#there is also ofc whitney and then…..

[sweetestflow3rs]

i don’t know where that one harper x pc fic i reblogged is anymore ( im guessing the op deleted it ) but i hope op knows i think about that fic often, i keep you in my thoughts

[pinipig]

Would Nicola mpreg black wolf just asking

WOOP WOOP BLACK WOLF MPREG NATION ON TOP ❤

HELLO BLACK WOLF MPREG NATION!! HELLOO HI! HI!! SO GOOD TO SEE YOU!!! 💗💗

nicola would love to!! however he is afraid of black wolf because of his sheer size. whenever they run into each other, nicola chooses to fight and run away. he's scared of being crushed. if black wolf started talking about wanting to have pups, nicola would be slightly swayed...

nicola would feel a bit bad about not having time to actually care for the future litter. he's also a bit nervous in case his cat tf causes problems for them, would they have four ears? would the other wolves make fun of them? maybe he should take them home? a lot of doubts would cloud his mind but once he sees black wolf being so eager (and presenting himself) he's thrown all of that away ^_^

also,, nicola's fine if he's the one getting pregnant. he prefers if it's black wolf tho, the wolfman suits pregnancy more. in my heart of hearts, they'll have more than one litter and nicola buys a house in danube street just to be closr with the pack. maybe they'll have enough cat-wolf hybridpeople to take over the town?! nicola might be happier having a beastman lover if he was given the chance.

THAT'S ALL, BLACK WOLF MPREG NATION WOOO💗💗

[dol-dee]

I've been doing a doodle of wife!Dee and by God she looks sooo good I think Whitney would be starstruck

(and would need a hot sec to fully realize who they're looking at lmao)

[greenxgloss]

In honor of Mona Lisa can we get a jhope fic please Mona Lisa inspired ofc😔👉🏾👈🏾

A/n: so sorry for how long this took but ohhhh my god I loved writing this lmao this was good. it was also lowkey intimidating to write this bc I kinda had to write "mona lisa" as closely as hobi describes her in the song but I think I did a pretty good job lol I hope you loved this!!

Mona Lisa, Yeah I Need Ya (Jhope)

Summary: After a painful breakup, Y/N cautiously reenters the nightlife scene, where an unexpected encounter with the charming Hoseok awakens new desires and challenges her emotional boundaries. Themes: softdom!Hobi, PleasureDom!Hobi, Independent!Reader, Self-Possessed!Reader, Fem recieving oral and fingering, protected sex, alcohol consumption Word Count: 5.2k

It had been a few months since the breakup, and by the second month, you had started to feel like yourself again—steady, clear-headed, no longer unravelling at the sight of old photos or mutual playlists. Still, you decided to lay low a little longer. There was no rush to be social again, no pressure to be seen. You gave yourself the space to rebuild in peace, focusing on self-care, solitude, and the small comforts that often go neglected in the wake of a relationship’s slow erosion.

The breakup itself hadn’t been dramatic—no screaming, no infidelity, no grand exit. If anything, the ending mirrored the relationship itself: quiet, slow-burning, and far too polite. You’d both simply drifted apart, pulled in different directions by work schedules, emotional needs, and that inevitable, unspoken disinterest. He had been distant for months, and though you'd noticed, you had never demanded answers. You didn’t issue ultimatums or stage a last-ditch confession. You were composed. Stoic, even. So when he ended things on a mild spring evening while the sunset painted your apartment in gold and coral, you simply nodded and offered him a drink before he left.

He had been neglectful, true—but mature enough to do the leaving himself. You didn’t mention that part to anyone. Too considerate. Too loyal, even after the fact. It’s a quiet tragedy: how often women swallow the discomfort in favor of appearing unbothered, offering their partner a gentle exit in the name of dignity. “If you don’t love me anymore, just say so.” But that wasn’t the line you fed him. You simply let go.

By the fourth month, the fog had lifted entirely. And when your best friend Gissele texted you an invite to a party at one of the city’s most talked-about clubs, something in you stirred. Not apprehension—readiness. Excitement, even.

There was a dress hanging in your closet you hadn’t worn yet—bought during an impulsive shopping trip when you’d told yourself you would have something to dress up for eventually. It was sleek and unapologetically bold, black silk and structured seams, still crisp with tags. Tonight was the night.

You and Gissele entered the club hand-in-hand, laughter already dancing on your lips as blue and violet lights swept over the crowd. The bassline of the music thrummed in your chest. A kaleidoscope of bodies moved across the floor, sweat-slicked and electric. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—the ritual of getting dressed up, the chaos of the night, the sense of belonging to your own body again.

“I am so ready,” you said with a grin, glancing at Gissele.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” she teased, dragging you toward the bar. The two of you settled on stools, giggling as you sipped pink Whitney from dewy glasses.

“I’m glad you came,” she added, more serious now, swirling her drink. Her honey-brown eyes shimmered under the strobe lights, and her hot pink lacefront framed her face like a crown. Gissele never did subtle. That’s what made her so magnetic—every movement was intentional, every outfit a declaration.

“I just needed time,” you replied softly, shrugging. “To recalibrate.”

“I get it,” she said. And you believed her.

One of the many reasons you adored her was that she always made you feel safe. She had an eye for detail, a sixth sense for shady behavior, and could destroy a creep’s ego in seconds flat—all without smudging her lipstick. She was your shield, your chaos twin, your anchor.

Tonight, her look was a statement of its own. She wore towering white platform boots that wrapped just under her knees, layered shredded tights in blush and fuchsia, a silky white slip dress, and a structured harness that gave her an edge of danger. She looked like she’d stepped out of a cyberpunk magazine. In contrast, your style was more refined: a black dress with asymmetrical ruffles and heeled boots. Romantic. Reserved. A perfect foil to her explosive palette.

“I swear to god, the men here are insane,” she whispered, eyes scanning the crowd. “Wait—yup. That one’s staring at you.”

You blinked. “Which one?”

But she was already gone, abandoning her stool with a laugh and a wink. “Have fun,” she called over her shoulder, leaving you alone with your drink—and, apparently, under observation.

You didn’t have to wait long.

A few moments later, a hand gently brushed your elbow. You turned, startled, only to meet a pair of warm, expressive eyes and a mouth curved into a smile that was as soft as it was knowing.

“May I buy you a drink?” the man asked, voice velvet-smooth. He slid into the seat beside you—the one Gissele had left vacant—as though it had always been his.

You looked at him—really looked. The subtle shine of sweat on his brow, the warm bronze undertone of his skin, and the twinkle of his grill as he smiled, catching the light like a constellation. Elegant, refined—and yet there was a hint of mischief beneath his charm.

“I’m still working on this,” you said, lifting your half-full pink Whitney and licking the corner of your lip, as if to test his reaction.

A rejection, technically. But not a closed door.

His smirk widened just slightly, like he understood the game. “Fair enough,” he replied, his eyes not leaving yours. The air between you shifted, magnetic. He didn’t press—but he didn’t leave either.

You crossed one leg over the other, sitting up straighter, aware of the way his eyes briefly flicked down and back up. “Your friend seemed eager to disappear.”

“She saw you coming,” you replied, letting a slow smile curl your lips. “Thought she’d give us a moment.”

“Smart woman,” he said, clearly amused.

“I’m Y/N.”

You extended your hand, and instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—light, gentlemanly, deliberate.

“Hoseok,” he said. “Pleasure.”

You felt your stomach flutter—ridiculous, you told yourself. It’s just the alcohol. But you knew better.

“Is this your usual scene?” you asked, easing into conversation, trying to keep your tone casual despite the way his presence kept pulling your attention like a gravitational force.

“I show up when I feel like dressing up and flirting shamelessly with beautiful women,” he replied without a trace of irony. His gaze locked with yours. “So tonight, yes.”

You laughed. “That a line you use often?”

“No,” he said, “I save it for when it’s true.”

The banter had an easy rhythm, but it was laced with a sincerity you weren’t prepared for. He wasn’t just trying to charm you—he meant what he said. Every compliment had weight, every glance held intention.

And still, there was no pressure. Just presence. Just a man leaning in slightly, his fingers ghosting the rim of his glass as he listened to you speak. You told him about your job, your last girls’ trip, your recent obsession with 90s R&B. He told you about his travels, his work in dance and music, his deep affection for old vinyl records and lavender-scented candles.

The two of you slipped into a corner booth after the second drink. The crowd pulsed on around you, a blur of motion and noise. But the space you occupied felt insulated—separate, private, like a soft secret between the two of you.

He leaned closer.

“You have a way of being still in chaos,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “It’s... rare. That calm.”

You raised a brow, caught off guard by the poetry in his tone. “You talk like that to all the girls?”

“No,” he said again. “Only when I mean it.”

This time, the blush crept to your ears. Hoseok watched the shift in your expression with barely concealed satisfaction, like a man who knew the power of words and wielded them carefully. He didn’t reach for your thigh. He didn’t try to kiss you. But every movement, every word, made it clear: he was interested. And he was in no hurry. This wasn’t conquest—it was intrigue. And the longer you sat with him, the harder it became to look away.

“Come dance with me,” he said, standing and offering you his hand.

You hesitated only for a second before slipping your fingers into his, letting him guide you onto the floor. The music shifted to something sultry and slow, the kind of rhythm that curled around your limbs and made the space between bodies feel charged.

And when he placed his hands—gentle, respectful—on your hips, guiding you to move with him, you felt the heat settle into your skin.

Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol after all.

The music thrummed low and seductive, a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the beat of your heart as Hoseok guided you into the tangle of swaying bodies. His grip was light at your waist—two fingers resting just enough to suggest control without taking it. You settled into the tempo, allowing yourself to relax into the motion. He moved close, not too close, but close enough to feel the heat of his body through the thin black silk of your dress.

“You dance like someone who doesn’t come out often,” he murmured, leaning just enough that his breath stirred the strands near your ear.

Your lips curved. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said smoothly. “It means I get to watch you rediscover it.”

You turned your head to glance at him, amused and a little intrigued. “And what exactly am I rediscovering?”

His eyes flicked down, just once, before settling back on your face. “What it feels like to be wanted.”

That one hit deeper than you expected. But you didn’t falter. You just tilted your head with a coy, polished smile, like he hadn’t just said something that made your stomach twist with heat.

“Is that what this is?” you asked, voice even. “You wanting me?”

“Undeniably,” he said.

A beat passed. You looked away first, the corners of your mouth twitching upward in unspoken amusement.

He didn’t press. Instead, he shifted closer—so slowly it was imperceptible at first. His chest barely grazed yours now, and his hand had migrated, palm resting against the dip of your spine. He kept the movement subtle, his other hand lifting to brush a stray hair from your cheek, fingertips skimming along the line of your jaw. Polite, still. But loaded.

“So,” he said, voice smooth as honey, “what brings you out tonight? You don’t strike me as someone who comes here for the drinks.”

Your gaze flicked up to his, your brow lifting. “I could say the same to you.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the push and pull. “Touché. But I asked first.”

You paused, just for effect, before answering. “I needed the reminder that I still exist outside my apartment. Outside my routines.”

“A reawakening,” he said, the word drawn out thoughtfully, like he was tasting it.

“Something like that.”

He nodded, hand pressing a little more firmly against your back now. You stepped forward slightly to keep your balance, and he didn’t move back. Your bodies were close enough now that you could feel the bass of the music reverberating between you.

“And the dress?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you again—but not lewdly. Thoughtfully. “Bought for tonight?”

“No,” you replied, tone playful. “It’s been waiting in my closet for months.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling faintly. “Then I feel incredibly lucky.”

You raised a brow. “To see it?”

“To be the reason it came out.”

Your laugh was soft, reluctant. “You’re smooth.”

“I’m honest,” he corrected. “And observant.”

His hand drifted just slightly lower, the heat of his palm lingering now at the curve where your spine met your hips. You felt the warmth climb your neck, but your expression remained neutral—poised.

“You move like someone who doesn’t just dance,” he said. “You move like you know exactly what kind of attention you command.”

Your mouth parted slightly, caught off guard by the comment, but you recovered quickly, tipping your head in mock consideration. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s a fact,” he said, voice dipping lower, lips brushing dangerously close to your ear now. “And a turn-on.”

This time, the flush threatened to betray you. Your stomach coiled with something sharp and satisfying, and though you didn’t respond immediately, your eyes met his again with that same unreadable smile.

He searched your expression, but you gave him nothing—just subtle amusement and polished restraint. That only seemed to intrigue him more.

“You’re good at this,” you said at last.

“At what?”

“This slow burn thing. Drawing people in.”

“I could say the same to you.”

A silence settled between you—thick, charged. His hand still rested against your lower back, and your arms had looped, almost instinctively, behind his neck. There was no distance left between your bodies. You were moving in sync, slow, deliberate, the music now secondary to the tension blooming between you.

You leaned in slightly, voice low. “I should probably check on my friend.”

Hoseok glanced across the floor, spotting Gissele leaning against a far wall, already deep in conversation with two girls and laughing over something shared on a phone screen.

“She looks... occupied,” he said, then turned back to you. “But if you want to leave, I’ll walk you both out.”

You studied him for a moment. His posture, his ease, the way he never once made you feel boxed in despite the magnetism between you. He didn’t ask for anything—but the possibility hung heavy in the air.

You took a breath. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

There was a pause—brief, electric.

“My hotel’s nearby,” he said, simply. No edge, no pressure. Just suggestion. “If you’d like to keep talking somewhere quieter.”

“Talking,” you echoed with a knowing smile.

His own smile widened. “I did say I was honest.”

You didn’t answer right away. You turned toward the crowd, eyes finding Gissele again. She caught your gaze immediately and raised a brow, already knowing. You mouthed something across the distance—going to head out—and she responded with a wink and a thumbs up before returning to her new entourage.

You turned back to Hoseok.

“Well,” you said, brushing invisible lint from your dress and adjusting the strap on your shoulder. “Lead the way.”

He offered you his hand again—this time not for the dance floor, but for the descent into something far more intimate. You took it without hesitation.

As the two of you exited the club, the air outside wrapped cool around your legs, balancing the heat that still lingered across your skin. Hoseok pressed the hotel’s location into his phone with one hand, the other still cradling yours like it was second nature.

And all the while, you walked beside him, steady, unreadable—but your pulse betrayed you, thrumming in places he hadn’t even touched.

Not yet. Not quite yet.

The elevator ride was quiet at first. Not awkward—just charged. A kind of silence that hung heavy between you both, weighted by everything unsaid but fully understood.

Hoseok leaned back against the elevator wall, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other running through his dark hair as his eyes traveled over you again, unapologetically this time. The overhead lighting softened his features, casting delicate shadows across the sharp lines of his face. His bottom lip caught slightly between his teeth before he spoke.

“You know,” he began, voice lower now in the confined space, “I wasn’t expecting much tonight. A few drinks, some polite conversation. Maybe a dance.”

You arched a brow, arms folded loosely, your smile just barely present—soft, knowing.

“But then I saw you,” he continued. “And you were… still.”

Still?

“Everyone else was moving, talking, laughing. But you were just there. Still and deliberate. Like you didn’t have to do anything to be seen.”

He pushed off the wall just slightly, not closing the distance between you, but enough to shift the tension in the air.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply. “But it’s something else. Something about you makes me want more than just tonight.”

You tilted your head slightly, lips pressing into a faint line of amusement, not revealing much. Your posture hadn’t changed—you remained poised, calm, with that same unshakable grace—but the warmth that bloomed in your chest betrayed your exterior.

“I’m not saying I’m expecting anything,” he added, quickly but not nervously. “I mean that. I just want to talk to you. Maybe get to know what it is that makes someone like you walk into a place like that and look like you already own it.”

You glanced sideways at him. “Smooth,” you said, your voice light but your eyes sharp. “Again.”

His grin deepened, dimple flashing. “Told you—I’m honest.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors parted.

Hoseok stepped out first and held the door without needing to look back, like it was muscle memory. You walked past him with that same unbothered elegance, and he fell into step beside you as the two of you moved down the hall toward his room.

Once inside, he didn’t rush. The suite was wide and open, the lights dimmed low and the view of the city glittering through the glass balcony doors. You made your way there without needing an invitation, pushing them open and stepping outside into the night air.

The wind was soft, almost warm, carrying the sounds of distant traffic and nightlife up to the high floor. Hoseok joined you moments later, two glasses of something amber in hand—he offered one to you silently, and you took it without comment.

The silence returned, this time more companionable. The city stretched out before you in every direction, glittering like it existed just for the two of you.

“So,” you said, finally. “What brings you here?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, sipping from his glass before replying. “Work. Mostly.”

You nodded. “What kind of work?”

He turned to you, leaning one elbow on the railing. “Creative consulting. For artists. A little bit of choreography. A little bit of producing.”

Your brow lifted slightly. “That’s vague.”

He laughed, the sound quiet and unforced. “It is. That’s on purpose. I’m not really supposed to name names.”

You hummed. “Discretion. That’s attractive.”

“And rare,” he said, eyes flicking to yours again. “But I don’t just come here for work. Sometimes it’s a reset. Different city, different pace. New people.”

You sipped. “New distractions.”

“Maybe.” He glanced sideways at you again. “You don’t seem like one.”

You smirked. “No?”

“No. You feel more like a disruption.”

That word hung in the air between you.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the railing, letting the wind lift the ends of your hair. The glass in your hand caught a glimmer of moonlight, casting tiny golden flecks onto the concrete floor beneath you.

He watched you. Carefully. And when you looked back at him—slow, deliberate—his gaze didn’t shift away.

You held it.

That’s when the space between you shortened.

He didn’t move all at once. Just a step, and then another. His hand rested lightly on the curve of the railing beside yours, knuckles brushing your wrist.

“I’ve been trying not to stare,” he said, almost under his breath. “But you make it hard.”

Still, your smile didn’t waver. You simply turned your face toward his, eyes locked, unreadable.

The kiss was inevitable.

It didn’t happen in a rush—it happened in the quiet pause between glances. His hand rose to touch your cheek, thumb trailing just beneath your bottom lip, eyes watching the way your mouth parted the slightest bit at the contact. He didn’t ask, didn’t need to. When he leaned in, your lips met in a soft, exploratory kiss—slow at first, like the two of you were testing gravity itself.

When you didn’t pull away, when your fingers found the lapel of his jacket and held him there, he deepened it.

The glass in your hand tilted dangerously. You broke apart just long enough to set it down on the balcony table, then turned back to him with a heat now undeniable in your eyes.

He took your hand, no words this time, and led you back inside.

The room was cool, draped in shadows and city light. He paused at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your face once more.

“You’re sure?” he asked, quiet now.

You leaned in, your breath warm against his neck. “If I wasn’t, you’d know.”

That was all the permission he needed.

“I want to take my time with you,” he whispered, voice velvet. “Is that alright?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you let your hands slide beneath his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders in one smooth motion. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

Hoseok’s hands were reverent, moving to the hem of your dress but not lifting it—yet. First, his fingertips traced along the fabric, following the curve of your hips, the line of your thigh. His palms flattened over your sides as he leaned in again, lips brushing just below your ear.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been holding back,” he said, exhaling slowly. “How much I’ve wanted to touch you like this… see how far I can push you before you ask for it.”

You inhaled slowly, your lips parted in the half-light, but your expression stayed controlled—poised, as ever. “I don’t ask.”

And that thrilled him.

He knelt then, lowering himself with grace until he was eye-level with your thighs. Your breath caught—not from nerves, but from the gravity of the gesture. The way he looked up at you, hands now sliding under the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric slowly to your waist, was enough to make your knees threaten betrayal.

He pressed a kiss to your knee. Then higher. Then higher still.

“Sit back,” he said, voice quiet but firm, “and let me make you feel good.”

You obeyed without speaking. Still wordless, still elegant—but when you leaned back onto the bed and rested on your elbows, your eyes stayed locked on his.

The pleasure was slow at first.

His mouth on you was deliberate, exploratory, taking his time with every flick, every suck, every drawn-out breath against your most sensitive skin. His hands pressed down on your thighs—not to hold you still, but to anchor you. To remind you where you were. With him.

You bit your bottom lip, hard. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.

But Hoseok could read the tremble in your thighs, the subtle curve of your back arching slightly more with every languid sweep of his tongue. He didn’t need the moans—you were giving him everything already.

He pulled back just briefly, lips slick, eyes hooded with restrained desire.

“You're doing so well,” he praised, voice rougher now. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

Your lashes fluttered, mouth finally parting with a soft gasp as he moved back in and kept going—more confident now, more focused. One of his hands slid up to hold your waist, feeling the way your stomach tensed and relaxed with every wave of pressure he delivered.

And when you finally let your head fall back and exhaled a soft, trembling moan—he smiled against your skin.

It wasn’t about power, not really. Not domination in the way most understood it.

It was about control—his of himself, and yours of how far you’d let go.

You came undone in his mouth, tension bursting like light behind your eyes. Still elegant, still quiet—but shaken in a way that made your hands reach for his shoulders, grounding yourself as you rode the high out in stunned silence.

Hoseok rose slowly, reverently, kissing the inside of your thigh one last time before pulling you gently up to meet him.

He kissed you again—slow and soft—like he wasn’t trying to erase what just happened, but let it linger.

“Not done with you,” he whispered into your mouth.

Then he stood, reaching back to unbutton his shirt, eyes never leaving yours. “But only if you let me keep going.”

You smiled.

A real one this time. No teasing, no mask.

“Go ahead,” you said, voice soft but steady. 

He stepped back just enough to pull the shirt from his shoulders, the faint light catching on the hard lines of his chest and the soft sheen of sweat that had started to gather at his collarbones. Every movement he made was fluid, unhurried, as though undressing in front of you was its own performance—one he wanted you to watch.

And you did. Reclined now against the plush pillows, one leg slightly bent and the other stretched long across the bed, you watched him like art. Quiet, composed, with only the slight tug of your bottom lip between your teeth giving you away.

Hoseok crawled back onto the bed, his hands brushing the sides of your thighs as he moved over you. He leaned in to kiss you again—slower this time, deeper. Like he was memorizing your mouth.

“You taste like my name,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “And now I want to hear it.”

Your lips curled in a small, knowing smirk. “Then earn it.”

He laughed softly—low, rich, aroused. “Oh, sweetheart…” he exhaled, trailing his mouth along your jaw, “I already am.”

This time, he didn’t rush. He took his time laying you bare—unzipping your dress with care, helping you shift out of it like he was unwrapping silk. His hands explored in unhurried strokes, tracing the dips and curves of your body with open admiration. Every glance he gave you was appreciative, worshipful, but not the least bit cloying. It was honest. Hungry, but controlled.

He kissed your sternum. The curve of your breast. The space just below your navel. His hands pushed your thighs apart gently, and when you let him, you saw the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

He spent the next while reacquainting himself with you—like a second act to the performance before, only this time slower, deeper. His fingers were skilled, precise, coaxing out reactions you tried to smother, and his mouth followed wherever your body arched.

"That's it..." he whispered against your skin, lips brushing your inner thigh. "Just like that. Let go." His fingers gently reach deeper.

You were close again—faster this time. You could feel your composure slip, inch by inch, but not in a way that embarrassed you. It felt safe, wrapped in the cocoon of his body, his words, the sheer focus he gave to your pleasure. “Hoseok.” You nearly whined, surprising yourself.

And when you did come, he didn’t rush you through it. He kissed your trembling thighs as they shook, gently massaging your hips with open palms. His voice stayed low and sweet.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Every sound, every breath—you’re fucking perfect.”

You were still catching your breath when he hovered above you again. The weight of him between your legs felt like gravity—solid, anchoring. He was hard, thick against your thigh, and you could feel the tension in him, the restraint.

He kissed you again—deep, open-mouthed, and a little desperate this time.

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

“Your turn.”

That same smirk from earlier flickered on his lips. “Only if you still want more.”

You nodded slowly, letting your hand trail down between your bodies, fingers brushing over the outline of him through his pants. “I want it.”

Those three words flipped a switch.

In seconds, he was out of the rest of his clothes, and you were guiding him back between your legs. He ripped open a metallic packet and rolled on a condom. He pressed against you gently, pausing at your entrance, watching your eyes.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

You did.

He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and your breath caught in your throat. His hands gripped your hips, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered a near-silent curse.

“Fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”

You smiled, eyes half-lidded. “That’s a line.”

“It’s a truth.” He pulled out almost entirely, then pushed back in, deeper. “And I’ll prove it.”

What followed was nothing rushed. No frenzied thrusts, no hurried movements. Hoseok fucked you like he meant it. Like every slow grind of his hips was a conversation. Like every breathless moan from your lips was a secret he wanted to keep in his mouth forever.

He kept one hand at your waist, another tangled with your fingers, grounding you together. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, and he groaned into your neck.

“I could lose myself in this,” he breathed. “In you.”

The rhythm built—still slow, still controlled, but more desperate now. Like he was trying not to come too soon, and you were trying not to fall apart again. You kissed, gasped, touched, pressed—until the tension coiled tighter than either of you could stand.

When you came again, this time it was together.

Bodies trembling, breaths mingling, hands gripping tightly like you didn’t want to let go. His forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, his mouth parted in bliss.

The silence afterward was comfortable—thick with heat and something else you didn’t dare name yet. He slowly pulled out, then settled beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as you turned into his chest.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Just breathing.

Just being.

Then he kissed the top of your head, his voice softer than you’d heard it all night.

“Stay the night?”

You let out a quiet laugh against his chest.

“Didn’t realize I had a choice.”

-

The sun was barely up when you stumbled through Giselle’s front door, barefoot heels in hand, hair tousled and lips still tingling but still as put together as you could be. She was exactly where you expected her to be—sprawled on the couch in last night’s chaos of pink and white, a satin eye mask crooked on her forehead and a slice of cold pizza hanging limply from her fingers.

She peeled the mask off and blinked at you. “Oh my god,” she groaned, sitting up. “You look like sin.”

You grinned, tossing your shoes down and flopping onto the couch beside her. “You have no idea.”

She gasped. “Y/N—tell me everything. Who was that man? Where did you go? Did he ruin your life or just rearrange it a little?”

You laughed, burying your face into the throw pillow for a moment before lifting your head. “His name’s Hoseok. And...he’s dangerously charming.”

“Dangerous how?”

“Like—he kissed my hand when he introduced himself. Like, who does that?” You paused, smiling to yourself. “He made me feel like the only girl in the room without even trying. And he didn’t rush anything. He...listened. A lot.”

Giselle squinted suspiciously. “Was he hot?”

You let out a short breath. “He was beautiful. Like warm smile, honey voice, perfectly tailored pants beautiful.”

Giselle clutched her chest dramatically. “I’m gonna scream. Did you kiss him?”

“Giselle.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

You gave her a look.

Her mouth dropped open. “YOU DID.”

You laughed again, hands covering your face. “It was… good. Like, really, really good.”

“I’m so proud,” she said, hugging you from the side like she was sending you off to war. “Godspeed, you emotionally available goddess.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, still a little dazed. “It was just one night.”

She grinned. “Yeah. But sometimes, one night’s enough to shake you a little, right?”

You paused, thinking of Hoseok's hands, his words, the way he looked at you like there was no one else worth looking at.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It really is.”

“You should have given him your number.” she sat up. 

“Who says I didn't?” 

➽ Kpop Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ G Dragon Masterlist ➽ Buy Me a Coffee

[queenyuriiii]

I FINISHED THEM. I DID IT. WOOHOO (crying)

edit: putting myself back in the trenches, more extreme though since i'm making character sheets LMAOAOA

design notes:

Yaira: nothing changed

Estrella: dead mom ponytail gone </3 i only did it in the og drawing of her bc its funny

Robin: ROBINNNN. IM SO SORRY I FORGOT THE PUFF BUNS UUEHEHHHHH- anyway, when i was planning out the designs for the other named npcs, i was like "why the hell are there so many gingers" so i made her have blue hair :3 to match with her confidence stat :3 also gave her yellow/orange eyes instead of green bc there were also a lot of green eyed npcs

Sydney: SKUNK HAIR. I DUNNO HOW I FORGOT ABOUT THAT YUMMY DYE STYLE. SYDNEY IM SORRY. i completely forgot i wanted to still have her natural hair (also just made pink bc teehee i like whimsy) to show

Whitney: not much changed besides the hair style. completely forgot i wanted her to be super gyaru OTL. gave her cheek piercings bc they're cute :3

Kylar: i lowkey started to not like how i did her hair originally and then came across all the sketches i made for the LIs and was like FLUFFY KY :3 ofc had to keep the emo bangs :3

Avery: nothing changed LMAOAOA

Great Hawk: FEATHER HAIR. I FORGOT I MADE A SKETCH FOR FEATHER-LIKE HAIR FOR HER. IM MAD AT MYSELF.

Black Wolf: not much changed, just made her hair longer bc why not

Alex: not much changed, just made he hair more of a red red, darkened her skin, altered her bangs, and changed the color of her bandana. still wanted to keep her looking like a cutie patootie

Eden: I ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HER A GIANT FOREHEAD THE FIRST TIME AND I DIDN'T MEAN TO SOBBING. not much changed though, just made her hair darker and have a green tint to it. look im trying to make my designs have lots of whimsy

Quinn: you can tell with Quinn LMAO. i just felt like she needed to have a distinct look since she's a special npc n all :3 classic purple and green color scheme for a shady character

Bailey: i'm gonna be honest, i was originally gonna go with a mean asian mom look for Bailey but then i was like "....what if muscle mommy"

Remy: i wanted her to look like a little shit. that's all

Briar: tried to go for a bit of a Jessica Rabbit and Rarity type aura. i really like her design and she could put me in the underground brothel any day :3 /j

Leighton: just an old hag, nothing special

Harper: wanted to make her look a little inhuman??? i think i got it with how dead her skin looks idk. also wanted her to look like a little shit

Landry: here's where the asian mom look went. i like her and Mickey's dynamic and they both just look like regular people (better for crime)

Sirris: Sydney if she was older. idk what else i should've done lol

River: old lady :3 hot old lady :3c (pt 1)

Doren: i wanted her hair to look fluffy as hell

Winter: old lady :3 hot old lady :3c (pt 2)

Mason: SEAWEED HAIR. that's all

Charlie: wanted to embody :3c

Darryl: she's very cutie patootie to me so i made her a cute patootie

Sam: wanted her to look like candy kinda. idk :3

Niki: i only made her hair a little longer and no weird two layer thing for the short portion

Zephyr: wanted her to look smug and also kinda cute???? idk, i didn't really have a vision for her

Jordan: also didn't really have a vision for her, but it did want her to gave similar eyes to Quinn

Gwylan: her i did have a vision for :3c she's a cutie patootie, that's all :3

Wren: thought a side shave would make her look cooler

Mickey: hairstyle changed a little. other than that, not much changed

Morgan: still a wet rat

Ivory Wraith: nothing changed (they have special eyes tho)

[thatd3adgirl]

My thoughts on the SOTR Castings

Since we have all/ most of the castings for the SOTR movie I thought, id give my thoughts!

Haymitch Abernathy:

Now im not gonna lie, I am disappointed but not surprised that they made Haymitch white and blonde.. again. I would've liked to finally see book accurate Haymitch. But if he does a good a job as Woody I suppose I can't be to disappointed. Now I don't actually know much about Joseph Zada acting- wise , but I've been looking up some of his other projects and he seems like a pretty good actor.

Overall I'm pretty okay with this casting.

Lenore Dove Baird:

I actually think Whitney Peak is a great casting appearance wise. I do hope the tint of red in her hair is included, maybe as highlights or a wig. Once again I'm not super familiar with her acting but from what I have seen she's also a pretty good actress. I am happy that LionsGate did choose an actress who looks similar to Rachel Zegler, Since Lucy Grey and Lenore Dove are related.

Overall I'm very happy with this casting, I hope she does Lenore Dove justice.

Maysilee Donner:

I cannot explain to y'all how much I happy I was to see McKenna cast as Maysilee. I was hoping for either McKenna or another actress, so i'm very happy to see that one of the two got it! I am hoping they include the braids in her hair, I know it's not in the book but it'd be such a nice detail!! I do actually know about McKenna grace acting wise, and I believe she'll be a great Maysilee. Very excited to see Drusilla slapped on screen.

Louella McCoy & LouLou:

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't super shocked over Louella and LouLou's casting. I didn't hc them as white, but it's not a huge deal, my head cannon was very different tbh. At first I thought their skin colors were actually stated in the book, they were not so I was wrong there. I had hc Louella and LouLou as black or indigenous, so the actresses being white had thrown me off at first. Maybe that's because of how Katniss and Gale were described in the original trilogy and them having the 'seam look'? Obviously not everyone from the seam is gonna look the same tho.

I would've like to see more diversity in the movies (main& side character wise) regardless, if i'm remembering correctly there's Boggs, Beetee, Enobaria, Rue, Thresh, Cinna, Chaff and a lot of now Wyatt and Lenore. which is not alot please lmk if i'm forgetting someone tho!

I also was confused over two actresses playing Louella and LouLou, it's not a huge deal but I am still curious. The actresses still look very similar so it's not a big deal obviously. I was just curious since the only difference I can remember is the scar. Haymitch does say anyone who knows her would tell the difference, so maybe the two actresses will work really well for that? Its a very small thing to nit pick but im still curious why.

I've never actually seen either of these two act, but im sure they'll do great.

Overall this might be one of the few castings that I'm the most shocked/ iffy about. Purely because of my own head canons! I'm sure the actresses themselves are great and no hate to them ofc. *I did re-write a good bit of this section after posting it, since I messed up my tone, came off super angry over it, and I didn't actually convey my thoughts. I also got ALOT of details wrong!! so I wanted to correct that!*

Wyatt Callow

I don't think this is a terrible casting, I'll be honest at first I didn't put character who's good with number and predictions +Asian actor. But after all the posts, I've seen I did put two and two together. I'm gonna be hopeful and say it wasn't the intention to have the only Asian actor(that we know of) play the guy good with calculating odds. I do see how it can be seen though.

Now I will say we didn't get a very in depth description of Wyatt like Louella. So there's not too much for me to say, I'm still disappointed we're getting nobody who looks like they're from the seam but I digress. I will say he doesn't not look like how he's described. then again we only get black hair and a big maybe stocky I don't remember exactly the build he has. If I'm forgetting more about how he's described please correct me!

Acting wise I (once again) don't know much about Ben wang, nor have I seen him in much, but I have faith he'll do a great job.. if Lionsgate doesn't destroy our boy. I have a feeling they might give him the Peeta treatment and take a lot of his personality away, i'm hoping i'm wrong but we won't know until the movies released.

Overall I don't think it's a bad casting. I do see and agree that theres issues with having the only asian actor play the character who's good at calculating odds. Hopefully they explain on Wyatt's character so that's not his only trait.

Effie Trinket

I can't believe they listened to us, i'm really excited about this casting as well. I think that Elle Fanning is a fantastic younger Effie, she looks a lot like Elizabeth so they match up appearance wise. And Elle Fanning is the actress who I'm most familiar with, and she's a fantastic actress. So I have no doubts that she'll do amazing.

Overall this might be the casting I'm the most happy with!

President Snow:

Oh boy what a double edged sword this is, I'll start with the positives then ill talk about my issues.

Ralph Fiennes is an excellent actor and he's does look like snow. If you put him, Donald, and Tom side by side I can definitely see the resemblance. And I can believe that they are all snow while watching the films. Ralph is undeniably an excellent actor, he did a great job as Voldemort, and many of his other roles. I do like him being cast as our favorite evil dictator who's still upset over his situationship that ended 64 years ago.

Now my only issue with this casting, is Ralph Fiennes himself. He's openly defended JK Rowling, stating"abuse directed at her is disgusting". Mind you she received this 'abuse' after repeatedly being transphobic. Now even giving him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't know why she was receiving the hate, he could easily educate himself and make another statement.

Overall He will likely do an excellent job as snow, but i'm still disappointed he was cast.

Wiress:

I'm gonna be honest I didn't see Maya Hawke as her at all, but after seeing her side by side with catching fire Wiress I see it. I think she'll fit fairly well, and I think she'll do a great job. I'm hoping we get some flashbacks or scenes of wires games tho!!!

Overall I don't have too much to say about this casting, and im pretty happy about it.

Betee Latier:

Omg Kelvin looks just like him, so perfect casting appearance wise. Kelvin is also a great actor so im sure he'll play Beetee well.

Once again I don't have too much to say about this casting, but im happy with this casting.

Mags Flanagan:

I have basically nothing to say, the actress has been in a lot of amazing projects, so I have faith she'll do great as Mags.

Plutarch & Ceaser:

Both actors are fantastic, I'm putting the two together since im basically saying the same for both. Im happy with both castings.

I like nearly all of the castings, I have my issues ofc. I'm happy regardless since we are getting a film.

[harmoonix]

Power Voice - Powerful Placements

The iconic Whitney Houston

Facts:

Whitney Houston is an Pisces Risings (She queen ofc) that means her 3rd house of communication is ruled by Taurus, 3rd house ruled by Venus (Her voice is extremely beautiful)

Whiney has Pluto conjunct Mercury = Her voice was very powerful aswell and a lot of influence, tbe thr type of voice who gives you goosebumps

She also has Mercury sextile Neptune and again THE ETHEREAL voice oh my gloss, her voice is heavy influenced by Pisces

Whitney has Mercury conjunct Uranus = Her voice is unique and different, she was an icon

Her Sun - Venus conjunction in Leo made her even more popular and beautiful vocally

Her Pluto is at 10° (Capricorn Degrees) = POWER in controlling her voice, she had powerful vocals

Mercury in Virgo = Mercury in Earth Signs = Most times ending up having an deep yet attractive voice

Venus at 11° degrees (Aquarius Degrees) = She has a lot of uniqueness when she talks and sings

Whitney has Ascendant opposite Mercury = She could had difficulties expressing herself so instead she would describe herself in her songs (in an easier way)

3rd house ruler in the the 6th = Her voice was a major help in her everyday life, at job/work and was a hard working person

Ascendant at 8° degrees (Scorpio Degrees) she had a lot of influence all her life because of the Scorpio Degrees, she made a name for herself in the music industry

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

- These were just some observations of her placements and indications of how truly powerful her voice was, Whitney was an icon and it will remain an icon forever in our hearts

- Harmoonix ❤️

[propertyofwhitney67]

Hi, it's me again lol

Whitney headcanons cus I love them

Whitney x AFAB!pc, what does he/she do when they are on their period (could be just f!pc but like- men can have periods too lol so I decided with a broad term)

Mostly like the wholesome stuff

But also what does he/she think of sex with pc in this state? Is he/she fine with it or just anal or none?

If you have anything different for f!whit and m!whit please say it (reason I put this here is cus I feel like m!whit will be less experienced with period even tho he had various flings/nonlong term relationships before, why? Idk I don't feel like he cared that much then. But with f!whit ofc she knows bc she has it lol)

I've done quite a few menstruation hcs but I can lay out a few of the Whitney ones!

I default to he but some of these can be used for fem Whitney too!!

Whitney has a sister, I will die on this hill, so he knows almost exactly what to do

Whitney doesn't give a fuck if you're on your period, they will still fuck you

He's actually really good with all this stuff but he is grumbling the whole time bc he's dramatic

They grumble about how needy you are but almost always does as you ask when you need it

^ In general just pretends to be annoyed but does just about anything for you

Now if you get emotional they get bitchy back bc that's just how they are. They're pissed that you're pissed and emotional. It's safe to say it's a mess but they gets better with time.

[hauntingkiki]

HIII!!! can i request venture wedding hcs? how would their wedding be like with reader? How would they feel while getting ready?

IM CRYINGGG OMGG

SOMEONE PLEASE REQUEST A WEDDING ONESHOT SO I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT🙏🏻

Venture x Reader Wedding Headcanons

OverWatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

- let’s just start this off by saying; BABY IS STRESSING OUTTT!!

- they’re about to marry their best friend. YOU! the most BEAUTIFUL GIRL/PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD

- when they’re changing into their suit/with their groomsmen (a few guy colleagues and some of their guy family members) sloan is getting pep talks and words of encouragement from everyone in that room. not a single bad vibe is in the room!

- wedding theme!: whatever you want it to be. a classic, white wedding? you got it! gothic/vampire? hell yeah!

- ^ but! with your choice of theme; sloan also has some huge crystals (that match the theme ofc) that they’ve gotten from expeditions for table decoration!

- the location was kinda on sloan, they picked where they wanted to have the wedding BUT! they made sure YOU were okay with it before making it the finalized decision. if you didn’t like the location, don’t worry! they have like A MILLION MORE

- everyone in both of your families helped pay for the wedding (if needed), like your parents paid for your dress/suit and sloan’s parents paid for their suit

- when they were at the alter, they were sooo nervous, their hands playing with the rings on their fingers and the bracelets that were around their wrists to calm their nerves

- but when you walked down the isle with your father/father figure, all their nerves just melted away.

- you looked so GOOD in their eyes! their heart was racing, their eyes got watery, their face got hot (they cried) (you did too)

- your vows were pretty standard (if there’s spanish vows then yall did that too!)

- but when yall had your first kiss; you know this sucker dipped you into the kiss, twirling you like in those cheesy romance movies (LIKE IN TANGLED AT THE END)

- and now the reception.

- for the food a verity of sloan’s family meals and your family meals, most of them being hand made to avoid a lot of cost

- alcohol/champagne obviously. all the adults are either drunk asf or tipsy (if you have family who smokes/does drugs, it’s totally up to you if you want that in your environment!! i will not be saying anything about that because it’s very different for everyone)

- the younger kids who can’t drink get something fizzy! like apple cider or something!

- father daughter/mother son dance to whatever song you’d like:)

- sloan did a mother-child(son) dance to songbird by fleetwood mac OR mi cariñito by pepe aguilar

- first dance! sloan could not stop smiling like a fucking idiot, they were SO IN LOVEEE

- you both shed a few tears during the dance (and through the night)

- you two slow danced to (options because i can’t pick)

i only have i eyes for by the flamingos

unchained melody by elvis presley

here, there and everywhere by the beatles

bring it on home to me by sam cooke

amor eterno by rocío dúrcal

- everyone was BAWLING THEIR EYES OUT

- then the music played for the dance floor and it was some great songs! like;

september, earth wind and fire

i wanna dance with somebody, whitney houston

how sweet it is, james taylor

something stupid, frank n nancy sinatra

crazy in love, beyoncé

uptown girl, billy joel

rude, magic!

every little thing she does is magic, the police

and obviously some other songs!

- (FOR THE GIRLS/PEOPLE WEARING DRESSES) yall know the garter toss? where the groom goes under the brides dress to get it off all ‘sexy’ with the most embarrassing song on the planet while your family watched?

- yeah. yall did that.

- obviously with no littles present (14 and younger went somewhere else while this was happening)

- the song? pick your poison

get low, lil jon & the east side boyz

yeah!, usher

earned it, the weekend

let’s get it on, marvin gaye

grind with me, pretty ricky



- ^ COMPLETELY RANDOM, I WAS LOOKING FOR SONGS FOR THE GARTER TOSS AND THE PINK PANTHER THEME STARTED PLAYING…AND WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS BY QUEEN I CANT

- sloan definitely used their teeth to take it off, probably also got a little carried away too; kissing your legs and running their hands up and down before snapping back to reality when their mother literally SCREAMED at them for being under your dress for almost 5 minutes

- after the wedding, the two of you got to your hotel/air bnb and just relaxed, got out of your fancy outfits, took makeup off, showered (together LMAO) and just got comfy!

- you both just kind of talked about the night and what you wanted in the future and other things:)

- let’s just say you two didn’t get a lot of sleep afterwards😳

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

did i just write this all in one sitting? yes. yes i did.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE I LOVED IT!!

would you guys be interested if i made a wedding playlist for the (hypothetical) oneshot?😳

[kindofcuntess]

the devastatingly ironic product of performativity culture: when actions aren’t self-announced (and rightfully so), activists go unrecognized while the virtue-signaling whitneys of the world receive praise…

i’m so tired of living in a society like this. i thought i’d share my response to the comments above. from your resident black, female social scientist who will be an emily cultist (kok reference ofc!) for life 🫶🏽

what you’ve never seen is her be performative, but it’s clear from the thread you and a number of others have the value of statements and actions placed inversely. she’s become one of the most politically disruptive forces in the industry and is progressive to her core. she’s actually been cited as being aware of the power she holds as a white, wealthy and extremely prominent figure and actively wanting to leverage that power to shield marginalized creators and projects about the systems of oppression we face. again, she just doesn’t parade around announcing these actions like celebs are apt to do, not that performative liberals in society at large fare much better. to name just a few examples, she’s financed and advocated for ‘i saw the tv glow, a film about trans identity, that the director stated may not have even had the political resources it would’ve needed to be made without her given an unwilling distribution system (regressive studioheads), acted as the principal force behind the most damning interrogation of performative white liberalism we may ever see put to screen called ‘the curse’ (it was outright ousted by the industry in a shocking emmys shutout and these politics of hers alongside those of her colleagues likely played a significant role in this occurrence), produced projects like problemista and fantasmas, both of which explore the “othering” of non-white immigrants in america and were directed by someone of that identity (always important when specific experiences that person has faced in relation to their marginalized identity factors are a fundamental part of the project), starred in and shaped (she’s been referred to as his “sous chef,” meaning she takes on any number of responsibilities an AD often would, but unofficially, and is always cited to be the one who chiefly develops her characters whether she’s producing or not) yet another unrelenting interrogative piece on domestic violence and rape culture (kinds of kindness: the one no one would shut up about in regards to it framing humanity “too cruelly” when it was simply accurate and truthful), produced one of the most transcendently feminist and humanist films we have today (poor things), and so much more.

she’s for all intents and purposes the paragon of cinematic activism. by the way, “activism” does indeed mean taking action as opposed to announcing one’s political views before a stage to be applauded or wearing a pin to be declared an “activist” when both of these things do exactly nothing to contend oppressive systems. they merely serve to garner social praise from the masses, which is par for the course in regards to a society in which performative liberalism is worshipped. hollywood exists as a microcosm of it. her series ‘the curse’ (also produced by her) would tell you alllll about that. she was the one cited to have, and i quote, insisted upon characterizing her performative white liberal character truthfully as an outright monster: evil to the core while hiding under the guise of so-called “activism,” which includes an incessant amount of shrieking about activism whilst actively degrading the marginalized communities she claims to be allied with on her little pins. it’s an unprecedented and daring action due to the that most have a proclivity for affording sympathy to these characters and the real people they reflect, which grants performative white liberals and the performativity complex at large (anyone can be performative, but those of the white variety are particularly pernicious given they assert their white saviour complexes and use them to assist in their vulterine machinations) immunity from the scrutiny they deserve given they are just as bigoted as those we see express it in a more explicit way.

by “explicit,” i refer to the right wing/maga people, which a scene in the show that depicts her character and her lack of a single progressive conviction converse with a “maga” kind of guy who happens to genuinely care about indigenous rights and the environment- things she only shrieks about being interested in- delightfully enunciates. anyway, the creators/directors of the show even explicitly told emily that she didn’t have to go this far and assume such a risk given the subject of performativity in particular is an “untouchable” one, meaning people retaliate he meaning that people fiercely retaliate when it is rightly condemned (it poses the risk of alienating her audience and peers alike, as has been discussed in an article i highly recommend), but she deemed it a “modern affliction,” which are words i actually take kindly to given she’s undertaken actions to back up that stance.

christopher nolan himself presumed that she had to be cajoled into characterizing her performative white liberal archetype that way (accurately, as all sources of education should) due to the way in which it jeopardizes her status (based unjustly on popularity and likability…that show was actually review bombed to 17% on the day it released and remains in the 40s on rotten tomatoes despite the critical acclaim that, as i have previously stated, did not translate into what was at one point an all but ensured emmy WIN for her. film and tv critics spoke of the nomination as a literal formality due to how much of a pantheon performance it was, but they didn’t take its political impact in a performative institution into account). THAT is how political she is and her willingness to make personal sacrifices for the collective cause while receiving close to no recognition for it (only those who announce it seem to, which is abhorrent given no true activist does so. a true activist acts in the name of justice rather than virtue-signaling for praise) should do well to attest to this.

[luckysalbum]

jjk hcs bc I'm free from school and can yap abt my babies guilt free.

their type of music they listen to

yuji has the most random ass music taste, he's one of those people who has 1 playlist with everything on it and it's like 100hrs of music he's been saving since he was 12. the hanging tree from the hunger games soundtrack will be playing then body by Megan thee stallion will play (if you get this ill love you forever)

Okay nobara I have some trouble with bc ik for a fact she speaks 0 English and idk many Japanese artists. If she could understand English she's be a Sabrina carpenter fan, she'd also like beabadoobee. She'd like a wide variety of music but definitely leaning more pop AND she'd be the biggest Chappell Roan fan. Like early 2021 when pink pony club was first released. I think she'd like listening to Japanese city pop from the 80s and 90s.

Gojo was 17 in 2008 or smth, that boy has Thong song as his ringtone 100% still to this day. He loved R&B and hip hop from the 2000s and 90s. He liked Sir mix a lot, Tupac ofc, snoop dog and randomly not super well known artists. He also has a secret playlist of whitney Houston, Mariah carey and Celine dion bc why wouldn't the best of his world listen to the best of the music world? He likes Frank Ocean too.

Megumi rarely listens to music but will occasionally listen to artists like Tyler the creator, Bryson Tiller and Childish gambino. He also knows a lot of older music thanks to Gojo playing it all the time.

Geto listened to Linkin park, Depeche mode and pierce the veil. He would also 100% listen to twenty one pilots in 2017. this is canon to me.

Shoko listened to Fiona Apple, Alanis Morissette, Britney and destiny's child. She also likes newer artists like Frank Ocean and Ethel Cain.

[goatpaste]

Is there any specific reason why you named your characters stands what they are now?

lol ye I can speedrun these real fast

-Song I like

-Song I like

-Wanted a stand with rat in the name lol

-song I like, but friend kept joking that I kept drawing Mary the sheep in the same pose and she didnt look alive. So I fell in love with the idea of an stand user animal coming back after taxidermy with their stand (much like stray cat) So I thought a big ol crocodile was a good fit and an easy song choice from there

-I love Always by Erasure, and making them into a big robotic unicorn was a sweet cute reference to me :)

-wanted something with an anglerfish vibe and outcame Doro with Fisherman's blues

-Song i like

-Already had the idea that 'would Happy birthday count as a stand song name' in my head, then my friend while watching 5th element was refering to Ruby Rohds like 'your jojo ocs having an announcer like him, someone who would crawl right into the fighting ring an dget so amped and involved' really got me i loved that idea. So they took inspo from Ruby Rohds and i just scooped but the happy birthday idea, also Stevie Wonder has his happy birthday song so it worked out lol

-I like this song, but also, it feels ironically fitting for her. A song about a girl at her own party crying, while is a song about a girl being wronged this is being applied to a woman who is defiantly in the wrong and playing victim because its 'her party' she's going to do what she wants

-Mac started in design as my jojo sona (still sorta is, like a rohan and araki situation) so I named his stand the name of my 1# favorite song from my childhood.

-Named that because whitney was originally designed as an adoptable design where all the stands were named after ABBA songs because i was watching the Mamma Mia movies. its a good ass song lol

-I love animal stand users, so I made mary who was named after the 'mary had a little lamb' song ofc, and I thought it be cute to make her stand a big wolf. A wolf in sheeps clothing gimmick. But tbh, not my favirote song lol. Not a big Duran Duran fan, music that is ok but gets tiring fast.

-Song I love

-Designed the stand before i ever designed Janelle or gave it a name. So when it came time to put a name to a face I was like, this bitch is yellow and I like The Cranberries, they have a song called yellow skies. thats good right?

[dol-dogboy]

2 for Celes and Percy, 19 for Damon and Bowie,9 for all of them and uhhh yeah I'll take fries with that, oh and a large soda

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

I don’t think many people would assume that Percy is as insecure about their looks as they actually are. To a lot of people Percy is actually super pretty, a concept that is completely baffling to them. If someone ever said to their face “I think you’re attractive” they wouldn’t believe them <\3

Celes’ whole Thing is that she puts on a role for others in public, but I’ll specify it to the fact that she’s very emotionally tormented. Celes puts up a very strong front, so most people find her to be someone that’s, at her core, extremely reliable! She’s tough! She kicks ass and takes names! But she is also swarmed with grief a lot of the time, she isn’t invincible

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

As he does normally, Bowie also has a tendency to cry when he’s angry… but it’s different. His fury is quiet and simmering, hands balled up at his sides while he’s trembling with tears streaming down his face, actually standing straight up for once. It’s a rare sight, but a scary one nonetheless— he would never be overly cruel with violence, but you WILL go to the hospital. Don’t fuck with the guy that can easily rock your shit even if he IS emotional. If someone’s managed to get to this point with him though then they must SUCKKKKKKK he has the patience of a saint

Damon… Hm. On the outside it doesn’t seem like much changes, he’s good at compartmentalizing his anger. But it’s also hard to get him to that state in the first place— even with someone like Whitney, hurting the people he loves and cares about, he’s really just at a regular level of angry when he kicks his ass. Enraged?? Hard to happen in the first place and it would mostly come out through the way he speaks… very bitter and hateful in his speech

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

This one’s tough cause I’m not very lyric/quotepilled but lemme see…

Percy

(Quote from RWBY)

Bowie

(Quote from Demon Slayer)

Damon

(Lyrics from Against The Kitchen Floor by Will Wood)

In general just. Just listen to against the kitchen floor it’s SUCH a Damon song it was hard to just pick one set of lyrics from it for him

Celes

(Lyrics from Father by The Front Bottoms. Which is in the screenshot but hey for the sake of organization—)

And ofc your fries and soda

I poured the fries onto the table sorry. I’m very clumsy. Please come again

[corruptsyd]

C!Sydney and Whitney's thoughts on one another?

sydney has been haunted by horny thoughts about whitney ever since the Library Choking Incident. how could she not be

when she’s not actively interacting with whitney she’s fantasizing about being dommed by whitney. when she’s actually around whitney and is reminded how annoying she finds her, sydney turns into the hard dom that people in the fandom pretend she is lmao

the dialogue line about sydney wanting to flog whitney after she steals from sirris’s shop…. aughhhhhhhhhhh

will whitney let her be a dom though? absolutely not. she’ll die before she lets the choir girl dom her. maybe with super low dominance and the insistence of pc it could happen but for now it will stay one of sydney’s freaky fantasies about her classmates

and sydney would be fine to be a sub for whitney do not get me wrong. it’s just the moment that whitney starts talking or being annoying, sydney is fantasizing about shoving a ball gag or maybe something else into her mouth

very much into the idea of a threesome with her and pc. if whitney and pc are also hooking up she’s going to look at pc with big sad puppy dog eyes until pc lets her join them.

it’d end up with sydney indulging all her masochist tendencies and just getting Wrecked by whitney and pc. she won’t be able to walk the next day but it’s okay

whitney does not even know what to feel about sydney. especially post-Library Choking Incident. i think she’s so caught off guard with how sydney’s changed because why is one of her easiest bullying targets now horny about it…

once she got over the shock of it all she’d be so down to tease and mess around with sydney a bit… not to the extent that whitney does with pc, but she’d absolutely be more physically aggressive just to make fun of sydney for how shes probably getting wet over it. (spoiler alert: she is)

in a whit/syd/pc scenario, whit would be planning to use syd and pc like they’re both her sluts but it becomes Very Clear very fast that sydney is just such a perfect sub, so much show that Whitney is fine to give pc some control… but only when that control is just being exerted over sydney ofc

in the beautiful world where sydney was somehow able to dom whitney. hooo boy syd would be such a bitch. she’s always nice and gentle with pc even when she’s in that role, but with whitney she does not gaf (well maybe a little. she’s always going to respect safe words and stuff but you must also consider that whitney would never stoop as low as to use a safe word). pc watching in the corner with their jaw on the floor as Choir Girl Sydney has Delinquent Mean Girl Whitney tied up and near the point of tears

all that being said. i was thinking of a fic idea where like… pc doesn’t exist. so who’s going to corrupt sydney? who’s going to be whitney’s slut? you see where i’m going here. it’d be a little ooc but i love the idea of a low purity sydney finally giving into lust because she wants her bully to bend her over a desk and fuck her like an animal ^_^ and whitney would have so much fun breaking her down…

i also just love whit/syd/pc threesome concepts (really any syd/pc/npc threesome concept lol) and wanna explore those more in the future 🤭

[zepskies]

And So It Goes - Part 18

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job, and more importantly her life—or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca.

Word Count: 5,600

Tags/Warnings: Love triangle, tension, more of Ben’s asshole behavior, angst, hurt/comfort, implied smut

ASIG Series Masterlist

18: Being Human

Maybe I really do have a death wish, Helena thought, as she let the most wanted supe alive into her home.

Butcher and Hughie joined him, with the latter taking in her two-story house for the first time.

“Nice,” Hughie said with a nod. “This place is beautiful.”

Helena gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Though she gave Ben a pointed look. “Try not to break it, please.”

He shot her a raised brow, but didn’t comment. Instead, he watched her turn and show them one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor. Meanwhile, his gaze lingered on the curve of her ass in those jeans.

Butcher caught the supe’s lazy perusal with a sharp eye. Ben felt his stare and had the gall to shoot him a wink with his smile. Ben’s steps had a certain swagger as he followed Helena down the hall.

It succeeded in setting Butcher even more on edge.

Hughie glanced over at his friend with concern; he’d seen the exchange between the men and didn’t like the fact that Helena was caught in the middle. More and more, he was starting to question just what the hell they were doing.

“Are you sure about this?” Hughie asked.

Butcher didn’t even look at him. His ears were perked to the conversation Soldier Boy and Helena were having down the hall, about fresh bedsheets, of all things.

“There’s no turning back now,” Butcher said.

Hughie frowned. “I know, but…”

Butcher ignored him in favor of starting down the hall to follow Helena and the unstable supe he’d brought into her home.

After everyone had showered and changed and devoured a few pizzas Helena had ordered, Ben puttered through her living room, rummaging through her things. He opened drawers and surveyed her various picture frames, like he was actually interested in her life or something.

“Got any reefer?” he asked.

Helena rolled her eyes. There goes that theory.

Not that she wanted his interest.

“Fresh out,” she said wryly.

She watched him from her corner of the sofa while Hughie graciously did the dishes. Butcher was sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea.

Helena knew he was monitoring the supe out of the corner of his eye, but she was now very careful in what she left on the TV. She didn’t think Dumb and Dumber should have anything triggering.

She eyed him more sharply when Ben started thumbing through her record collection.

“Hey, easy with my vinyl, please,” she said. “It’s vintage.”

He raised up one of your favorites: I Wanna Dance with Somebody.

“Sweetheart, I’m vintage. I think Whitney Houstonis safe with me,” he quipped wryly.

She rolled her eyes at him, but she had to fight a laugh. 

“I knew her, by the way,” he mentioned. 

Helena’s interest was piqued, with a tilt of her head. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Her and Bobby knew how the fuck to get down. That’s for damn sure.”

“Oh my God,” Helena giggled.

Butcher couldn’t fucking believe what was happening in front of him.

Well, technically, behind him. He was facing the kitchen, and it gave Hughie the vantage point to see Butcher’s irritation.

Helena was more amused than disgusted by the man’s ridiculous flirting. He was an old, old man in that 40s-ish, practically indestructible body. He was like a man out of time, complete with outdated sexism and hyper-machismo. His attempts were often so obvious, it was funny.

But, she also felt guilty for being able to laugh and be pleasant, when this was a man who had killed, and not just during his PTSD-fueled episodes over the past few days. This was the man who murdered M.M.’s grandfather.

The problem was, she had long ago become desensitized to asshole supes. And she couldn’t help her gut instinct…that there was more to Ben than met the eye.

Helena called it a night an hour or so later, when her eyes were starting to droop. She’d slept for a couple of hours in the car, but there was nothing like being back in her safe space, in fresh clothes, and soon to be in her own bed.

A knock at her bedroom door had her frowning in confusion. She put on a robe over her pajamas and opened the door. Her brows raised at finding Butcher there.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was deep and tired, full of gravel. He tried to slip past her inside the room, but she grabbed the doorjamb, blocking his way. She gave him a flat look.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. He gestured to the bed with raised brows.

“To sleep. I’m fucking knackered, love.”

Helena’s lips formed a thin smile.

“There’s a guest bedroom down the hall,” she said. For a moment, they just stared at one another, as one refused to leave, and the other refused to bend.

“Hel,” Butcher tried.

“You ended this,” she said, pushing him back with a hand in the center of his chest.

“Technically, that was you,” he returned. He backed up a step, but wouldn’t let her move him much farther. 

This time, her lips pursed and her expression tightened.

“You know what you said, Billy,” she said. “And you know what you did. You still don’t even have the decency to apologize.”

She stepped closer into his orbit, until her breasts barely brushed against his chest. He could feel the warmth of her skin under the thin cotton of her shirt, could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She leaned up on her toes and almost brushed her lips against his. She smelled minty fresh, along with the jasmine shampoo she often used.

“You…don’t get any part of this,” she said. “And you certainly don’t get to make some kind of claim on me just because you’re jealous.”

Helena pulled away. Butcher didn’t know what was more infuriating: not being able to touch her, or the deadly accuracy of her words.

“Jealous?” he said incredulously. “Of fucking what, might I ask?”

Instead of answering him, she smiled and closed her door in his face.

Butcher was left in the hall, teeth gritted and fists clenched. What the bloody hell just happened?

When he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he trudged down the hall and into the second bedroom, where Hughie was already slipping into the queen-sized bed. Butcher yanked him out of bed, despite the younger man’s yelp and protest.

“Hey!”

“There’s a couch nice and comfy there for ya,” Butcher said, gesturing at the nearby sofa. It was little more than a loveseat. If Hughie was lucky, it would only be his legs hanging off the side.

He frowned. “Come on, man.”

Butcher shrugged off his jacket and boots, tossing them on a nearby accent chair.

“You can try your luck bunking with Soldier Boy downstairs, but that might be ill-advised,” he retorted.

And he got into bed, turning out the bedside lamp as he went.

Helena slept for maybe a couple of hours before her eyes opened in the dark, her heart racing. She groaned and covered her face with a hand.

She still saw flashes of manic blue eyes in her mind, a hand wrapped around her throat. She felt throbbing pain radiating from the side of her head and half her ribcage.

It forced her out of bed in search of her medication, which Butcher had somehow gotten for her without a prescription. She chose to ignore that fact, and she grabbed her pill bottle, put on her favorite robe over her pajamas, and ventured downstairs for a glass of water.

When she turned on the kitchen light, her bleary eyes made out a shape sitting at the breakfast nook.

She jumped halfway out of her skin, until she realized that it was just Ben, sitting there with two cartons of Mint Milano cookies and three empty beers from her fridge. He raised his brows at her.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he said, smirking when he eyed her fuzzy purple robe. “Cute.”

“Down, boy,” she warned. She laid a quivering hand on her chest and caught her breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She retrieved the jug of water from the fridge and asked him if he wanted some. He shook his head, leaving her to consider him as she poured herself a glass of water. She saw the familiar threads of self-medicating with the empty beer bottles.

“I can make you some tea,” she offered.

Ben frowned. “Piss water, you mean? I’ll pass.”

Helena rolled her eyes. She got out the chamomile anyway and started up the kettle. It was an electric brewer, so the water would be hot within minutes.

“It could help you sleep better,” she pointed out. She felt his hot gaze on her back as she went about her business in the kitchen. She set up two mugs and took out the bottle of honey.

“One of two things helps me sleep,” said Ben. “Good drugs or a good fuck.”

Helena paused. Her hand clenched on the honey bottle on reflex, and made a large spurt squeeze out in one of the mugs. She eyed him tartly over her shoulder.

“You’ll find neither in this house,” she said. Her tone was pointed. His sly gaze said he wasn’t too sure about that.

“What’s keeping you up?” she asked, and she put a cup of tea in front of him with honey already stirred in. He gave her a flat look.

“I don’t drink that shit,” he said. She smiled.

“But I made it especially for you,” she replied, saccharine sweet. “I thought guys like you were supposed to be chivalrous.”

Ben just stared at her, hard.

She stared at him right back and raised her brows.

“Just try it,” she cajoled. “You might like it.”

He still didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, he slowly reached out and took the handle of the mug. He brought it to his lips and took a reluctant sip.

He grimaced. It was everything he thought it would be: weak in flavor, but warm and a hint sweet.

Helena smiled in satisfaction, and he fought one of amusement, even as he considered how sweet she might be to taste.

She went to get her own mug and her bottle of pain meds. While her back was turned, Ben poured most of the tea into the sink.

“Why’re you in my kitchen, eating all my cookies?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder while holding up one of the empty boxes of Milanos. “These are my favorites.”

Ben’s gaze roamed down the length of her fuzzy robe. It hinted at curves he’d already seen and taken note of. She was the hottest young thing he’d seen in…well, a while. Still, he’d be willing to eat up Miss Chiquita Banana and leave no crumbs.

“I’ve slept long enough,” he said. She turned back around, and he tried to disguise his hunger (for now). 

Helena glanced up at him wryly. “Hmm. You’re allowed to say you can’t sleep.”

Ben didn’t answer, but he watched her struggle to open her pill bottle. She twisted and twisted the cap, applying pressure, but it refused to budge.

“Damn it. What, did they reinforce this with, titanium?” she muttered.

The pill bottle eventually broke free, raining little white pills onto the counter. A few of them rolled off to the floor.

Her shoulders deflated. “Of fucking course.”

With a sigh, she slowly bent down and gathered up the pills that fell. She grabbed onto the counter, but the sharpening pain in her ribs wouldn’t let her straighten up, let alone get back onto her feet. She looked up at Ben in annoyance. He was just sitting there, watching her in bemusement.

“Coño pero… Are you gonna help me, Mr. Chivalry?” she snarked. “Best generation, indeed.”

Ben raised a brow at her. “I might, if you ask a little fucking nicer.”

Helena gaped at him. What a dick.

But she expected nothing less, really. She let out a tense breath through her nose and through much effort, she angled a less pissed off face at him.

“Will you please give me hand off the damn floor?” she asked.

A smirk crossed his lips. He actually obliged her, sliding off his seat and coming her way around the kitchen counter. He bent down and helped her up with a hand on her lower back and her elbow. He didn’t back away from her until her feet were steady on the ground, and she nodded in thanks. He took a few pills out of her hand as payment, popping them into his mouth like Tic Tacs.

Helena sighed in annoyance. Unlike him, she actually needed those.

“Why’re you up, anyway?” Ben asked.

“Well, I could blame it on the pain,” she replied, after downing two pills with her water. “But um…I keep replaying yesterday in my head, over and over like a bad movie. It always stops at the part where I look up at Homelander’s psychotic fucking eyes, and I just…I knew.”

Helena shook her head. Ben’s lips tugged downward.

“Knew what?” he asked.

“I’m officially on his hit list now,” she said. 

She knew it was partly her own fault. She chose to follow Butcher, to keep making reckless decisions. But at least now she wouldn’t have to spend every damn second of every day looking over her shoulder. She could just turn around and accept whatever happened next.

Helena could admit it though. She was afraid.

“What’s it like, not being afraid?” she asked Ben, with a small sarcastic huff. His brow arched.

“When you’ve routinely pounded Nazis up the ass, nothing much bothers you after that,” he said, sipping at his mug of tea. Though he soon grimaced again at the taste and pushed the offending drink away.

Deep inside, however, he refused to acknowledge the darker chasms. Stolen years that were now blurred together in memory, and yet, certain moments rang painfully clear. His eyes were unseeing for a moment, before they glanced back up at Helena.

He nearly missed the way she chuckled.

“That shit isn’t fooling for a second,” she said. “I saw you lose your grip, Ben.”

His gaze sharpened. His fist clenched on the counter.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warned.

Her eyes narrowed. “Let me ask you a question. Do you really not remember M.M.’s family? Or was that routine for you too?”

He paused, his brows crunched in irritation.

“I don’t have to fucking justify myself to you. I was doing my fucking job. Sometimes—”

“What, shit happens?” She threw her hands up mockingly. “God, you’re just like Homelander. Like almost every supe I’ve ever met.”

He rolled his eyes, dismissive, but his anger was prickling just under the surface of his stoic front.

And on the off chance that it was a mask for any spark of shame he felt deep down, Helena was at least a little satisfied. For 100-something years of machismo and supe arrogance, that spark would’ve been well-won. 

“Regret is human, Ben,” she said. “So is fear. And pain. And love.”

His face remained stoic. “I’m a lot fucking more than human.”

She huffed at that. “If you say so.”

She shook her head and delved back into her pantry. As a peace offering, she broke out her secret backup stash of cookies, that she doubted even Butcher knew about. They were raspberry and milk chocolate Milanos. She subtly shook the box at Ben with a smile.

He tilted his head. “I don’t remember that flavor.”

“Ooh. Brace yourself,” said Helena. She dug out the first two sleeves of cookies and gave him one.  

“How come there’s five in yours?” he asked with a frown. There were only four cookies in his sleeve. 

“The Lord giveth, and he taketh away,” she joked. “I get the bonus cookie.”

Ben gave her a deadpan look, but he ate in silence. He looked all surly, and she had to hold in a laugh. What a man-child.

Instead, she tossed her extra cookie at him. He raised a hand to instinctively fend off a projectile.

“Hey,” he said, with his mouth full.

Helena ended up giggling at the sight of crumbs falling from his mouth and in his beard. Again, man-child.

She wanted to hate him.

She should hate him, on principle alone.

Perhaps she had a weakness for deeply flawed men with massive egos. But fleeting as they were, she saw the glimpses of humanity in Ben—rare moments that got swallowed up by Soldier Boy.

In the morning, Butcher aimed to work on the list of safehouses where one of his most paranoid of ex-teammates, Mindstorm, could be hiding out. This next one was a few hours north. He’d be gone for the day, at least.

He was forced to leave Helena and Hughie behind, but not without a warning for the latter. Butcher had pulled Hughie aside and let him know that he wasn’t to leave her alone with Soldier Boy again, under any circumstances. Hughie didn’t have to ask “or what.”

Butcher was gone early in the morning. It allowed Helena and Ben to make their way into the kitchen slower in the morning. She was dressed for the day with her coffee mug in hand, sitting at the breakfast nook while Hughie caught up on the news from her laptop in the living room.

Ben grabbed a cup of coffee and took a seat next to her.

“What do you say you get started on breakfast. Huh, baby doll?” he asked. Or more like demanded, by his actual tone.

Helena shot him a dry look. “There’s cereal in the pantry.”

“Come on, now. I could use a home cooked meal,” he said.

Her brow twitched in irritation.

“It might be nice, since I have cracked ribs at the moment, if you might make yourself something,” Helena replied.

Ben gave her a smirk as he eyed her. “Why would I do that when you look like a perfectly good cook.”

“Oh, I am,” she said. “But I’m neither your servant nor your maid.”

“You’ve got two working hands, don’t you?” Ben remarked, as he sipped his coffee. “God fucking knows you’ve got a working mouth.”

Helena seethed as she got up from her chair, but not to make anyone a damn thing. She went to the sink to dump her empty coffee mug. She turned back to Ben and opened her mouth to say something she would very likely regret, but Hughie interjected, perhaps seeing that an explosion was about to happen.

“Uh, why don’t I make us something?” he said, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen with Helena. “I can whip us up some scrambled eggs. Bacon, if you’ve got it. Ooh, looks like you’ve got bread to make toast.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Knock yourself out.”

She ate her eggs on the couch in simmering silence while the news played on the TV. Hughie sat with her, casting her a look of concern every now and then. She ignored it all, including Ben’s less than discreet grumpy staring.  

Apparently, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“I swear to Christ. What the fuck is wrong with women today?” he said.

What a good start, Helena thought sarcastically.

“My mom never kept my father waiting for a meal. Even when he came home at whatever goddamn hour of the night, she had a plate waiting for him,” he said.

Helena rolled her eyes and quipped dryly, “That plate must’ve been cold as hell.”

Ben eyed her as she got up from the couch and went to bring her plate to the sink. She had her back to him as she began to rinse the dishes and put them into the sink.

“When did women get so fucking lazy? And disrespectful,” he remarked.

Helena hit the lever on the sink closed to turn off the faucet. She turned around to face the man and crossed her arms.

“You want a fuckable maid, pay extra,” she said. “But if you want a partner you can rely on. Someone you can trust not to give you to the damn Russians, then you share the load. And you respect the woman who lets you into her bed.”

She turned back to the dishes so she wouldn’t have to look at Ben’s angry, brooding face. But the way she turned her back on him, along with her pointed words, irritated enough to spark his anger. He got up from his seat.

Hughie sensed the danger before Helena did. He stood and made a cautious approach to the kitchen.

Helena reached for a hand towel, and found her wrist encased with an iron grip. She gasped as Ben turned her to face him.

“I’ve put up with a lot from you,” he said. “I think I’ve been a gentleman, considering what a disrespectful little brat you are. But I really think you wanna get bent over my knee.”

His face told her that she wouldn’t enjoy it.

“Hey,” Hughie tried to intervene. “Let’s just calm down, all right?”

Helena let out a shaky breath, but she looked up at Ben and somehow managed to hold her ground, despite the iron grip on her arms.

“If it makes you feel better, go ahead,” she said. “Slap me around until I break.”

“Soldier Boy!” Hughie said in warning.

Ben ignored him. He stared down at Helena with cold anger in his eyes. His hold on her arms tightened, and it hurt. She failed to stifle a gasp of pain.

But she stared up at him defiantly, even though there were tears forming in her eyes.

“You want me to respect you? You killed my friend’s family, and you don’t even care,” she said. “I don’t see anything here that earns my respect.”

Ben reacted to her words, mostly with anger as his brows furrowed.

Hughie grabbed the supe’s shoulder. “Hey, man, just let her go!”

Ben shoved Hughie away so hard that it made the younger man slide across the kitchen and into the far wall, until he hit a bookshelf and fell to the ground.

Helena flinched in shock, and pain at the way he was still holding her. Ben saw it play across her face…and he let her go abruptly. He stared down at her for a moment, nostrils flaring with his heavier breathing. She tried to calm her own breathing as she met his gaze, wondering what he would do. Wondering if this was the moment she’d signed her own death warrant by being her smartass self.

But Ben walked away from her.

Well, stalked away, more like. He left through the front door and it swung open on its hinges.

Helena took in deep breathes of relief. Eventually she gathered enough of her wits to go to Hughie, who was still picking himself off the floor.  

“I gotta go after him,” he said with a sigh.

“Get that man away from my house. I don’t care where you take him,” Helena said, frowning tersely. Hughie couldn’t blame her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and touched her arm gently. She pulled away from his touch and held herself with crossed arms.

“I’m fine. Just go get him,” she replied.

He nodded and took off after Soldier Boy. It gave Helena the reprieve she needed to let out a long, tremulous breath. A tear fell down her cheek as she leaned on the kitchen counter.

She just couldn’t help taking her life into her hands.

Butcher returned to Helena’s house in the evening. Her car was still in the driveway, but when he let himself in with the spare key she’d given him, he realized that the house was empty, except for her.

She was washing dishes from a dinner she’d clearly made for just herself: a Lean Cuisine.

“Where the hell are Hughie and Soldier Boy?” he asked, approaching where she stood in the kitchen, dressed down in a long-sleeved shirt and yoga pants.

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” she said. “Hello to you too, by the way.”

Her voice had little energy in it, save for anger and sarcasm, and Butcher took notice. He frowned.

“You’re the one who brought ‘em here. Weren’t my fucking idea, remember?” he snarked back.

Helena finally gave up on the dishes and turned to him with angry tears in her eyes.

“But you’re the one who made it happen, Billy. You wanted to cut a deal with that ancient, unstable fucking asshole? Well, you got your damn wish,” she said. “You are the reason we’re in this mess.”

Butcher paused at the sight of her unshed tears. His jaw worked as he tried to make sense of why she was this upset, when just yesterday she was joking and laughing with the supe like he was the guest of honor.

His brows drew together. “What did he do?”

Helena refused to answer.

Butcher went to her and tried to grasp her arm, but she pulled away from him with a flinch. Her eyes flicked away from his.

Unbidden, it reminded him of the day he waited for her at her apartment. And she’d come home after work looking skittish and drained. She’d flinched away from his touch then, just like she’d done now. That had been the day Homelander nearly strangled her to death.

“What the fuck did he do, Helena?” Butcher repeated. She met his gaze. 

“You better find him,” she said, “before he blows up another damn building.”

Butcher stared hard at her, but she wouldn’t say anything more.

He fished out his cell and called Hughie, who told him that he’d brought Soldier Boy to the Legend’s penthouse apartment in the city.

“Good,” Butcher nodded. “Keep him settled there while I look for Mindstorm.”

He glanced at Helena, but she was already walking away from him to finish cleaning up her kitchen.

Butcher ended his call. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’ve gotta go,” was what he settled on.

She shrugged. Butcher nearly sighed. He went to her though, while she was wiping down the counter with a clean rag. His hand reached out to touch her back, but at the last moment, he thought better of it. His arm drifted back to his side.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

“Like you care,” she said. Her tone was one of both snark and exhaustion. “Just go.”

Reluctantly, he went.

Helena was angry, to say the least—at Butcher, at Soldier Boy, and even at Hughie. She was also angry at herself for not having been able to leave well enough alone when Butcher left the first time.

Which first time? She snorted.

But she was especially mad at herself when she allowed the three men to traipse back into her home, a week later.

“‘Ullo, love,” Butcher greeted at her door.

They were covered with dried sweat and dirt, like they’d been hiking. She only let them in because of how they looked—each a bit rattled by whatever they’d faced. Her house was safer than the Legend’s at this point, Butcher explained.

“Just one night,” he asked. “We’ll fuck off in the morning.”

“Fine,” she agreed, despite her better judgment. Again, it was that look in his eyes. Unsteady.

Ben gave her a predictable once-over of her pajama shorts and tank-top, but it seemed he didn’t have it in him to volley with her like usual, especially after what happened last time. He didn’t acknowledge that as he made his way to one of the guest rooms.

Helena followed Hughie and Butcher upstairs…but something made her grab Butcher and steer him away from the second guest bedroom.

He wasn’t sure what she was doing while she guided him into the bathroom in her room. There he leaned against the counter of the bathroom sink. She picked the twigs out of his hair and brushed the dried mud from his shirt.

“Did you take a dirt nap or something?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he replied.

“What the hell happened then?”

He looked down at her. “Mindstorm is dead.”

She sighed at that, but something else was there, behind his eyes. Just under the surface.

“And what else?” Helena asked.

Butcher remained quiet, hesitating. She slowly took a chance by reaching for his scarred hand. She held it with both of hers.

He couldn’t help himself. He brushed his thumb over the back of her warm, tan, smooth hand, reminding himself that she was real and alive. And he wasn’t locked in his mind.

“When I left for the SAS,” he said, “I left my little brother behind…with our raging cunt of a father.”

Helena inhaled deeply; she remembered what Butcher had told her about Lenny, about how he died young. But somehow, Butcher had left out this detail. He met her gaze with tears forming in his red-rimmed eyes.

“I shouldn’t have left him,” he confessed.

Helena was half in shock as she watched the first tear roll down his cheek. She realized then that she had never seen the true depths of this man. Not until tonight.

Her eyes burned with sympathetic emotion as she reached for him and pull him into her arms. He held her back, burying his face in her neck and grounding himself in her as his body shook. Those brutal memories, along with the grief that had been locked deep inside had loosened, and the doors were now swinging open on their hinges.

“Jesus Christ, Helena…I’m sorry,” he said. His voice wavered, and his hand clenched in her hair. “For what I keep doing to ya. Dragging you down with me with every goddamn step.” 

He pulled back enough to see her, to be faced with her tears as she bit her lip.

“And for what I said…to you, and to the kid. I’m fucking sorry,” he said.

Helena broke down just as much as he did then. She nodded in acceptance, and she held his face in her hands. Then she brought him down for a tender kiss. Butcher gave into the soft warmth of her as he held her against him, unwilling to let go this time.

And she led him back into her bed.

In the late hours of the night, Butcher returned to Helena’s bed after a shower. She was already fast asleep. He slid in behind her, gently caressing the back of his hand up her naked back and over her shoulder, down her arm…

And he saw it. A purplish, yellow band around her arm.

It looked like a bruise, formed by a large hand. A man’s hand.

Butcher was damn certain it wasn’t his own, and he’d just finished tracing all the contours of her body tonight.

Though he was reminded of what happened a few days ago…

His brows drew together. “What did he do?”

Helena refused to answer.

Butcher went to her and tried to grasp her arm, but she pulled away from him with a flinch. Her eyes flicked away from his.

Soldier Boy. That old cunt.

Rage built and built inside him. That unfathomable rage that so often fostered lethal energy in Butcher’s blood.

Carefully he slipped out of bed. He got as far as the doorway before he looked back at Helena. He focused on her easy breathing, her messy dark hair splayed on her pillow.

The rage he felt began to simmer down, bit by bit, into self-loathing. Because he did this.

She’d been right before. Butcher made the deal with Soldier Boy. And Butcher brought this shitshow into her home.

So he forced himself to join her back in bed. He traced down the back of her neck, down the length of her lotus tattoo. It made her shiver in her sleep.

Butcher had failed his brother, and Becca. But he couldn’t fail this time. He’d keep Helena and Hughie safe, and alive.

Butcher’s phone was on silent, but the light from his phone on the nightstand illuminated the dark room and stole his attention. He grabbed it and frowned at the strange number on the caller ID. He took the phone into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Hello?” he answered.

“I need to talk to Hughie. Where is he?” Annie asked.

“Oh, Starlight. How delightful,” he muttered. And then he lied.“He’s just popped out for a bit.”

“Okay, well he’s not answering his phone.”

“Bit hard to keep a phone when you’re teleporting all day, innit, love? How can I help?”

“Temp V is going to kill you both,” she said.

“Well, it’s gonna have to join the queue,” he quipped.

“I was just in the lab. It causes lesions, okay? It turns your brain into fucking Swiss cheese!” she shouted. “So please be honest with me, and tell me how many doses have you taken?”

Butcher hesitated at that. His stomach began to churn.

“Just a couple,” he replied. Or a few.

“Jesus Christ,” she said. “Butcher, five to six doses kills you. Got that? You need to tell Hughie.”

Butcher hesitated. “Yeah…yeah, I will. I promise.”

“Okay, but I’m calling every five minutes until—”

He hung up on her. All the while, his mind was reeling.

Fuck, he thought. Fatal after five doses. He’d already had three. Hughie’d had two.

And they needed more, if they were going to face Homelander and Black Noir.

“Scorched earth” was going to come at a price. Butcher had known that going into this, but it suddenly took on new meaning as he opened the bathroom door and looked over at Helena, peacefully sleeping in bed. 

Butcher thought of Ryan, and all of his broken promises.

But come the morning, Butcher didn’t tell anyone of what he’d learned.

AN: Oooh, we're getting so close to the end here, folks!

Next Time:

“Why are you being so fucking stubborn?” Butcher asked.

Her head tilted as she gave a wry smile. “What do you mean?”

His grip on her waist tightened a little.

“Why’re you staying with me?” he pressed. “Hel, you know where this ends.”

“Billy, I don’t have a death wish,” she told him. She squeezed his arms back. “But I don’t just want you alive for me. Ryan needs you too.”

Keep Reading: Part 19

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Tag List:

@lauraaan182 @homielander @calizmor @haibara-ai-tsii @brujaporfavor @sleepyqueerenergy @adoringanakin @skyesthebomb @lunaticgurly @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso

@xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @xxlaynaxx @kaleldobrev @jad3djay @jackles010378 @kishie8

[propertyofkylar]

my whitney headcanons bc why not

i choose to believe he doesn’t have a bad home life or anything, He’s Just Like That

i do think he has a big family tho. loud and annoying

his bedroom is surprisingly neat. all of his plush toys are lined up on shelves with a select few in his bed

obviously no one is allowed to go into his room.

all the plushes have names btw

he’s sooo sentimental. has a folder on his phone just for pics of pc (for jerking off ofc but also just to look at :3)

but he keeps random stuff that makes him smile :)

he has so many friends but he doesn't really like them. they just idolize him but they don't actually know him. so whitney is actually just a lonely little guy

anyway i love him. please share ur thoughts with me i need more whitney in my life