#to passing someone else's work as his own!!!

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER THREE

WARNINGS — invasion of privacy, diary-reading without consent, possessive male POV, inner obsession, implied virginity, age gap dynamics, inappropriate fantasies, minor delusion/grooming-adjacent thoughts, manipulation (anything italicized is what’s written in the diary!)

You didn’t even realize you’d dropped it.

That’s the funniest part. Funniest to him, at least.

You were walking too fast across the courtyard. Flustered again. Maybe it was because Rafe had called you sweetheart with that slow drawl, lingering on the “s,” right in front of three privates. You stammered through a hello, eyes darting everywhere but him, clutching your bag like a shield.

He watched you walk off.

And then he saw it — a slim pink notebook, barely thicker than a pamphlet, slipped from your tote and dropped behind you like a breadcrumb.

You didn’t hear it. Didn’t turn around.

Just kept walking.

So now it’s his.

He finds it ten seconds later, thumb brushing the soft cover like it might burn. You’d doodled a little sun in the corner. One of the loops is dotted with a heart. The name you wrote inside?

First name only. Bubbly handwriting. Like a schoolgirl.

He flips to the first page and grins.

“Summer Goals ☀️💕”

— swim more

— read 5 books

— learn how to french braid my hair

— kiss someone (REAL kiss!)

— fall in love

— try wine or beer!

— say no without feeling bad

— be brave

Rafe lets out a low breath. One part humor. One part something else.

God, you’re even softer than he thought.

You want to fall in love. Kiss someone. Try wine or beer.

He wonders if you think all those things will happen in one night. If you still believe in movie endings and fireworks and a guy showing up with flowers.

You’re doomed.

He flips further.

You’ve used it like a diary. You don’t date the pages. Just talk to yourself. Or maybe talk to someone. The kind of someone you wish existed. The kind of man who listens. The kind of man who stays.

“Saw him again today.

He called me sweetheart. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.

He looks at me like he knows things I don’t. It makes me feel dumb. But also kind of… not dumb? Like I want to know what he knows?”

Rafe shifts on the bench.

His grip tightens.

You’re writing about him.

Not a crush. Not a passing observation. You feel something. He’s getting in your head already and you don’t even know it.

You’re still so fucking clueless.

He turns the page.

“My dad would kill me. If he knew what I was thinking…

It’s not even bad! I just. I don’t know.

I want someone to touch me.

Not like that!! I mean. Okay maybe like that. But not gross. Like… soft. Gentle.

I want to know what it feels like to be wanted.”

He leans back against the wall. The notebook drops into his lap.

It takes a full sixty seconds before he even breathes.

You’ve never even been touched. Not really.

You’re writing about your own fantasies like they’re foreign concepts. You don’t even know how it works. You’re scared of it. Confused. Hoping someone will take the guesswork out of it.

And Rafe? He’d do it without a fucking second thought.

But not soft. Not gentle.

He wants you ruined.

Wants you to forget every boy you ever dreamed about because he made you come harder than any of them ever could.

He wants to be your first. And only.

The next page pushes it further.

“I think he’s older. He must be. He looks like he’s seen a lot.

But I like that. I think I want that. Someone who can take care of me. Who already knows what he’s doing.

Someone who knows how to tell me what to do.”

He closes the notebook, fast. Like it’ll melt his palms if he doesn’t.

This isn’t about teasing anymore.

This isn’t even about baiting you.

This is about possession.

You already want the thing he planned to take.

He slides the book into his pocket. He’ll return it. Eventually. Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe after he reads it again.

Maybe after he’s jacked off to the words “tell me what to do” while moaning your name into his fist.

You knock on his office door the next morning.

He’s not surprised. You’re flustered. Lip bitten. Crimson on your cheeks.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, opening the door wider. “You look like you lost a puppy.”

You blink up at him, embarrassed. “I—I think I dropped my notebook yesterday. I was just wondering if…”

“Notebook, huh?”

He moves slowly to the desk. Opens a drawer.

Pulls it out with a casual shrug.

“This one?”

Your eyes light up. You nod, stepping forward to take it—but he doesn’t let go.

He watches you.

Tilts his head. Then slowly, very deliberately, presses it into your hands. His fingers brush your wrists.

“You should be more careful with your private thoughts, sweetheart,” he says low. “Never know who might be reading.”

You freeze.

He smiles.

And then he walks away.

You flip through it later. Nothing’s changed. Nothing missing.

But somehow… something feels different.

You can’t explain it.

The pages feel heavier. The air between your fingers charged. You catch yourself wondering—just for a second—if he meant something else. If he read—

No. No, he wouldn’t.

Would he?

That night, Rafe sits outside on the barrack steps.

His boots are dusty. His knuckles bruised. He smells like gasoline and aftershave and heat.

And he’s smiling.

Because you’re so, so clueless.

And he’s so, so patient.

But not for much longer.

[sabrina-senpai]

Saja boys w/ fem manager reader who explains periods to them;

Character/s: Jinu, Romance, Abby, Baby & Mystery

Character pairings: Jinu/you, Romance/you, Abby/you, Baby/you & Mystery/you

A/N: Characters may be ooc, writing style might be messy and just me rambling really

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Jinu:

• “So the uterus just... peels??”

• simply short circuits, he's kinda loser coded from how flustered he gets tbh-

• has to sit down and process what you just said

• will try to act nonchalant and tease you but when you glare at him he's sat there like- 🫥

• he's not sure how to react, bc on one hand he's absolutely baffled by how the female human body works but pretty impressed at how you're not dying on the spot

• (spoiler alert- you are)

• does not know what to do or how to help

• will try to lower your work load just a little by keeping the boys in check and not disturbing you

• for the sake of your sanity and their safety and world domination he will try to help you the best he can

• when you snap at him he just rolls his eyes at you, but hands you a heat compress when he passes by you again.

• you eventually snap at someone else and threaten to throw their stuff out the window

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

• he walks on eggshells around you from then on

Romance:

• “Wait… you bleed every month and don’t die?”

• "that's kinda hot"

• the man who looks like he's Wattpad cringey men incarnate find out what happens during your period? ('m kidding he's one of my faves)

• cue the disbelief.

• he thought bleeding meant fatal injury — now you’re telling him it happens on purpose?

• "you are one strong woman manager-nim.."

• wait till he finds out about your hormonal spikes..😟

• a little sht through and through tho, will not stop teasing and flirting with you either way

• he's genuinely confused and lowk worried at how you endure cramps based on your description of them

• "Would you like me to kiss it better-" *smack* "-worth it"

• you snap at him? He's quiet for a second but smirks and says

• "that's kinky.. scream at me more-"

• but when you physically have to lean on something bc your cramps are that bad, he will show a lil bit of empathy and rub your back for comfort

• and holds back on teasing until you feel better (almost fails like separate 3 times)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Abby:

• “You okay? Need me to fight your uterus?”

• no bc he would if he could

• actually tries- until you smack him upside the head

• does zero damage to him but stops trying for now

• curious as to how painful cramps actually are

• honestly..lemme get a nibble of those shoulders and then we'll talk-

• still thinks you're over exaggerating abt the pain but won't push you (you threaten him with smth. what you ask? no clue either.. but he stops so a win is a win ig)

• respects u a little more bc of it

• for real tho- with enough pain induced persuasion (from you obv) he will reluctantly happily let you bite him if the cramps get too bad

• again no damage done to him whatsoever;-;

• "Is this an excuse to get a taste of my beautiful muscles? If so.. manager-nim there's no need for one"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

• offers you his abs to use as a pillow

Baby:

• “I’m just gonna... not think about that.”

• does not wanna think about it

• fails

• will plug his ears and just la-la-la his way out

• definitely judges you and your cravings

• side eyes you when they're particularly weird

• he's not necessarily cruel abt it but is either immature or embarrassed.. or both

• does slowly evolve into sympathy with the right education (manager-nim? More like seonsaengnim teacher)

• eventually gets curious at how you function normally

• “manager-nim can't you just plug it? Like a cork? Using those tampoon thingies?"

• "how bout I put a cork in your mouth instead-"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

• cue you mid-breakdown trying to explain how tampons work and how they can't just be shoved inside forever

Mystery:

• “How do you not get mad at your own uterus..?”

• will stare at you with the most bewildered frown you can imagine from just seeing his mouth bro is almost impossible to read..💔

• immediately goes into a spiral of mental questions and stands there like 🧍

• frown deepens as he thinks about how much energy you have to use to do day to day activities while in constant pain..

• most likely imagining how painful it feels and his hair physically deflates at the thought..

• pokes at your lower abdomen like he's trying to decipher ancient text

• will growl at you if you try to sass him bro literally barked at a fan wdym he doesn't have undiscovered anger issues??

• he apologizes by massaging your hand later on

• will lay on your lap if you ask beg and become your personal heating pad

• the listener to your yapper frfr

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

• probably falls asleep mid yap but you wouldn't know, his eyes are literally nonexistent to you..

Sorry if it's not that good it's my first time writing headcannons for these gremlins so m sorry if they're pretty ooc, specially since we (I) don't know much in general abt them at all.

But I'm tryna improve with every fic:^

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

And asks/requests are open:)

Thanks for reading!!!

(credits for the original divider post bc idk if it's F2U)

[adeptustemptations]

How do you think caleb or any of the others lads guys would react to their wife lactating? 👀 do you think that they'd be down to try it? I love your writing!! 💗💗

Honey, is that...? 🍼

(wc. 2.1k) How would the LADS boys react when they spot you, their wife, lactating?

featuring: rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader, zayne x reader, xavier x reader (all separate) warnings: mild smut, mdni.

a/n: first request down! i definitely think all of the boys would be down to try it LOL. i had so much fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy! c:

🧜 RAFAYEL:

At first, you think Rafayel’s being moody because of something work related. Probably just something about him not getting inspiration for his next piece.

He's quiet during dinner, pushing his food around with the fork, glancing at you between bites but saying nothing. Then he sighs. Dramatically. Like you’ve just told him the love of his life is marrying someone else.

“Do you need the tub prepared?” you ask, gently patting the baby's mouth with a cloth as your baby drifts off to sleep, full and milk-drunk in your arms.

He shrugs. “No.”

Another sigh. Even more dramatic this time.

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

Silence.

You put the baby down in the bassinet, tiptoeing back to the couch where he’s brooding like a man personally victimized by your child. You sit beside him and poke his thigh.

“Rafayel. Talk.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just shifts in his seat dramatically, like you should already know why he’s in a mood.

You raise a brow. “Raf?”

“…Why does he get to taste it?” he finally mutters.

You blink. “What?”

Rafayel lifts his gaze, eyes narrowed. “Your milk. The baby gets all of it. Meanwhile, I, your husband, don’t even get to try?”

You stare at him, baffled, amused, a little turned on by how offended he looks.

He shifts closer suddenly, tone softening like he’s trying to guilt you.

 “You used to let me suck on them all the time,” he mumbles, voice pitiful. “Now I get nothing.”

“Rafayel Qi,” you say, laughing despite yourself. “You’re jealous of your own child?”

“He doesn’t even appreciate it,” Rafayel huffs dramatically. “He’s just... drinking. No compliments. No praise. No loving gaze. No eye contact.” He places a hand over his heart. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“You want to flirt with my boobs while I’m nursing?”

He nods solemnly. “And after.”

You blink. “Raf.”

“No, no, go ahead. Ignore me. That’s fine.” He gestures grandly, flopping back on the couch like a neglected kid in a drama. 

“I mean, I get it,” Rafayel huffs, gesturing vaguely toward the baby now blissfully passed out at the bassinet. “He needs it. It’s nourishment. Bonding. Blah blah. But like, what about me? A stranger in my own marriage.”

You roll your eyes. “Then ask.”

He freezes. Turns to you slowly.

“…Seriously?”

You nod. “If you’re that curious, then fine. Go ahead.”

Wasting no moment, he immediately latches onto you, and his reaction is instant. His eyes roll back. A full-body shudder.

He suckles on your nipple with the eagerness of a thirsty man who had just found water after days of being dehydrated. When a bit of milk manages to escape from the side? He immediately laps it up, wasting no drop.

He pulls back, breathless. Dazed. “...Fuck."

Then he smirks.

“Alright. New plan. Let’s have six more kids.”

You shove him off the couch.

🐦‍⬛ SYLUS:

Everyone in the N109 Zone knows that Sylus doesn’t kneel.

He doesn’t plead.

He doesn’t repeat himself.

He doesn’t need to.

He gives orders, and people obey. His name alone strikes fear into civilians and corrupt officials alike. He's the kind of man who takes what he wants, and everyone bends at his will.

But you?

You’re the one thing he never commands.

Because with you, he never wants to.

And right now? He’s at your feet.

Literally.

It starts when you’re in the privacy of your home, in a soft robe, curled on the couch with your baby fast asleep in the bassinet. You’re drowsy and glowing, eyes heavy from the feeding, your robe slipping just slightly to reveal a glistening patch where you’ve started to leak again.

Sylus was reading some documents, possibly just about a new batch of weapons shipped to one of his armories. All that boring stuff. When he looks at you, his eyes immediately zero to your chest.

He freezes.

The documents clattered to the ground. 

You glance at him, confused. “Sylus?”

But he’s already closing the space between you. You see it, the desire in his eyes as he kneels before you, palms on your thighs, breath hot and uneven.

“Please.”

His voice is hoarse. Ragged. Barely a whisper.

You blink. “Huh?”

“I need to taste you, sweetie.” He says it like it physically hurts to admit, jaw clenched. 

“Can I try? Please?”

Your breath hitches. “Sylus—”

“I never beg,” he murmurs, leaning forward, brushing his lips against the skin of your breast. “But I’ll get on my knees for this. For you.”

He doesn’t ask again.

Just lowers his mouth to your breast and licks. The moment the white liquid hits his tongue, everything changes.

His lips part in stunned disbelief. Then, he groans, deep and guttural, like you just unlocked something feral in him.

“You taste sweet,” he rasps. He’s already latching on you again, open-mouthed, greedy. 

“Fuck. You taste better than anything.”

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to devour you. There’s nothing classy about the way he sucks at you–it’s messy, hungry, possessive. Like he’s waited his whole life for this and didn’t even know it.

You try to say something, to make a joke; “You’re worse than the baby.”

But Sylus growls into your skin, low and dark: “I’ll give you another one. I’ll fill you up again, if that’s what it takes to keep you like this.”

Your breath stutters. “Sylus—”

“No one else gets this. No one else gets to taste you like this.” He presses his palm to your womb. “You hear me? Only me.”

And you believe him. Because when Sylus Qin finds something he likes?

He gets it.

🍎 CALEB:

It starts with the panties.

Caleb thinks he’s subtle about it. Volunteering to do your laundry in the pretense that he 'just wants to help', setting aside a pair that smells like you, worn, soft, intimate. The design doesn't matter too, the one with lace? Spectacular. The cotton ones he bought with the apple patterns? Give him 14 of them right now. He tells himself it’s harmless, just something to keep close when you're gone on long shifts or too tired to stay up with him after work from the Hunter's Association.

When you've caught him in the act, all he does is raise an eyebrow, as if you're the one being strange.

“What?” he says, with that deadpan tone of his, nose still pressed into the fabric. “You smell nice.”

You should be flustered, but you’ve been married to this man long enough to know how weirdly intense he can be. It's part of the Caleb experience. When you tried scolding him because some of your pairs have gone missing, all he does is shoot you his signature puppy-eyed look.

But then after giving birth to your baby, everything changes. Your underwear drawer's surprisingly complete, and none of the pairs have gone missing. You'd think that maybe Caleb had just become too busy tending to the baby to even focus on his needs.

But what you don't notice is how his touches linger longer during nighttime cuddles, especially around your chest, or the way he glances at your shirt when it dampens just a little.

It happens when you’re fresh out of the shower. You're drying your hair, not noticing at first that the front of your shirt is damp. A few minutes later, you glance down and–

Oh.

You’re leaking.

“Caleb?" you call out, not thinking much of it, “I think I’m lactating again. I forgot to pump.”

You don’t expect a reaction. You expect him to say something like, ‘Want me to grab the pump?’

What you don’t expect is for Caleb to freeze in the doorway, eyes locked on the wet patch spreading across the fabric.

“...Again?” he says quietly.

You blink at him. “Yeah? That’s usually how it works.”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and before you can respond, he’s across the room, pushing your shirt up to your chest with eagerness, hunger glinting in those beautiful purple eyes.

“Let me taste.”

Your brain short circuits. “Wha–Caleb–?”

But he’s already there, lips closing around your nipple, hand firmly planted at your waist like he owns you.

And when he moans? You swear it’s the dirtiest sound he’s ever made.

He drinks like he’s been deprived. Like this was what he needed all along, and nothing else compares. Not the panties. Not your bath soap. Not even the taste of your skin.

No–this. This is divine. This is yours.

Later, when you're sprawled on the bed, dazed and breathless, he kisses your stomach and murmurs softly:

"Maybe we should have another baby. Just so you don't run out."

You laugh. “You're a freak.”

“I’m serious.”

He looks up at you, utterly sincere, eyes dark with something that’s not quite lust–it’s obsession, devotion, need.

And you know then: he’s addicted.

Not just to you.

But to every part of you.

☃️ ZAYNE:

You already knew Zayne had a problem with sweets.

The bakery receipts stuffed in his lab coat. The way he always “accidentally” wanders into the dessert section at the grocery store. The time he got bribed by Dr. Greyson with macarons.

But this?

You hadn’t seen coming.

It starts innocently enough; he’s helping you undress after a long day, brushing his fingers along the curve of your side as he unclasps your bra. You’re a few weeks postpartum, still sore and soft in all the ways he loves. He’s kneeling in front of you, peppering lazy kisses along your stomach when he notices the damp spot on your breast.

"Hmm?" He hums, brows furrowing. He leans in closer.

"You're leaking."

You sigh. “Yeah. I forgot to pump again. I’ll go get–”

“No,” Zayne cuts in, already cupping your breast in his hand. “Let me.”

“Zayne–!”

But he’s already latched on before you can finish, mouth closing around you like it’s second nature.

The first taste hits him like a drug.

His eyes widen.

Then flutter shut.

He moans. Actually moans. Like he just took a bite out of the best dessert of his life.

“Dearest,” he breathes when he finally pulls back, his lips still wet. “Why didn’t you tell me it tastes like this?”

You blink, a little dazed. “Like… what?”

He licks his lips. “Sweet. Warm...”

Then his gaze flicks up, dark and hungry. “Better than any dessert I've ever tasted.”

Your face flushes. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, already nudging you backward onto the bed, crawling over you with sinful intent. “But you married me.”

And just like that, he’s latched on again, slow, thorough, absolutely obsessed. Like he’s savoring every drop. Like you’re his final meal, and he’s a man who’s starved.

When he finally pulls away, lips wet and pupils blown wide, he looks like he’s come undone.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he mutters:

“…I think I need to adjust my meal plan.”

You raise a brow. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, dead serious. “You’re my new dessert. Effective immediately.”

⭐ XAVIER:

It’s still dark out when Xavier stirs beside you.

He wakes like he always does. Quiet, warm, arms automatically reaching for your sleeping form. He pulls you close, breath brushing on your neck, his hand splaying across your waist under the covers.

That’s when he notices it.

A damp spot on your shirt. Right over your chest. You’re on your side, curled towards him, unaware.

He blinks once. Then twice. Brain still foggy from sleep.

But then he leans closer, nose brushing against the fabric, breathing in the scent that’s distinctly you. Warm and milky. Sweet.

Something stirs in him. Not lust, something gentler. Deeper.

An ache in his chest he can’t explain. Like he wants to be closer, somehow. Like he needs to feel it. Taste it.

He shifts beneath the blankets, carefully nudging the neckline of your shirt down. He presses a kiss just above your nipple, reverent, before wrapping his lips softly around it.

You stir, eyelids fluttering. “...Xavi?” you murmur, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Mm,” he hums against your skin, mouth still lazily suckling. “Just helping.”

You blink blearily at him. “That’s… not how the pump works.”

“Don’t care,” he whispers. “Tastes better this way.”

You huff a soft laugh, too tired to scold him, too warm to care. “You’re unbelievable.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark hair tousled, eyes still heavy lidded. 

“It’s comforting,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re comforting.”

And with that, he tucks himself back into your arms, head resting on your chest, one hand lazily cupping your breast. You feel the occasional soft suckle as he drifts off again, slow and rhythmic, like a baby himself.

You close your eyes.

The room is quiet. The baby’s still asleep. And for now... just for now, there’s no need to move.

You both fall back into sleep, tangled together, Warm, safe, and full.

—

[MASTERLIST]

[peachyhotteok]

a deal with the devil.. | jwy x reader

synopsis: a beautiful demon wooyoung offers you a deal you can’t pass up.. or can you when it turns out there was a typo in your contract?

warnings: 18+, smut, alcohol, a j*b (jk)

pairings: demon!wooyoung x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

notes: hey guys, welcome to my first post back on tumblr, bare with me i havent written in years… i hope you love!

I can never win.

I bust my ass, I do the most, yet, I never win.

“I just wish for once, my effort wouldn’t go unnoticed.”

You groaned as tired hands met your forehead at the sight of the email that was gifted to you with a little red bubble next to the envelope icon on your computer screen. Every year it’s the same bullshit message congratulating anyone else but you on their special employee of the month promotion, the promotion that every year you would pull late nights in the office for, the air in your cubicle reeking of exhaustion from over exerting yourself to appease your company.

I mean, would you ever even get to show what you had in you if they never even gave you the chance?

In celebration of our new Employee of the Year, there will be an obligatory lunch today in the company cafeteria. We will be providing food and other refreshments while our CEO gives a congratulatory speech in honor of our new promotee.

You chuckled to yourself at the thought of your boss stumbling over his words while trying to read a tribute to someone he barely even knew. Absolute chicken scratch, most likely written in a hurried swipe of his pen in an attempt to get back to the large load of nothing that he would do behind his desk every day. You shrugged off the comedic thought and brought your attention back to your work that you were no longer even close to being interested in doing anymore after the news, but bills would in fact not pay themselves.

By the time lunch rolled around, you could feel your fingers aching from typing all morning and decided that maybe you should stretch a little… and maybe a free lunch wasn't all that bad even if it was a slight morale crushing celebration in the first place.

You made your way to the cafe, the hustle and bustle of people and voices around you annoying you all the same. Scoping out the tables and observing all the options of food available with the influx of commotion around you had you settling with a bottle of water and a pastry out of a little white box from a bakery down the street just to get out of the chaos. You found yourself a nice corner towards the back of the room to stand and listen to the ceremony, if you would even call it that. People spoke amongst themselves as the CEO made a fool of himself as expected, you found yourself scanning the room out of boredom.

You locked eyes with an unfamiliar, yet trance inducing face. You’ve never seen him around the office before, but chalked it up to him most likely being in another department. Turning away, you brought your attention back to the front of the room, counting down the moments for this sorry excuse of a celebration to end. A chill ran through your body as you sensed a newfound presence behind you, an almost eerie feeling rose red flags in your mind as you moved to the side to let whomever pass. The presence stepped up to you and turned to introduce himself.

“Jung Wooyoung, if you were wondering.” He held his hand out to you, waiting for you to put your own in his awaiting palm. You assessed his features carefully. He was nowhere near bad looking. Actually, quite the opposite. His deep black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, stray pieces that would not fit resting across his forehead and framing his cheeks. Dark, entrancing eyes that felt as if they could stare directly into your soul, learning all of your secrets with just a glace. A prominent, yet beautiful nose sat right above his plump, smirking lips. He smelled of bergamot, vanilla and slightly of firewood. Something didn’t feel right.. But you just couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. You surrendered a hand and shook his, introducing yourself.

“___ ___, I don't believe I’ve seen you around before, I work in the development and sales department. You?”

His smirk slowly spread into an almost smile, almost as if he was hiding true intentions. He pulled his hand away and stepped closer to you, just close enough for your conversation to be deemed private in a way.

“What if I told you I worked in the… wants and needs department?” You cocked an eyebrow at what you felt to be an odd way of flirting. Scoffing, you stepped back to keep some extra distance from this stranger named Wooyoung. He closed the gap again and proceeded to speak to you in a hushed tone.

“Okay, okay. I see I failed to lighten the mood, so let me cut to the chase. You have wants and wishes, and this is where I come in. I’m here to grant you those wishes under one condition.”

This guy is crazy. You stepped as far away as you could, making a beeline for the women's bathroom to get away from this absolute psychopath. You were sure you were dreaming, no one in their right mind would approach a woman like that. Especially in the workplace. You stepped into the single bathroom and locked the door behind you, expecting that creep to get the hint and hit the road.

“Can you please hear me out? I’m really bad at these persuasive talks so I’m just going to be honest. Believe it or not, I’m just like you. I hear wishes, and it’s my job to come and attempt to grant them.”

“Like some kind of fucking genie?”

“Now that's just rude. I’m a demon, working for the Devil himself.”

“Oh you’re a whole nother type of insane, I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Before you could turn back around to race to the door, Wooyoung was there. Leaned against the exit with his black button down sleeves rolled up, arms crossed with visible annoyance on his smug face. Confusion ran across yours.

“How did you- You were just- Huh?” Your hands flew up to your hair, trying to process what was going on in front of you.

“Hey man, I’m just trying to help you and I’m starting to regret it.” Wooyoung breathed out, as if trying to recollect himself.

“They call me Wooyoung. I come from down under, and I really don’t mean Australia. I’m one of Satan’s finest demons if I do say so myself. And I’m here to offer you, yes you, your most precious wish. The catch? Your first born kicker. Don’t worry, I’ll take really good care of the little one. I’ve always wanted one of my own!”

He spoke quickly, almost as if trying to just brush over what he just asked you for. He raised an arm and ruffled your hair with his large hand. I hissed quietly and swatted his hand away.

“And what if I don’t have a kid, then what? Will my wish not come true or something? This whole spiel sounds ridiculous and I must be going crazy.” For a brief moment, you did take things into consideration. You were a very career driven woman and kids were never in your life plans, as you wanted to focus on yourself.

“No, you’re not crazy and no, you’ll still get it. But at least we know you were committed enough in the first place.” Wooyoung gave a sarcastic thumbs up along with a cheesy grin almost as if he was in a corny infomercial.

Standing back up straight, he clenched one of his fists, a small flame flickering inside of it. He opened his hand back up, a piece of crumbled printer paper and a pen sitting in it. The edges were slightly singed and it wasn’t the most appealing thing, being that you were signing away a child that wasn’t even guaranteed to come into this world yet. Your eyes shot from the sorry excuse of a contract back to the ‘demon’ in front of you.

“Well that’s certainly a promising contract.”

He huffed in slight irritation and snatched his hand and the contract back.

“I came from Hell man, What did you expect? Listen, you can take it or leave it. Your choice. Let me just say this, If you wish for something again, it won’t be me next time. It’ll be someone wayyy less attractive, and I personally don't want that for you.” You sighed in defeat and scanned the document in hand. Before signing, you glance at him once more. He jerks his hand out closer as a sign of impatience. You quickly signed your name. The second your pen left the paper, it went up in a puff of smoke.

“Pleasure doing business with you, beautiful. Now I’m off. See you when you have a baby!” And just like that, he was gone. Not even a moment later, still processing what just went down, there was a knock from a woman urgent to use the bathroom after too many cups of coffee from the cafe. You apologized and made your way back to your cubicle, keeping an eye out for any oddly hot demon men lurking around the office.

—

After the mindfuck of whatever today was, you could definitely say walking in your house and getting in the shower was probably the highlight of your night. You turned the dial all the way to the right, making the water as hot as it possibly could go. Stripping down to your black bra and matching panties, You stuck your foot into the shower to test the water temperature. You adjusted the dial slightly and shed from your undergarments and stepped into the shower.

As you started to shampoo your hair, a vaguely familiar smell filled the humid, steamy room. You couldn’t quite put a finger on the smell, but you knew it from somewhere. You smelled the shampoo on your hands and checked the bottle.

Did I buy the wrong one? No, this is the same one I always use. You placed the bottle down and stuck your head out from behind the shower curtain to sniff the air.

“Heyyy sweet stuff. Did you miss me?”

Your eyes widened as you slowly whipped your head around, meeting the same dark, soul snatching eyes that were in front of you earlier that day. You let out a squeal and quickly covered your bare body with the floral shower curtain.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. But, if I’m telling the truth, I’m probably gonna have to.” You cocked my head, confused as to what the man meant. He nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

“So do you remember the little contract I had you sign earlier? Yeah so, there might have kinda been a small typo.”

“By typo.. what kind of typo? Like it has to be a certain gender, or you take them at a certain age, or only if they look a certain way?”

“See that’s the funny, actually hilarious thing.” His eyes strayed to the ground in an almost emotion invoking kind of innocence. You kind of felt bad in a way seeing him so flustered, he was only a guy–a demon that wanted to do his job right. Something you knew all too well.

“I know it was supposed to be first born but uh, the contract might have actually said first porn. I swear it wasn’t on purpose! Although, if I had seen all of that back in that bathroom today, it might’ve been.” Your mind went blank as you took in what was going on. Every event that occurred today was just too much to process at once.

“Do you mind waiting in the living room? I uh, I want to finish my shower.” Wooyoung nodded and exited the bathroom as you disappeared back behind the shower curtain. You sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down it to sit at the bottom of the tub, letting the water run over your hair and body lightly.

Well he’s not ugly, is it worth it? Nah ___, have some morals…

But, you would finally get that position at work you wanted, with only a fraction of the energy you’ve been exerting wasted. You’re almost positive a few people have fucked their way up the ladder, and at least you wouldnt be doing it within the company… A little porno never hurt anyone, right?

You quickly finished washing your hair, body coming straight after. Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself and walked across the hall to your bedroom to throw on something quick and sexy.

Rummaging through your drawers, you found a skimpy baby pink lingerie set you had saved for a ‘special’ night and a baggy t-shirt to put on over it. After dressing, you made your way downstairs to the living room to confront the man who had seemed to move from his assigned spot on the couch, to the kitchen.

“What the hell man, why are you in my kitchen? Don’t demons eat souls or something? Why are you going through my cabinets?” You reached up and blocked the cabinet he was about to open. He groaned and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“Demon or not, I get hungry for human stuff too, you know. Pizza, cake, alcohol, all that type of shit.” You smirked and bent down to open a cabinet near the bottom of the sink, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. You held it out to Wooyoung, nudging him to take a swig of the vodka you were passing him. He cocked an eyebrow and looked down at you and your offer.

“Glad you’re into alcohol. I’ll take you up on your little typo contract. But first, some liquid courage.” I twisted off the top of the bottle, flicking it somewhere across the kitchen. As you put the spout to your lips a strong hand took the bottle from you, while another warm one grazed your chin, pushing it upwards.

“Allow me.”

You threw your head back and let him pour a hefty swig down your throat while keeping eye contact with him. Small trickles of liquid slip from the corners of your mouth as you swallowed, the sting feeling good in contradiction to the thoughts going through your head. Wooyoung eventually pulled the bottle away from your mouth and took it into his own.

He stooped down to your level, lifting your chin a little more, this time with just one of his tanned fingers. He brought his face close to your neck, placing his tongue where the stream of alcohol that dripped out of your mouth ended.

You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath against your sparsely wet neck, warmth pooling both around the area and in your lower stomach. Slowly, he dragged his tongue up from your collar bone to the corner of your mouth, stopping as he got to your lips. His plump ones lingered over yours. They felt hungry in a way, as if he could swallow you whole any minute now. Your eyes fluttered shut awaiting impact, but none came. Wooyoung let out a light chuckle and pulled back, taking the bottle to his own mouth, downing a couple gulps for himself.

“Eager, aren't you?”

You couldn’t tell if it was the heat from the alcohol, the situation or just him, but your eyes wouldn’t leave his figure. You eyed Wooyoung like he was the finest piece of man you’ve ever seen in your life. I mean, he definitely was one of them, but tonight it seems like he looks twenty times better than he did back at work. He removed the bottle from his lips, licking them after as he looked down at you. He smirked as you sat there and genuinely took in all of the dark and handsome man that stood in front of you.

The crisp black button down clung to him loosely, a button or two undone at the chest so the necklaces he wore were visible against his smooth chest. His long black hair wasn’t pulled back this time, draping around his face in soft tufts. The black jeans and black leather boots to match, it’s like every part of him screamed sexy. He smiled and took another sip of vodka.

“Like what you see?” He purred smugly while passing the bottle back to you to drink from. You blushed softly and nodded, smirking back at the man in front of me. “Don’t we have a contract to deal with?” You grabbed Wooyoung’s hand and led him back up the stairs to your room. Both of you stumbling up the stairs, eager for what awaits each other once you enter the bedroom. He closed the door behind you two and pulled a video camera out of one of his inner coat pockets. You laughed and took the vodka bottle from his hand.

“Came prepared huh? What if I wasn’t even going to say yes?” You sipped at the clear liquid and kneeled at the head of the bed, sitting back on your feet against the headboard. He shrugged his shoulders and licked his lips at the sight of your thighs spreading upon contact with the mattress, a desirous look glistening in his dark eyes.

“You signed a contract princess, it was only fair you say yes. Ready?” You nodded your head, looking the man in his eyes. He kicked off his shoes and plopped himself down at the foot of the bed. He flipped the camera open, clicking the record button and pointing it at you. Wooyoung peeked at you from behind the camcorder, a visible wide grin on his face.

“Go ahead and show me what’s under that old shirt. I know you put something sweet on for me.” The seductive rasp in his voice gave you chills as you listened to him speak. You slowly began to lift your baggy t-shirt up and over your head, teasing him in the process. When you finally got it off, the man shifted in the spot he was sitting, adjusting himself at the reveal of the lacey garments underneath. Tossing the shirt to the side you leaned back, moving your legs from under you to out in front of you and pulled them to your chest, a newfound shyness taking over your body at Wooyoung’s reaction. You watched him take his bottom lip between his teeth as he got himself more comfortable at the foot of the large bed.

“Go ahead, I want you to start without me.”

You felt your face flush red as he grabbed one of your ankles gently and pushed it farther away from the other, camera still in his other hand. You spread your bent legs slightly, sliding a small hand underneath the thin, laced fabric. You began to feel all over your folds, the wetness increasing by the second. A soft moan threatened to escape your lips, but you trapped it with a closed mouth whimper and shut your eyes, leaning your head back against the headboard. The demon in front of you leaned in, making sure to keep the camera in focus and brought a soft, but strong hand up to your mouth. His thumb grazed your bottom lip, pressing down to open your mouth up and slip said thumb in. The sudden touch making you open your eyes and look at him, half lidded in lust.

“I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t try and hide them, you’ll only piss me off. Also,-��� His warm hand left your mouth and was brought to your hip, grasping onto the side of the pink lace panties. The warmth only increased the longer it was there, not long after I realized what the man was doing. Not long after a tearing sound could be heard, Wooyoung flinging the now darkened, wet fabric across the room and sitting back at the end of the bed, steadying the camera.

“Those needed to be off, I want to watch you play with that pretty pussy of yours.”

He positioned himself, along with the camera, at a place that he’d be able to get a good view of your now wet slit. You looked Wooyoung in his eyes as you circled your clit with a drenched finger, his face alone only turning you on more, you wanted to put on a show. For him. He broke eye contact to look lower down your body, to get a visual of the entertainment the camera was getting.

“Aah, Wooyoung..”

You whimpered softly as you slid a finger into yourself, grabbing your swollen breast with your free hand. Wooyoung watched in awe as you called out his name while pleasuring yourself. You pumped your finger slowly in your soaking cunt, letting out every soft whimper and cry you had in you as you continued to massage and pinch at your hardened bud with your other hand. You could feel a small knot in your stomach begin to tighten, causing you to let out a long unexpected whine. A visible bulge could be seen under the man's jeans and no matter which way he sat, it was unable to be hidden.

“Fuck this, It’s my turn.” The dark haired demon set the camcorder down on the nightstand next to the bed, angling it to face the two of us. He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off of his body to reveal a beautifully toned midsection, tanned and glistening with the little bit of sweat radiating from his warm and excited body. He slid off his jeans quickly and climbed back onto the bed.

“Lay down.”

He ordered, to which you complied without an argument. Wooyoung trapped your body under his, him automatically attacking your neck with rough bites and kisses. As his tongue lapped over a spot close to your earlobe, he unlatched your bra and flung it, tossing it wherever all the other clothes had flown to.

While leaving tiny red bites from your ear to your collarbone he managed to get two warm fingers between my legs, and started to massage your now throbbing clit. You let out a soft groan, biting your lip as you instinctively spread your legs a little more, now fully vulnerable to Wooyoung. He pulled his mouth away from the spot on your collarbone that was now stained with purple. Using his free hand he grabbed at your face, squeezing it with one hand and turning it, making you look in his eyes.

As his eyes connected with yours, without warning he slid both fingers into your now dripping pussy. Your teeth captured your lip once more, hard enough to possibly even draw a little blood. His thick fingers were now filling you in a way that you definitely couldn't do on your own, the man using his free hand to pry your mouth back open.

“I said I want to hear every last sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.” His tongue slid across your bottom lip, causing your lips to part a little, giving him the chance to slip his warm tongue in.

Wooyoung's hand found the back of your head and tangled itself in your still damp hair as pulled you in for a deeper kiss. He slowly pushed his two fingers further in you, your breath hitching and body jerking forward onto his fingers, as if begging without words for him to go deeper. He complied to your neediness almost if he had read your mind. You squealed into the kiss, catching the feeling of his underwear encased bulge twitch underneath you.

While still pumping his fingers in and out of your heat, Wooyoung grazed your sensitive, swollen clit with his thumb softly as he pulled away from the kiss to attack your left breast with rough bites and sucks. He used his tongue to play with your nipple, before taking it into his mouth with a soft groan leaving his mouth in the process.

You threw my head back and let your own cries of pleasure fill the bedroom. The bulge in his boxers felt as if it was getting bigger and bigger as the moments went on, your moans and expressions just for his fingers alone made him lose patience, imagining how you would look and sound if he went all the way… And right now, Wooyoung needed that.

He slid his fingers out of you, your pussy now feeling empty without him. You pouted as he let your nipple leave his mouth with a small pop, whimpering at the sudden loss of his touch. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he licked off all the juices that resided on them, seeming to enjoy every last second of it.

“You taste so fucking good… I just know you feel even better…”

He lifted up while sliding down his boxers, letting his hard, twitching dick pop out of them and tossed them away into the now building pile of discarded clothing. You looked down with wide eyes and battled yourself internally at the sight. This is not at all what you could’ve prepared yourself for. He was both thicker and bigger than you expected and knew you were in for a rather long night.

“Be easy..” You muttered out, choking back on your words.

“Aw, is someone scared it’s gonna hurt? Don’t worry princess.. I’ll start off gentle.” Wooyoung looked down at you with pure hunger and greed in his eyes. He was ready to absolutely devour you as soon as he could, as if you were a big plate of dinner, at risk of going cold before he could get a bite. His strong hands gripped at your waist, lifting your lower half off of the mattress a little, lining himself up with your now dripping entrance. He teased at it, rubbing up and down your folds in an effort to coat his throbbing cock with your slick, warm juices in hopes he’d be able to slide into your tight, tight heat just the littlest bit easier.

“Are you ready for my dick, pretty girl?”

Before you could muster up a response, he was already entering himself inside of you. He threw his head back and let a loud, obnoxious groan spill from his lips and slowly pushed the rest of himself in, pausing every inch or so to let you adjust to him. You chimed in with your own sweet sounding cry, making his skin tingle.

“Aaaghh.. Fuck- you’re so fucking tight…”

He bottomed out and still kept pushing, wishing he could fill you with even more than he already has. His eyes closed tight, trying to get used to the feeling of your warmth around him. You clawed at his wrists and hands wrapped around your waist holding you tightly, as if you could slip away and disappear at any given moment.

You two sat still for a few seconds, room stuffy from the tension building between. He quickly dropped his head back down to you and trailed his tongue across his lower lip, half lidded, lust filled eyes making contact with yours. He gripped at your waist tighter. There was no hurt, no pain, just pure pleasure happening between you and this literal demon.

“I-I’m going to move now okay? Is that alright?” His previously smug demeanor tossed out of the window, now a bumbling mess of a man eager to get himself off.

I nodded quickly. “Please Wooyoung.. Please have your way with me…” You let out loud moans of pleasure as he began to pump himself in and out of you. You bucked your hips forward to meet his thrusts halfway, to make sure he was receiving the same kind of pleasure he was giving. Wooyoung’s hands leave your waist as he drops down, pulling himself closer to you. His arms now rested on either side of your head, him burying his face in the side of your neck, grunting and moaning as he fucked you into the mattress.

His strokes were rough, calculated, rhythmic even. Aside from a few messy strokes he gave you, to let you know he was thoroughly enjoying his time inside of you.. Maybe even a little too much.

You couldn’t deny that you were feeling the same. He started to pick up the pace, clapping and slapping sounds bouncing off of the walls in the room. You’re almost sure your screams of his name and other randomized curse words could be heard by all of your neighbors, but you didn’t care. Wooyoung squeezed your ass, slapping it full force as your grip on his shoulders tightened while he continued to bottom out inside of you, making you cry out in ecstasy.

“Oh my god.” You called out as he pulled you all the way into on him, pussy throbbing as he pulsated inside of your heat. He held you close to him for a moment, his dick still buried deep in you, beating a mile a minute as if it had its very own heartbeat. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening rapidly, arching your back in pure bliss. The warmth from his chest on yours was about to send you over edge and he could tell.

“I’m so close, Wooyoung! Right there please!”

He took this as an opportunity to change positions, him flipping you so you were bent over with him behind you. Before you could protest him denying you the orgasm that was beyond ready to break, he pushed your back down into an arch and pushed himself back into you with no warning. You yelped out in both pain and pleasure of being filled up again so quickly and unexpectedly. Your hands flew backwards to grab at his, but he managed to get both of your hands in one of his own, pinning them against your back, shoving you deeper into the mattress.

“Fuck, you feel amazing on my dick, ____. It’s like this pretty pussy was made just for me… Go ahead and cum on it baby girl.” He whispered as his warm tongue slipped out of his mouth to lap at the back of your shoulder. You let out a high pitched moan as he pulled almost all the way out of you and thrusted himself all the way back in, not giving you even a second to beg for mercy.

The thickness of his member stretching out your tight, saturated walls was enough to drive you ballistic. You clawed and scratched at his hand holding yours hostage, as he fucked into you while groaning loudly. The knot you had been holding for so long finally snapped, letting your juices shower out all over his dick, as he continued to pump it in and out of your increased wetness.

The sounds of his groans and growls were music to you ears as he released your hands and gripped onto your throat tightly, the searing heat from his warm hands now wrapped around your neck. A loud euphoric screech escaped your parted lips as he continued to fuck me deeper and harder with every stroke, pounding me mercilessly.

He used his hand around your throat at leverage to pull your body up against his, his spare hand snaking around your waist to hold you up. His hand moved from your neck to your face to turn it back to his, smashing his lips into yours for a steamy, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed together, lips were being bitten and tongues were being sucked on as he plowed into you violently, eliciting sultry, disgusting moans and whimpers to leave your lips.

Wouyoung pulled away, biting down on his lip hard. Both hands met your waist as his thrusts started to get more untimely and sloppy, his breathing getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He called out as his pumping got more out of rhythm. You took this chance to fuck yourself back on to him, giving more of the work to yourself to pull his own orgasm out of him the way he did yours.

“Come on baby, cum for me. You deserve to fill me up, so do it.”

This must have brought him to the edge, because the minute those words left your mouth, his entire body shivered against your own. He quickly pushed his twitching dick into me completely, and let his hot seed paint my soft velvety insides. Pulling out slightly, he made sure to pump the rest of his length with his fist to make sure everything was out, and inside of you.

“Stay right there beautiful..” He dropped down onto the bed, reaching over for the camera he put down earlier and held it up to your now leaking pussy, capturing all of himself leaking out of you. He slapped the camera shut and flipped over next to you. You went limp against the mattress, turning your face towards his. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and flashed you that smug smile of his.

“Well, congratulations on Employee of the Year. You definitely deserve it after a performance like that.”

[rainrot4me]

The hc on Clockwork drawing Toby makes me wonder. What IS your opinion on Toby x Clockwork/Ticciwork?

Oh, where do I begin. To me, Ticciwork is like a gunpowder x lighter situation. They’re definitely exes who keep getting back together and splitting up again, but I feel a deep love for one-another that nobody else really gets.

Nat’s calculated, hardened, with a tight grip on her emotions—but she feels deeply. She’s the kind of person who would scoff at feelings while secretly craving stability, protection, someone who sees her scars and doesn’t flinch. She works with control—mechanical precision, trauma that forced her into maturity far too fast.

On the other hand, Toby’s chaotic, impulsive, and often out of touch with his own emotional landscape. He’s rough around the edges, but there’s this raw honesty in him that Nat would notice—and might even crave. His tics, his temper, his noise—those could unsettle her at first. But over time, I think she’d see the vulnerability beneath all of it.

Howeverrrrrrr, they’re manic. Put two crazy, traumatized people together and you’ll get an explosion before you get anything kind.

They break up at least three times a year. And every time, it ends the same way: with bruised lips, sharp words, and one of them slamming the door. But they never stay away. Toby throws things. Not at her—never at her—but around her. He can’t handle the silence. Can’t handle the thought of losing her. Natalie stands like stone, arms crossed, eyes burning. “You always ruin this. Why can’t you ever just be satisfied?” But two nights later, he’s outside her window, soaked in blood and rain, shivering like a kid. And she lets him in. Always.

They’ve seen each other at their worst. Not the messy proxy shit—the real stuff. The things no one else knows. She knows about the way he cries in his sleep but never lets the tears fall. He knows she doesn’t wind her clock when she’s overwhelmed—lets the ticking stop because she can’t bear to feel the time pass. They never talk about it. But they both remember.

Most nights, he finds her in the bathroom, floor tile cold against her legs, trembling hands trying to hold herself together. He sits beside her. Doesn’t say a word. Just slides a hoodie over her shoulders and rests his head on her knee.

Now for everyone’s favorite part, the sex.

It’s angry. Gripping. Desperate. Like they’re trying to punish each other for still loving this much. She claws at his back like she’s digging through all the silence between them. He leaves bruises on her hips like he’s trying to prove something—like maybe if he marks her up enough, she won’t leave again.

Afterwards, she curls into his chest, breath hitching.

“You’re the worst fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yeah?” he rasps, lips at her neck. “Then why do you still co-come back?”

“Because no one else sees me like you do.”

He goes quiet. Pulls her closer. “Shut up.”

They date other people. Clockwork flirts to make Toby jealous. Toby fucks someone else to prove he’s “over it.” But it always feels wrong. Off. Like they’re wearing someone else’s skin.

They can be halfway across the country from each other and know when something’s wrong. She’ll wake up with a tight feeling in her chest. He’ll get that electric buzz in his bones. And eventually one of them shows up.

No matter how bad it gets, how many times they blow up, if someone else lays a hand on the other? They’re dead.

It’s toxic. But also? No one else has ever loved them like this. No one else ever will. They’re both so fucked in the head that nothing normal or soft would satisfy them. So, sure, they’re horrible and awful to be around, but no one else sees them the way the other does. That still doesn’t mean that Natalie won’t beat the absolute shit out of him. She has shot him before, she will do it again.

꩜ .ᐟ

[maxdibert]

The maradeurs fans are so obsessed with diversity that they forget that being part of a marginalized community doesn't necessarily mean you are a better person. Like, they need to make their favorite characters gay or poc, and Snape can only be a cishet white man, as if that somehow makes it morally acceptable to bully him. That's not how it works. Diversity doesn't give you goodness points.

I mean, if they truly believe that Snape was a despicable person who was racist from the beginning, with no redeeming qualities... then he can be all of that, and also be black and/or queer. And if they insist the maradeurs' bullying was no big deal, or that Snape deserved it... then his race or sexual orientation shouldn't be relevant. They are the ones who are defending that bullying is okay under certain circumstances, so they gotta own up to that.

The problem isn’t that they actually want diversity —which would be great if it were honest— it’s that they use it as a get-out-of-jail-free card to excuse the crap their favorite characters pull. Suddenly James is queer, Sirius is Latino, Remus is trans, all so they can pretend that systematically bullying a marginalized, poor kid for seven years was somehow “less bad” because they were oppressed too. As if belonging to a minority gives you a VIP pass to be an asshole to someone more vulnerable. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work like that.

What’s worse is they don’t even realize they’re weaponizing serious stuff like race and sexuality only when it helps clean up their faves’ reputations. But God forbid they consider that Severus could’ve been racialized, queer, neurodivergent, or anything else, because that would blow up their little narrative of “he was just a misogynistic, incel supremacist who had it coming.” And yeah if it turned out Severus was part of a minority too, their tired excuse of “they bullied him because he was a bigot” would fall apart. Because no, darlings, they bullied him because he was a poor, awkward kid with no social clout, no rich daddy, no famous surname, and because James was bored and could.

And the hypocrisy is unreal, they’ll claim they’re against bullying, against oppression, against everything… but they’ll justify literal public torture in the middle of the Hogwarts courtyard because the one doing it is hot and gay in their headcanon. And then they cry when someone dares to point out that maybe Severus had a reason to grow up bitter when four rich brats made his life hell with the staff looking the other way. It’s always the same: you only want diversity when it helps whitewash your faves’ crap, but if it means admitting your precious marauders were classist abusers, you suddenly forget what representation even means.

So yeah having a dick, a pussy, darker skin, lighter skin, or hooking up with whoever you want doesn’t magically make your character a better person or erase their shit track record. And if you’re gonna defend bullying depending on who’s doing it and who’s getting it, at least have the balls to admit it and stop dressing it up as “representation.”

[cherry-amores-blog]

Title: “Where You’ve Been”

❥︎Pairing: !Platonic Dad Jason Todd/Red Hood & Reader

❥︎ ︎Content Warnings: !None

❥︎ ︎Summary: You ran away from home.

❥︎Author notes: If you like this work and would want to see more, my requests are open.

Jason wasn’t the best when it came to emotions.

He tried-God, he tried, but it was like speaking a language he was never taught. There was always a gap between what he meant to say and what actually came out. That gap felt even wider with you. And you, well… you felt things deeply. Loudly, sometimes. Quietly, when it was worse.

You were an emotional kid, always had been. Jason used to tell himself that was a good thing, that it meant you were still soft in a world that tried to make people hard. But when things spiraled-when the tears came or the silence set in, he never knew what to do with it. He always felt like he was one step behind.

This time had been one of the harder ones.

Something happened, you wouldn’t say what. You just went quiet. Shut down. He noticed, of course. He always noticed. But instead of pushing, instead of being there, he gave you space. Too much of it.

He thought you needed time to cool off. Instead, you ran.

And when he woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a wide-open window, Jason felt something tear straight through his chest.

You were gone.

No note. No messages. No tracks. And for days, there was nothing but the crushing silence of your absence and the sound of his own thoughts-every one of them worse than the last.

He barely slept. Barely ate. When he wasn’t searching, he was pacing or parked in front of the door, hoping somehow, you'd just...walk through it. Like nothing happened.

He was sleeping on the couch again that night, if you could call it sleeping. It was more like passing out from exhaustion. Then-

Click.

The sound of your bedroom window sliding shut jolted him awake instantly. His heart leapt into his throat.

He didn’t even stop to think. He was up and moving before he’d fully processed it.

When he got to your room, the light from the hallway spilled across the floor, casting you in its glow.

There you were.

Backpack hanging off one shoulder. Hair messy. Clothes wrinkled and slightly damp from the rain. You froze when you saw him standing in the doorway.

Jason’s chest rose and fell, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Every part of him wanted to yell—to scream, Where the hell have you been? Do you know what you put me through?

But he didn’t.

He closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and forced himself to remember what mattered most.

His voice came out low, steady—hoarse from too many sleepless nights.

“Are you hurt?”

Your eyes filled with tears so quickly it was like someone flipped a switch. The second the question left his lips, you dropped your bag and ran straight into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you choked out, voice cracking and trembling as you collapsed against his chest. “I didn’t mean to-I didn’t think-I just-I didn’t know what else to do-”

Your words fell over themselves in a panic, but Jason caught all of them. Or maybe it was enough that he caught you.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, tightly, almost too tightly—but you didn’t care. You burrowed into his jacket like it could protect you from every bad thing in the world.

Jason let out a shaky breath, one hand pressed protectively against the back of your head. He pressed a firm kiss into your hair, his lips lingering there like a promise.

“You’re home,” he murmured. “That’s all I care about right now.”

You nodded frantically against his chest, still crying, still whispering apologies he didn’t need.

“I should’ve been there,” he added quietly, guilt sitting heavy in his voice. “You shouldn’t have felt like you had to go through it alone.”

“I just…” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know if you’d care.”

Jason pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still cupping your shoulders. His eyes were red-rimmed but fierce.

“I always care,” he said. “Even when I don’t say it right. Even when I screw it up.”

You sniffled and gave a weak nod.

He wiped a tear off your cheek with his thumb, then pulled you in again, slower this time. Softer. Like he was scared you might vanish again if he let go too quickly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not alone. Not like that. Next time… talk to me. I don’t care how messy it is. Just let me be there.”

“I will,” you whispered. “I promise.”

He kissed the top of your head again, this time closing his eyes.

And for the first time in days, both of you could finally breathe.

[pucksandpebbles]

𝒃𝒆𝒕 𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂, 𝒒𝒉⁴³ - 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒

<<< previous part next part >>>

Bet you miss me Bet you're reminiscing I bet you hate the way that you said goodbye And you still can't even tell me why

a/n : it's hereeee! this is the penultimate part, there will be a nice chapter to finish it all off but this is basically the end of the story so thank you everyone. i was inspired by the very changeable british weather... i am sorry this is not proofread lmao, looking for a beta reader coz I'm lazy af.

thank you for all the love and support, especially on this series, you guys keep me going so remember to show this and all the other writers on here some love coz we need that in the world rn. So like, comment, reblog and hit up my inbox - I love y'all :)

wc : 2.2k

The sky outside crackled with anger, letting harsh streaks of light through the sky, followed by the ominous rumble of thunder. Quinn was curled up, alone, on his sofa, bundled in a blanket and his Canucks hoodie as outside the rain lashed his window so furiously, he thought that it might break. The weather was horrific, had been all week, long downpours of rain which left puddles outside the rink that he always managed to walk through and a gusty breeze which always seemed to put people in a bad mood - chilling them to the bone, but more importantly fucking up their hair for their walk-ins. Someone in the locker room had complained incessantly the other day that if the wind persisted he’d have to resort to the beanie as it was messing with his perfectly styled quiff. Quinn had rolled his eyes at that.

But still, the weather outside had been dampening his quickly souring mood. The whole week he’d been wallowing a little in his own grief at the end of your relationship - or whatever it was supposed to be. And now, at the end of the week, sitting alone and trying to wait out the dreadful weather outside - when if you were here you’d be passing over a warm hot chocolate, putting on a rom-com and sharing the small blanket between the two of you - made him feel shittier than usual about the situation.

Sniffling back an onslaught of emotion, Quinn took to scrolling through his phone lifelessly. He ignored the messages from his brothers, and tried to push back the thought of moping over the photos of the two of you still safely in his camera roll and instead mindlessly scrolled through his Instagram For You Page, liking photos of blondes in bikinis. But even Quinn knew that his heart wasn’t in it. He had really fucked it up. Jack might never forgive him, maybe the two of them were more alike than he thought, both managing to break the same girl’s heart.

Quinn threw himself into practice the week following your explosive break-up, there was no other choice to him. There was little to go home to and the thought of going out to the bar or finding a girl on hinge to hook-up with made him feel sick. He needed to be on top of things before the game at the end of the week, on top of his game, to get a much needed win in the bag. He’d get up earlier in the mornings, head to the rink earlier than anyone else - just get out on the ice, get himself warmed up on the cold ice and try to clear his head before any of his teammates got there. 

It didn’t work though. He’d come off the ice more frustrated with himself than before and he knew that he was being grumpier than usual in the locker room but just couldn’t manage to brush off the irritation that coated him. If his teammates in the locker room could tell, and Quinn guessed they probably could, judging by the quiet looks they kept passing each other, they kept it pretty quiet. 

He’d drive home seething, gripping his steering wheel until his knuckles turned white - he could’ve slammed his head into the horn in the centre of the wheel over and over if it meant salvation. But it wouldn’t. You and him were finished. 

“We’re so over, get out.”

“Fine, consider us done.”

Quinn knew, logically, that bottling it up, pushing it down and trying not to talk about it wasn’t going to do the situation any good. The problem was, however, that he had no-one to talk to about it. You were the one he’d go to about everything, anything, you always had an answer for it and now he was lost. 

The crackling storm outside and the blanket wrapped around his legs reminded him of the last time stormy weather had come to Vancouver. Quinn had been all in his head about an issue with one of the guys on the team, and as a Captain, was struggling to work out how to deal with him. It was driving him insane. When you’d come home, though, hair damp from the rain, you’d slid onto the sofa beside him, drink in hand and told him to spill. Then, like it was easy, provided the most life saving advice.

“You should be Captain, Jesus.” Quinn laughed, rubbing the side of your arm gently, with a playful but sincere smile which told you he half meant it.

You fell into his side, collapsing, exhausted from the long day and sighed, “Too bad I’m dreadful at hockey. Plus you are an incredible Captain Quinn, you just need to have better conviction in your words and actions.”   

Quinn missed that. You weren’t his therapist by any means, but you understood and just for a little while helped him hold some of the weight. 

Now that you were gone, Quinn felt like he might crumble under the pressure. 

Quinn scrolled past your latest post, breath quickening and chest tightening as he caught sight of your bright smile. He was utterly fucked and had nobody to talk to about it. It wasn’t a topic that he was comfortable talking about with anyone on the team, Jack would for certain kill him, it was never going to be a parent safe topic. On the other hand, there was no way that he could navigate this on his own, unless he wanted to continue to wallow for the rest of his life.

He opened up his contacts list, scrolling through dumbly, in the hopes of finding somebody. His finger stopped on ‘Lukey’.

Luke. Maybe. 

Being the youngest, Luke was still in college, enjoying college hockey at UMich which Jack had missed out on. Despite being the young one, their mum had always joked that he was the most mature around the opposite sex, and he was surprisingly grounded, could give good advice when needed. Maybe his younger brother wasn’t the best one to reach out to in this situation, but he was the only one that Quinn could reach out to.  

Quinn pressed dial on his phone, holding the device up to his ear as he lay slumped on the sofa, back slightly aching from holding the position. There was a soft click as Luke answered his phone, thousands of miles away in Newark. 

“Quinn, is everything okay?” His voice echoed through the other end.

Quinn’s voice cracked in return, “Not really, can we talk?”

There was the slight noise of some shuffling and a soft voice that Quinn couldn’t identify, probably a college roommate and then Luke replied, gentle and understanding, “Of course.”

“I’ve kinda fucked things up with a girl,” Quinn admitted, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, warning off an oncoming headache thanks to the humidity that the thunderstorm had brought.

There was a muffled chuckle over the line, “I’m sure you haven’t. You’re talking about Jack’s ex, am I right?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna kill me.”

Luke’s laugh came out clearer the second time, “Not if you fix things. She’s very amicable, and I know you well enough to know you haven’t fucked it like Jack did.”

Quinn whined, heat pulsing behind his eyes and kicking at the blanket over his feet frustratedly, “But what if I have. Lukey I just need someone to tell me what to do?”

“Come on then, spill, how did you screw it up with her?” Luke countered, voice a little muffled.

“We were just supposed to be friends, but-”

With that, Luke’s voice mellowed significantly, “Oh, shit Quinny.”

Quinn's voice pitched upwards and he writhed with annoyance, “Oh so you do think I’ve bombed it. It’s over and it’s all my fault.”

“Hey, hey come on now, I never said that.”

There was a delicate silence that hung in the air between them, the only noise being the crackle of the storm outside Quinn’s apartment and the muffled background noise over the line with Luke. Quinn tipped his head back, letting a sigh up into the humid air of his apartment and relaxing into the sofa with a mild huff.

Luke broke the silence first, “Have you tried talking to her?”

It was a sensible suggestion. Actually, it was a very sensible suggestion. How in the hell had Quinn not even considered that. Tensions were high that night, it might be a good idea anyways to smooth things over. He hadn’t even thought.

“Luke, that is genius!” Quinn whispered with excitement.

“Uh, is it? I-”

Quinn interrupted, leaping off the sofa, “Thank you, I’ve got to go. Bye!”

Luke’s voice came out distant and confused, “Oh okay, bye-”

Quinn almost rushed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him, forgetting both his coat and his car keys until he was down by the door. It was too late then, he was a man on a mission and he was not going back for them.

In the pouring rain and the incessant thunder and lightening, Quinn ran through the darkened streets of Vancouver for god knows how long until he reached your apartment. Despite how his legs burned, despite the treacherous weather, despite his lack of preparation and the fact that he had not considered that he had practice to contend with the next day, he would not let up. He only came to a stop once he reached your apartment building, panting furiously and he stood outside the block, rainwater and sweat dripping into his eyes. He eyed the little button to ring up to your apartment wearily, reaching out hesitantly to push it with shaky fingers.

He waited for what felt like hours, but was likely only five minutes. And then you appeared, on the other side of the glass, looking at Quinn like you’d seen a ghost. You were still in your work clothes but had your head pushed back into a ponytail, like he knew you always did as soon as you got home. His heart ached in response.

Apprehensively, you approached the door, opening it and letting it swing open.

“You should come in. You’re, uh, pretty soaked through.” You said, inviting in the poor man.

As soon as Quinn was given the chance, he took it, stepping inside he drew in a deep breath, “Listen, you don’t have to hear me out, but please do, just give me a chance because I fucked up so badly earlier. I don’t care what I said before, I need you with me. We were never just friends, we were never just fucking. You were always and still are everything to me. I was so scared that if I voiced it, it would all go away, but then it did anyways and I realised that I don’t have anything to lose. I just want you back, I want you to be my girl. And if I have to get on my knees and beg I will because I think I love you and I think i’ve loved you this entire time.”

Quinn's voice was strained, raw from the running and teary - he looked a complete and utter mess as he poured out his heart.

You stepped forward, similarly drained as you spoke, “I didn’t want to have sex with anyone else. I couldn’t because they weren’t you.”

“Yeah?” Quinn smiled, stepping forward.

“Yeah.” You repeated. 

“And for the record,” You stepped forward, taking Quinn’s rain-wet face in your hands, “I think I love you too.”

Then, with utter care and precision, Quinn tilted your head upwards and pressed his lips softly to yours. The kiss was sweet and innocent and apologetic. But there, in your apartment foyer was Quinn Hughes, dripping with water, in little more than a t-shirt that clung damply to his abs and sleep shorts that had ridden up to his upper thighs during your run. When you pulled back, he pushes the wet strands of his long hair back and let out a soft sigh, and you - for lack of a better word - pounced.

Lacing your hands behind Quinn’s neck, you pulled his head down and tilted your head to kiss him. Hungrily this time, desperate. Once your lips met, it was like fire. Your movements were quick and greedy as you worked your way into his mouth.

His hands slid down your body, feeling through the thin material of your shirt and eventually cupping your ass, lifting your body upwards. You wrapped your stockinged legs around Quinn’s middle, deepening the kiss and letting out a soft moan as his hands wrapped around you.

Your bones burned with desire. Quinn had the power to ignite a fire inside you, which is what made him so special, so perfect and so right for you.

Breaking away from the kiss with a sigh, you asked, “Shall we finish this in my apartment?”

Quinn groaned in response, “God I love you.”

You buried your face in Quinn’s neck, kissing there softly and whispering gently into his ear.

“I love you too.”

[evecolourshock]

First of all Beck, I'm apologising to you. I should have known better than to drag someone into the mess that is Nort's and my history like this, especially in a forum like this one, and that's on me. I'm sorry.

In regards to his scars... he swore to his User he was going to get those fixed, when we last met - when they were fresh. That's not an oath made lightly, for Encom Programs - it's about as binding as a promise can get, something that will be done by any means necessary. Either they're worse than he let on, or he broke his oath.

Further information about me (and him, where unavoidable) under the extension, if you want to read more.

To summarize, I'm someone Nort used to work closely with back on Encom, long before you were written. We were friends back then, or at least I thought we were, but... not so much any more. I still worry about him, but while we have the same goals we walk different paths to reach them.

When we worked together, he used to defend the system and screen what came into it. Anything he deemed safe was passed on to me to be directed where to go. Occasionally I'd join him in fighting, if he got pushed back to where I was, but that didn't happen often.

Users for us... weren't like Flynn. We never met them in person - any of them, a good hundred or so if I remember correctly. They were as unfathomable to us as the Sea is here, powerful though not all-knowing, and as inclined to create as they were to destroy. Nort's User took me in after my own disappeared, and he was the one that decreed we worked together.

We followed our Users' commands, even if they didn't make sense to us. Part of a purpose we could not comprehend. And Nort...

He trusted his User. More than anything. Struck down a tyrant with the power of his belief and trust in the one who wrote him, aided by a gift from the same. Even after meeting Flynn and having many things we thought we knew about Users proven wrong... he still trusted his User. If that's changed, if he no longer holds that faith...

He held out the longest, back then, when the MCP tried to break us and cause us to reject the ones who made us. He had hope that we could still find a way to beat the unbeatable, that we could help the Users take down that cold mass of logic and data - because they were fighting it, and we were their weapons. Together, User and Program, we could not fail.

If that hope is gone, then I fear the Grid will fall.

As for why you don't know this... you're right in saying Nort's entitled to his secrets - he certainly hasn't been given much privacy to keep them with, before recent events. I've tried not to reveal too many of them. It's also... a time he's not fond of speaking about. Everyone lost friends, but... he lost far more than anyone should have. That's all I'm going to say about it.

I... will consider apologising. If he finds me. Comparing him to Sark was uncalled for. However, it is rather difficult to apologise when you're derezzed, so I'd have to survive long enough to get the apology out for it to count - I could, but I also don't want to hurt him further and don't think I can risk sparring him at full power, which puts me at a disadvantage.

One of my nieces says she likes your hair. And is happy to have met someone else with brown eyes. I'd say they found you. Also one of my nephews (the inventor) won't stop raving about the tuning on Zed's custom lightcycles. Or Able's vintage lightcycle - mostly because he knows I have the model that came before it.

Happy really late fathers day to my dad's! You all know Able, but I can't tell you who my other dad is.

[fluffyblue-multifandommess]

"Yagami Light as a youtuber would probably plagiarise" WRONG Yagami Light is insanely intelligent and looks down on literally every single other human person, he would rather stab himself in the eye than using the works of someone else - someone who can't be anything but beneath him. Pre-Death Note youtuber!Light would make long-ass videos about Everything Wrong With Society with completely unhinged takes about how xyz small innocuous thing is responsible for gang violence with numbers* to back it up.

"Light would plagiarise" get the fuck out of here.

*numbers which he completely twists to his own bias - without even knowing it because he thinks way too highly of himself

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

pez dispenser update, yay!

I am Very Interested in the direction you're taking izuku here. He seems to have come out the other side of this breakdown going, "no look! I trust you guys! Here, I trust you guys so much! You can know about the severe injuries I had as a child that never got a police report!"

It's funny to read izuku's pov vs aizawa. Izuku is just like, wow this all needs to end so I can get back to being the Normal And Awesome Deku I have turned myself into, and aizawa is like thirty seconds from having his own panic attack at having a few months to turn this kid into a functional human being.

You can truly tell that with how izuku keeps insisting on that he's got this by himself, with no understanding how crazy it is to expect his friends and teachers to back out and let him take over, that he, still, still, STILL has simply 0 faith or expectation that his teacher is driven to help the little kid in izuku that he's buried so deep down there. That an authority figure who isn't all might wants to save him. I want to eat his unthinking, warped by trauma thought patterns, they are delicious.

Kinda touching that midoriya foresaw and tried to avert the all might conversation issue. Rip, dude really tried, but baby izuku is like one of those puddles in flooded old buildings you can find videos of people dropping a rock in -- it doesn't look that deep, but if you tried to put your foot in, you would be getting a whole lot more than your shoe wet.

Yeahhhhhh Izuku’s really not handling it the best.

Izuku genuinely didn’t keep everything a secret all these years because he didn’t trust his friends. It wasn’t that he thought they’d react poorly or hurt him with the information or spread it around or anything like that. This was purely due to his own internal issues around it.

But they’re three years deep into being in the fucking trenches together. And Izuku very much is considered a bedrock of the class. You can see it in their internal monologues—everyone trusts him implicitly. It’s Izuku. If one of them was going through something sensitive or painful, he’d be at the top of the list of people to turn to. For like, the entire class.

And while Izuku isn’t per se aware of the fact that the entire class views him as the best of them, he is painfully aware of the fact that they’ve opened up to him over the years. And that this is making it look like he didn’t tell them a single detail about his life before he came to the school. Which is fair, because he sort of didn’t.

So he’s overcompensating. He doesn’t need privacy because he trusts them so so much and this proves it, right?? They can totally know the sordid details of the past he’s in active crisis over.

He’s scared that he’s going to lose the people who have trusted him over the years because he seemingly didn’t trust them back. But they all trust him so much that they’re more beating themselves up than blaming him.

Todoroki and Mirio were in that scene like “uuuuhhhh you look like you’re a second from a panic attack we can totally give you space if it makes you more comfortable” and Izuku’s in a spiral like Why Would I Need Space I Trust You Both Implicitly Please Ignore The Obvious Distress.

Fundamentally, Izuku has never processed what happened to him as a kid. He didn’t tell them because he wasn’t ready to confront how bad it was back then. It wasn’t about trust. Telling them meant saying aloud what happened. He just wasn’t ready for that.

And from the path canon took, I don’t really see Izuku trusting adults. His childhood did absolutely nothing to make him think teachers would protect him. And for all Aizawa did right, I think this is one bag in canon he legitimately dropped.

I want to be clear—Aizawa was working at a severe disadvantage. He didn’t even have a lot to tell him the problem existed, let alone how to address it. But it’s specifically the Hero Killer Stain Arc that makes me think that Izuku only would trust Aizawa to a certain point.

After the Hero Killer Stain Arc, Aizawa canonically calls out Iida, Todoroki, and Izuku in front of the entire class. He doesn’t mention what it's about, but he makes it very clear that he knows what happened and that he disapproves. And his criticism is specific: In instances where you are out matched, it is better to run and get help. Iida, Midoriya, and Todoroki need to understand that

The thing is that Izuku and Todoroki both considered that as their first option and then correctly deduced that they'd be burying Iida if they did that.

I will actually die on the hill that is that Izuku and Todoroki did everything right when it came to the Hero Killer Stain. Iida caused the problem, but the fact that he made mistakes was the point of that arc for him. But Izuku and Todoroki?

They both reacted perfectly. And if they had done a single thing differently, they'd have two dead bodies.

When Izuku realizes that Iida's in danger, the city is on fire, Nomu are attacking the train, and his supervisor has fucked off to fight monsters attacking the city. He does not have an adult hero who is free to bring with him, and we know for a fact that he did not have time to hesitate or try to find other options, because he arrives the second before Iida dies as-is. When he's on scene, his absolute first instinct is to run. Izuku canonically clocked the fact that he was out matched, evaluated whether he could safely retreat, and realized he’d never be able to get out of there with Iida and Native. He’d have to leave one or both of them to die.

So he asked for help the safest way he could: sending out the mass text and stalling for time. And canonically, he wasn’t hoping a classmate would show up to the fight. He was hoping they’d report it to their supervisors and get him help, which is exactly what multiple of his classmates did.

Todoroki, for his part, correctly clocked that something was wrong with Izuku when he got the message. And he didn’t just fuck off without telling anyone where he was going. He evaluated the situation, realized the city was on fucking fire and there wasn’t a single hero free to go with them, and told the heroes with him that they needed to go to this exact location the first second they could. And he didn’t have a moment to hesitate or figure something else out, because he also showed up at the very last second before Iida took a sword to his spine.

Frankly, Todoroki and Izuku couldn’t have possibly handled the situation better, but they got absolutely shit on in the aftermath. I don’t recall a single adult who told them they did the right thing, except maybe Native. They had the fucking chief of police telling them they were no better than the guy who tried to kill their teenage friend with a sword and their teacher publicly calling them out in front of the class without the benefit of context.

If I was Izuku, I would have walked out of that entire thing having my preexisting distrust of adults affirmed. Like. There isn’t a world where Izuku realistically looks back on his actions and thinks “damn I really should have left Iida die.” He’s not going to change a fucking thing in what he did. Every single time, he’s going to go save his friend. The only realistic take away Izuku could have from Aizawa’s call out was “wow, that guy is not going to have my back if I have to make a tough call. So if I have to make one, then I’m just not going to him for help.”

Which is kind of where we're at in pez right now, and Aizawa's starting to realize it. Don't get me wrong, Izuku trusts Aizawa more than any teacher he ever had growing up. He doesn't think Aizawa is going to be actively malicious to him. But he also doesn't necessarily think Aizawa's going to have his back.

The crux of it is in chapter 4. Tiny Izuku says that Mr. Aizawa is already on Izuku's side, and Izuku's immediate reply is, "I promise you that Mr. Aizawa has never once been on my side." He back pedals fast, clarifies that he thinks Mr. Aizawa is fair and not on anyone's side, but his knee-jerk reaction is undeniable.

And to me? It's because Aizawa genuinely has not been on Izuku's side since he came to UA. And I don't mean Aizawa has been malicious to Izuku. Fundamentally, the issue is that he misdiagnosed the problem.

Aizawa has spent his entire time with Izuku mistakenly believing that the source of Izuku's issues was the same as Bakugou's. He is only now realizing that his issues were more like Shinsou's.

Fundamentally, Aizawa correctly recognized that Izuku's problems came from the fact that he was raised in an unjust system. But he misunderstood what Izuku's position in it was.

Here's what Aizawa knows, from the jump: Izuku and Bakugou came from the same school. Both have very powerful Quirks. Both have obvious issues with the other. Izuku specifically moves and looks like he had a professional trainer, meaning someone invested in his training as a hero. Bakugou talks like someone who's been told his entire life that the sun shines out his ass and never got punished for being a little shit. Izuku's more muted, but he came from the same school. Two kids with powerful quirks? Likely were getting away with the exact same shit.

When you have an unjust system, you have the people running it, the people benefitting from it, and the people being victimized by it. If the teachers at Aldera were letting kids with powerful quirks get away with murder, both Izuku and Bakugou were likely benefitting from that. And it is absolutely vital that Aizawa undoes that damage before they debut.

He doesn't even need to think Izuku, specifically, was abusing his position in this power imbalance. The damage is done from how the teachers at aldera were likely treating him. Teachers that produce kids like Bakugou tell talented, powerful kids that they're special, that they're above the rules, that they've got something so fundamentally important about them that they can get away with more. Even if you don't chose to abuse that narrative in the moment, that's a hell of a formative experience.

They're about to have a ridiculous amount of power. They are about to be in charge of enforcing the rules. And people who are in charge of enforcing the rules and think they're above them turn into Endeavor.

Aizawa's approached Izuku from a sort of tough love perspective from the jump. He didn't cut him an ounce of slack, and it's because he genuinely was trying to do right by Izuku. No, he's not going to get to smash up his body and make himself a hazard. Figure it out, or go home.

He's had plenty of time to learn how to manage his quirk, after all.

With Stain? I don't think Aizawa, if he knew the full circumstances, would genuinely say the right call is to have Iida's fucking funeral. I think he'd agree with the decisions Izuku and todoroki made. But he didn't have all the information, and, fatally, he didn't ask. He assumed.

He's got three powerful, bullheaded students who end up in a back alley in the middle of the night, having all separately ditched the heroes they were supposed to be joined at the fucking hip with. He absolutely thinks that they either planned it together or that, when they realized what Iida did, Todoroki and Iida went after him in secret to try to keep Iida from getting in trouble--and almost got them all killed in the process. There is absolutely no way Aizawa knows that they actually tried to run and get help at every turn.

Aizawa made assumptions. And a big reason why he felt comfortable making those assumptions was because he thought he knew what Izuku's problem was. He thought Izuku, like Bakugou, had been benefitting from teachers turning a blind eye to his misbehavior for years. But the problem was the exact opposite. Teachers had been turning a blind eye to his victimization for years.

He shouldn't have been treating him like Bakugou. He should have been treating him like Shinsou.

Aizawa's trying to correct the damage of past teachers. If they've spent years telling Izuku he's god's gift to mankind and it doesn't matter what he does because he's a hero and that makes up for it, Aizawa needs to hold him to the fucking rules. He needs him to understand that he's not special, he's not the main character, he's not intrinsically better or more important or above the rules in some magically important way. He doesn't want to hear excuses. He doesn't want to know why this time it was different. Izuku needs to understand that he has to live by the rules too, because he's going to be in charge of enforcing them soon.

But if they've spent years telling him he's worthless, that people can hurt him and it's okay, that he can never, ever expect help from them because he's not worth it? Then fuck, Aizawa needed to do the opposite. He needed the same end result, don't get me wrong--an understanding that the system equally applies to everyone--but he needs to make Izuku believe that the system will protect him again. That Aizawa will protect him. And Aizawa's combing over every fucking interaction they've ever had, and realizing that he hasn't done that, because he spent all his time trying to correct a problem that didn't exist.

I think Aizawa's been beating his head against the problem that is Midoriya Izuku for the past three years. Because Izuku's a hard-worker. He is brilliant. He is a natural leader. He is the fucking cornerstone of the class. He is shining so bright that it's going to kill him, because Aizawa knows how to recognize a star that's burning out.

For three years, Aizawa has tried and failed to get Izuku to realize he can and should ask for help. And he has failed because he thought the problem was that Izuku didn't think he needed help, when the problem was actually that he thought no one would give it to him.

In this last chapter, Izuku finally said aloud the reason behind the core issue Aizawa’s had with him his entire time at UA: Growing up, he thought that there was literally one man on the planet who would care enough to save him. He was the most hero-obsessed boy Aizawa’s ever met, and he thought All Might was the only hero alive he could count on to care if he lived or died.

There it is. The exact answer about every scrap of self destructive behavior that Aizawa’s been trying and failing to remedy for years. Why the fuck would he ask for help when he needs it? He’s spent his entire life living in a world where people wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire. Aizawa needed every day of those three years to reverse that kind of damage, and he’s out of fucking time.

Aizawa is legitimately terrified that he fucked up and that it's going to kill Izuku.

Izuku’s Quirklessness is the missing piece of the puzzle that makes everything fall into place—which is why he’s so pissed at All Might for not telling him. Aizawa’s actually kicking himself for not noticing the obvious discrepancies in Izuku’s past. The fact that he grew up with a powerful Quirk was the factor that made him return to the same incorrect conclusion again and again. There were enough hints that he feels guilty for not figuring it out anyway, but if he had known about Izuku’s Quirklessness from the start? He would have figured it out in seconds.

Now that he knows, Aizawa’s changed how he handles Izuku. He doesn’t let there be a single doubt about what he’s doing or why. He makes Izuku explain himself, so that way there’s no more miscommunications around what he means. He makes sure to compliment him whenever he does something right—he’s trying to change courses, but he’s panicking that it’s too little, too late.

And now he’s got this goddamn criminal investigation that Izuku wants to bury, and it’s killing him. Because that’s his student, and he was hurt horribly. And his student just cannot comprehend why Aizawa cannot let it go.

And then there’s All Might.

All Might’s conversation with baby Izuku, for me, forecloses the possibility that explaining OfA is a solution here.

All Might really went in and knocked it out of the park with the best possible attempt at convincing Tiny Izuku that he’s himself. He immediately failed, albeit, but he honestly couldn’t have done better.

There he is, Izuku’s lifelong hero. And he’s there to say the things Izuku’s spent his whole life wanting to hear. All Might met him, and Izuku inspired him. He reminded him of himself when he was young. He thought he could be a hero. He was so impressed he offered to personally mentor Izuku.

And he loved him. Believe you are him, because I loved you too much to ever let anyone take you from me. There is a fundamental flaw in your theory that simply no one cared enough to notice or stop him, because I love you with all of me. I would have noticed. I would have saved you.

If there is absolutely anything that could have convinced Tiny Izuku, it would be that. This isn’t about quality of the explanation. There’s an internal issue that needs to be fixed before Tiny Izuku will believe any of this.

And I think Izuku recognizes this, on a level. As much as he and Tiny Izuku clash, Izuku gets him. He can typically predict Tiny Izuku’s exact responses to things.

But he’s never approached Tiny Izuku like someone he can explain this to. He’s spent this entire time trying to cheat code his way out of this situation. He wants Mr. Aizawa to erase him or to go find the Quirk user and find away to negate the Quirk. He’s never actually even considered explaining this all to himself as a solution.

Because he knows that there’s some kind of fundamental impossibility about it. Even if he can’t say exactly what it is, he knows that there’s an internal issue that means he’s not going to be able to just tell Tiny Izuku the truth.

Voice of God, he is dead fucking right about Tiny Izuku not buying OfA and being liable to tell everyone out of spite. Tiny Izuku would have that shit on the news.

Fundamentally, Izuku is aware that there is a deeper problem driving Tiny Izuku. He knows that it’s not about the quality of the explanation. There is something deeply, profoundly wrong because of what happened to him that makes him absolutely unable to accept that Izuku is him.

But Izuku has never known how to solve the mental wounds his childhood left him with. He still has them himself. He’s been burying them for years, and he can’t anymore.

When action opens in pez, Izuku himself is not okay. He’s just… bleeding internally. He knows how to hurt in ways people can’t see. But you can see how much his childhood is still bothering him in his defense of Mirio. He has never been able to let go of what happened to him. The wounds never healed.

And he doesn’t know how to go to these people he loves and tell them that what they’re trying fundamentally will fail, because he knows he’s been hiding this fucking shipwreck of his own mental health for the past three years but they don’t have a fucking clue at the scale of the problem.

At the end of the day, All Might went in there because he wanted to save Izuku. And Izuku told him not to because he cannot imagine himself being saved.

[aserenecharmer]

Andrew got into the medical field to help those who don't have a voice for themselves and the people who no one believes. He has been there with his mother, and she was sicker then the doctors thought. She had passed away not long after they said she was fine, so that made Andrew want to prevent that. Abigail was that person, she was the one being looked at as if she didn't know what she was feeling. But no one knows their body more then the person living with it. Andrew knew this was a case he wasn't going to give up on even if everyone else does. Sure she was joking and laughing, but he seen the pain in her eyes, the same one his mother had all those years ago. That is why he didn't want to leave her alone, she had no one there with her either and that meant being alone and getting into her own head.

The way they were drawn to each other he knew he was threading dangerous waters. He knew that there was something there but right now she was the patient and he was the doctor. Doesn't mean he couldn't make sure she was comfortable and not getting lost in her own thoughts and not getting lost in the way she would if she were alone a lot. he knew Bailey would help with all of this. She took on the underdog to make sure that they had all the answers they were looking for. To make sure that they walked away with answers instead of more questions about what was going on. Sure, he was there to do that, but make her feel as normal as possible, which is something that he has worked on, more as he more into this program and just wanting everyone to feel comfortable. but he went over and beyond for Abigail.

But as Andrew predicted, Bailey was going to do everything she could to get everything she needed. Once Bailey left the room, Andrew followed and seen where she was going to go get everything and she had Andrew go and make sure she was ready for everything. He nodded his head and stood in the doorway for a moment and kept his eyes on her, just taking her in being he knew she was nervous and scared she was going to get turned away again, but Bailey was one of those people who wouldn't just do that. "Of course, you don't need to thank me. Doctor Bailey is one of the best and she wouldn't really just turn someone away like that. Besides, I have a bit a way to persuade people, and she didn't really need it but I will take the credit." A small chuckle was heard from him and she shrugs his shoulders. "Remember you said that about dinner when you're out of here and I am free one night."

Just as he was about to say something else, Bailey came back into the room and she was ready to do her test. She had told Abigail what to expect after everything and how long results would take, Andrew put on his doctor mode and grabbed some gloves to help her when she needed him. Though she was teaching him too she allowed him to help. Once she was done and gathered up everything and was going to send them off, Andrew stopped in the doorway and turned around. "I will have them bring you water and some food. You need to eat after that."

Continued storyline with @ofvaliantnoble

When Andrew seen his mom get sick and not make it past the sickness, he wanted to help others and make sure they got the best care they could have. That is why Andrew went into the field he was in and just wanting to be that person for someone to feel like they have hope. His mother didn’t have that and he was helpless when all that happened being he was family and he felt like he couldn’t help. So, now, he was in the best program and he was with some of the best surgeons and learning what he was good at to help these patients when they feel like they are alone. That is all it is, making them feel like their voices are being heard. 

Working with Bailey has been an experience and learning from the best. She was the best, and she was the hardest on everyone, but she knows everyone and what they are capable of. But this case today, he was glad he was with her, Abigail was there and she was trying to find answers. Meeting her by accident, he was glad he did, because her eyes were piercing and he knew she was there for a reason. Not that he judges because she was getting help. Andrew as just glad she had a familiar face in the room as Bailey can be a little bit of an intimidating woman. Not that it was a bad thing, he just wanted to do things right around her, and acting like Abigail and him didn’t have a connection was hard. But he had to. 

Just letting Abigail know the room is never the boring, she’d hear things and rumors and he wanted the gossip that was going around that day if it was possible. Maybe that was asking for too much but that is what he wanted. But he wanted her to feel comfortable and just relax as she was in good hands. “As long as you ask me and I can make it clear, can’t have you thinking some sort of thing about me when it isn’t true. Just, some people have a lot to say before consulting me to see if it’s true, so you have been warned on all of that. Don’t take it all to heart.” 

Nodding his head, he can agree to share his day with her if that will help her relax being she is alone. That is all it is right now, she was alone and needed someone and he wanted to be that person. “I will do that. You can hear some of the people who I work with and the patients we get. Some are good and some need help a little bit, but that is why we do this.” Winking at Abigail and he was gone to get Bailey and let her know her patient was ready and in bed and just waiting for her to hear her out. He hated she was alone and Andrew knew that Bailey wouldn’t like that either and want her parents to be there if they had to do surgery. That was the only thing. 

Andrew finally entered again and this time with Bailey and they could get their exam done and see where to start when it came to Abigail and hoping that they can figure something out for her. He knew if she was in good hands it will be Bailey and she would listen and she would take into account that she was struggling just a little bit but wanted their help. That is all they could do. Seeing the change in Bailey’s eyes, he knew that look and she had something in mind. That is when Andrew had to stay back and get somethings for her and that means a little more time with Abigail and getting to know her and hoping she knows she is in good hands. 

“Now, we won’t ever think you’re insane. You are here for a reason and if anyone can figure it out, it will be Doctor Bailey. She is one of the best and she will know just what to do. Now, I need you to sit back and relax so I can take your vitals and she can see where she can start and see when we can get things going. And if things change and you want me to call your parents, let me know and I will get them here for you okay? You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. You do know that right? Just, think about it okay? That is all I ask.” Feeling a grin tug at his lips and he flashed it at Abigail as he got to work and they were ready to start this for her and get her on the right road to recovery and whatever his going on figured out seeing as she has been pushed away before, they won’t do that here. Not at all.

[twilightakiishi]

made that template for three :3 venchiya rundown!!! more in tags if u care

[chelliebelle]

I DON'T SEE A RING ON YOUR FINGER | n. kento

꩜ SUMMARY . . having just finalized his divorce, a bitter kento tries to find the end to his sorrows in the bottom of a liquor bottle. but when a pretty young thing comes fluttering by his side, he decides there's no better time to get laid than now. ꩜ WORD COUNT . . 4.9k words of flith <333 ꩜ CONTAINS . . smut, divorcee!kento, reader is described as slutty, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and kento is in his late thirties), sexual frustration, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, rough sex, biting, spitting, they're kind of drunk, choking, bruising, pussy drunk!kento ꩜ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . kento's balls practically shriveled during his sexless marriage so best believe he's gonna enjoy himself!!

Nanami Kento had it all. 

A two-story house in the suburbs, a high-paying job, a beautiful wife—he had the perfect life. And damn did he hate every second of it. He hated waking up in that house to greet his nosy neighbors, hated driving to his soul sucking office job, and especially hated going home to his wife every night. She’d leave him leftovers in the fridge and kiss him goodnight before bed, and Kento would stay up every night wondering how to escape this limbo.

Tonight was the first time he felt free in years. Sitting at some shitty bar he can't remember the name of, he absentmindedly fiddled with his wedding band. Months ago, this little piece of metal meant everything. A loving marriage. A promise of a future. A sign of success. Now? It's just a worn-out ring that he can't throw out.

Kento sighed, setting it down on the table in favor of a glass of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat as he took a sip. He was never a drinker, but maybe it was something he repressed over the years. What else had he missed out on while trying to play Mr. Perfect?

Right, sex.

Kento was so obsessed with a picture perfect life that he even married someone he barely knew. She was pretty and nice enough—boring as fuck now that he thought about it—but that was enough for him to get down on one knee and take her down the aisle. What he didn't take into account was his own needs. All a man needed after a long day of work was some pussy, and he was no different. Mrs. Nanami was beautiful, sure, but one hell of a prude. If he was lucky, he got laid about once a month. Even then, she'd just lay stiff on the bed while he fucked her. If Kento didn't see the rise and fall of her chest, he'd assume he was sleeping with a corpse.

This meant that every night after his wife fell asleep, he'd go to his study to jack off to porn on his computer. It was enough for him to go to bed without a raging hard-on, but only having his hand to rub his cock raw all the time took a toll on him. Kento stopped initiating anything with Mrs. Nanami, opting to go straight online whenever he felt his dick twitch. For years, he lived like this.

Wake up, go to work, get home, say goodnight to wife, jack off.

Until a few months ago when his wife said she wanted a divorce. She must've been expecting him to start a fight, because her face fell when Kento nodded without a second thought. It was a long time coming. Sure, he believed he should've been the one to divorce her, but at least he was gonna be free. The days after she moved out was the happiest he had ever been. Waking up in an empty bed and coming home to an even colder bed filled him with a sense of contentment he thought he'd never feel again.

Cheers to being single, he thought to himself as he ordered another drink. As he waited, he couldn't help but sigh. The ink on his divorce papers hadn't even dried yet and he was already thinking of getting his dick wet. Kento hadn't had good pussy since he was twenty. The thought of cheating never even passed his mind during his marriage, opting the company of his own right hand over breaking the promise he made to his wife. Ex-wife.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips, eager to drink himself to sleep, until the scraping of a barstool broke his concentration. "Drinking alone, handsome?"

The voice was soft and feminine, making him turn his head in curiosity. It came from a young girl, probably still in college but wearing a tight dress that looked like it came off a stripper. Kento wasn't a boomer by any means, but he still found himself disapproving how there was more skin than fabric on her body.

Kids these days.

Retrieving his gaze, he let out a quiet hmm before turning back to his drink. That didn't deter you, a girlish giggle leaving your lips as you leaned towards him.

"Seriously, there's no way you're here alone. Is this a set up? Where are the hidden cameras?"

College kids were so weird these days. With a scrunch between his brows, he shakes his head as he lets out a low rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Sorry to disappoint, kid. It's just me, no hidden cameras."

When he turns his head to face you, he's surprised at how close you were to him. Kento could smell the vodka shots off your breath. It reminded him of when he was as young as you were, getting drunk off cheap liquor. A soft pink dusted your cheeks, along with a tipsy smile that made his chest warm for some reason. You seemed to catch him staring, reaching out to rest your hand on his bicep.

"You look like...really put together. Like you do your taxes and sleep early or something."

The choked cough he lets out when you touch him makes the whiskey burn up his nose, hand coming up to cover half his face. Just a friendly gesture from a girl made him act like this? Get it together, Kento. Scoffing, he shrugged off your hand as he looked away. You pout as he does so and the sight fills him with regret immediately. Before he can apologize, you knock your head against his shoulder, nuzzling against him like a spoiled kitten. Guilt pools in the pit of Kento's stomach when his cock twitches in his slacks. Not now!

"Do you have a name, handsome mystery man?" you mumble against his shirt, the action making his loins burn. He seriously considers pushing you away but decides you're probably too drunk to function right now. After a few beats pass, he reluctantly grumbles a "Kento" in response. You're quiet save for a soft hum and Kento is left hating himself for getting hard at how clingy you're being.

Poor girl, you're clinging to someone who you think looks dependable in this shady ass bar. Or at least that's what he thinks until you grab his wrist and bring it up to your face. For a moment, he assumes you're trying to get a look at the Rolex around his wrist, the sleek gold glinting in the air. He has to repress a sigh—until he realizes your attention is actually on his hands. Kento's fingers are lengthy from years of typing at his desk everyday, the digits at least twice as thick as yours. Pretty veins run along his knuckles and up his forearms, disappearing under the fabric of his rolled sleeves. You can't help but sigh, eyes flickering up to his with admiration.

"Your hands are like, really...big."

He immediately pulls his hand away with a bewildered look, clicking his tongue as he adjusted the watch around his wrist, ignoring the whine you let out.

"What does that even mean?" he huffs, his fingers twitching at the traces of heat from your delicate hand grabbing his. You giggle at his reaction, slumping against him until your chest presses against his arm.

"I wonder what you can do with them, m'sure you'd know how to use them good."

Oh. Oh. When his gaze connects with your breasts that are almost spilling out the top of your dress and the sultry look in your eyes, only then does he realize that he's being hit on.

"Look, kid. I'm m—" he catches himself before he finishes his sentence. Fuck, was he going to say he was married? The wedding band in his other hand suddenly felt much heavier and he quickly shoves it in his pocket.

"...much older than you, I'm almost twice your age."

Another mellifluous giggle leaves your lips and Kento has to hold himself back from shutting you up so that blood stops rushing to his dick.

"I think you're flirting with me," you tease, rubbing your chest against his arm. If he focuses, he swears he can feel your hardened buds brushing against him through your dress. Not even wearing a bra, you're begging to be fucked. The thought of being the one to take you home tonight passes his mind but he shoves it away. You're drunk and almost half his age, it'd be wrong. All rational thought comes flying out the window when your hot breath fans against his ear.

"But, I also think you're really hot, Kento. So maybe we can..."

Your words fall on deaf ears as his eyes flutter shut and his head tilts back. Kento was never a religious man, but in this moment he prayed to the gods above for clarity. You were offering yourself up to him like a hog on a silver platter, tied up with an apple in your mouth for him to devour. He couldn't help but imagine your glassy eyes rolling into the back of your head, your sweet lips hanging open when he drives his cock deep into your tight and wet cunt—

Fuck it.

Will he ever get another chance to bring a pretty young thing like you home? The thought is what drives him as he grabs your wrist to drag you out the bar and into his car.

When you approached the hot stranger earlier, you sure didn't expect that it'd end with you moaning with his hand between your legs.

Drunk out of your mind, your gaze had fell onto the brooding man at the bar, eyeing his rippling muscles under his crisp blue shirt. Now that was a back you'd love to scratch up. It didn't take long for you to stumble on your too-high heels towards the blonde man. You were never this forward but something about him had you squeezing your thighs together. Maybe it was the silent classiness that screamed luxury, the heat in his eyes that burned every time his gaze lingered on you—or maybe it was how he practically flung you over his shoulder and ran all the red lights to take you home.

But never in a million years had you expected that man to be this nasty.

His lips tasted like heavy liquor, tongue sloppily tangling with yours as he slammed you against the door, one hand coming up to cup your jaw. You were used to bad french kisses from frat boys, all teeth and smelly breath, but the way Kento was devouring you made you lightheaded. 

"What a dirty mouth, wonder if you pussy's even wetter."

He pushed your legs apart with his foot and let his hand wander up your inner thigh. You gasp when he finds your mound, panties thoroughly soaked. The scoff that leaves his lips makes your cheeks flush. He cooes as he drag a thick digit along the clothed slit of your cunt, swallowing up your weak moans with his mouth.

"I don't even need to prep you," he chuckles, shaking his head as his thumb prods at your bud hidden beneath your folds.

"You have such a smart cunt, s' already drooling for me."

Kento pulls his hand from between your legs and grabs the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. Head still spinning from the alcohol, you lose your balance, but the death grip he has keeps you upright as he carries you to his bedroom.

It's scantily decorated and you note that the bed it a bit too big for someone living alone, but you forget all about it when your back hits the plush mattress.

His eyes are wide as if he's trying to commit the sight of you to memory, every exposed sliver of skin and plush flesh permanently burned into his mind. Before you know it, Kento's hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, yanking your dress up like he's unwrapping the first real gift he's ever had. Your slutty dress is long forgotten on his bedroom floor, and fuck, he's hard. Painfully so.

How can't he be when your sweet body is all on display for him?

Kento can't find it in him to give a damn about some dress when all he can see are your perky tits, so soft and malleable. He doesn't spare a moment to admire the view, slapping your breasts till they jiggled deliciously. Before you can whine about how mean he's being, he attacks your tender chest, lips wrapping around the mounds of flesh. It catches you off-guard and you tug at his hair, but he only bites down around your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

"Don't." 

His voice is a low growl you never heard before, and damn if it didn't make your clit throb with need. Right on cue, he pries your legs apart and gets on his knees between them, mouth never leaving your breast. The way his hips grind against you is vicious, as if he's been waiting years for this. Which, in a way, he has. Kento has spent too many nights in his cold bed, jerking off to the thought of someone warm beneath him. Now that he has it? Best believe he's not letting you go tonight.

Your heat seeps through the fabric of your underwear and he can tell that you're making a mess all over the front of his slacks, his bulge covered in your slick. Clicking his tongue, he pushes your knees against your chest to come face-to-face with your clothed core. His thumb tugs at the lace of your panties, lifting your hips to slide it over your ass and letting the flimsy fabric dangle on your ankle.

He intended to teach you a lesson, but his brain short-circuits when he sees your weeping cunt. Your chubby lips were glistening with slick from his teasing, that pretty clit hidden under your swollen folds. Kento hasn't had a taste of pussy in years, so he can't resist leaning forward to roll his tongue against your slit.

Immediately he's gone.

He laps at you like a man starved, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread open for him. Mrs. Nanami was never this wet for him and it had messed with his confidence for a while, but your sweetness was all it took to bring him back. His cock twitches at the sight of you writhing under him, the front of his slacks now completely stained with precum. Kento nearly forgot to breathe with how absorbed he was in your pussy.

“You're like a piece of candy,” he mouths against your sensitive cunt, pushing the tip of his tongue into your warm entrance. “So sweet, can eat you up all night.”

Your thighs tremble and clamp around his head, the action only pushing him closer against your waiting heat, nose bumping against your clit. Kento moaned as he flattened his warm tongue against you, making out with your cunt with more fervor than when he had kissed you. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Kento completely forgets about his aching hard-on, hips instinctively rutting against the mattress with every swipe of his tongue. Your lips were so puffy that he couldn't resist biting down, latching his lips onto your neglected bud and sucking hard.

You almost cry out at the sensation, reaching your hand down to pull at his hair as you thrash under him, feeling your thighs quiver. "S'too much! Gonna make me come—"

SMACK.

His palm had landed flat on your cunt.

"None of that. You wanted my attention, now take it." 

The mean rumble of his voice along with the harsh slap against your sensitive heat sent you over the edge, coming onto Kento's face as your back arched off the bed. He was more than eager, lips hanging open as he swallowed up every drop of your sweetness.

Like heaven on his tongue.

Your taste was addictive, making him groan with every bob of his Adam's apple. Kento slurps up all the wetness he can get, chin glistening with your essence once he pulls away. The sudden orgasm had you panting, only coming back to your senses when you heard the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor, lifting your head up at the exact moment Kento tugged his ruined boxers down.

His heavy cock slapped against his sweaty washboard abs, leaking onto his abdomen. You had seen enough subpar dicks in your life to know that he was big, the idea of it stretching you open making your pussy drool. Pretty veins ran along the base, leading up to his thick tip that was already dribbling pearls. It was an angry red, sensitive from rubbing against the fabric of his slacks. You could've sworn his cock twitched when his eyes locked with yours.

He reluctantly rolls on a condom, mumbling something under his breath as he strains against the pink rubber. Should just fuck this pussy raw. Luckily, he still had enough common sense to stop him from begging you to let him go in without protection. Kento grabs your thighs, hefty length dragging down your slit as he positioned himself between your legs. With his cock resting on your mound, you can tell he's gonna be so deep in your tummy that you'll feel him tomorrow.

“I'll make sure of it, pretty girl,” he chuckles, slapping his member against your puffy clit.

Did you actually say that out loud—?

Your cheeks puffed up at his words, an embarassed flush on your face at your little slip-up. He's so heavy between your legs that you wonder how he'll even fit. Kento's hand reaches to pull you flush against him by the ankle, propping your leg up his shoulder, groaning as his cock dragged between your lips.

"You're so wet," he muses, pumping himself lazily before he lined himself up your entrance. "Bet you're gonna take me like a good girl, hmm?"

You gasp when he pushes his flushed cockhead between your swollen folds, struggling past tight rings of muscle. So tight. Fuck, he should've known—you were just a little brat who thought she could handle him. He hisses as your walls clamp down around his tip, nails digging into your hips as he tries to catch his breath. 

"Loosen up, sweetheart. You're gonna snap off my dick."

Kento stayed like that, tip twitching inside your warm pussy, before he pushes forward once more. He's bigger than any cock you've taken before. Unprepared for the stretch, your brows knit together when he bullies his way into your cunt. He barely makes it a few inches in before your eyes start to water. Your insides were being stuffed to the brim. You take a deep breath, weakly shaking your head as your thighs tremble.

"K-Kento, please—" Please? 

You didn't even know what you were begging for, did you? How cute. With a sigh, he pulls out from the comfort of your pussy. You let out a sigh of relief, before a warm liquid hit your bare lips. With the viscosity dribbling between your folds, you realized that was Kento's spit. Your gaze flickered up towards him but he focused on other things—like the way your clit twitched when his saliva hit the neglected bud. Eyes dark and brows knitted, he reached down to thumb at your sensitive nub, a choked moan leaving your lips.

"Ease up, that's right," he praised, using the wetness to roll his hips forward. 

Your walls fluttered around him, your moans egging him on as he continued to feed you more of his monster cock. Kento never needed this amount of prep with Mrs. Nanami, considering she always seemed so...bored. He was even beginning to think he was bad at sex! But the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head told him all he needed to know. A low groan rumbled in his chest when he finally bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix. After so long with only his hand as company, he worried he'd come the second he was inside you. The way you were squeezing his dick didn't help either. Kento swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths as he let you adjust to his size.

"How are you so tight?" 

When his panting reached your ears, you let out a slurred mumble, eyes unfocused as you tried to look up. He leaned down, forehead resting against yours to regain his composure. Body covering yours, he only buried himself deeper all the way to the hilt. It was like your mind went blank.

"Ngh—you're just too big!" you managed to shout, eyes glassy from how he kept nudging against your womb.

That was all it took for Kento to lose his mind.

Locking an arm around your leg, he fucked into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his hips snapped forward. His pace was merciless, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every mean thrust. 

"Yeah? How deep am I?" he growled, his grip on your waist bruising.

 All the way in my tummy, you try to say, but you were too fucked out to answer. Just a few thrusts had you dumb on his cock, glossy lips hanging open weakly. The sight makes Kento chuckle, holding onto your thighs as his skin smacked against yours.

It had been years since he had been in a pussy this wet and eager for him. He was in love with your cunt. The slickness as he slid past your folds, the way your walls tried to milk him—but the cock drunk look in your eyes was the cherry on top. Kento turns his head to the side, pressing kisses onto your calf as he fucked you. 

Come back, pretty girl.

When he notices your lack of response, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, emphasized with a harsh thrust that made you scream. "Kento, slow down," you cry out, heat churning in your belly from the cruel pistoning of his hips.

He only chuckles, shaking his head before he sped up his pace. The shocked look in your eyes made him reach down to rub tight circles on your clit for relief. Loud squelches and the slapping of skin-on-skin filled the air, the room reeking of sweat and sex. Kento's eyes locked on the way your ass bounced back against his pelvis with every thrust, cock twitching as he thought of taking you from behind. He continued to jackhammer into you, strings of profanities leaving his lips. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. As you mumbled incoherently on the verge of tears, a hand wrapped around your throat.

"Shh. Your sweet pussy's talkin' to me," he tuts, squeezing your throat to shut you up. 

His hand completely engulfed your neck, rough palm pressed tightly against your pulse. Gasping for breath, you could feel your head spin from the lack of air. You rake your nails along his back, digging crescents into his skin to try and make him let go. Kento hissed at the sensation, cockhead slamming hard against your g-spot. It was too much—the delicious stretch of his cock, the way his tip kissed your gummy insides with every thrust, his hand around your throat—the knot in your stomach snapped. Even when you tried to push the heat down, your climax ripped through you like white lightning. 

Your back arched off the bed, cursing out Kento's name as your orgasm shook through your body. The man nearly collapsed on top of you, a sharp groan leaving his lips as your walls clamped down and milked his cock so suddenly. His grip on your throat loosens and you thrash under him. 

You might die from how good he's dicking you down. 

Rolling onto your stomach, you stumble as you get on your hands and knees to try and crawl off the bed. A pair of rough hands grab onto your waist, followed by heavy panting that makes your blood run cold.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Kento spits, dragging you back against him. 

He'd be damned if he let the first good pussy he's had in years get away. Even when you try to thrash and break free, your body is too weak from coming so hard! His palm lands a harsh smack against your ass, your arms collapsing under your body as you cried out. Kento pushed your head down into the pillows, propping you up by the back of your knees. Face down, ass up. The sight of you so vulnerable with your glistening pussy on display made him lick his lips, quickly positioning himself behind you. 

"Naughty girl, trying to run away from me," he tuts, swiping his tip up and down your creamy folds.

As punishment, he reached down to pinch your clit, earning a choked sob from you. He rolled the bud between his fingers, resting his free hand on the plush of your ass. Cock throbbing for release, he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust, setting up a mean pace immediately.

Yep, might die from this dick. 

Every slam of his hips against yours had you sobbing into the pillows, the fabric damp with your salty tears. Your body was still reeling from your multiple orgasms, cunt fluttering around him. Even if it was too much, Kento was fucking you so good your insides had molded to every ridge and vein of his cock. Your tits jiggled with every thrust and he wasted no time in grabbing your hefty breasts, playing with your soft nipples. He buried his head in the tender area where your neck and shoulders connected, groaning against you. 

Kento was getting close, you could tell from how frantically he rutted into you. His cock throbbed inside you, pulsing against your gummy walls. You couldn't resist the urge to push your ass back into him, making his dick hit even deeper inside you. You were half sure he was bulging through your tummy at this point. The action made him suck in shallow breaths through his teeth, keeping a death grip on your ass as he bulllied your cunt.

"Fuuuck, I'm gonna come," he groans into your shoulder.

His face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily into your skin as he buried his cock deeper and deeper. Seeing such a composed man this broken made your cheeks flush. Your walls were heavenly, every clench pushing him closer to the edge. 

Screw his hand. Coming from your pussy squeezing him was better that jacking off to any porno he could watch online. 

With a strangled moan, Kento shot thick spurts of cum into the condom, as if he hadn't finished in years. He collapsed on top of you, the orgasm rendering him unable to even hold himself up anymore. It was like losing his virginity all over again. You whine as the rubber began to fill up with his load, heavy in your pussy. After a few moments to catch your breath, you tried to push yourself off him, worried he'd spill into you.

"We should probably take that off—" 

Kento shut you up immediately, grabbing your waist to drag your hips back on top of him. Now straddling his lap, his still hard cock prodded new places you had never even touched before, a pathetic moan leaving your lips. His blonde hair was messy and dripping with sweat, eyes glazed over as his cheeks flushed. You felt him twitch inside you when he met your gaze, the same fucked-out look in both your eyes. He definitely wasn't done with you yet.

"It's only midnight, sweetheart."

You'd be lucky to come out of here alive.

You spent the rest of the night going several rounds, trying every position possible before collapsing from exhaustion. What's for sure—sex would never be the same ever again. How could you go back to one night stands with shitty frat bros when an older man just gave you the dicking down of your life? 

The next morning, you roll on your side to see Kento sitting at the edge of the bed. His bare back was wrecked, littered with vicious nail marks and lipstick stains. You chew on your bottom lip, pulling the duvet over your chest. 

"Are we gonna see each other again?" you croak, voice hoarse from last night.

The muscles in his back tensed at your words. Kento didn't want to see the hickeys and bruises on your skin, undeniable marks of the years of frustration he took out on you. He actually slept with a girl almost half his age right after getting divorced.

Talk about issues. 

Though his stomach churned with guilt, the memories of last night flashed through his mind. How eager you were for him, your sopping cunt, your sweet whines. He was even starting to imagine what it'd be like to sink into you raw.

He couldn't deny how addicted he was to your body. Doing this once was one thing, but agreeing to meet you again? Kento let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Let me check my schedule, pretty girl."

TAGS: @lucakaneshiroswife @susanhill @hana-patata @kenzieluvsnanami @luvingmyships @sutaagaaru @secretfoxmaker @savannaounana @ilyjupit3r @h4n1vs @supernatrualqueen @mayhaps-nerd @1ennj4 @jiwooahae @gojomaki @raenfall562 @l0v3rgirl-owo @levisjinchuriki @yourgirljasmine5 @nanamiscsleeve @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jjkmenluver @vmpireslut @namorafushiguro @cindyneko-strider @zeunys @t4matar @c0ckdrunkk @mortallyshadysoul @red-writes @fferairy @vipblinkagase1111 @evieloves @jdopeisdope @cherryreads-blog @itsinherited @sparklyhologramstarfish @hannahhmelv @umiwu @sugurusjaz @miguelsonlywife @lyraa06 @illumissei @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @celestialhvns @nanamisd0ll @blushedcheri @grr457 @yogichi @kaislashes @briefrebelfanalmond @fictionalytmenhavemyheart @kekeanna266 @airandyeah @hollowwolf22 @ssstingrayyyyyyyy

[callsigndreadfrost]

Jelani and Angelus: There's a lot of lore before Angelus became a dad and Jelani became a mom (no, that's not a typo or a joke) so...lore time!

To be perfectly clear these two never had kids in their "future goals". Both had a lot of concerns: Angelus was concerned that he wouldn't make a good dad because of his past, the fact that he's a Moonborne and quite honestly he had a miscarriage before.

((Turns out that the first time he had sex with Jelani he got pregnant. No, he's never told anyone because he was beyond shocked, he didn't know he could actually get pregnant. It wasn't until much later that he found out that he has a half working uterus and that night it seemed to be fully working. When he found out he was pregnant for the second time he told Jelani what happened the first time. Obviously he was concerned for his safety but seeing as how it happened long ago there hadn't been any damage done to Angelus.))

So given that bit of information he didn't think he'd be able to carry to term.

Jelani also had concerns too especially with the fact that he's the Arch-Maker and acting leader of Oracle. He honestly had no clue if any kids he'd have would be divine or non-divine and the thought of them being born divine scared the hell out of him.

((His own experiences with divinity have not been the best so he projects his worries onto others. He was never given a choice so he doesn't want to do the same to someone else. You know, repeat the cycle and all that. Even if he controls it he'd be doing to his kids what was done to him, he would be the one making a choice for them instead of letting them have a say in it. He would 100% rather that the twins have a say in it which was a choice that was never granted to him in the first place. They could just be whatever they want to be when they're old enough to make that choice. So while the twins are born of both divine and non-divine they are neither until they get to decide for themselves if they want to embrace divinity, mortality, both or neither. Jelani wants them to have a choice and since he can make that happen he talked it over with Angelus and both agreed to do it that way.))

On top of all of that both Jelani and Angelus have a history of mental illnesses that they could theoretically pass down to their kids and neither of them like those odds. So yes, both of them were very much 99% against having kids.

So when Angelus found out he was pregnant it was kind of a tumultuous moment for him. I'll be honest, his first thought was to get an abortion because of all I said up there and he was dead set on doing it but before going through with it he wanted to let Jelani know what was happening. Husband or not he certainly didn't need to tell Jelani anything but he wanted to gauge his reaction to see if he was making the right choice. The thing about Angelus is that he can be pretty indecisive when it comes to major decisions that have permanent and/or long lasting effects. That anxiety of his can really be a pain in the ass for situations like this.

So he and Jelani sat down to talk and he told him what was going on and what he wanted to do, he also took that opportunity to tell him that this had happened before but he lost it and it was his. Like I said before, Jelani was concerned for his safety but given that it happened well over 100 years ago and he was fine he was relieved that he was okay and wasn't hurt. He felt bad he didn't tell him before so that he could've helped him out through that ordeal but what was done was done. Then Angelus started sort of wondering what would happen if he kept it and what would be Jela's thoughts on it to which Jelani firmly told him that no one could make that choice for him. Not his grandad, not his friends and certainly not him. He firmly stated that just because he was his husband it didn't give him the right to tell him what to do in that situation, however, he did ease his mind by telling him that whatever choice he made he'd be 100% supportive of him and he'd be right by his side no matter what.

That did ease Angelus's worries and anxieties about the whole situation so he told him he'd weigh his options and would sleep on it. However, they did sit down and have a thorough conversation about the pros and cons of having kids, talked about their own fears and worries and just let it all out. Both gave each other neutral, as neutral as you could be in that situation I guess, points and after talking all night long Angelus actually decided to keep it.

Angelus has had way less experience with kids than Jelani has had though honestly speaking they had an amazing support system within their families and friends. Jelani took to it a lot faster than Angelus did though that was because he was more afraid than anything. Angelus is not an abusive person by any means, please, he often says that he would not put another person through the living hell he was put through but despite all that he was very afraid at first but Jelani helped him through it and both fell into this comfortable zone where both learned along the way both on their own and from Jela's family, Aleksey and other friends who were already parents like Loke and Uthorim and Trevor.

When they eventually do become parents they'll definitely make great parents and to be honest they won't regret it for a second. Ayanna and Runar are gonna be a lot of fun for them.

Since the twins aren't canon yet I can't answer that last bit. Maybe I'll make it happen in two weeks or maybe in two years, I'm honestly not sure.

Trevor: He's always wanted to have kids, his limit is three and so far he has a daughter, Arcana, who is literally his entire reason for existing. When Seren decided to go through with it he instantly shifted into Dad Mode. He was READY! This man is DEVOTED TO HIS DAUGHTER.

Needless to say he took to it head on and fast, yeah, a bit scared but then again who wouldn't be? Still though he swore he'd do everything within his power to make sure that little girl had a loving family and environment. Sure, not the traditional type but still very loving, very supportive and very dedicated.

No, he does not regret it at freaking all! He's more than happy it happened. He looks after her and cares for her to the best of his ability and honestly goes beyond the call of duty for her and for Seren. Like, yeah, Seren can absolutely take care of herself, she's independent, headstrong and far more capable than most people but Trevor still looks after her and makes sure she has everything she needs. They actually end up having a really strong and honest friendship and get along as if they'd known each other for centuries.

And since Arcana is actually 10-years-old (she was born in 2015) I can answer that last bit. She's nuts about her dad, she loves the hell out of him and loves to spend time with him as much as she loves spending time with her mom. Since both of them are werewolves they have that bond between them as well.

((I wasn't gonna add Loke because Soren and the other kids were actually planned but I felt bad leaving him out.))

Loke: Kids were always in his plans it was just a matter of time, person and place. Unlike Trevor or Jelani and Angelus everything was planned and talked over before anything even happened. Sure, he was nervous but to be perfectly honest he's been around babies and looking after kids since he was 22-years-old. He was practically a third parent to his baby brother so he's had plenty of practice. He took all the experience he accumulated throughout the centuries as well as help and support from his family and friends and took to it damn near flawlessly and obviously has no regrets.

As a parent Loke is pretty much like Trevor is and how Jelani will be. He's in a very comfortable stage of his life, he's mature enough to handle it and childish enough to make the experience fun for him and the kids. He's aware and cautious enough to effectively protect his kids and he's learned from Jelani a sort of softness and sensitivity that goes a very long way into understanding a lot of things.

I'm not sure I can answer the last bit since I'm not too sure when exactly Soren was born. I like to think that he was born after Arcana but I don't think they have a huge age gap like the twins might have with these two. My guess is Soren, and eventually the other kids, will be absolutely nuts about Loke and Uthorim.

I wanna add the Skyrim and Fallout versions but this is already long enough so I'll do it in another rb. Also like this sparked something I've been playing with for some time now and I may go through with it but after the twins arrive. I'll make a separate post for that though since it's off topic.

For OCs that had unplanned kids or became guardians: how did this affect them? Did they take to it quickly or did it take them a while to adjust? Did they end up regretting it? How are those OCs as parents/guardians?

What about the kids? What do they think of their parents/guardians?

✉️

[thestuffedalligator]

The thing was a mound of flesh and mottled skin, as big as a barn and the shape of a pumpkin. Four tentacles as thick as trees hung limp at its sides; teeth ringed the gaping mouth at the top of its head like a crown.

A huge, sad whale eye the colour of wine stared at the knight. She could see her reflection in the jelly surface.

“We don’t know what it is,” she heard. “Some kind of monster that makes a perfect copy of whatever it eats. They think that was how the Dark Lord made his armies, feeding his minions to it so that it would make hundreds of copies of them. Do you recognize it?”

The knight opened her mouth. She hesitated. “Yeah,” she murmured, drawing out the word. “We found it in the Dark Lord’s tower, right?”

“That’s right. That’s where it ate you.”

The knight turned around and looked at her other reflection. This one appeared to be about ten years older, and had doffed her armor for a loose blue tunic and breeches.

She was holding a cup of tea. She had pressed another cup into the knight’s hand when she woke up here. It had been a shock finding herself suddenly out the obsidian dungeons of the Dark Lord’s tower and into this tall room of stone and straw. The warmth of it in her hands steadied her a bit.

“Everyone else in the party was worried, but then it started making copies of you,” the copy went on, staring up at the tentacled thing. “And all of the copies helped fight against the Dark Lord, and we won, and peace was restored across the land, but then nobody could figure out how to kill the damn thing or just to make it stop. Dozens of copies of us in a day, hundreds in a week, and then someone decided that the only thing we could do is just bring the thing here, seal it off and hope it starved to death.”

She sipped her tea. “Anyways, that was two-hundred years ago and it’s slowed down a bit. It can only make a new copy of us every few weeks now.”

The knight looked down into her tea. The copy had also draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“I have so many questions,” she said.

“I figured.”

“How can it be two-hundred years? I can still remember breaking into the tower. That feels like it was just minutes ago.”

“It was, basically. Your brain is a perfect copy of the original you’s brain at the exact moment she was eaten.”

“But the quest is just — done?”

“Yep. You missed some of the things that needed tying up afterward. There was a war, and a dragon, and some business about a ring.” She waved a hand. “It was before my time. Things are pretty settled now.”

“My parents?”

“Passed away about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. I’ve been told that they were very proud.”

The knight nodded. “Um. I don’t know if you know — we had an elf in our party—”

“I’m aware.”

“I — right. Obviously. Um. It’s just, after everything was done, I was going to ask her—”

“One of us did. She said yes. She outlived her. A couple of us have tried to reach out since then, but she wants to be left alone for a while.”

The knight considered this. “Uh — right,” she said eventually. Her fingers tightened around the tea cup. “Um. What do I do now?”

Her older copy shrugged. She had let her hair grow out again, the knight noticed. There were a few strands of grey against the black. “That’s up to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “A lot of us are finding work as soldiers and sellswords. We’ve done it for so long that most armies know we’re reliable and don’t tend to turn one of us away. Most of us are just sort of spreading out, wandering the world. Some of us keep in touch.”

The knight frowned. “What do you do?”

Her copy paused, tea cup half raised to her lips. “Sorry?”

“You said it only makes a new copy every few weeks now. So you just stay here and wait for a new one to show up?”

She lowered the cup. “Well,” she said. “I guess I just — I know what it can be like, waking up here in the dark, and it — it can be horrible trying to figure all of this out on your own.

“So I thought that what I’d do is just stay here with a pot of tea, and whenever I see myself again, I tell her that — that she’s not alone.”

“We aren’t?”

“Of course not. We’re all in this together, you know.”