#stopping to observe while not engaging at all

[imaginedreamwrite]

For stalker weekend: ghost sees you across the road helping a stray animal and just decides that this sweet person must be protected at all costs who cares if you have a significant other already don’t you know that your now ghost’s please please please

For weeks he saw you here and there, just enough to spark mild curiosity for Simon. A nosy bastard, apparently, because everytime he saw you he has grown a little more interested. He started a trend of paying more attention, of watching when he probably shouldn’t have, of being more invested in the pretty face than what was warranted.

Naivety—something he once found so utterly mind numbing, had shifted to something desirable. He first saw you when you started moving in across the street from him. You moved into a row of flats and houses that were cut between a busy road, a single bedroom flat that sat across the street from his own place.

The selflessness of someone who would willingly step out onto a road to save a small creature like a kitten, normally would have made him scoff.

Idiot, he would have claimed, while the woman saved the cat from eventual death. But now he’s straddling his bike across the street, watching this woman tucking the little cat into her coat.

Idiot still rang out in his head, but no longer than necessary before a different track took hold. When a man bigger than you had started calling you a brainless cunt for stepping out into traffic, Simon felt himself getting engaged. The kitten was still tucked in your coat and you were finding yourself staring down this man who was yelling at you.

Arsehole, was what Simon thought you mumbled to that man hellbent on yelling at you, but he couldn’t be sure. And as the man continued to yell, Simon acted with intensity. He ripped across the street on his bike and came to a dead stop by you an the other man, the roar of his motorcycle cutting through the argument.

“The fuck you want, huh?” The aggressiveness of this little fucker who called you a cunt for saving the kitten, had also kickstarted an aggressive reaction within Simon.

“Cut the fuckin’ attitude with the bird.” Simon cut the engine of his motorcycle and stepped off, wedging himself between you and the aggressive prat. “Fuck you got against her?”

“Stepping out in front of a vehicle for a damn cat? Cunt wants to be run over-”

“It’s a kitten!” You looked around Simon’s large body to yell at the asshole, cradling that innocent kitten to your chest. “You’d have run it over!”

Simon looks back at you, those seeds of intrigue becoming something darker. Something along the lines of trying to get his pretty bird to shut up so Simon doesn’t have to yell, so Simon doesn’t have to fight when he’s much rather be figuring out a way to get you in his bed.

Obsessiveness, maybe, was starting to sink into his bones.

“That damn thing-”

“It’s innocent!”

“Leave the bird alone, mate.” Simon had shielded you from view, just enough so the mouthy little fucker could get a real good glimpse at the hidden threats that would’ve waited for him.

A knife, small yet sharp enough to do real damage, was tucked into Simon’s jacket. And he wouldn’t hesitate to use it, he wouldn’t think twice about teaching the bastard about mouthing off.

“Learn to control your bitch.” The man finally backed off, he drew himself away from you, not willing to cross Simon.

When he was gone, Simon looked back at you. He watched you fuss over the small creature like you hadn’t just about gotten into a fight over it. Like you were its mother and not some stranger that just found it.

All that time spent watching you, observing you as his new across the street neighbour and this was the defining moment. This incident was the beginning of Simon’s cemented decision that you needed him to keep you safe.

He had to keep his pretty bird protected from anyone and anything who might cross you.

[ardalys]

coming back to old fandoms and observing it quietly like those old men who stop to look at construction sites

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

[fozmeadows]

There's a lot of conversations to be had around the current influx of Americans to Xiaohongshu (RedNote/Little Red Book) ahead of the TikTok ban, many of which are better articulated by more knowledgeable people than me. And for all the fun various parties of both nationalities seem to having with memes and wholesome interactions, it's undoubtedly true that there's also some American entitlement and exoticization going on, which sucks. But a sentiment I've seen repeatedly online is that, if it's taken actually speaking to Chinese people and viewing Chinese content for Americans to understand that they've been propagandized to about China and its people, then that just proves how racist they are, and I want to push back on that, because it strikes me as being a singularly reductive and unhelpful framing of something far more complex.

Firstly: while there's frequently overlap between racism and xenophobia, the distinction between them matters in this instance, because the primary point of American propaganda about China is that Communism Is Fundamentally Evil And Unamerican And Never Ever Works, and thinking a country's government sucks is not the same as thinking the population is racially inferior. The way most Republicans in particular talk about China, you'd think it was functionally indistinguishable from North Korea, which it really isn't. Does this mean there's no critique to be made of either communism in general or the CCP? Absolutely not! But if you've been told your whole life that communist countries are impoverished, corrupt and dangerous because Communism Never Works, and you've only really encountered members of the Chinese diaspora - i.e., people whose families left China, often under traumatic circumstances, because they thought America would be better or safer - rather than Chinese nationals, then no: it's not automatically racist to be surprised that their daily lives and standard of living don't match up with what you'd assumed. Secondly: TikTok's userbase skews young. While there's certainly Americans in their 30s and older investigating Xiaohongshu, it seems very reasonable to assume that the vast majority are in their teens or twenties - young enough that, barring a gateway interest in something like C-dramas, danmei or other Chinese cultural products, and assuming they're not of Chinese descent themselves, there's no reason why they'd know anything about China beyond what they've heard in the news, or from politicians, or from their parents, which is likely not much, and very little firsthand. But even with an interest in China, there's a difference between reading about or watching movies from a place, and engaging firsthand, in real time, with people from that place, not just through text exchanges, but in a visual medium that lets you see what their houses, markets, shopping centers, public transport, schools, businesses, infrastructure and landmarks look like. Does this mean that what's being observed isn't a curated perspective on China as determined both by Xiaohongshu's TOU and the demographic skewing of its userbase? Of course not! But that doesn't mean it isn't still a representative glimpse of a part of China, which is certainly more than most young Americans have ever had before.

Thirdly: I really need people to stop framing propaganda as something that only stupid bigots fall for, as though it's possible to natively resist all the implicit cultural biases you're raised with and exist as a perfect moral being without ever having to actively challenge yourself. To cite the sacred texts:

Like. Would the world be a better place if everyone could just Tell when they're being lied to and act accordingly? Obviously! But that is extremely not how anything actually works, and as much as it clearly discomforts some to witness, the most common way of realizing you've been propagandized to about a particular group of people is to interact with them. Can this be cringe and awkward and embarrassing at times? Yes! Will some people inevitably say something shitty or rude during this process? Also yes! But the reality is that cultural exchange is pretty much always bumpy to some extent; the difficulties are a feature, not a bug, because the process is inherently one of learning and conversation, and as individual people both learn at different rates and have different opinions on that learning, there's really no way to iron all that out such that nobody ever feels weird or annoyed or offput. Even interactions between career diplomats aren't guaranteed smooth sailing, and you're mad that random teenagers interacting through a language barrier in their first flush of enthusiasm for something new aren't doing it perfectly? Come on now.

Fourthly: Back before AO3 was banned in China, there was a period where the site was hit with an influx of Chinese users who, IIRC, were hopping over when one of their own fansites got shut down, which sparked a similar conversation around differences in site etiquette and how to engage respectfully. Which is also one of the many things that makes the current moment so deeply ironic: the US has historically criticized China for exactly the sort of censorship and redaction of free speech that led to AO3 being banned, and yet is now doing the very same thing with TikTok. Which is why what's happening on Xiaohongshu is, IMO, such an incredible cultural moment: because while there are, as mentioned, absolutely relevant things to be said about (say) Chinese censorship, US-centrism, orientalism and so on, what's ultimately happening is that, despite - or in some sense because of - the recent surge in anti-Chinese rhetoric from US politicians, a significant number of Americans who might otherwise never have done so are interacting directly with Chinese citizens in a way that, whatever else can be said of it, is actively undermining government propaganda, and that matters.

What it all most puts me in mind of, in fact, is a quote from French-Iranian novelist and cartoonist Marjane Satrapi, namely:

“The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same.”

And at this particular moment in history, this strikes me as being a singularly powerful realization for Americans in particular to have.

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan��s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[kenzdolls]

SHOTA AIZAWA RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS .

⌗ pairing: shota aizawa x gn! ua teacher! reader

⌗ tags: eraserhead x reader, shota aizawa x gn! reader, mha x reader, bnha x reader

⌗ side note: i’m so deep into writer’s block it’s not funny. (◞‸◟,)

FIRST TIME MEETING:

▹ he first notices you when you're efficiently handling a crisis situation without breaking a sweat - competence is attractive to him, and also you didn't scream when that villain's quirk made everything explode into glittery chaos which was honestly more disturbing than the actual danger

▹probably officially meets you in the faculty lounge at 3 am when you're both grading papers and surviving on coffee, and you're the first person who doesn't give him weird looks for having his sleeping bag draped over his shoulders like some kind of comfort-seeking burrito

▹ initially thinks you're "too energetic" but secretly appreciates that you actually get your work done instead of spending meetings talking about "synergy" and "student engagement metrics" kill him now

▹ makes a mental note when you don't try to make small talk during meetings - respects people who value efficiency over asking him how his weekend was (it was spent sleeping and grading, actually, it's always sleeping and grading)

▹ notices you carry around a thermos of coffee that's somehow always full and warm, and he's 67% convinced you have some kind of coffee-related quirk because that's not humanly possible

▹ gets mildly annoyed when you organize his desk without asking, but keeps it that way because it's actually helpful and maybe he likes that someone cares enough to touch his stuff without wanting something

▹ observes you from across the room during faculty meetings, noting how you handle difficult conversations without resorting to present mic's volume levels or all might's aggressive optimism

▹ appreciates that you don't flinch when his eyes glow red during quirk demonstrations, unlike half the new teachers who still think he's going to murder them (he's only thought about it twice)

▹ finds it oddly comforting when you work in comfortable silence together during late-night patrol prep, because you understand that 2 am is not the time for philosophical discussions about hero work

▹ realizes you're one of the few people who doesn't take his bluntness personally and actually seems to prefer it over fake pleasantries - finally, someone with sense.

HIM FALLING IN LOVE:

▹ starts leaving his capture weapon in slightly more organized coils when he knows you'll be in the same room because apparently he has some kind of basic human dignity left

▹finds excuses to patrol the same routes as you "for efficiency purposes" and definitely not because he wants to make sure you don't get yourself killed by being too reckless (you're not reckless, he's just paranoid)

▹ actually starts drinking the fancy coffee you recommended instead of just whatever's cheapest, and pretends the taste difference doesn't matter even though it's obviously superior - he's not becoming bougie, it's just logical

▹ catches himself staring when you're concentrated on work and immediately looks away while mentally cursing himself for being unprofessional

▹ begins to hate when other teachers interrupt conversations between you two, especially mic who has the worst timing in human history and zero understanding of social cues

▹ starts remembering little details about your schedule and preferences without consciously trying, like how you always grade villain analysis essays on thursdays and prefer the blue pens over black ones

▹ gets irrationally annoyed when other pro heroes flirt with you during joint missions and has to resist the urge to use his quirk to make them stop mid-pickup line it would be for the greater good

▹ finds himself staying awake longer when you're both doing late-night paperwork, claiming it's because he's more productive with ambient noise (not because he's enjoying your company, obviously)

▹ unconsciously positions himself between you and potential threats during dangerous situations, then acts like it's just tactical positioning and not protective instincts

▹ actually considers buying new clothes that aren't just "whatever's comfortable and black" before realizing he has no idea what looks good and gives up

▹ starts timing his coffee breaks to coincide with yours and pretends it's a coincidence even though he's literally checking his watch

▹ gets secretly pleased when you laugh at his dry, sarcastic comments because most people just think he's being mean - he is being mean, but like, affectionately

▹ begins to worry more about your safety during missions than he logically should, doing unnecessary risk assessments about your patrol routes (he's not obsessing, it's just thorough planning)

▹ catches himself almost smiling when you successfully handle difficult students, then immediately schools his expression back to neutral too late, mic saw

▹ realizes he's memorized the way you organize your classroom and desk supplies and could probably recreate your filing system from memory - this is definitely normal behavior

HIM AS A S/O:

▹ shows affection through practical gestures - brings you coffee exactly how you like it, leaves snacks on your desk, and pretends he's not keeping track of when you last ate because someone has to make sure you don't die of malnutrition

▹ uses his capture weapon to pull you closer when you're within range, especially if you're being "inefficient" by walking over to him when he could just gently retrieve you

▹ shares his sleeping bag during outdoor missions and training camps, claiming it's for "optimal body heat distribution" and not because he wants to cuddle he wants to cuddle so bad it's embarrassing

▹ remembers every detail about your quirk's limitations and actively works to cover your weaknesses during fights, like some kind of strategically-minded partner

▹ lets you play with his hair when he's too tired to protest, and secretly loves it but will never admit it because that would require acknowledging he has feelings

▹actually starts going to bed at reasonable hours because you've convinced him proper sleep improves his quirk efficiency (and not because you worry about his health, definitely not)

▹ gives you one of his spare capture weapons "for practical purposes" but really because he wants you to have his protection even when he's not around

▹ shows rare moments of softness by pressing his forehead against yours when you're both exhausted after long days, pretending it's just because he's too tired to hold his head up properly

▹ starts eating actual meals instead of just coffee and nutrition bars because you worry about his health, and discovers food actually tastes good when it's not from a vending machine - revolutionary

▹ uses his quirk to stop your alarm clock on weekends so you can sleep in together, then acts innocent when you realize what happened ("did i do that? weird.")

▹ lets you be the only person who can interrupt his naps without getting death glares, though you still get grumpy mumbling and attempts to pull you into the sleeping bag

▹ actually smiles (small ones) when you successfully coordinate combo moves with his erasure quirk, proud of your teamwork and maybe a little turned on by your competence

▹ wraps you in his capture weapon when you're cold instead of offering his jacket like a normal person, because why be conventional when you can be efficient

▹ defends your teaching methods to other faculty members with surprising passion, shutting down criticism with cold logic and barely-concealed threats - no one talks about his partner like that

▹starts keeping a spare hair tie on his wrist for you after noticing you always lose yours, and pretends it's not because he pays attention to every little thing about you

▹ uses his underground hero connections to make sure you're safe even when he's not around, running background checks on suspicious people in your area (totally normal boyfriend behavior)

▹ actually takes days off when you're sick to take care of you, claiming it's logical since he'd be distracted anyway and not because seeing you miserable makes his chest hurt

▹ lets you reorganize his entire living space because "you're more efficient at domestic tasks" and definitely not because he likes evidence that you exist in his space

▹gets genuinely upset when you're injured, even minor cuts, and hovers while pretending he's not hovering ("i'm not hovering, i'm strategically positioning myself for optimal medical assistance")

▹ learns your coffee order at six different places and has backup plans for when your favorite cafe is closed because proper caffeine intake is serious business

▹actually starts taking pictures to "document important moments" and (definitely doesn't have a folder on his phone labeled with your name)

⌗ taglist: [open] ⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @gh0st-g1rll

© property of kenzdolls 2025 — do not copy, steal, or plagiarize my work onto other media platforms.

[hoshigray]

Hey 🫶🏻 Can I request having sex with Sukuna when he is extremely jealous? Like reader is kinda popular and other guys always tryna flirt with her and shit (she is not interested ofc) So when Sukuna saw another man shooting his shot he needs to blow off steam by fucking you dumb 🤕 and he saying shit like “what a good little cocksucker, maybe I should record you and send this video to all those bastards, so they would know who’s dick you’re gagging on” 😭 I’m so sorry if this is too specific, feel free to ignore 😭

Love your works 🥰

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ofc ofccc !! and ty for loving my stuff~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; you and Sukuna are college seniors - rough sex - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - oral (m! receiving) - dumbification - choking - backshots + legs-up positions - degradation (cocksucker, dumb bitch, slut, whore) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - pet names (dove, little girl, princess, woman) - possessive behavior (it's sukuna, duh) - use of a phone; sexual photography and videography - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of tears and spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

“—Khaahh, oohhh!! Sukuna, pleasee, it hurts—Ahhhnn...!”

“Who said you’re in any position to tell me how to handle you, woman?… Fucking shit, you’re tight as hell…”

Everyone knows that you are off-limits. Knowledge of this fact is the bare minimum when dealing with the one known as “Sukuna’s girl” — no one should dare lay a finger or bat an eye on his woman. And yet, somehow, Sukuna continues to find strays that think this rule doesn’t apply to all. 

He saw it not too long ago today when a guy came your direction at the hall, concealing himself in the shadows to eavesdrop. The junior was dumb enough to invite you to some get-together, foolish enough to think he should even be speaking to the partner of the cold and intimidating Ryōmen Sukuna. 

You were the most popular girl in the class year — expected as Sukuna wouldn’t deal with someone who wasn’t [barely] on equal footing as him. However, unlike him, you carried a much kinder cadence. You greet others with sweet words, converse with professors in a mutual light, and engage with everyone with a compassionate and tranquil soul. — the complete opposite compared to your boyfriend. So, of course, it would be hard for you to turn away people when they come to you for guidance or opinions. 

In this case, you had expressed to the junior that you weren’t interested and had plans to study at your boyfriend’s apartment later. It wasn’t a complete lie, yet a respectful diversion that was expected of you and pleased Sukuna observing.

However, the dull-witted brat put his hand on your shoulder and continued to press on, emphasizing that you’d miss out on people wanting to have a good time with you. A ballsy thing to remark as if saying your boyfriend holds no priority over some boring party. Besides, the man had to stop the itch of coming out of the shadows to strangle the kid for laying his hands on you.

Nonetheless, you gracefully pushed his hand aside and apologized again for declining his offer before heading on your way. The situation was disentangled, both parties carrying on with their days. But that wasn’t enough to calm the salmon-haired man. 

Especially when you were in his apartment, protected under his gaze the entire time; you were sitting across from him at the coffee table while sorting through your coursework, unaware of the fixed look of his red eyes on your frame. Because all he could do was look at you, replaying the interaction from earlier today. 

It all angered him deeply — how the junior said your name so casually, the laughs you shared with him, and the touch on your shoulder. Everything from that moment added fuel to the fire scorching in his gut. He couldn’t relax, knowing there were still imbeciles who had the gall to act so familiar with you, his princess. 

The twitch of his brow couldn’t cease, same with the bounce of his knee – his nerves having an inner battle of maintaining a low profile. And being the caring piece in this relationship, you noticed. You blinked up to where he sat, “Is everything okay?” 

Of course not, woman. As much as he wants to put all the blame on the guy, Sukuna felt that you also played a part in this charade. To him, you were just as worse as that fucker. How could you, his precious dove, allow such trash to be so close to you? Allowing that thing to touch you was such an insult to him, downright disrespectful to the man you call your boyfriend. And the fact that you didn’t think of telling him — believing that you could keep this as a small matter insignificant to his awareness — left a sour taste in his mouth.

In his philosophy, Sukuna knew you were in the wrong as well. And for that, you would also have to be dealt with by him, to be reminded of your place in all this.

“Ohoooo! Ooof!! ‘kunaaaa, your fingersss…! Too fast, please slow—Daaahhh!!”

He’d smack your wet cunt, forcing you to grip his satin sheets. You’d instantly try to close your legs, but Sukuna wasn’t having any of that, quick to pinch the skin of your inner thigh to correct you. 

“Dumb bitch,” he throws insults, void of caring that you were on the brink of tears. He brings a hand to your throat, resulting in you gagging from your circulation being cut off. “I told you to keep those legs open. First, you let some fucker touch you, and now you can’t obey me when necessary? Do you enjoy disrespecting me like this?”

“Ahck! I–hic–I’m sorryyy,” he could feel you clench on his fingers, gripping them as if you refused to let them go.

It humored Sukuna, who effortlessly removed his digits to give your slit another harsh slap that made you gasp for air. An action proved difficult with his whole right hand constricting your airways. “Are you? How can you be sorry when you’re latching onto my fingers like a slut?” His hold on your neck goes tighter; your hands claw at his forearm, a desperate plea that doesn’t sway him. “Say it like you mean it, Y/n.”

“Khh..Ahh—Please, forgive me, Sukuna…!” Your apology came through wheezes, tears now welling up to fall on your pretty face, yet you knew it wasn’t enough. “I should have…Never let that junior tou—Mmmph! …Touch me… I’m your princess, only yours.”

A pink brow is lifted, but his expression remains unchanged. With one last slap to your leaking chasm, Sukuna lets go of your throat for you to cough and gasp as much air as you can. While you do that, he removes his turtleneck and unbuttons his dark jeans, bringing his briefs down to spring his erection out before lying back onto the pillows against the bed headboard. “Prove it then,” his voice has you turn to listen. “Suck me off the way I like it.” 

You are in no position to resent him, crawling towards him on all fours and immediately going to work. Your tongue greets his reddish-pink glans with swirls, licking his frenulum and nibbling on the skin before taking the head to your mouth. You lather his cock with your spit as you bob your head, hallowing your cheeks to take in every inch while your hand glides up and down his shaft. 

“Nnmph, fuck,” Sukuna groans at the feeling of your feverish sucks of his cockhead, your hand stroking him while you tend to him with your mouth feels too good. He peers down to watch you suck hard on his tip, and you return his gaze with a hooded look while sucking on his balls, causing him to hum. You then bring the tip back into your lips, making raunchy noises as you take his girth and lick his precum. 

“Heh, what a nasty little girl,” he comments after you exude a trail of spit onto his dick before hurriedly slurping him back inside your warm mouth. “I outta take a picture of you…No, a video is better.” He’s pleased to see your watery eyes twinkle with dread when he pulls out his phone from his jean pocket. He slides to open the camera application, “Maybe I should show that fool how such a good cocksucker you are for me.”

“S–Sukuna, please, anything but—Mmmm!” Again, no one said you were in a position to speak out of turn. Hence why, your boyfriend grabs your cheeks roughly with a single hand. Crimson eyes pierce through your fragile skin, and your figure fills with fright within milliseconds. 

“What did I say about giving me orders?” His tone is enough to send shivers down your spine, his nails denting your cheeks. “Does my woman want me to expose them for the filthy whore they are? Cause I couldn’t care less if I one day start leaking these shits and have your reputation crumble in seconds as a lesson.”

A tiny bit of you wants to believe he wasn’t serious; however, the single tear shed from your unblinking eyes tells a different conscience. You reply with a shaky breath and a quivering lip. “No, Sukuna...Please forgive me.”

He releases your chin with a push of the thumb. “Then get back to it, dove.” The sweetness of that pet name wasn’t present as he smacked your cheek with his length. You listen to him, taking him back into your throat with a euphoric mewl while cupping and kneading his balls. He sneers and presses the record button, “Just like that, princess.”

And don’t think that it ends there — because it doesn’t. 

“Ahhhnn! Oooooh, my God, ‘Kuna..’kunaaaa, I can’t—Ahahnn!”

“—Nngh, that’s right, Y/n; scream for me…Fuck, this tight ass pussy…”

Sukuna now has your face down ass up, pinning you to the satin mattress by the shoulders and hammering his bare cock right into your messy cunt. Your cries are muffled by the sheets you bite into, tears streaming down hot cheeks as your boyfriend plows himself deep side your core. The commotion coming between your sexes fills his bedroom outside of the squeals that bounce against the walls.

Your figure jolts with every thrust, Sukuna’s pelvis smacking on your ass that stings with hot skin after taking onslaughts of slaps from his hands. Your clitoris, exhausted from the constant tweaks and pinches, rests with the cool air treating the sore button. Sweat is covered all over your nude body, evidence that you and your boyfriend have been going about this for a long while, and of course, you’re getting a bit fatigued and overly sensitive to his every touch. But you know he doesn’t care; this is all for your punishment.

Sukuna throws your butt another smack, having your vaginal walls instinctively contract around his girth. He hisses with a grin, “Damn, I love seein’ you like this.” His eyes trail down from your sweaty shoulders, following your spine and hips, down to your ass, where he sees the insertion of his dick being swallowed by you. Seeing the white, soapy ring shielded around his cock makes him bite his lip. “All sore and dirty for me…Mmmph, gripping on me like a slut, going dumb on my cock.”

His hips then propel erratically, having your howl with eyes shooting up. You were too far gone to think of proper thought, with your brain churned into mush and your head pounding nonstop. The heat on your face is just as unbearable as the throbbing sensation down south. Your trembling legs try so hard not to give in and slump, yet you can’t lie; you’re tired, sore, and sticky all over. 

“Nmaahh! OhhhJesussss, ‘kuna, pleaseeee, lemme cummm—Mmaahh!” Another smash to your ass, followed by a pinch to your clitoris to juxtapose with the slow strokes he uses to massage the delicate spots of your walls.

“Why do you think I should let you cum, woman?” He swipes on your clit, listening intently to the whines that climb higher with the brush of his finger. 

Your words come out in slurs, yet you must answer to him. “I’m shorryy, I didn’t mean to—oh, fuck…do you wrong. Yer the only man who can touch me, wound me,” You peer over your shoulder to see Sukuna, an action that has him release your clit and hear what you have to say. “And love me…just as I love you, and only you. No one else can have me like you…Hahhh, I’m yours, both in mind and body…” Salmon brows furrow as you continue. “I love only you and want only you to touch me, ‘Kuna..Please forgive me, I won’t do it again…”

He was already sold once you turned to look at him, you little minx. Your watery eyes suddenly struck his heart — you are the only thing in the world that could do that, his little dove. He can tell by your heaves and pants that you wish to rest, that you had enough of his lesson and want to be in his embrace. 

However, no unpleasant deed shouldn’t go unpunished. Within a second, Sukuna has you flipped on your back with your legs brought up to his left shoulder. He brings out his phone once again, swiping to put on the camera after inserting his length back inside you.  “Hey, princess,” he calls to you. “Why don’t you say hello to the camera for me? Want something to look back to.”

You gulp with a dry throat, sheepishly smiling at the camera phone. “Hello, I’m Y/n—Ooohh!!” He surprises you with more ruts to your chasm, clamping onto him as if your life depended on it. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He calls out to you with a steady breath, as if his pelvis wasn’t poisoning deep to grind your insides to evoke pretty moans to escape puffy lips. 

“Hahaaa!! I—Hnnph..I belong to Sukuna Ryō–hic…men…”

“Who does this pussy belong to, Y/n?” Ruts become harsher with every word.

“—Mmoohhh, fuuuhuck, it’s yours, only yoursss,” you voluntarily take up your legs and hold them from behind your knees, bringing them to your chest. “Me and this pussy belong to only Sukuna, no one else can touch me…!”

Sukuna pans the phone down to the union of his dick, moving to and fro from your slit. The white essence painting both sexes was making an erotic mess, strings of his come covering his girth with every push and pull. He chuckles to himself. “This right here is all mine, ya hear?” He looks at you to see you nod your head hurriedly. “Don’t you ever forget that, understand?” You nod again, clenching around him when he drops the phone and leans towards you to place his hands on yours.

It’s here that he finally finishes with you, pounding his hips into you as hard as he can. Your voice gets higher and higher, your headache getting intense with the ruts on your cunt. And with how he stretches and grazes your walls? Jesus, it was terrible to control yourself, your orgasm increasing by the second. “I wanna cumm, ‘kunaaa, let me cum on you, pleaseee….!!”

“Heh, desperate to tighten some more for me, huh.” He adds more weight onto you, forcing you to submit to him. You shudder under his bow, “You may now cum, dove.” 

As if on command, you let yourself loose and allow the climax to finally be free, wailing during yet another crescendo as your vagina flutters around him for the fourth time that night. And Sukuna relishes the feeling of you tightening on him, doing excruciating slow strokes to enjoy the moment. 

“Hmmm, that’s it, just like that…Remember this, princess,” He bends down to lick the tears on your cheeks before kissing them. “Know your place.” He then brings the phone back up to close this session.

“Now smile for me.”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ header edit done by me, dividers by @/benkeibear.

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

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[caffeinewitchcraft]

Nadezh' Interview

Summary: After Nadezh previous identity as the Firebreather, notorious Supervillain, was revealed, she thought she’d lose everything. She’s never been so happy to be wrong.

You can read Nadezh' first story (HERE)

--------------------------.

It’s decided that Nadezh will work in the finance department of Hero Force. She hates to leave her civilian job and her coworkers seeing the success of her budget fully bloom, but the other option is wearing the power suppressors 24/7, and their power frequency vibrates through her engagement ring in a way that reminds her of a bee buzzing, and she won’t take the ring off so.

The interview is a formality but they make her do it anyway. She prepares for it over the course of seven days, making Gannon rehearse every hypothetical question with her until the last minute.

Until the last minute meaning on the drive to Hero Force for the interview.

“There is a discrepancy in the packaging budget,” Gannon reads. He’s used to her driving and doesn’t flinch when she merges too quickly, and a chorus of Chicago drivers chastise her loudly. “There is a flat rate for three different sizes of package. According to the average order value and average product mix, packaging should be $3.5k—Nadezh, Hero Force doesn’t have a commerce division, I don’t think this is necessary.”

Nadezh knows the rest of this question. What steps would you take to reconcile actual and planned? “Of course, there’s the option to conduct a forensic audit, however—”

“We do have a forensic finance department,” Gannon concedes, “but that’s not—”

“—first would be to observe the whole packaging process. While there is a flat rate for all three package sizes that doesn’t mean all orders are being packaged for efficiency—”

Gannon reaches for her knee, thinks better of it, considering her foot on the gas pedal, and diverts to her shoulder. He squeezes, and all of the tension in her back magically eases. “Babe. You’re already overqualified. You’re going to do great.”

They’ve already had this argument, so Nadezh doesn’t say Overqualified? It’s amazing they’re even letting me into a Hero Force building, I could be the President and I still wouldn’t be qualified considering my past. Instead, she says, “Right. Right, thanks. You’re right. Right.”

“Right,” Gannon says seriously.

“Right,” she says and takes the next exit.

“Riiiiiiight.”

By the time they pull into the parking garage, Nadezh is laughing at the increasingly bizarre ways Gannon says the word right. The word barely has meaning anymore, and she’s fairly certain that if anyone else heard Hero Zone sounding so goat-like, they’d send him to psych for an evaluation.

Nadezh gets out of the car first, hurrying before he can say anything else that will set her off.

“Go save the day,” she says. Her face hurts from smiling. She tosses him the keys over the roof of the car after she closes the door. “I can get the train back.”

Gannon rounds the bumper and presses them back into her hand. He kisses her forehead. “No public transport from HQ.”

She blinks, the spot his lips touched tingling. “Is that a rule?”

“Our house rule,” Gannon says. He smiles reassuringly at her. “Just a precaution. I know too many people who get made getting followed out of HQ.”

Gannon always explains himself even though she never asks. Her heart is racing at our house rules. They have house rules. They’re engaged. They’re going to get married. She lifts her chin for a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you.” He kisses her.

Kissing Gannon is the closest she feels to her powers these days. The warmth that runs through her, the heat in her cheeks, the pounding of her heart – actually she takes it back. It’s not like her power at all. It’s better than her power.

“Break it up!” a man calls from across the parking garage.

Electricity shoots through Nadezh. She didn’t hear him come up behind her. She tries to pull away from Gannon, to turn and protect them, but his hands on her shoulders stop her. Her brain catches up a moment later. Gannon is relaxed, warm brown eyes still happy. The voice is familiar.

“It’s not goodbye yet,” another voice says grumpily. This time Nadezh recognizes the speaker. When her tension eases, Gannon lifts his hands long enough for her to turn and greet Flare. He drapes his arms over Nadezh’s shoulders. Flare’s eye twitches. “There’s, like, a whole elevator ride to go.”

“There’s cameras in the elevator,” Gannon says.

Nadezh still doesn’t know what to make of Gannon’s Hero team. Omit – the leader of the team – is decent. Fast, sound decisions on the field, always knows when to retreat, which is important when your team is made of B and C-rank heroes.  His power – to eliminate an object from the enemy’s perception during battle – makes her uneasy. Despite his openness with her, she can’t erase the suspicion that he’s using his powers on her from her mind.

She likes Flare. The woman is bright and bubbly, almost six inches shorter than Nadezh, with all the energy of a hummingbird. Though she’s stationed on Gannon’s team, she’s in high demand across the city. There aren’t many fliers out there, and although her dragonfly wings aren’t exactly subtle, she’s fast enough and strong enough to conduct recon across Lake Michigan. Flare keeps Gannon safe when he’s out saving the world. Nobody sneaks up on them with her around.

Mostly.

“Us singles are feeling left out,” Omit says and tries to drape an arm over Flare’s shoulders.

Flare flits away. “Interview today?” she asks Nadezh.

“Right,” Nadezh says.

Gannon’s burst of surprised laughter lasts all the way to Nadezh’s floor where he waves goodbye breathlessly.

Even with his mask obstructing the crow’s feet she loves, Nadezh savors the memory of his joy all the way to her interview.

----.

Agent Briston isn’t like any other agent Nadezh has ever seen. He’s in his sixties, round, bald, and wearing a sweater vest under his regulation suit jacket. She thinks there’s a reason agents like him are kept out of sight. He looks like an easy target—no. She doesn’t think about people as targets anymore. She means that he looks like the grandfather in a commercial about watches, the one who takes the vintage watch off of his own wrist to wrap it around the grandson’s with an air of gravity.

“This interview isn’t a guarantee, despite your…recommendations,” Agent Briston says the moment Nadezh sits down. His desk has nothing but a computer, a notepad, and a pen. Somehow the harried look on his face makes it seem cluttered with paper. “We don’t have the budget for many staff. We need to be selective.”

Nadezh resists the urge to pull at the Hero Force regulation mask on her face or the power suppressors around her wrists. Part of her agreement with Foresight was that she’d wear the cuffs whenever Gannon wasn’t with her. The blue glow feels ostentatious, and she hopes Agent Briston won’t turn her down based on them. “Understood, sir.”

“Briston,” Agent Briston says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Only the heroes call me sir. My staff calls me Briston.”

Nadezh nods. “I’m Nadezh Mel—”

“No last names, Nadezh,” Briston says. He pulls his glasses from a desk drawer and puts them on. He squints at his computer. “Now. Tell me.  Do you have accounting experience?”

“Yes, si—Briston.”

Briston’s thick white eyebrows raise and he abandons his computer to focus back on Nadezh. He seems skeptical. “Really?”

“I created the office budget for my last company,” Nadezh says. She has a better way to say this, she rehearsed this with Gannon— “My plan allowed for the purchase of new chairs and a copier.”

Briston stares at her. “You really have accounting experience.”

Did he not hear her? Or did she answer incorrectly? “I-I was also part of the team that allocated reinvestment funds—”

“Foresight’s recruits never have accounting experience.”

“—and payroll for over 500 employees—”

“Payroll!” Briston looks up at the ceiling. “She does payroll!”

“I—I’m sorry?” she says. She can’t read his tone. Is he disappointed or being sarcastic? She scrambles for her next interview answer. “I have a bachelor’s in accounting from Illinois State, but I plan to complete my master’s in the next five years—”

Briston makes a sound she’s only ever heard from frightened raccoons. “You’re hired,” Briston declares. He reaches over the desk to shake her hand. “I’ll draw up a counteroffer before noon.”

Confused, Nadezh shakes his hand. His grip is surprisingly strong. “Sir? The terms of my employment should already be in my file.” Foresight had made it clear she’d be starting at the bottom level of the pay scale.

“We aren’t paying my new director that,” Briston says. “We’ll start double that and see what they counter offer.”

“They? Aren’t you in charge of salary approvals?” Nadezh asks. Then, as his words sink in, “Director?!”

Briston beams at her. “Experience, a degree, and common sense! We’ll settle for 30% higher than the initial offer with a condition for an additional 10% at the next performance review.”

“Director,” Nadezh says. When Briston doesn’t answer, ignoring her in favor of typing feverishly, Nadesh says with surety, “You’re joking.”

Briston hums and doesn’t answer her.

“Right?”

----.

Briston isn’t joking.

Gannon takes a dazed Nadezh out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. The private room he reserves is in the back of a Japanese restaurant run by a former Superhero. There are flowers on the table, candles strategically placed around the room, soundproofing on the walls, and a chilled bottle of Nadezh's favorite white wine waiting. She processes all of this distantly. She makes Gannon read her employment contract between bites of sushi. Bemused, he dutifully announces her employed status and starting salary whenever she asks.

“Guess I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors about the department head,” Gannon says. Rather than surprised, his voice carries an element of relief. “You’re barely taking a salary cut with this.”

“Cut? This is a ten percent raise,” Nadezh hisses. She stares at her green tea. “Does Foresight know?” A jolt of sick fear floods with her. “I didn’t make Briston give me a raise, I swear!”

“Nadezh, of course you didn’t,” Gannon says. He reaches across the table to nudge at her clenched hands. Automatically, she unfurls them to reveal half-moon indents from her nails. He slides his palm against hers. “You deserve this.”

“But Foresight might think—”

“He won’t.” Gannon picks up his chopsticks with his left hand, content to let his right keep holding hers so that her dominant hand is free. He’s clumsier with them and frowns as he chases salmon roe around his plate. “Briston has almost unilateral say in the finance department. Nobody can sway him. He’s known for being short-tempered, cheap, and stubborn. I’m sure Foresight will just be grateful he finally hired someone.”

Nadezh narrows her eyes. “You said you didn’t know the person interviewing me.”

“Oops?” Gannon finally catches the salmon roe under a bite of rice and pops it in his mouth. He chews innocently. “Did I?”

“Fess up.”

“It’s not like I know a lot. People say Briston fires more than he hires.” Gannon’s eyes shift to the side.  “Aaaand that he can be heard yelling whenever it’s time to calculate overtime expenses. Or whenever the armory submits their expense report. Or when the audit team comes back with city damage claims. Or when—”

Nadezh drops her head into her free hand, letting her long black hair hide her for a moment. She forgot that Hero Force accountants dealt with destroyed skyscrapers and medical leave for when you got your arms ripped off in a fight, not copiers and desk chairs. “You didn’t think to mention any of this before the interview?!”

“You were freaked out enough.” Gannon pauses in the way he does when he’s about to say what he’s really thinking so Nadezh doesn’t interrupt. She waits as he chews until he finally says, “I’m glad he bumped your salary. I was starting to feel guilty.”

Nadezh’s hand spasms around Gannon’s. “Guilty?”

“Yeah,” Gannon says. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I argued against making you leave your job. Said it made Hero Force the sort of organization everyone always accuses us of being. Overreaching and, well…cruel.”

“You didn’t tell me about that either.” Had he been thinking that this whole time? While she made him practice interview questions with her? Did he think she was forcing herself? The thought of Gannon feeling even a tenth of the gnawing guilt that lives inside her makes her want to throw up. Nadezh shakes her head and leans across the table. She’s glad for the private room and how it allows her to show him how his words affect her. “Babe, you don’t have anything—"

“I know how hard you worked for that job,” Gannon interrupts. He licks his lips. Now it’s his turn to stare at his tea. “Please, just…listen.”

Nadezh would do anything Gannon asked. She squeezes his hand again and fights the words bubbling up her throat like lava.

“We haven’t really talked since that day,” Gannon says. He’s a Hero; he makes himself look into her eyes. “I haven’t really talked. I’ve been afraid to. I know your past isn’t…isn’t good. I do. And I know that you don’t want to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist.”

She wants to, but she can’t. Like hunger and emptiness, she doesn’t think Gannon will ever understand the weight she carries from the harm she’s done. The screams she’d once reveled in now haunt her in ways she could never have guessed. But he’s talking to her, so she doesn’t explain. She listens.

“I feel like I’ve been making you give up everything for me,” Gannon confesses in a rush. He speaks faster as her eyes widen, like if he makes his sentences a big enough river, she won’t be able to dam it up. “Your first civilian job, your past, and your freedom to do whatever you want to do – because you could do anything, you really could – and even your powers.” He rubs his thumb over the underside of her wrist where the power suppressors sit during working hours. His face crumples. “Every morning, I will have to take you to put them on. It’s…I hate it. It feels like I’m abandoning you, or like I’m part of your punishment, or like I’m not being the partner you deserve.”

She starts, half rising from her seat. “Gannon! How could you—?”

His grip is strong on her hand, and he gestures for her to sit with a quick jerk of his chin. His eyes close tight. “Please, Nadezh.”

She quiets.

It takes him a long time to start speaking again. He remains quiet until he’s able to look her in the eyes again. “You…that day. The day you saved my and my team’s life.”

The day she thought her fairytale had come to an end. Even now, the memory of his blank eyes as she revealed the red and gold costume of the Firebreather, one of the world’s most notorious and deadly supervillains, follows her. The cold wind whipping across the ship’s deck, the pillars of ice gleaming in the sun, his team haltingly asking her if she was going to take over the boat…and his eyes. The pain that ripped through her when she realized she would lose him was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. It had made her realize that she’d been a shell for years until she met him, that she’d been nothing until he showed her a world where she could be someone. In that moment, she’d known that she’d wasted his time on a dead end. That their dream to get married would never be the same if it happened at all and she had robbed him in her greed.

But he remembers it as the day she saved his life rather than dooming his future.

“I became a hero to save people,” Gannon says. His lips thin. “How did I put it? That day at the diner? To share the relief of having the day saved.” His face twists in a way she can’t understand. “You must have thought I was so naïve.”

“No,” she says simply.

He raises their hands so he can kiss the back of hers. “Thank you. I think I was naïve. Being a hero seemed simple, looking at the world that way, like everyone wanted to be saved and, in turn, wanted to one day go on to save someone else. Every moment of salvation would get repaid. Good things would always happen to good people.”

Well, when he put it like that.

Gannon continues, “But when I saw you standing there, dressed as the Firebreather, being saved was…different. It was all different.” He swallows hard. “For the first time, I realized saving the day wasn’t so simple. You had to reveal your identity to do it. You had to put your freedom and everything you worked for on the sidelines. Even us. You were ready to do it even if it meant we never got the chance to be married. I could tell that you weren’t going to let that stop you. You were going to save the day.  Instead of being relieved, I felt afraid.”

A small noise of protest builds in Nadezh’s throat. “Afraid of me?”

“No!” Gannon’s eyes widen and he leans over the table. “No, never. Never, Nadezh. Even when that last fireball singed the toes of my boots, I didn’t flinch for a moment. I knew you would never hurt me.”

Nadezh’s laugh is watery. “So that’s why you threw out those boots.”

“Regulation is closed toe,” Gannon says gravely. He plays with her fingers. “I was afraid because I realized there was a cost that I wasn’t willing to pay, but you were.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Nadezh says.

“I know.” Gannon clears his throat and adjusts his grip on her hand so that he can feel her pulse against his thumb. “I know. I’m not saying that’s wrong.  Just…it was hard, wasn’t it?” His brown eyes search hers. “You knew before you even left the apartment to find me that you were going to lose everything.”

“But I didn’t,” Nadezh points out.

“But that’s what you thought.”

She can’t deny that.

“Saving the day is easy when it’s just a job,” Gannon says. “That day, I realized that I’d never really been a hero. It was a job, an important one, but not one that was going to take anything I wasn’t willing to give. That same job was the reason I let myself just stand there as Hero Force took you into custody. Like a coward. I hate myself for that moment.” His voice is raw with the admission. His free hand curls into a fist. “I should have run with you then.”

Nadezh barks a disbelieving laugh. It’s inappropriate, but the idea of Hero Zone, the most honorable hero in Chicago, running away with a supervillain is ridiculous. She hides her incredulity. “That’s—”

“I’m serious, Nadezh.” Gannon’s eyes burn through her, gaze unflinching. Her pulse jumps under his thumb. “I still think that. We could run now. Settle down somewhere and be civilians. Never show up on Hero Force radar again. Like Bonnie and Clyde hiding out from the law.”

“That’s not funny.” Try as she might, Nadezh can’t find any trace of humor on Gannon’s face. Her eyes dart around the room. When she can’t find any cameras, she leans forward and hisses, “Don’t even joke about that. You love being a hero.”

“I love being with you,” Gannon says. This time when he smiles the mole under his eye disappears with the force of it. “I told you, all I want is to marry you. No job will ever be worth more than that. So…” His smile wavers for a moment before he fixes it in place. “What do you say? Will you run away with me?”

Fuck. Her mind leaps ahead. They could get a place in the mountains. She knows how much Gannon misses his hometown on the East Coast. His family has long since disappeared from those ridges and valleys, but she can see him there, facing the sun with his arms held over his head in triumph. A field sprawled out below him blooms with green and a house sits just beyond that with a gently smoking chimney. Could she belong there too? With him?

Gannon mistakes her silence. “You wouldn’t have to wear the power suppressors ever again or worry about Briston yelling or what Hero Force will make you do. It could be just you and me like we always imagined. Together.”

Is he pleading with her? Begging her to say yes?

There will always be a part of her that wants to. The greedy and selfish part that wants to keep him all to herself, like the doll in her childhood that unraveled at the seams after only a month. The part of her that could hide him away is familiar. Too familiar.

“No.”

Gannon’s face falls. “No?”

“Not because I don’t want us,” she assures. Somehow, she feels lighter. Is this what’s been sitting silently between them this whole time? She could laugh. “I do. But I think you’re misunderstanding something. You’re not the reason why I’m cooperating with Hero Force.” She thinks over her words and then rephrases. “You’re not the only reason.”

“I’m not?” Gannon backtracks. “I mean, it’s not a problem if I’m not, but I thought…well. I thought given what you said in the interrogation room…”

“You will always be the love of my life,” Nadezh says. She finds the words as she says them. She’s had a lot of time to think about this – Gannon is not the first one to think what it’d be like to run away. “That will never change. It’s just…” Private room, she reminds herself. No one will be able to hear. She confesses, “I want to change. I don’t want to be the Firebreather anymore.”

“You’re not!”

Keep him, no one can stop you, power suppressors barely work once we really get up to temperature—Nadezh stops those thoughts firmly in their tracks. “There are parts of me that still are. I was afraid when I revealed who I was, but since then look how far I’ve come. You know all of me and you’re still here.” She lets her wonder and hope leak into her voice. Some mornings she wakes up to him by her side and can’t fathom how the universe let someone with hands as stained as hers have something so good. “I have a job. I have a way to give back for all the harm I caused. I…I think confronting my past has given me a chance to grow like I haven’t done before. A year ago, I couldn’t even accept the proposal from the man I love more than life itself. Now? I know that I can walk into work every day and have those power suppressors put on me by Hero Force -not you - and I can hold my head high.”

“Not me? Nadezh, I’m your containment,” Gannon says. His expression is tortured in the candlelight. “You say it’s Hero Force, but it’s me. I’m the one holding you back. Foresight said that Firebreather was sufficiently contained by my side, he awarded me custody—”

“Are you feeling guilty over that?” Nadezh’s mouth drops open. “Gannon, seriously?”

“I feel like I’m choosing to be your captor over being your fiancé,” Gannon says.

“Just like how you knew I would never hurt you, I know you would never hurt me. I wouldn’t even have to use my powers. I know the second I didn’t want to put those cuffs on, you wouldn’t.”

“I’m still—”

“No.” Nadezh won’t allow any room for confusion here. “Gannon. Stop. I am the one choosing to do this. That day I gave you a choice, remember? I said that you could walk away and I would be—” fine is a strong word “—I would understand. I was going to keep the memory of us agreeing to get married and let you walk away.”

There’s gravel in Gannon’s voice. He reaches across the table to capture her other hand. “I would never change my mind.”

“I believe you.” He was patient with her, waiting for her to believe it. She holds his hands back. “I believe you. So here’s what I’m asking. You gave me a choice just now. Stay or run away. Please believe me when I say I want to stay.”

“Even if it means I have to be your captor?” he asks, anguished.

She nearly snaps at the question. Isn’t he listening to what she’s saying? His tone stills her. She studies him. His eyes are teary, and she can feel his hands tremble in hers. “This really bothers you.”

He nods wordlessly.

She tries to put herself in his shoes. She imagines that he’s working as a henchman who used to be a hero. She imagines putting cuffs on him before work every day, knowing that he’d be helpless if the Villain ever decided to turn on him—She winces. “Maybe we can ask Omit to put on the cuffs instead?”

“I…we could try that,” Gannon says after a long moment. He breathes in through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose. Then, “I really ruined this celebration dinner, huh?”

She snorts. Both of their eyes are red and swollen despite neither of them crying. “This is about how most of my celebration dinners have gone. Better, actually. Nobody is screaming and nothing’s on fire.”

“Yet,” Gannon says.

“See? There’s still hope.” They’ve been talking for so long that her wine is warm. She grimaces as she swallows. “Hey, captor? I think it’s time you took me to a secondary location.”

“That’s not funny.” Despite his words, Gannon’s lips twitch as he stands and pushes in his chair. “I’m really upset about that.”

Nadezh follows him to the door. She caresses his shoulder, ostensibly checking him for dust, but really needing the contact. “Should I comfort you?”

Gannon drops back to put his arm around her shoulders. “Hmmm, keep talking.”

“I think I have Stockholm syndrome—”

“I change my mind. No more talking.”

Nadezh laughs. “Riiiight.”

It’s not perfect. Nadezh knows that the conversation isn’t over. There’s a guardedness in Gannon she’s never seen before when talking about Hero Force. He doesn’t believe her, not yet. But that’s okay.

She’ll be around to convince him.

(Except for 9am-5pm Monday through Friday. She somehow doesn’t think Briston would take kindly to a hero responsible for flooding the docks every other week hanging around the office.)

----

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Next week I have the continuation of my Cinderella retelling going up there first and then here later in March. You can read Cinderella here (Tumblr X) (PatreonX)

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[cazshmere]

Moon Signs and the Trap of Manipulation 🎭

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: This post is meant to bring awareness to subtle manipulation tactics that each Moon sign might be more vulnerable to. Being aware of these patterns can help you set better boundaries and protect yourself from being taken advantage of. Remember, manipulation isn’t always obvious, and recognizing these behaviors can help you stay in control of your own choices. These are just my personal observations so please take them with a grain of salt 🎭

♈ Aries Moon

1. People pretend to be your friends but secretly compete with you, trying to one-up or outshine you.

2. Manipulators make you feel like you’re in charge, knowing that stroking your ego makes you more willing to comply.

3. You can be guilt-tripped into taking the lead in situations, even when it’s not beneficial to you.

4. You might be manipulated into unnecessary fights, arguments, or rivalries by people who provoke you on purpose.

5. People may secretly compete with you by copying your ideas, style, or achievements while pretending to admire you. They subtly try to outdo you or take credit for your originality, making you feel the need to constantly prove yourself.

🎭 for instance a “friend” that always hypes you up as the leader but subtly takes credit for your ideas and efforts. you end up doing all the work while they sit back and benefit.

♉ Taurus Moon

1. People use financial or emotional security to gain control over you.

2. Being pampered with gifts, acts of service, or luxurious experiences can make you overlook red flags sometimes.

3. Some people make you dependent on them so that you feel like you need them to be okay.

4. Fear of change or instability can be used to keep you in a stagnant or toxic situation.

5. People may appeal to your loyalty, making you feel guilty for leaving situations that no longer serve you.

🎭 okay so for instance a partner provides for you financially and always does nice things for you, but slowly starts controlling where you go, what you do, and who you see. since they’ve “done so much for you”, you feel guilty setting boundaries.

♊ Gemini Moon

1. People who can keep up with your mind can subtly steer your opinions and perceptions.

2. If someone engages you in deep, interesting conversations, you may ignore their true motives.

3. You might be manipulated through fast-talking, gaslighting, or cleverly twisted words.

4. You could be distracted by fun, new ideas, or constant entertainment, making you miss underlying manipulation.

5. People can create an “information overload”, overwhelming you so you stop questioning them.

🎭 okay so lets say there’s this friend who always has fascinating conversations with you but subtly inserts their own biases and over time, you start adopting their beliefs without realizing they’ve been shaping your opinions💀 scary ngl

♋ Cancer Moon

1. People who play the victim can make you feel responsible for their happiness.

2. You may stay in toxic situations out of loyalty, especially if someone reminds you of past good times.

3. Guilt-tripping tactics like “after everything I’ve done for you” can make you feel obligated to help.

4. Some people use their emotions to control your actions, acting sad or hurt whenever you set boundaries.

5. Fear of abandonment can be exploited to keep you stuck in draining relationships.

🎭 okay so lets say a family member constantly reminds you how much they sacrificed for you, making you feel guilty for prioritizing yourself. even when they mistreat you, you feel like you “owe” them loyalty.

♌ Leo Moon

1. Flattery and constant praise can blind you to manipulation.

2. People who make you feel special or put you on a pedestal can subtly control your actions.

3. Your fear of being embarrassed or looking bad in public can be used against you.

4. Manipulators may guilt you into staying by making you feel like their admiration is conditional.

5. Someone may create a situation where they “need” you to save them, making you feel heroic.

🎭 for example a partner constantly praises you in public but privately criticizes and controls you. you don’t want to leave because you feel like everyone sees you as a “power couple” because of the manipulation😕

♍ Virgo Moon

1. People convince you that you owe them help or that it’s your job to fix things.

2. You might be guilt-tripped into doing more by people who act helpless or incompetent.

3. Manipulators use your perfectionism against you, making you feel like nothing you do is “enough”.

4. Constant subtle criticism can make you dependent on their validation.

5. You might be drawn to “projects” or people who seem broken but just need your help to “change”.

🎭 let’s say a boss subtly criticizes your work but also tells you that “no one else can do it like you,” making you work extra hard for their approval😕

♎ Libra Moon

1. People use your desire for peace to pressure you into saying yes.

2. Manipulators guilt you into staying by saying you’re being “cold” or “selfish.”

3. Someone may use social circles or mutual connections to trap you in toxic dynamics.

4. You may stay in bad situations to avoid confrontation or looking like the bad guy.

5. Love-bombing (excessive charm and attention) can make you ignore red flags.

🎭 a friend always acts hurt whenever you say no, making you feel guilty. you keep agreeing to things just to avoid feeling like a bad person.

♏ Scorpio Moon

1. People create deep emotional connections quickly to trap you.

2. Secrets, shared trauma, or deep conversations can be used as a tool to control you.

3. Someone might convince you that only they truly understand you, making you dependent on them.

4. Emotional blackmail, threats, or withholding affection can keep you attached.

5. Manipulators might play with your trust issues, making you feel like you are the problem.

🎭 let’s say a partner love-bombs you, creates an intense emotional bond, then slowly isolates you from others, making you feel like they’re the only one who truly gets you, BLARING RED FLAG BABY 🚩🚩

♐ Sagittarius Moon

1. People convince you to take risks, knowing you love spontaneity.

2. Manipulators promise big, exciting things but never deliver.

3. Someone might make you feel “boring” or “trapped” if you try to be cautious.

4. Your belief in freedom may be twisted into an excuse for them to avoid responsibility.

5. You might be manipulated into chasing dreams that only benefit them.

🎭 someone constantly asks for your insights, ideas, or perspectives, making you feel valued for your wisdom. but later, they present your knowledge as their own, taking credit while you’re left wondering if you were just being used as a stepping stone.

♑ Capricorn Moon

1. People make you feel like it’s your job to take care of them.

2. Manipulators guilt you into overworking, making you feel like your success depends on them. I’ve noticed that for Capricorn Moons, there is a high possibility that one or both of their parents control and manipulate them.

3. Your fear of failure can be used to pressure you into doing things.

4. You may feel obligated to stay in a situation because you’ve already invested time and effort.

5. Someone might convince you that leaving means you “lack discipline” or are “giving up”.

🎭 picture this: a toxic work environment convinces you that you must overwork yourself because ‘success comes to those who sacrifice’. the people around you reinforce this message, making you feel like it’s normal😔

♒ Aquarius Moon

1. People use your love for unique perspectives to subtly push their own agenda.

2. Someone might make you feel like only they see the world the way you do.

3. Manipulators can twist your desire for freedom into making you avoid real emotional connections.

4. You might be convinced to reject traditional stability, even when it would benefit you.

5. Your rebellious side may be used to push you into unnecessary conflicts.

🎭 its like when a friend convinces you to cut off everyone in your life because “they don’t understand you,” isolating you so you rely only on them 🚩🚩🚩🚩

♓ Pisces Moon

1. People use your empathy to make you feel like you must save them.

2. Someone might make you believe in a dream-like fantasy to keep you attached.

3. Manipulators use sob stories and victimization to guilt you into staying.

4. You may be gaslit into questioning your reality.

5. Someone might use your idealism to get you to ignore practical concerns.

🎭 for example a toxic partner convinces you that enduring suffering together is a “beautiful love story,” making you ignore red flags💀 like boi???

gif & divider credits to the rightful owners

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[zyafics]

RED FERRARI CHASE | 05

MAIN | MASTERLIST | IRL & Social Media AU

Pairing — F1 Driver!Rafe x High School Sweetheart!(F)Reader

Summary — Before Rafe became one of the best drivers on the grid, he was yours. However, when his popularity skyrocketed, he became one of the most eligible bachelors in F1, leaving you behind to indulge in the notoriety of the sport. Yet, years have passed, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you: his first love, his high school sweetheart, the only person to believe in him. When new management takes over his team, he’s afraid their new strategy could undermine his role in the cutthroat league. But in an unexpected twist of fate, Rafe discovers you returning to the circuit as part of the new leadership—now, with a ring on your finger. Engaged to his boss.

Content — formula one au

Navigation — Part 04 | Part 05 | Part 06

You nearly jump out of your skin. The voice was close—too close to be a figment of your imagination. And when you pick up the steady breaths of another person occupying your space, you know it to be true. With all the hairs standing on your arms, you slowly turn around to face the owner of the voice: Rafe Cameron.

He’s casually leaning against the counter on the opposite end of the kitchen, a couple of cold brews beside him, while his arms are crossed over his chest. Expectantly.

This is exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“Hi,” you squeak, all confidence from your call vanishing.

“Hi,” Rafe echoes, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. Instinctively, you tighten the hold of your snack to your chest.

“Hi,” you repeat, heart hammering wildly, losing every ounce of composure you’re trying to muster. But it’s clearly not going well given you’re unable to say any other word without stumbling into a complete mess.

“Hi,” he laughs, a rich airy sound that leaves your stomach twisting and turning. You don’t understand what’s so funny, especially since you want nothing more than to melt into a puddle at your own feet. “Is that the only word you know or can you answer me now?”

Your mind blanks. You can’t recall the question proposed, and as time ticks, the discomfort from the lack of knowledge expands. Just as you’re about to run out of the room, Rafe notices, and repeats back to you.

“Oh,” you mumble, fidgeting with your snack. “Um, I—um, well, Kiara.”

“Carrera?” His head tilts, the carefree smile widening and a small dimple pokes out, rewarding you for your answer. “You’re friends with her?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

"So that’s who you’re complaining to about us being obnoxious?"

Your face burns up. Your mouth pops open, but nothing falls through.

Someone in the living room calls for him. “In a minute!” He shouts, his eyes never straying from your face, observing and taking in every ounce of embarrassment filtering your features. He asks again, “A simple yes or no will do.”

“It’s not like that,” you blurt out, the words tumbling over themselves. “I just–You know how you guys always—I mean, you have to know—“

“Look,” he chuckles, holding out a hand, stopping you from making a bigger fool of yourself. “I get it. We’re loud. But you don’t have to afraid. We don’t bite.” He says, before pausing, the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “Unless you ask us to.”

“I–“ You have no words. You don’t even know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

‘Why are you apologizing, you’re right.” He shrugs. His eyes sweep over your body, familiarity trickling in. “You’re the tutor girl, right? The one in my grade?”

You’re surprised Rafe knows this. While you may be in his year, you don’t circulate the same crowd as him—aka, the ones hanging around your brother and his peers of F1 enthusiasts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a quiet nod. “Mainly for science.”

“I like science,” he grins, but there’s a subtle tone of innuendo, causing your stomach to flutter. “So, if I need help, I can come to you?”

Your eyes widen, expecting this to be a joke. But nothing but sincerity covers his features. A brow raised as he’s patiently awaiting your confirmation.

Someone calls out again, more urgently this time. “Just a sec!” He snaps, his irritation hardens his features in a matter of seconds, his words coming out as sharp. But when he drags his gaze back to you, all of it disappears. “Yeah?”

You bite your bottom lip. Contemplating, before inevitably, deliriously, and perhaps stupidly, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” He says with a wink, pushing himself off the counter and collecting the beers with one hand before walking back into the living room.

It takes a few seconds before your breath catches up after Rafe’s departure. When all the air fills to your lungs, a sense of sobriety unveils itself, and you exhale sharply. You can’t believe that just happened, and as you collect your phone to return to the room, you discover Kiara is still on the line.

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[shonen-brainrot]

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who, after a booze-fueled bash with the boys from Bakusquad, gets a wild idea to try something fresh with you — his precious, little girlfriend.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who engages in a slow make-out session with you, skillfully massaging your breasts, squeezing them from time to time through your t-shirt. He smirks and asks, "How about we let these extras have a taste of you?"

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who grins widely as you, super tipsy and turned on by his ministrations, enthusiastically agree with his idea, nodding your head. You're already rubbing your thighs together, feeling the warmth building between your legs.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who leaves you spread on the bed and leisurely takes a seat in a nearby chair. He watches as you play with yourself, ordering Kaminari with a commanding tone to be the first to make you feel good. The other boys are already aroused, observing your slow movements on the bed, hand slipped into your shorts, head lolling back as you pleasure yourself, all while envisioning being fucked by another guy as your boyfriend watches.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who sports a twisted grin as he watches Denki pull down your shorts and panties, tossing them aside before diving between your legs to eat your pretty little pussy out. Lapping at your folds and skillfully fingering you, Denki grinds his crotch against the bed, moaning pathetically as his cock grows hard within seconds. Your hand slips into his yellow hair, guiding him closer to your slick pussy , suffocating him with your folds.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who growls loudly at Denki, "Oi, Pikachu, fuck her already. I wanna see your cock stuffed in her."

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who grunts with anticipation as he watches Denki fucking you missionary, his movements sloppy and erratic. The yellow-haired guy is clearly intoxicated by the way your pussy clenches around his cock. Begging you to let him cum inside, you glance at Bakugo, who nods with a poker face while palming his growing erection through his pants. Kaminari grunts and comes inside you, trembling all over his body, showering you with all the praises.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who nods at Sero, and the black-haired guy doesn't need a second invitation. In the blink of an eye, he's on top of you, unbuckling his pants and engaging in a deep french kiss. Flipping you onto your stomach, you obediently follow, raising your ass up as he enters your pussy from behind, immediately setting a rough pace.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who licks his lips as he opens his fly to fish his cock from his pants. He strokes his shaft slowly, enjoying the sight of you gripping the sheets, whining loudly while Sero pounds you vigorously in a doggy style. Sero occasionally spanks your ass, rolling his head and panting like a dog in heat when your abused pussy clamps around his cock. Bakugo revels in the overwhelming sense of control and pride, feeling his chest swell with a mix of intoxicating, twisted emotions.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who grunts as Sero pulls out to finish on your ass after giving himself a few jerks. Then, Bakugo gives Kirishima a demanding glance, saying, "Come on, Eijiro, make my girl squirm on your fat cock."

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who licks his lips as he watches Kirishima join you on the bed. Kirishima touches your hips and waist gently, pecking your jawline and lips as he removes his pants. Red Riot lies flat on the bed and guides you on top of him in a reversed cowgirl position. Once his cock is stuffed into your slick, drenched pussy, he nudges you to lie flat against his chest. You oblige, stealing a brief glance at Bakugo, who is now fist-pumping his cock faster.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who can't stop growling through clenched teeth as he feels his balls tighten while he watches his best friend's cock slowly moving in and out of your pussy. The twisted position allows Kirishima to penetrate your cunny as deeply as possible. Kirishima kisses the column of your neck, fondling one of your breasts, while his balls slap hard against the curve of your ass. You also buck your hips, meeting his rhythm provocatively, whining and rubbing your clitoris viciously.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who cums hard at the same moment Kirishima does. Bakugo's cum covers his fist in a few spurts as he growls at Kaminari and Sero, commanding them to leave the room immediately. Once they comply, Bakugo gets up and walks to the bed, removing his pants. He dives between your legs, licking your clitoris and moving to your entrance where Kirishima's cock is still stuffed. Bakugo grasps Red Riot's cock and pulls it out of you, watching your juices and all the cum ooze out of your abused hole.

Dom boyfriend!Bakugo, who gives his best friend a head, moaning around Kirishima's cock. Once you roll off Kirishima and start making out with him, Bakugo finishes and moves up to kiss Kirishima slowly. The red-haired guy reciprocates the kiss, moaning passionately. After the kiss, Bakugo looks down at Red Riot and grunts, "You did so well, Eijiro. I guess you earned yourself another round. Let's make my... our girl cum again."

[adieutristana]

Well, reader and Jinx matching rings (maybe even wedding rings), and when Caitlin shoots Jinx's finger, she destroys this ring. Jinx’s honest reaction?

of course! thank you for the request <3

i decided to make them promise rings since she lost her middle finger. i hope that’s alright!

summary; jinx’s promise ring being destroyed, and fem!reader comforting her after the fact.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, mentions of poor mental health, medical talk ig? (patching up), s2 spoilers

men dni.

you’re sat in jinx’s hideout watching her tinker away with… something. a new type of explosive she’s experimenting with, she says. something that only requires one hexcrystal instead of two or three, since she can’t keep using so many. she’s unceremoniously hunched over the workbench, goggles over her eyes as she messes with the piece of scrap metal in her hand.

“having fun?”

you ask, sitting back in the chair she got you.

“mm… this is more difficult than i thought it would be. who knew this could be so challenging? but i like a challenge.”

she smirks to herself, not taking her eyes off of her project.

“well, you’ve never let ‘difficult’ stop you. you’re a right genius.”

“oh, stop. you’re biased!”

she teases, but she’s got the lightest rouge dusting her cheeks. got her. your gaze continues to follow your girlfriend, the way she moves so freely and carelessly. getting her face impossibly close to power tools, using her nails to clean up dirt, teeth capturing her bottom lip when she’s particularly stumped.

“alright! that’s enough for right now.”

she proclaims, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

“already?” it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since you asked her how she was doing.

“yeah! besides, i’ve got something for ‘ya.”

jinx springs up from her seat and skitters over to yours, quickly turning it around. you hear cheerful humming from behind you as she shuffles through piles of belongings, clearly looking for something.

"a-ha!"

she spins you back around, both hands on your seat and quickly rises. she's got something clasped in her left hand, but won't reveal it, not yet.

"what's that?"

"you have to be patient, toots! i've got a speech prepared, don't distract me!"

a speech? jinx never gave speeches. was she breaking up with you? so many thoughts began swirling through your mind as your palms began to sweat, gripping the chair- and then jinx revealed what she was hiding. a wooden box. a... ring box?

"isn't it a little soon to be getting engaged, jinx?"

you chuckle dryly, looking up at your girlfriend. she playfully rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, blue bang swaying.

"yes it is, that's why we're not getting engaged."

she clears her throat.

"not yet."

she turns her attention back to the box, and she opens it. inside lays a thick silver ring, with a circular blue gem in the middle. it looked eerily similar to a hexcrystal- but carved into a gemstone. 'JINX' is shakily engraved on the inside, something she undoubtedly did herself.

"this is a promise ring. i've been working on it for a while, and well... it's kind of stupid." she looks off to the side, sheepishly. "but this is me promising myself to you. to show you that i'm serious about this, ya know?"

you look over the ring for a moment, taking it in for all that it is. it's obviously unprofessional, the metal is a bit dull, and the shape isn't precise. but god dammit if it isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. you glance back to your girlfriend, noticing her observing you- likely for any signs of disapproval. poor girl. as much as jinx had improved since meeting you, she still had the habit of expecting the worst. you didn't think that part would ever go away.

"jinx, it's beautiful. i- you made this?"

you ask, your eyes flickering back to the ring she's holding out. noticing how her grip is becoming a bit less stable.

"with my own two hands."

you chuckle, giving her a little grin.

"well? come on, put it on."

jinx doesn't need to be told twice. she gently takes hold of your left hand, removing the ring from the box and slowly slipping it onto your finger.

"there! it's on your middle finger, so your ring finger is open for the real thing."

not an ‘i do,’ but an ‘i will.’

you hold your hand up to the light, admiring how the ring catches it, before leaning forward to press a flurry of kisses to jinx's face.

"ah- hey! stop, you goof!"

she laughs, arms coming to wrap around you as a fit of giggles erupts from her.

"nope! i get to do this!"

it's not a week later when you arrive to jinx's hideout with a promise ring of your own to give her. a thick gold band to contrast the silver jinx had given you, with a rose quartz to accompany your own hexcrystal. pink and blue… she had a theme going, didn't she?

it wasn't handmade, but held the same sentimental value. you weren't as handy as jinx, and you'd learned to accept that a while ago. you had strengths in other areas, one of them being finding perfect gifts. it didn't take you long to find a jeweler in piltover who had exactly what you needed.

"oh, my god- you didn't have to do this."

she gasps, rosy eyes blown wide. both hands are on her cheeks as jinx gently approaches the open box in your hand.

"you promised yourself to me, didn't you? this is my promise to you."

jinx lets you put the ring onto her own left middle finger, her eyes never leaving your face. watching you so intently, she can feel her heart fluttering in her chest. what did she do to deserve you exactly? she could never quite figure it out, but that doesn't matter right now. you glance back up at her, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"i… you're too good to me, toots. really."

"i am not. i love you, remember?"

"mm… i love you too. i still think you're too good to me, though."

you let out a low chuckle.

"c'mere."

you bring the girl into your arms, tilting her chin with your index finger to gently bring her closer to you. pressing your lips to hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

oh- and of course, your name is engraved on the inside of the ring.

✧.*

you're posted at your girlfriend's hideout, going over notes in preparation for an exam. it's nerve wracking, sure, but the odd tranquility of jinx's desk is useful in its own way.

jinx swings open the door to the hideout, and as soon as she steps onto the panel of the wind turbine supporting her hideout, you can tell she's in hysterics.

the girl is wailing. she's pacing back and forth, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. but most importantly, her hand is gushing blood. you immediately drop your notes, papers scattering across the desk to rush over to your girlfriend.

"jinx? jinx?! what the hell happened, oh my god..."

you kneel down in front of jinx, taking her hand to examine it. her middle left finger is completely gone, blood rushing out from the wound. it seems to be a clean cut, at least, you won't have to deal with any extra bits to clean up.

"the ring, the ring, it's gone-"

she sobs, a hiccup following and her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. you gasp, looking up at jinx, then back down at her finger.

"jinx, seriously? you just lost your finger and you're worried about a damn ring?!"

you breathe out, exasperation and worry weighing heavy on your voice.

"the ring is important! it's- it's our promise!"

she cries, hanging her head low. jinx is so ashamed, it hurts your heart to see. you let go of her hand and frantically sweep along her workbench for anything. you knew you had a first aid kit somewhere, you'd gotten it after seeing jinx patch herself up in a way that would make any doctor shiver. but god damn it, where was it?

there.

you quickly swipe the kit and a bottle of peroxide from her workbench, rushing back over to jinx. you take one of her wrists and quickly guide her over to her beaten-up couch.

"sit."

"but-"

"sit."

jinx huffs and sits down on the couch, you sitting down beside her. you open the kit and bottle, pouring peroxide onto a cotton square and taking her hand into your lap.

"this is going to sting. a lot."

jinx winces at just the thought, but nods slowly. keeping her eyes on what you're doing-

"agh- fuck!"

she yelps, tossing her head back as you press the square to the wound, holding it there to both disinfect and stop the bleeding.

"i'm sorry, baby, it'll be over soon. i just need to stop the bleeding."

you coo, trying to do anything in your power to calm her down. yet it's obvious the injury itself isn't what she's upset about.

"that- that fucker vi is with shot it off, she shot the ring off..."

jinx seethes through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure as you hold the peroxide to her wound. ah.. that makes sense. caitlyn was never fond of jinx, especially after the stunt she pulled with the council room. part of you was simply grateful that she didn't just take jinx out, as much as you knew she was probably trying to.

jinx was always putting herself in so much danger, both for the sake of necessity and the fact her ego was just so damn inflated. she said it herself- she just can't seem to die. but she got impossibly close way more than you would've liked her to.

you take out a roll of gauze and begin to wrap it around her hand, the wound being in the center of it all. it's far from professional, but this will have to do until you can get her proper medical attention. which you were trying to avoid talking about, since jinx was the last person to ever admit she needed help.

"jinx, i'm just happy that you're alive. i don't care about the ring right now. what if she had shot you somewhere more... vital?"

"then i would've gotten to keep the ring."

god damn it. she could not be serious right now. you finish wrapping her hand, bleeding having come to a halt and wound disinfected. you'd grab some painkillers in a moment. you quickly take both of her cheeks in your hands, forcing her to look you directly in the eye. the cold metal of your own ring against soft skin.

"jinx. again, i'm happy that you're here, and you're alive, and losing your finger was the worst thing that happened. i will get you a new ring, first thing tomorrow. okay?"

she sighs, her lips coming into a slight pout. at the very least, she's not crying anymore.

"but..."

you press your index finger to her lips, shushing her.

"no. just because you don't have the ring anymore doesn't mean the promise went out the window, okay?" you whisper, brushing your lips against her forehead. "i still love you, and still have promised myself to you. that won't change.

jinx closes her eyes, and leans into your kiss. she seems to have finally resigned, and is snaking her arms around your waist.

"i just- i love you so much..."

"i know, baby. i love you too, which is why i'll get you a new ring. a better one, even."

your hand still cupping her face, you lean in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"just stay here, with me. you've had a hell of a day."

[milkb0nny]

Hii, first of all it makes me so happy to see someone writing for Ivar in the year of our Lord 2025, and so well too you deserve more love!

I really enjoyed your works. Since requests look to be open could I ask for some fluffy headcanons about Ivar and his wife during feasts/celebrations? I’m a bit introverted and tend to keep to myself if that helps, but please do your thing and I look forward to anything you come up with!

Ivar with...

an introverted wife during a festive feast...

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader

Note: I rarely get requests because the fandom is rather dying. I still notice a quiet presence of people enjoying Vikings and liking to read fanfics. I mean, I do too! So thank you so much for finding the courage to slide into my ask box! I included some dialogue perhaps it portrays my intention a little better??

Content: established relationships, fluff, wholesomeness, anxious reader, introverted reader

“Stop wringing your hands, love. They’ll start to bleed.”

⚜️ Ivar has a sharp eye, especially when it comes to you. He knows you so well and therefore observes you constantly. The second he sees you fidgeting nervously, avoiding eye contact, or hesitating to engage with others, he knows you’re not too uncomfortable. His observant nature means he can sense your unease even before you tell him.

“You’ll sit here, next to me. Let them try to bother you while I’m around.”

⚜️ Before the feast even begins, Ivar ensures that you’re seated in a way that keeps you away from the loudest, most boisterous individuals. He places you right next to him, acting as a physical and emotional barrier between you and the chaos. Sometimes you like to banter around with the women, and he doesn’t mind. But incase everything gets too much, you have a rather quiet space in the room.

“Look at Hvitserk. How many mugs do you think it’ll take before he dances on the table? My bet’s three.”

⚜️ Ivar isn’t known for being gentle with most people, but with you, he softens. Throughout the evening, he leans close to whisper jokes or biting comments about the crowd to distract you.

⚜️ Ivar’s way of lightening the mood often involves humor. He’ll joke about how everyone else was far more embarrassing than you anxiety could ever be. Perhaps that would make you less conscious about other people’s opinions.

“You’re doing fine, Krútt. They don’t deserve your attention anyway.”

⚜️ While Ivar isn’t overly touchy in public, he makes exceptions when you’re incredibly overwhelmed. His hand might rest protectively on your knee under the table, or he’ll brush his fingers along your arm to remind you that you’re not alone.

“Mind me telling you some tales? It’s far more entertaining than watching my wife blush so lovingly.”

⚜️ If anyone tries to draw too much attention to you, Ivar is quick to redirect it elsewhere. Whether it’s calling out Ubbe for something embarrassing or telling a story about himself, he ensures all eyes are off his wife.

⚜️ Ivar subtly pushes you to engage in ways that won’t overwhelm you. If someone offers you a drink or a kind word, he gently nudges you to respond. Your answer through a nod or a smile is often enough for him and the people around you.

“Come, let’s leave these fools to their noise. They won’t notice we’re gone.”

⚜️ If it becomes too much for you, Ivar doesn’t hesitate to make an early exit. He’d rather waive the feast than watch you suffer.

⚜️ Ivar’s mix of protective fierceness and surprising tenderness ensures that even in the bustling chaos of a feast, his introverted wife feels seen, supported, and loved. And that, is you.

[hgfictionwriter]

Possession

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It's no surprise that girls flirt with Jessie anytime she's out. That's irritating enough to begin with, but when she does nothing about it? It's even worse. And frankly, you've had enough.

Warnings: G!P content. Slight angst. Possessive sex and language. Marking. Risky sex. Slight breeding kink.

A/N: Inspired by this request.

“The Jessie Fleming? At my table? Who knew I’d get so lucky.”

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you glanced over at your girlfriend to see her cheeks flushing red and a sheepish smile on her face.

“Oh. Hi. Nice to meet you,” Jessie greeted the server.

“Naomi,” the server introduced herself as she extended her hand to Jessie, which Jessie, of course, shook. She was nothing, if not polite. The woman gave a satisfied smile. “Nice to meet you as well. I’ll be taking care of you today.”

The woman continued to give her spiel and you tried to not react as she paid extra attention to Jessie throughout. By the time she took orders and left, Kelli and Sam were holding back snickers over how flirtatious the whole interaction had become.

Jessie, however, simply looked around the table with a perplexed frown. For someone so smart and observant, she could be unbelievably clueless sometimes.

“What’s so funny?”

Sam and Kelli exchanged looks with you and you simply looked away. You weren’t in the mood to engage.

“She was very friendly. That’s all,” Sam eventually said, pulling another laugh out of Kelli.

Jessie’s frown didn’t diminish and Kelli caught your eye but you waved her off. There was no point in getting into it or making it into something more.

You tried to carry on with your evening as best you could. The way the table and seats were situated, one chair on each side of the table, you couldn’t easily cuddle up with Jessie. Sure, you leaned in, placed a hand on her leg now and then, but weren’t exactly staking a claim.

And frankly, you didn’t really want to have to. It shouldn’t just be you all over her; you wanted Jessie to claim you, too.

Your friends and family knew you were together, but Jessie made no effort to make things more public than that. You’d kissed her cheek one time while out for coffee and she muttered and withdrew when she thought she saw some phones come out to take pictures. She was fine with your loved ones knowing about your relationship, but she didn’t want to invite the public into it.

You didn’t mind at first. It made sense and you weren’t keen to be on display either. But as the months wore on and Jessie continued to be flirted with relentlessly, your patience grew thin.

It also really didn’t help that Jessie was oblivious to girls advances most times. Perhaps it should’ve made you feel better that she didn’t outright reciprocate, but it typically meant she accepted it and wouldn’t shut it down.

Tonight was a prime example. Naomi stopped by your table more often than others, engaged Jessie in conversation - including somehow getting Jessie to offer her tickets to an upcoming game. By the time Naomi returned to your table with a free drink just for Jessie, you’d had it.

“Do you want some?” Jessie asked innocently as she held up the drink to you.

“No,” you responded flatly, not even offering her a glance.

“Oh,” Jessie said quietly, holding the glass mid-air awkwardly for a second or two before taking a sip. She held out the glass again. “It’s really good.”

“Congrats,” you deadpanned as you folded your arms and sat back in your chair.

“Mm I need to go to the bathroom,” Sam mumbled, her and Kelli nudging each other.

“Yeah me too,” Kelli said as they both got up to give you two some space. You spied how Jessie’s eyes followed them momentarily before she looked over at you and leaned in, speaking discretely.

“Are you okay? You seem a bit…agitated.”

You couldn’t help but give her a sidelong glance. She held your gaze as you locked eyes, but you caught her swallow.

“You really have to ask?” You inquired wearily. She frowned, gaze flitting away as she wracked her brain.

“Jess,” you said in tired frustration, “this server has been hitting on you all night.”

“What?” Jessie asked, face screwing up in confusion. You shot her a withering look.

“Come on. She is laser focused on you. Complimenting you like crazy. Randomly talking with you. A free dessert for you. A free drink. Now, mind you, you did offer to get her tickets for a game, so, who can blame her, really,” you finished with a scoff, your irritation rising.

“Babe,” she refuted as she held up her hands in both confusion and defense. “She was just talking with me. And the dessert was for all of us. And I was just being polite. She said her nieces really want to go to a game!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh. A knight in shining armour.”

“Y/N. You’re reading into things. She’s not flirting with me,” Jessie denied.

You rubbed your forehead, closing your eyes. “You know, your humility and kindness are some of your best traits. But sometimes, you’re just naive. And sometimes,” you exhaled heavily as you looked back over at her, “it’s just plain aggravating.”

Your temper flared as Jessie made a face at you.

“You’re totally blowing this out of proportion,” she stated.

You leaned your elbows on the table and rubbed your temples. You were tired of feeling this way. Like you were her girlfriend only when it was convenient, and just a bystander other times.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Jess,” you said quietly as you took a sip of your drink.

You heard her huff as you stared forward into the crowd of diners.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” she urged.

"Like what?" You ground out, though knowing it was dangerous to ask.

"I don't know. Jealous? It's not necessary," she said, her voice somewhere between stern and tentative.

"Mhmm," you said as you sat back and folded your arms against yourself.

You both sat in silence for several moments, neither of you making eye contact or making an attempt to converse. The tension was palpable and you felt your emotions beginning to bubble over the longer the silence persisted.

You looked around the room and eventually saw Kelli and Sam were just hanging out at the end of the hall where the restrooms were and clearly just waiting things out. You sighed and reached down to grab your belongings.

"I'm gonna head out," you announced flatly, still not looking over at her. Still, you caught her head snap over to you in your periphery. Your rose from your seat. "I'll transfer you whatever I owe."

"What?" She shifted in her seat, partially standing up but freezing partway as you threw your jacket on and pushed your chair back in.

"I'll call you tomorrow," you went on dully, offering her a glimpse with a forced, fleeting smile that was nothing more than for show. Jessie threw up her hands in confusion and protest.

"Where are you going?" She whispered, but tone high and tense.

"Night, Jess."

You caught Sam and Kelli's eyes as you were leaving and looked shocked, but you waved them off, mouthing, "I'll text you later."

The brisk night air felt sharp on your skin as you pushed through the doors of the restaurant and walked down the street. You held your arms tightly against yourself in an effort to stay warm and comfort yourself from the upset that was continuing to mount despite your departure.

"Y/N!"

It felt like your heart faltered as you heard that familiar voice calling your name. You heard her distant footsteps rapidly approaching as she ran down the street towards you. You pulled your arms in tighter and continued walking, refusing to look back.

"Hey," her voice was soft now and right behind you and you felt her hand on the crook of your arm as she pulled you around.

You looked away immediately, determinedly not looking her in the eye as though that would somehow prevent her from seeing the tears in your eyes. You frowned in annoyance as you wiped away a stray tear.

"Babe," she said sadly and you caught the way her face fell upon seeing you. She tried to pull you in, but you took a step back. She seemed to contemplate trying again, but ultimately just clasped her hands in front of herself and looked down at the concrete before up at you once again.

"What?" You snapped, feeling guarded and defensive, but still too vulnerable to meet her gaze.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, taking a small, tentative step towards you. "I didn't know all this stuff tonight was bothering you this much. I'm really sorry. You know I'd never mean to hurt you."

"I know," you practically huffed as you shifted your weight, popping a hip out and glancing at her briefly. "Whatever. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. I just want to go home."

"It's not stupid," she said gently, but firmly, seeking your eyes. "If it's upsetting you, it's not stupid and I want to fix it."

Sure, she could fix tonight, but you were both going to keep finding yourself in this situation over and over again unless if the context of your relationship changed. And you didn't want to force her hand.

"Whatever," you muttered. "It's not going to change. So, I just need to get over it if we're going to be together."

Jessie's posture straightened, drawing your eye to see her looking both concerned and confused.

"If we're going to be together?" She asked. "What does that mean?"

A wave of irritation swept over you and your shot her a glare.

"Meaning, I have to be okay being your 'secret girlfriend' and seeing women flirt endlessly with you week after week. That's not going to change at all until you're ready to go public - when I can actually kiss you in public or, heaven forbid, you kiss me. Hold me. Act like something other than my friend. Who can blame these girls for thinking you're single?"

Jessie withdrew, her features serious and contemplative as she processed your words.

"That's what this is about?" She asked. You flashed her a fake smile as you wiped away a residual tear and sniffled.

"Stupid, right?"

She frowned with a heavy exhale.

"No," she said gently, apologetically even. Her gaze fell and she scanned the ground in thought before facing you again. "I'm just a private person. I wasn't meaning to 'hide' you or to make you feel like I'm any less committed."

You shook your head, feeling the urge to remove yourself from this discussion.

"It's fine. It doesn't matter, Jess," you said faintly as you sniffled, irritated with yourself at the need to.

"It does," she countered. "What can I do to fix this?"

"I'm not going to dictate that. I don't want you doing anything simply because you think I'm demanding it."

She huffed lightly but spoke earnestly.

"I didn't think it was upsetting you or hurting you. Which, now that I think about it, was really ignorant of me. I'm a private person, yes, but I don't need to hide, and I certainly don't want you to think or feel like I'm hiding you. That's not the case. I'm so proud of you and proud to be with you." She reached out and coaxed you to hold her hands as she looked you in the eye and spoke. "I am happy to go public with you. I'm sorry it's taken me this long. But I'm yours and you're mine."

Your lip started to tremble as she finished speaking and she gave you the softest, sweetest smile as you ducked your head. She ducked her head in response to catch your eye.

"Can I kiss you?"

You couldn't speak and merely nodded, a laugh finally escaping you at the end at how ridiculous you felt. She smiled and cupped your cheek as she captured your mouth in a gentle kiss for any passerby to see.

You sniffled after she eventually pulled back. You were still fighting back tears, but smiled at her nonetheless. A small smirk formed on her face.

"Would a date night photo on Instagram change things?"

She pulled you in and had already started to lift up her phone to take a selfie. You swatted her hand down.

"Not now! I've just been crying, for God's sake," you laughed, somewhat bewildered. She blushed as she tucked the phone away.

"Oh right. Well, I still think you look beautiful," she said, pulling an affectionate eye roll out of you.

"You're a goof. A very sweet goof, at that," you relented.

"I'm your goof," she said with a smile. You stared at her a moment, taking her in.

"Is that so?" You asked lightly. Her smile grew crooked.

"Yeah," she said with a confused shrug. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm not all that certain. That's all," you went on, a glint in your eye. She frowned, hesitating momentarily before retrieving her phone again.

"Well, I have other pictures of us I can post tonight."

You huffed silently, holding your eyes steady on her.

"That's not what I'm referring to," you said simply. "Yes, I do want that - it doesn't have to be tonight, by the way. But, I'm just saying there are other ways to prove you're mine."

"Oh," Jessie said, realization settling quickly on her face, phone forgotten once more. Her cheeks burned pink again and she couldn't quite hide the smile that was forming across her lips.

"Are you coming home with me tonight?" You asked sweetly as you toyed with the collar of her jacket.

Her smile grew full-blown. "I'd love to."

-----------

Your lips were locked with Jessie's as you pushed her backwards onto the bed. Her hands explored the skin of your back, pushing your shirt up as she did so. You moaned softly into the kiss as you coaxed her up the bed.

"You saying you're mine and I'm yours? That did something to me," you whispered in appreciation as you straddled her waist, very purposefully settling yourself on the prominent bulge in her jeans. You smiled into the kiss at the soft noise of want she made. You rocked your hips sensually into her and kissed her harder. "Now I want to hear it again and again."

Your kiss muffled her moan as her fingers dug into your waist and she pulled you down into her. It did nothing but encourage you to embrace this urge further.

You leaned back and moved your hands hurriedly under her shirt, pulling it off of her with an urgency she hadn't seen before. Her sports bra immediately followed and it had hardly hit your bedroom floor before you ducked your head down to start laying hard, marking kisses along her chest and up her neck. She moaned quietly under your attention, but soon found her voice.

"H-hey. I have practice tomorrow. Everyone's going to see and they're going to have a field day," she protested mildly. The way she held your waist firmly as she bucked up into you through her pants dismissed any kind of concern you may have had for her claim otherwise.

"Let them," you said simply as you sucked hard to leave a particularly large hickey on her chest.

"Ah, fuck," she moaned as one hand dug through your hair and she arched her back into you.

"I don't need to worry about you every time you're out of my sight, right?" You asked, a lilt in your voice as you trailed a finger down her chest.

"No," she answered immediately. "I'm yours."

"Well, with a woman as gorgeous as you, one can't be too sure," you answered as you began to mark up her torso. "Make sure that if any other girl makes a move, they'll see you're taken. You've already been thoroughly loved and you don't need someone else."

"Shit," Jessie said, her voice shuddering and you glanced up her body to see her looking down at you, eyes hooded, cheeks flushed. When you caught her eye she couldn't help but let out a soft laugh of awe, letting her head fall back against the pillow briefly with a smile before looking down at you again.

"You like being mine, baby?" You asked as you began to undo her pants. As you unbuttoned and unzipped them, moving the restrictive fabric aside, her cock sprang up within her boxer briefs, making itself even more known than before. You smirked smugly.

"Even if you don't know you're mine, your cock seems to."

Jessie exhaled roughly, fingers splaying through your hair.

"All of me knows, babe. Believe me," she told you emphatically.

You pushed down her pants and her boxer briefs, fully releasing her hard cock. Your core pulsed upon seeing her precum leaking from the tip and how it strained into the air, eager for you. You leaned down and kissed the head, slowly dragging your tongue across the tip to lick up the precum. You smiled as her hips instinctively jerked up towards you.

"Fuck," she breathed.

You looked up and her and began to strip off your clothes, fully removing hers as well and straddled her once more, your dripping core poised an inch or two above her aching cock. You could see her breathing was deep, but quick, her eyes transfixed between your legs as she subconsciously licked her lips and massaged your thighs with her strong fingers.

"Let's make sure all of you knows," you stated as you leaned forward, your finger and thumb softly grasping her chin and titling it up to kiss you.

One hand of hers remained at the crease between your hip and thigh, and the other came up cup the side of your neck, pulling you into an eager kiss.

Your smug smirk persisted as you pulled back and grasped her hot length in your hand, lining her up at your entrance and slowly sinking down onto her. You relished the way her head fell back into the pillows and how her eyes fluttered shut, mouth agape as your heat embraced her.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," she praised as she opened her eyes once more only to be mesmerized by how you rose up to the tip before swallowing her member within you once more.

You leaned forward kissing her again.

"You know why it feels amazing?" You asked as you rolled your hips up before sinking down on her, bottoming out. Your mouth fell into an 'o' at the sensation of being filled so well. Your wet pussy was getting the base of her cock and her groin slick with your arousal. "Because your cock was made for me."

"Holy shit," she muttered into the kiss as she brought both hands back to your hips, her fingers digging in nearly painfully as she began to rock her hips up into you to meet your thrusts. "Fuck, baby. Yes, I was made for you."

You gasped into the kiss and dug your fingers into the front of her shoulders. You arched your back as you rode her.

"No one else," you told her as your pace quickened and she easily met you. The sounds of her skin clapping against yours rang through the room.

"No one else," she affirmed as held your gaze and began to thrust harder into you from below.

"You're going to tell everyone about us," you went on. "You're going to tell everyone that you're mine."

A small grunt of pleasure escaped her as she breathed heavily, eyes fixed on yours and not tearing away. "I'll tell everyone I'm yours. I want everyone to know that I belong to you."

A cry fell from your lips at her declaration and you bit your bottom lip as tightness began to mount in your core.

"No matter how many girls flirt with you, I want them to know that you're mine. That you chose me," you panted.

"I don't want any of them," Jessie proclaimed as she held you and thrust up into you. "I only want you."

You saw the way tension began to settle in her face; a look you knew all too well and a telltale sign that her climax was fast approaching.

"I want you to cum for me," you urged her as your hands firmly roamed her chest and abs. "Show me you're mine."

Jessie's mouth was agape as she panted and met your thrusts without fail. She glanced down, taking in how you were riding her so well and her nails dug into your skin. She looked back up to meet your eyes.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm yours. Only yours."

"Then cum for me, baby," you said as you bounced up and down on her length, claiming her. "Fill me up and show me you're mine."

Her body tensed up under you and she gripped you tighter than ever as she thrusted deep inside of you, spilling herself into with a shuddering cry.

She pulsed within you, rope after rope of her cum filling you and marking you as she pulled you tightly down against her, her breath hitching as she rode out her orgasm.

When she was done cumming, she relaxed underneath you, her head falling heavily into the pillows and her eyes closing and her chest heaved up and down as she worked to catch her breath.

You looked down at her, now fully recognizing the red marks and bruises you'd left on her body in your wake of possessiveness. Maybe you'd feel a bit apologetic tomorrow, but in this moment, it just made you core pulse with need.

She was softening inside of you, but when you felt you'd given her enough of a break, you began to rock your hips subtly against her.

"Seeing you marked up like this, laying there spent, your cock warming inside of me, it has me craving you all over again," you told her.

She groaned deep in her chest as she opened her eyes to watch you sultrily rocking atop of her.

"Fuck, you're going to get me hard again," she chuckled.

You winked at her. "That's kind of the point, my love."

She exhaled steadily as she grasped your hips again and began to roll her hips up into you.

"Well you know I'm ready to go for you at any time," she smirked as she watched your hips. She smiled fully as she shifted her gaze up to your eyes. "I'm yours, after all."

"And I fucking love you for that," you whispered as you leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss.

A small squeal escaped you, muffled by her lips as she flipped you both, you now on your back with her resting atop of you between your legs.

"We've been talking a lot about how I'm yours," she said as she began to kiss her way down your neck, a series of small gasps already escaping you as you writhed underneath her, feeling her cock growing hard and full inside of you once more. "But I want to hear about how you're mine." You subconsciously punctuated her demand with a small moan.

"I know I'm not the only one who wants you," she growled as she rolled her hips into you and nipped at your neck. "And I don't like the thought of other people thinking they have a shot with you."

You gasped, your core tightening around her. "They don't," you told her.

"And why is that?" She asked as she began to suck on your neck, making sure to leave a bruise.

"Because I'm yours," you told her unequivocally.

"Well how are they going to know that if I don't mark you? If there isn't a way for them to see that you belong to me?"

"Oh fuck," you gasped and she began to draw her hips back fully and sink completely into you in a slow, purposeful pace.

"At the very least I need to leave some hickeys," she said lightly as she switched sides. "At a glance someone will know you've already been taken." She grasped your hands and pinned them above your head. "Maybe a ring someday. That'd do the trick." She drew her hips back and thrust firmly into you, drawing a cry of pleasure from you. "Best of all though, would be if you were holding my baby on your hip, another one inside of you, rounding you out. Fuck. There'd be absolutely no doubt, then."

"Oh my God," you said, voice quivering with arousal at her words. You could feel yourself spilling onto the sheets below you. Maybe it was her cum from before or your endless arousal; you couldn't be sure, but you were absolutely throbbing with need for her.

She continued to mark you up as she pleasured you patiently and skillfully. You writhed beneath her, her hand holding yours in place above you.

"I want to touch you," you pleaded. She released your hands with no protest.

"Take me, Jess," you said as your hands wandered wildly along her back, her body unable to stay still.

"My cum's already deep inside of you," she mumbled against your skin with a smirk. "I'd say I've already taken you." She lifted herself up to look down at you. "But I can't get enough of you. I want to take you over and over. Make you mine every time so you never forget."

"I could never," you panted.

"You are the only one I need," she told you as she began to quicken her pace, the bed beginning to creak beneath her movements. "I want to make sure I'm the only one you need."

"God, you fuck me so good, Jess. You're all I need," you assured her as you pulled her down tightly onto you again, wanting the heat of her skin directly on as much of you as possible.

"You're my girl," she whispered adoringly against you as her hips thrust into you.

"I'm your girl," you reiterated, panting in her ear as she fucked you harder and deeper into the mattress.

"Oh God, nobody's ever made me feel this good," you said as the wet sounds of her cock driving in and out of your slick pussy overwhelmed you.

"And no one else ever will because you're mine now," she told you.

"Oh God," you whimpered as you clawed up her back and simply held on as she fucked you senseless.

"I'm going to cum again," she told you. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside me. Please. Always," you panted. "I want you to cum inside me. Claim me."

"Right answer," she said smugly as she began to dig her knees deeper into the bed, giving herself more leverage as she began to pound into you with enough force that your body was being shimmied up the bed until your head began to jostle against the headboard.

"Here it comes, baby," she said. "Gonna make you mine again."

"Please, Jess, please. I need it," you whimpered.

Immediately, she was grunting over top of you, her rapid thrusts halting as she ground her hips into your heat, pouring her cum as deep inside of you as possible.

You spasmed around her cock, gripping it rhythmically as radiant heat filled you as your orgasm overtook you. You name was on her lips and echoing off the walls of your room for all the neighbours to hear.

She laid heavily on top of you, cock softening inside of you once more, as you both rested in the wake of your climaxes. Her weight on top of you made you feel safe and secure and you didn't want her to move.

In time, she pushed herself up off of your torso, laying gentle, sweet kisses to satiate you as your hummed in complaint.

"I don't want to crush you, baby," she told you. Despite your denial, she lifted herself up fully onto her knees, drawing back to where the head of her softened cock was the only thing left plugging your entrance.

"Let's see how much of a mess we made," she said with a teasing smirk as she pushed down on her cock so it popped out of you. A smile spread across her face and her eyes lit up as cum began to drip out of you to further stain the sheets.

"Fuck. With the way you make me cum, your pussy really was made for me," she said as she dipped two fingers inside of you to scoop out some cum. She showed you briefly before pushing it back inside of you. She smiled at you. "Right where it belongs."

[blossom-shy]

Scaramouche x reader

scaramouche/wanderer and reader is in engage marriage

scaramouche is cold towards the reader, And reader love him but he doesn't and they are argument now and then it went bad and then she have Hanahaki disease she doesn't told no one but it alright to late reader with angst

# Wilting Petals

*From Scaramouche's Perspective*

I never asked for this arrangement.

You sit at the vanity mirror, humming some irritatingly cheerful tune while you braid flowers into your hair. Everything about her grates against my nerves. The way she smiles at nothing. The way she tries to fill every silence with meaningless chatter. The way she looks at me like I'm something precious instead of the weapon I was forged to be.

"Good morning, Scara!" Her voice is bright as sunshine, and I want to snuff it out.

"Don't call me that." The words come out harsher than intended, but I don't soften them. Better she learns now what this is. "And whatever trivial activity you've planned, cancel it. I have business to attend to."

I see the hurt flicker across her face before she hides it behind that insufferable smile. Good. Pain is honest, at least.

"Of course! Maybe this evening then? We could bake those cupcakes you used to—"

"I never liked your baking." The lie tastes bitter, but necessary. I remember the first batch she made—how the sweetness had caught me off guard, how for one dangerous moment I'd felt something crack in the ice around my chest. "Stop pretending this arrangement is anything more than what it is."

I leave before she can respond, before I can see the way her shoulders slump when she thinks no one is watching.

---

**Three Months In**

She's getting thinner.

I notice because I notice everything—it's how I've survived this long. She's always been delicate, like spun sugar, and now she looks like she might break if someone breathes on her wrong.

"You look pale," I observe without inflection. It's a fact, nothing more. "Don't get sick. It would be inconvenient."

She laughs, but it sounds wrong. Strained. "Just tired! I've been working on a new recipe for—"

The coughing fit that seizes her is violent, desperate. She presses a handkerchief to her mouth, and when she pulls it away, I catch a glimpse of something that makes my chest tighten inexplicably.

Was that... blood?

"How annoying," I mutter, forcing indifference into my voice. "Go rest or whatever. Your noise is distracting."

She nods and flees, but not before I see her shoulders shaking. I tell myself I don't care. I tell myself the strange ache in my chest is just indigestion from her terrible cooking.

I'm very good at lying to myself.

---

**One Month Later**

"Why do you stay?"

The question hangs in the air between us like a blade. I freeze in the doorway, my back to her, and for a moment I almost—almost—tell her the truth. That somewhere between her terrible jokes and her soft humming and the way she leaves little notes in my books, something in me started to thaw. That I stay not for politics or convenience, but because the house feels empty when she's not in it.

Instead, I give her the lie she expects.

"The arrangement benefits me. Your family's connections. The political advantages. Surely even someone as naive as you can understand that."

"But what about—" Her voice cracks like glass. "What about love?"

Love. The word hits me like a physical blow, and I turn to face her with all the cruelty I can muster. Because if she loves me—if she actually loves me—then I'm already too late. I'm already lost.

"Love?" I laugh, and the sound is ugly even to my own ears. "How pathetic. Did you actually believe this was some fairy tale romance? That I would ever care for someone so... ordinary?"

The word 'ordinary' tastes like poison. She's anything but ordinary—she's sunshine and strawberries and everything soft in a world that tried to carve the softness out of me. But I can't take it back. Won't take it back.

She whispers "I see" like an epitaph, and I leave before I can do something foolish like apologize.

---

**Two Months Later**

The girl in the mirror is disappearing.

I catch glimpses of her sometimes—a flash of pink hair around a corner, the sound of muffled coughing through thin walls. She's stopped trying to talk to me, stopped leaving those ridiculous love notes, stopped humming while she works.

I should be pleased. This is what I wanted, isn't it? Peace. Quiet. No more of her relentless optimism chipping away at my defenses.

So why does the silence feel like suffocation?

I find myself walking past your room at night, listening for signs of life. The coughing has gotten worse—harsh, wet sounds that make something twist in my chest. Sometimes I think I hear her crying, and my hand hovers over the doorknob before I force myself to walk away.

She doesn't need my comfort. She never did.

(The lie is getting harder to maintain.)

---

**The Final Week**

You're in the garden again.

I watch from the window as you sit among the flowers, writing in that leather notebook you carry everywhere. Your hair catches the sunlight, but you look translucent, like you're already half-gone.

Something compels me to go to her—some desperate, clawing need I can't name.

"What are you writing?" The question comes out rougher than intended.

She startles, quickly closing the notebook. "Nothing important."

The lie sits heavy between us. Everything about her has always been important, even when I pretended otherwise.

For the first time in months, I really look at her. The sharp angles of her cheekbones. The way her clothes hang loose on her frame. The dark circles under eyes that used to sparkle with mischief.

"You've lost weight."

"I've been trying a new diet!" The cheer in her voice is so forced it makes my teeth ache. She starts to cough again, pressing her hand to her mouth, and this time I see it clearly—the flash of purple, the speck of red.

Petals. Blood.

My mind, sharp as it is, puts the pieces together in an instant. The weight loss. The coughing. The way she looks at me like she's memorizing my face.

Hanahaki disease.

She's dying. Of love. For me.

The realization hits me like lightning, but she's already covering it up, already smiling that broken smile.

"Don't do anything drastic," I hear myself say, the words feeling like glass in my throat. "The wedding is next month, and you need to look presentable."

The wedding. Our wedding. The one she won't live to see.

I walk away because staying would mean admitting the truth—that I've killed the only person who ever loved me by being too much of a coward to love her back.

---

**The Last Day**

The house is too quiet.

I know before I enter, before I see the letter on my desk surrounded by violet petals, before I read words that feel like they're carving themselves into my bones.

*By the time you read this, I'll be gone.*

My hands shake as I read her final confession, her forgiveness for sins I can never forgive myself for. She loved me. Despite everything—despite my cruelty, my coldness, my desperate attempts to push her away—she loved me.

And I loved her too.

The truth sits in my chest like a knife. I loved her morning songs and her terrible jokes. I loved the way she left flowers on my desk and notes in my books. I loved her stubborn optimism and the way she saw something worth saving in me.

I loved her, and I killed her with my silence.

The cupcakes wait in the kitchen like an accusation. Vanilla with strawberry frosting—my favorite, though I never told her. Each bite tastes like regret, like all the words I should have said but didn't.

In the garden, violet flowers bloom more beautiful than ever, and I finally understand what I've done. She chose to love me knowing it would kill her. She chose me even when I gave her nothing in return.

I fall to my knees among the flowers—her flowers—and scream until my voice breaks.

But screaming won't bring her back. Nothing will.

The flowers remember what I was too proud to say: that Blossom was never ordinary. She was extraordinary, and she was mine, and I threw her away like she meant nothing.

Now all I have left are her letters, her recipes, and the knowledge that I am exactly the monster I always believed myself to be.

The violet flowers bloom on, beautiful and terrible, a garden grown from love and watered with tears I learned to shed too late.

IM CRYING YOU GUYS ARE 😭

but...I love angst y'all I hope you guys like it I did this story a long time ago