'at's gentle urging. You slump forward, trembling arms giving out under your own eight. You nearly falling on top of Tuk in the process, until firm hands grip your shoulders, turning you so that you crumble the ground instead.

"Oh, Eywa, my child." Mo'at bends down to you, hands extended as if to help.

"No." The word is a firm order through pursed lips. A blood-soaked hand moves up to bat her away, chest still heaving from the massive show of exertion. "Tend to her, please."

She nods in understanding, turning to assess her granddaughter. A moment later, the entrance of the tent flaps open harshly, Neytiri bounding to her daughter's other side. Her eyes already glisten with tears before she even lays eyes on her, having been called by the clan.

"No, no, not my baby! Not my Tuk!" She cries, hands moving to cover trembling lips. Her gaze slices to you, though the accusation behind them quickly diminishes at your state.

Your eyes droop, sudden exhaustion weighting you down. A second later, they pop open at the feeling of gentle hands gripping under your arms.

"Mawey (calm), Y/N. I got you." You recognize the light chirp of Kiri's voice as she drags you across the floor. You hadn't even seen her come in.

The sounds of quiet murmuring fill the tent. The three women work on you and Tuk, preparing various healing balms and cleaning your wounds. It's impossible to keep your eyes open. The pain, the worry, the flood and release of adrenaline, it's all too much. As Kiri whispers calming words, you descend into dreamless sleep.

Two days have passed, and you haven't had a moment of peace since opening your eyes.

Jake was the first person you saw, sitting at your bedside when you woke. He instantly pulled you against his chest, arms crushing you in a tight embrace. Gratitude spilled from his lips continuously. At this point, he must've found a hundred different ways of thanking you for saying his daughter's life.

Lo'ak was next, brow pinching at the sight of his father hugging you. For a brief moment, anger clouded his mind. A sick sense of jealousy clawed at his chest for not being the first set of eyes yours saw when they finally opened. He quickly chastised himself, the feeling overshadowed by pure joy, pure relief at seeing you awake.

He hasn't left your side since. Not when his mother and Neteyam came to extend their appreciation, or when the drove of clan members did the same. The great Toruk Makto's daughter was safe, thanks to you, they kept saying. Their perception of you had instantly shifted, it seemed, from unwanted outsider to welcomed guest.

The tightness in your chest hasn't dissipated, though. The feeling that you were the one to get her into that situation in the first place gnaws at you. She's back to her usual happy self already, skipping around Home Tree as much as her bandages will allow. It's soothed the lingering guilt a bit, seeing that her spirit hadn't been effected.

"I can't believe this is all for me." She giggles beside you, shoulder resting against your side.

Your lips pull into a small smile as you peer down at her, running a hand along her hair. You nudge her gently, careful to avoid jostling her injured side.

"You deserve it, mighty warrior." You tease, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles again.

The last several nights have been spent around the fire, music and dancing filling the gathering area of Home Tree. Libations and prayers flowed just as readily. A celebration of life, Mo'at had called it, to thank the Great Mother for sparing Tuk's life. She'd said it was for you, too, for your bravery, but you know the clan doesn't really care about that.

Familiar footsteps approach, your back instantly stiffening. You remove your hand from Tuk's head, instead folding it into your lap. Your eyes raise to meet Neytiri's, surprised to see them glittering with joy, crinkled at the corners as she grins at you.

She hasn't been outwardly hostile since that day in the Tsahik tent. In fact, she's been almost kind, gentle in the way she speaks to you. But this? A smile? She's never once looked at you with such openness, and it's thrown you a bit off kilter.

"Come, dance with us." She extends a hand toward you, but all you can do it stare, lips parting in utter shock.

Your gaze flickers from her hand to her happy expression in question, finally slipping your fingers between hers when she nudges them toward you again. She guides you to your feet slowly, careful to avoid straining your injured leg. Your eyes meet Tuk's over your shoulder as her mother pulls you away. She gives you two thumbs up, and a huge grin as a parting gift.

When you arrive in the center of the raging party, she surprises you again by lightly shoving you toward Lo'ak. His head is thrown back with laughter, eyes closed joyfully. You turn to look at Neytiri in question, but she's already gone. By the time you face him again, his attention is zeroed in on you.

A big, boyish grin overtakes his face. The yellow of his eyes glitters against the crackling fire, shadows dancing across his chest. He closes the distance between you in two strides, abandoning the friends he was talking to without hesitation.

His sweltering gaze leaves yours for a brief moment to glance toward your leg. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

His heart swells when he sees you. His fate was sealed the moment he learned what you did for his sister, the feelings he harbors for you undeniable. He's been glued to your side since, equal parts fascination and worry clouding his mind. He's in awe of you, of the way you used the skills he taught you to defend yourself and his family.

It's caused something to grow within him, the roots of an emotion so deep, so final, it actually scares him.

Your lips part to explain that his own mother deposited you here, when the music suddenly changes. Drums beat quickly, the rhythmic pounding increasing in tempo. Clan members call out excitedly and begin moving in sync. Someone shoves at your back and you wince, stumbling to the side. Pain shoots up your leg, battered muscle giving out under the additional weight.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you upright. Your fingers wrap around Lo'ak's forearms, side burning where it presses against his chest. Big eyes flick up to meet his, finding that they're already locked on you, shining with something warm.

"Follow my lead." His voice is a calming murmur as he whisks you into the crowd.

At once, a long line forms, pairs of two breaking off. They face each other, breaking into what appears to be a practiced dance. Lo'ak pulls you along, until you're nestled within the formation. His hands drag from your hips, trailing upward until long fingers wrap around your elbows. You shiver at the gentle caress, heart soaring, letting him guide you into position.

He moves back once satisfied, fingertips soothing down your arms until he releases you entirely. He begins bouncing lightly, arms moving above his head before cascading back down with a twinkle of his fingers. You can't help but giggle as his brows waggle encouragingly. A hand moves up to cover your lips, uncontrollable laughter bubbling in your chest.

He circles your wrists, forcing your hands up before bringing them back down in time with the music. You glance from side to side, seeing the rest of the clan doing the same thing. You shake him off, starting the movement on your own cautiously.

"Hey," Lo'ak coos, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bore into yours, throat suddenly hoarse. "Just look at me, okay?"

You nod absently, swallowing the emotion swelling in your chest. His eyes flick over your face, heavy lids dropping, sending your heart into a frenzy. The yellow of his eyes is molten, orange tinging the edges as the raging fire crackles at your back.

The two of you stay like this for awhile, long past the end of the song. Long after most of the clan has moved on to dancing how they want, you're frozen in place, chests only inches apart. You didn't even notice that the space between you was growing smaller, not until now, when you can feel ragged breaths against your lips.

One of his hands brazenly cups your jaw, not a care in the world that the entire clan surrounds you. The party rages on, no one is paying the two of you any mind, but still, the danger is there.

"Lo'ak..." His name is a breathless murmur, almost too low to decipher. Your gaze drops to his lips, unable to fight the growing desire between your legs.

His head shakes minutely, silently telling you that it won't stop him. That nothing on all of Pandora will stop him from connecting his lips with yours at that moment. Not even—

"Lo'ak, a word?" The tense voice of his mother breaks the spell.

His nostrils flare, jaw tensing at the way you jerk away from him. He watches you curl inward, arms wrapping around your waist as you take a large step back, cheeks reddening. His heart squeezes, eyes reluctantly sweeping toward the interruption.

"Mother, can it wait?" His tone is less than respectful, but he's frustrated. No matter what he does, it seems he can never have a moment of peace with you. He always manages to take one tiny step forward, inching toward the point of gratification, only for it to be yanked away at the last second.

"Now, son." She grabs his bicep, forcefully pulling him behind her as she practically runs away without so much as a glance in your direction.

He stumbles, shoulders tense, but he lets her drag him along. Large, apologetic eyes meet yours over his shoulder, never wavering until he's maneuvered out of sight. Your lips twist with anxiety, hoping nothing urgent happened. A quick glance toward the other side of the fire confirms that Tuk is still okay. She's now accompanied by Kiri, tiny head resting in her sister's lap as they talk.

You quickly make your way toward them, knowing Lo'ak will find you when he's done.

Darkness blankets Home Tree, flora dimly glowing beneath the eclipsed sun. You rouse from your slumped position, eyes blinking sleepily at the sound of clattering beside you. A few stray clan members wander, cleaning up the remnants of the earlier celebration.

Bleary eyes roam the area, realizing that it's nearly empty. A yawn splits your lips as you stretch gently, only noticing the pressure on your lap when you move to stand up. You can't help but smile down at Kiri, still fast asleep with her head perched on your thighs. You blink rapidly, willing the memory of the last minutes of consciousness to return.

The two of you fell asleep, clearly, but where is Tuk? You're surprised that the Sully's would leave Kiri out here with you, a twinge of anxiety building at the unusual circumstances. She grumbles under her breath when you fidget again, large eyes blinking open. In an instant she lurches upright, eyes wide, head swiveling side to side.

"Skxawngs (idiots)." She mutters, running long fingers through tousled hair.

You can't help but laugh, rising slowly to collect your things. The two of you head quietly toward the Sully family tent, Kiri grousing the whole way. Home Tree is nearly silent, the sounds of the forest overpowering the few whispers as the clan turns in for the night.

"See you tomorrow, Y/N." Kiri mumbles with a yawn, rubbing at tired eyes. She staggers a bit as you approach the entrance to her home, seemingly too sleepy to speak in English.

Your lips part to wish her a good night, but a curt voice makes you pause.

"No, absolutely not." It's Neytiri, scolding harshly in Na'vi.

Your questioning gaze meets Kiri's, her eyes widening, instantly on high alert. She grips your arm gently and tugs you to the side, crouching low next to the entrance.

"Mother..." Lo'ak's voice is nothing more than a quiet plea.

Kiri's fingers tighten around you the same moment your heart leaps into your throat. You quickly move to stand. The conversation is clearly intimate and you don't want to intrude, but Kiri jerks you back down.

"You cannot feel this way, my boy." Neytiri's tone softens slightly.

"I'm not asking for your permission—ow!" A quiet thump sounds, and if you had to guess based on their past interactions, you'd say she bonked him on the back of the head. Your eyes widen as they sweep to Kiri, who merely shrugs, looking sheepish.

"She is not one of The People, do you understand me? She will never be one of The People."

Your breath hitches, something dark and painful lodging in your chest. They're talking about you, the realization landing like heavy stones in your stomach. Her words settle over you, weighting you down with the implication.

He's just confessed to his mother, given a name to the unyielding tension that's been brewing for two months now, and she rejected you.

You lurch to your feet, arm ripping free of Kiri's tight hold.

"Y/N—" She pleads, standing to her full height beside you.

Your vision blurs, ragged breath catching in your lungs. Your stomach flips and you stumble, panic gripping you swiftly. Every expectation, every lingering glare, every cold shoulder the clan has given you suddenly feels more pointed, more jagged.

You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. But after the last few days, after all the training, you'd stupidly let yourself believe this place could feel like home. The realization sinks into your heart, the knowledge that no matter what you do—how hard you try—it will never be enough.

You turn on your heel, and run.

Ignoring the burn in your injured leg, the echo of your name, you don't stop. Tears streak down your cheeks, pent up emotion finally releasing after all these weeks. You feel like such a skxawng (idiot) for ever thinking the clan would accept you. For ever thinking there was anything you could do to change the fact that you've got demon blood coursing through your veins.

"Y/N!" Lo'ak's voice is desperate behind you.

You nearly fall, feet catching on an upturned root as you break through the tree line. The sound of your name on his lips constricts your heart, a sob clawing it's way to the surface. Your chest tightens, fingers roughly swiping away falling moisture.

"Y/N, stop!" He's getting closer, but you can't speed up, injured thigh throbbing in protest.

In an instant he's at your side, gripping your arm tightly to stop you in your tracks. He jerks you around to face him, expression crumbling at the sight of your torment.

"Oh, Y/N." Large thumbs smooth under your eyes, clearing away the signs of your sadness. His chest aches, knowing he's made you feel this way, knowing he's gotten you into trouble again.

If he'd just kept his mouth shut, if he'd only been able to shove down the admiration that'd become overwhelming, neither of you would be in this position. He waited too long. He kept you at arms length to protect his own silly fears, his own hesitation to allow himself the only thing he'd ever truly wanted.

He can't stop screwing up, no matter what he does, and it hurts.

Strong arms wrap around your middle. You collapse under his presence, under the comfort you feel you can no longer accept. Your knees buckle, and he goes down with you, tucking into the earth like it's where the two of you are meant to be.

He pulls you in, scooting across the dirt until you're perched on his lap. His legs are folded beneath him, yours wrapped loosely on either side of his hips. Warm palms cup both sides of your neck, fingers gently urging your head up toward him.

"Baby, what is it?" He knows you've heard his mother's words. He recognizes the blazing turmoil of rejection glistering in your eyes all too well. But still, he has to ask because maybe, just maybe, you'll let him try to fix it.

His eyes are too bright, too intense when you meet them. Your chest tightens at the term of endearment. It slices through your chest like a serrated knife, a reminder of stunted potential. Your gaze falls back to your lap, unable to withstand the blistering heat of his undivided attention.

"I—I can't Lo'ak..." Your voice wobbles, a single tear tumbling over your waterline.

“Please.” He shakes his head, feeling his stomach churn at your dismissal. He hooks a fingertip under your jaw and pulls your face back to him. “Don’t turn away from me.”

You blink up at him, moisture momentarily clearing to reveal glistening yellow. He bores into you with everything he has, all restraint gone. He wants you to feel it, to see how much he cares for you. His fingers soothe down the side of your throat, sliding to wrap around the base of your skull.

“I see you. I don't care what anyone says.” The words are barely a whisper, floating on the breeze so gently you wonder if he's even said them at all.

You eyes fall closed, pinching tightly as a pained breath falls through downturned lips. Your insides swell and tighten, too many emotions warring at once.

“Lo’ak.” His name is a broken plea, to stop or continue you aren't sure.

His fingers tighten around the back of your neck, gently pulling until your eyes have nowhere to go but his. “I. See. You.”

He accents the promise with a dip of his head, lips descending on yours. It's nothing more than a featherlight caress, a tentative question. Soft lips waft over yours, begging for permission. Your body has no choice but to respond, the weeks up pent up yearning exploding within your chest.

A hand presses against his shoulder before smoothing up the side of his neck. You arch into him, a rough sigh shuddering into his waiting mouth. You pull him closer, lips slanting over his. He groans, returning your passion tenfold. His heart thunders against his ribs and he shifts beneath you, unable to stop himself from jerking your hips closer.

"Wait." You suddenly gasp, ripping your lips away harshly. You try to stand, but his arms tighten around you. Your head shakes in protest. “Don’t do this.”

She will never be one of The People.

The words echo in your mind, a slash to the heart with each syllable.

“Y/N…” He whispers your name pleadingly, boring up into you. You're curling inward, and it crushes him. It twists his heart, tightens his stomach, makes a ragged breath cave through his lungs.

“You’re supposed to be with one of The People, Lo’ak.” Tears well up all over again, and you turn away, body falling limp in his arms. It's clear he isn't letting go, and you don't have the energy to fight.

His eyes round, hand cupping your jaw to gently pull your attention back in. He forces a swallow down a hoarse throat. He's scared, terrified that you're going to reject him. That you'll deny him the only thing he's wanted since he met you.

“There’s no one else.” His lips quiver under the emotions swelling in his chest. "There's never been anyone else."

Your heart shatters, eyes flicking between his. They're searching, looking for any hesitance, any hang up he's withholding when it comes to wanting you. It's clear, as your gaze bores into his, that there is none. This boy wants every piece of you, despite what everyone else is telling him. Despite the fact that you're an outsider, demon blood surging through your veins.

He wants you. He wants you. He wants you.

Without warning, your lips crash against his. He responds instantly, arms winding impossibly tighter around your back. You're flush against him, not an inch of space between you. Your hands cage the sides of his neck, fingers smoothing up into thick braids. He shivers beneath you, a pleasured groan wafting past his lips.

Suddenly, he rises onto his knees, hands clasping around your hips. A gasp tears up your throat when strong fingers trail down your thighs, hiking your legs higher onto his waist. Your core skims the hardened length shielded by his loincloth before settling against his lower stomach. You tremble, the promise of something more sending a ripple of anticipation up your spine.

When he pulls away to pepper wet kisses down your neck, you grip his hair, forcing him back so you can see his face. He growls low in his chest, the sound landing between your thighs. They clench around him, a motion that doesn't go unnoticed. Hooded eyes lazily meet yours, his chest heaving against you.

"Oel ngati kameie (I see you)." You whisper, watching the words settle over him.

His lips pull into a slow grin, eyes glinting with pleasure. Joy swells in his chest, overpowering all the worry, the anxiety, fear of the unknown. A chuckle of disbelief rumbles in his chest and he absolutely beams.

"Say it again?"

You do. Again and again you praise him, show him how much he means to you with the words he's been desperately waiting to hear his entire life.

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[sarabethsilver]

Unpopular opinion: I don't like Jess and Luke's "reconciliation" in S4... because I don't think they actually repaired anything. I think their dynamic in S4 is like every other parent-child dynamic in Gilmore Girls: unable to break their deeply dysfunctional patterns. (Stop reading now if you love their big hug at the end of S4. I don't want to yuck anybody's yum!)

Liz kicks Jess out and sends him to Luke. And without writing a dissertation about how unstable I think their relationship was the entire time Jess lived there, I'll just say: it wasn't awesome. Better than Liz, absolutely, but not great. And honestly, any good Luke did was destroyed when he angrily kicked Jess out in his moment of desperate need. In short: their relationship was badly damaged prior to S4, and true reconciliation would have to involve actual acknowledgement and repair of that damage. But that's not what happened.

I think you have to examine Luke and Jess' relationship in the context of Liz, because she is a key player here. And to be clear: Liz is Jess' Abuser. She gave him a childhood of chaos and neglect, and when he started to act out because of that... she blamed him, kicked him out, and never spoke to him again. It's difficult to explain just how thoroughly that kind of chronic abuse damages kids. Despite that, Luke prioritizes and protects Liz over Jess. I'm not even blaming Luke; this is a common family dynamic around abusive adults. The other adults in the family deny what's happening, because it's too painful to look at directly.

Liz and Jess both return to Stars Hollow in S4. Liz is given a mild side-eye by Luke, but generally she's welcomed. Jess is... not. Luke shouts at him and makes it VERY clear that Jess is not welcome to stay. He refuses to acknowledge or apologize for the fact that he kicked Jess out or stole his car. Luke shows no concern for where Jess has been living, how he's feeling, or if he has any of his basic needs met. The message is clear: you messed up, kid, and it's your own damn fault. Which is exactly what Liz tells him, by the way... Jess' reaction to her abuse is his fault. (This is part of that family dynamic around abuse; it's easier to blame the angry-looking kid than to examine the abusive behaviors of the adult. In therapy, we refer to this labeling of the kid as "bad" as the "Identified Patient." It's not intentional, but it's a way to deny abuse is happening.)

Things gets worse. Every time Jess tries to set a boundary with Liz - refusing to interfere in her relationship, declining her wedding invitation, saying no to walking her down the aisle - he is chastised. Luke yells at him, insults him, and guilts him. (Luke also takes a moment to shit all over Jess' life and call him a drug dealer. He doesn't give that label to Liz, the actual addict, he gives it to the Identified Patient.) So Jess, who has been totally alone for a year, does what any abused and neglected kid would do: he follows directions in an attempt to gain acceptance.

After a moment of Luke seeming to blame Jess for getting assaulted by his stepfather (again: Identified Patient), Luke makes a glib comment about Jess "hating" Liz. He doesn't want to understand how Jess feels about Liz, though, because that would be too painful to hear. The only thing Luke knows how to do is appease Liz and maintain the appearance of having a happy family. And Jess having a negative feeling about Liz interferes with that. So the message is clear: act happy or just get out of here.

So Jess stops trying to set boundaries or express his feelings. He shuts up, pastes a smile on his face, and dutifully walks his Abuser down the aisle. It's then - and ONLY then - that Luke gives him kindness. That's not reconciliation. That's Luke, unintentionally giving Jess the message that his feelings, boundaries, and safety are secondary to Liz's whims. It's easier to play Happy Family than to actually examine Liz's abuse, Luke's ignoring of that abuse, and do the hard work of repairing.

I see Luke's hug - and his "I'm here Jess, I'm always here" - and it rings hollow for me. Luke has done none of the repair work that would be necessary for a statement like that to carry weight. Nor has he "been there" for Jess at all in the past year. He's plainly prioritized Liz, Jess' Abuser, instead of protecting his nephew, the Identified Patient.

And I don't even blame Luke for that. Luke was deeply entrenched in his own dysfunctional family role. He's been Liz's caretaker for his entire adult life, and he seems to think that he's failing if he doesn't perpetually bail her out of trouble. He can't see past his role of Liz's Enabler and Protector, which is why he could never be an effective guardian to Jess.

S4 doesn't end with Luke and Jess mending fences. It ends with Jess learning that it's his role to shut up and placate Liz, no questions asked. And at the end of all that, Jess goes back to his dirty mattress on the floor and Liz gets to stay in Stars Hollow. Where she is joyfully embraced and fully supported by Luke at every single turn, no matter how many egregious mistakes she makes.

Luke loves Jess, and he does support him in various ways - paying for the car repairs, showing up to Jess' Open House, giving him advice about Rory. There's good stuff there. But it's clear that when push comes to shove, Luke is going to coddle Liz,Jess' Abuser, for the rest of her natural-born life. Jess, the Identified Patient, is on his own.

(By the time we reach AYITL, Jess is also dutifully coddling Liz and bailing her out of trouble. Lesson learned, I guess.)

Luke and Jess love each other, and I wanted a reconciliation for them so badly! But this wasn't it.

[favcharacterpoll]

ROUND 5 MATCH 13: SCAR VS. SOUNDWAVE

Goodtimeswithscar from Third Life faces Soundwave from Transformers. Who do you like more?

Scar Propaganda:

"Swindling everyone is always great"

"The best time ever. Scitties. Jellie the cat. Mr Rizz himself. Ect."

"PLEASE THIRD LIFE SCAR IS JUST A LITTLE GUY JUST A LITTLE GUY WHO WANTS TO KEEP HIS SHIRT OFF AND CAUSE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION WITH HIS UNHINGED BESTIE AND HE LOVES WITH ALL HIS HEART HIS LLAMA NAMED PIZZA"

“scar is the server con man. he’s absolutely delightful. he’s got max charisma so he WILL sell you anything and everything. it will be useless but you will buy it anyway, sometime later this week he will also murder you. he tries to run a monopoly on sand whilst living in a giant desert. he sells “reputation points” to people under the promise that he won’t murder them if their scores are high enough (he’s lying), he will burn your precious tree down. he will turn and look to you with the sweetest voice and the most precious smile and declare that he’s going to murder everyone. and he will, you will too. and then he will let you beat him to death at the end of this brutal game. you won but at what cost? then you will jump to your death, because you cannot handle being the lone survivor.”

"VOTE SCAR OR ILL KILL YOU NOW in a chill and fun way tho"

"AWOOGA SCITTES"

"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"

"THAT FUCKING CACTUS CIRCLE"

"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"

"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"

"you are not immune to the good times"

"you are not immune to the good times"

Soundwave Propaganda:

"In like every show ever once he's not there/kidnapped/dead the entire Decepticon fucking faction goes to shambles. Ex: in transformers: Prime, (SPOILER!)

once he was "banished to the shadow realm" Megatron literally died and they lost the war 💀💀"

"Soundwave never loses in a poll"

"SOUNDWAVE MY BELOVED his back is so so sore from single-handedly holding up the Decepticon cause every vote for him is 1 more ibuprofen tablet given to him"

"Soundwave is the funniest fucking character in transformers because he's literally the straight man in every situation he's in with the decepticons, because all of them are absolutely incompetent at their job due to them being too focused on infighting. When Megatron died in FOC Soundwave was the one who literally put him back together and by extension, fucked everything over for everyone else because in this specific continuity Megatron just happened to be addicted to space meth.

However it can be so easy to see Soundwave as emotionless because of his straight-man role and his monotone speaking patterns, but Soundwave has plenty of emotions that he displays throughout the years, most notably being when he's dealing with the cassettes (aka his children), and can range from being soft-spoken with them, to full-out enabling their violent tendencies and letting them go ham at beating the shit out of teammates (shout out to that one g1 clip where Soundwave tries to hold back his kids for like a single second before saying "fuck it" and letting them go for the eyes).

Even outside of the cassettes though, he's very expressive in his own way. In fact, he's the KING of pettiness and sass when he wants to be. He literally plays his own supervillain music when walking the halls, he's not above insulting the other deceptions when their arguments are bullshit to him, even when faced with the destruction of the world he was like "nah" until he saw his boyfriend getting injured and went "REAL SHIT" (there's literally memes about this it's so funny). Speaking of friends, he actually has a lot of interesting dynamics with the people around him, especially when it comes to the decepticon high command. He's described as Megatron's most trusted advisor, he's somewhat amicable with Starscream (who's his own brand of frustration), and he and Shockwave even seem to get along pretty well (to the point they have a biologically fucked up tube son together?? It's been years since I've watched Siege but I swear that was what lead to Soundblaster), and did I mention he's gay? I'm pretty sure he and Cosmos are in a relationship together in the IDW comics or at least have a mutual attraction, it's cute.

Also speaking of IDW Soundwave: he likes elephants. They're his favourite animal and he loves them to the point where after he died in the comics, his kids specifically started targeting elephant poachers because they knew Soundwave would want that.

Have I mentioned he has a cat dad in the IDW comics. Like his dad is a literal robot cat that found him when he was having a sensory overload in the middle of the streets. Have these panels from when his dad died and he wasn't even there to see it! He just knew 💖

And have I mentioned he's met Fluttershy? Because he canonically met Fluttershy and let his cassettes play with her (while DELAYING HIS MISSION. THAT'S HUGE IN SOUNDWAVE LANGUAGE.)

There's also him being the reigning champion of best robot husband, but that's a whole other situation which is also really funny."