#yeah SCRAM !

[cynicallyneutral]

can science explain the reason why i cant even bring myself to pick up this mf eraser on the ground, i literally just need to bend down and get it but nah...ill do everything but pick this up. ill get up, make a sandwich, get water, but picking up that eraser is too much work, ill do it later

[tornoleander]

Wow, you're the beta reader for bbnb? I didn't know that. (So you can confirm that Hat is infact not dead because I haven't seen any activity from them in a while and my brain always jumps to worst case scenarios)

Anyway, definitely didn't forget to respond for like a week, but here are some of my theories/scenarios:

-I still think Cole's the one who'll remember bits and pieces because A. He's a ghost B. Hat used he/him when talking about who will remember and C. It would be incredibly emotionaly impactful

-HOWEVER, I think Pixal could also remember some stuff. None of the emotional stuff but she did technically die when Nadakhan erased her. Besides, it could be fun to see her try to let Jay or Nya know she remembers while still stuck to Zane.

-also Zane's falcon died but he was never mentioned in this fic so 😔

-Jay DEFINITELY has c-ptsd. Like, 100%, I'm sure the nurse/psychologist whose name I forgor would agree with me

-I'm pretty sure Wu just died by some falling island or something like that. Or he could've died by the storm, that would be cool.

-I know he said that swearing is a sign of weak verbal skills but I feel like Jay would start swearing more for comfort. Like, Nadakhan hated it but never truly did anything horrible to him because of it :)

most of the scenarios in my head play out with the ninja being captured again

-for example, Jay using his internal electricity to shock someone when they all have vengestone

-or them getting tazed and Jay sending the current back like he did in the electric chair

-or they're all traped and saying shit like "there's no other option" or something and Jay replying with "suicide's still an option" like that's a normal thing to say which obviously worries the others

And then there's the non captured scenarios

-something something Jay falling into autopilot after being told/asked to clean to ship and ends up also cleaning the hull "Why are you cleaning the bottom? We're in the air and you're not even tied to anything???" ".... trauma response?"

-or just straight up Jay having a panic attack out of seemingly sowhere (Cole said he wished he could eat cake again)

Anyway, those are the things I could think of right now, there's more but it's 3:39am and I'm tired :3

Hope it's not too long lol

Yep! As of ch 15. Me and hat have been chatting for a while and I bug them for feedback on Art accuracy so I help them with some writing corrections too!

I have been working on beta reading earlier chapters as well currently half way through 4. It is certainly an experience but now I yell my feelings into comment instead of just the void

*reaches through horrific horror to correct spelling mistake.

Yup Hat is alive! They were just fixated on something else for a while but they are back.

Ok now for scenarios

-Cole remembering bits……. I will refrain from giving my thoughts.

-Pixal and Zane’s falcon died pretty early so I do think they may remember up till then but It probably wouldn’t help understand much.

-I don’t think Wu died? But it’s not impossible.

-CPTSD?

I will ask hat about this one but seeing as bbnb events qualify as at least 4/6 of these causes of it AND ptsd is a tag I’m going to give it a yeah. Cause non complex ptsd is typically less prolonged.

-the swearing I do think he might do more but not necessarily for comfort

-For your head scenarios I am not sure all the ways hat is planned show how the events of the fic messed him up. But I know they’re a big fan of consequences for events…

From what I’m guessing he is going to be trying his best to hide everything and it’ll be somewhat canon compliant? But to be fair He is pretty consistently the most mentally unstable ninja. Take This with a big grain of salt I’m saving the analysis for my skybound video, but his behavior does generally line up well with SA surivers. the first time that Jays a prisoner post Skybound is when he says “You don’t argue with a man who’s navel is that close”

Which

Drives me insane by the way

Side tangent, I’ve been doing a lot of Skybound digging for my eventual video essay. And my current best theory on why this is a line has to do with SA of men being played for laughs.

Like older audiences are supposed to hear that and find it fucking funny. It’s unfortunately not uncommon in kids programming. My quest to best explain why S6 is so uncomfortable has been… enlightening. Terrified of approaching a controversial topic so I have been learning a-lot about approach and how to not be awful. But my fixation is being channeled led into the eventual Skybound video.

Hope I answered what you wanted to know and It wasn’t purely my Adhd rambling

[atechalk]

love love LOVE when babies roll up on susie . she's ALWAYS going to be evil about it . but then . it could be a lancer effect so fast

[muttering-folklore]

friendly reminder that if you believe in endogenic systems/that systems can form without trauma, we’d prefer if you didn’t interact with our content. it’s just a personal preference & please don’t bring syscourse onto our blog i beg

[mad-hunts]

Jesus christ 5 again

❝ woah... not me apparently being compatible with an arkham employee, ❞ barton let out an incredulous scoff upon seeing the results of this 'bingo card,' squinting his eyes at some of the boxes. like, what did she mean she doesn't hate his mask? and matches his freak? barton might believe it if elizabeth didn't work at the worst rehabilitation clinic on earth, but unfortunately, she did. but then again — he didn't really know much about her, did he? barton's lips curled downwards in displeasure as he let out an uncertain hum and tilted his head to the side. ❝ what exactly are you trying to accomplish by sending me this, hmm? to show that you are 'different from the rest of them?' ❞ he rolled his eyes at the very concept, looking towards the wall for something. aha... there it was.

❝ yeah right. how about you quit and THEN we'll talk, huh? but for now, get out of here! before i use your eyes for my next doll. i've got a lot to do, and you're preventing me from doing it, ❞ barton picked up the object that he was looking for, which turned out to be a broom, and then proceeded to use it to try to get her to go away. he pushed it in her general direction and waved it around as if he was trying to spook her. and honestly, it might have looked a little bit like this:

[ectoviolet]

i just realized i have no idea when i last pooped. like it’s been. several days.

[mooningningg]

"ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ?"

...In which someone calls you 'baby' in front of them.

sukuna, toji, gojo, and nanami.

genre, fluff. notes, jealous jjk men series?

Sukuna.

You had to beg him to wear the stupid headband. “You’ll look so cute,” you’d said. “I’ll look like a fucking idiot,” he replied. And yet… here he is. Sukuna Ryomen. The King of Curses (or, well, King of Trash Talk), six-foot disaster with literal pink cat ears on his head and a soda in one hand.

You're mid-laugh when someone calls out, “Hey, baby!”

You turn — and your ex is standing there. Grinning like a damn fool, like he didn’t cheat on you with a girl who draws her eyebrows on with Sharpie.

Sukuna’s soda stops mid-sip. His entire soul pauses.

“The fuck did you just call her?”

Your ex blinks. “Uh… it’s just a—”

“Just a what? A brain cell you’re missing? You blind, dumb, or both?”

He’s marching over now, cat ears bouncing, which should make it less intimidating but somehow makes it worse.

“You don’t get to call her that. You had your shot, buddy. And you fumbled it like a crusty little clown.”

“Sukuna,” you hiss, but he’s fully activated.

“This is my girl now. Mine. Look at me. Look at these ears. Do you think I wear this shit for just anyone?”

Your ex sputters. “I-I was just being friendly—”

“No, you were being a bottom-shelf loser with the emotional maturity of a wet sock. Scram.”

And he does. Walks away without a word. Sukuna adjusts his cat ears, scowling. “Tch. That guy had the same energy as a lukewarm gas station hot dog.”

You burst out laughing, grabbing his hand. He squeezes it — and for a second, you catch a soft grin beneath all that bite.

Toji.

You’re standing in line for churros. Toji’s behind you, arms around your waist, chin resting lazily on your shoulder.

A guy walks up — some old college friend you haven’t seen in forever. You go in for a quick hug.

“Damn, baby, you look good.”

Toji straightens up. You feel it immediately: the shift. The silence.

Then:

“The fuck did you just say?"

The guy chuckles nervously. “It’s just a joke, man—”

Toji’s hand slides back to your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. He leans in, whispering — but loud enough for the guy to hear:

“You got jokes, huh? Want me to tell one? Knock knock.”

Your friend blinks. “…Who’s there?”

“The guy who calls my girl ‘baby’ again. Say it one more time, and I’ll show you the punchline.”

You slap his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

The guy’s laugh dies completely. “Uh, yeah, okay — see you around.”

“No, you won’t.”

Toji’s lips graze your temple as the guy speed-walks away. He grabs your churros from the counter and hands them to you with a smirk.

“How many people you flirted with in college?”

You grin. “Only, like, five.”

“…Make that four. One just relocated to Canada out of fear.”

Gojo.

You’re holding his hand, swinging it back and forth, when someone shouts from behind you:

“Baby! Yo, it’s been forever!”

You turn around — and it's that guy from your campus club. The one who always joked about marrying you one day. Ha ha. (Gojo never laughed.)

“Oh my god, hi!” you greet. “This is—”

“Baby?” Gojo interrupts, smiling wide. “That your government name for her, or are you just publicly embarrassing yourself?”

The guy chuckles awkwardly. “It’s just a nickname, no offense.”

“Sure, sure,” Gojo hums. “And I call your mom ‘Sweet Cheeks,’ but we’re not making it official either.”

You slap his arm, but he’s not done. He casually loops both arms around you from behind and starts pressing kisses to your cheek — obnoxiously loud ones.

“My baby, huh?” kiss “The one who wakes up drooling on my chest?” kiss “The one who stole my hoodie and never gave it back?” kiss

Your friend is fully regretting this interaction. You giggle, red in the face, and Gojo beams.

“But hey,” he says with that dangerously sweet smile. “Thanks for reminding her how lucky she is.”

The guy flees. Gojo rests his chin on your head and says, smug as hell:

“I should’ve called him sport. Or champ. Next time.”

Nanami.

It happens at the souvenir stall. You’re comparing overpriced keychains when a voice pipes up behind you:

“Still cute as ever, baby.”

You turn around, confused — and it’s someone from your old job. That guy who always tried to flirt when Nanami picked you up.

Nanami’s right behind you. No expression. No hesitation.

“Don’t call her that.”

The guy blinks. “Chill, man. It’s just a joke.”

Nanami steps between you two, straightens his tie. Looks the guy dead in the eyes.

“A joke implies humor. I don’t find you amusing. She’s not your ‘baby.’ Not your anything.”

It’s not loud. It’s not aggressive. But it lands.

The guy raises his hands. “Alright, alright.”

Nanami turns to you, places a warm hand on your lower back.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

You leave, no drama, just quiet satisfaction. Later, when you’re eating dango on a bench, he wipes your cheek with a napkin and murmurs,

“You’re mine. I have no intention of sharing that.”

[wetpapert0wel]

@ my ex ay yo get ur shit off my calendar lmao

[dcxdpdabbles]

Tim: Hello, I'm Tim Drake. I just moved to town with my family. Mind putting him down?

Dash: What? This doesn't concern you, so why don't you run off, nerd?

Tim: If it's happening in front of me, I think it does concern me. You have five seconds to put him down.

Danny: Hey, I know you're new and that you're trying to help, but I go through this all the time. Its better for your health if you-

Tim: *flips Dash*

Danny: Moby Dick!

Dash: Ugh wha happn'?

Tim: You have five seconds to scram before I break your bones.

Dash: Why you-! Ow ow ow ow okay okay let go!

Danny dazed: You just beat up Dash Baxer to help me?

Tim: I don't like bullies. You alright?

Danny: Um yeah?

Tim: Great. Well, I best be off. Have to find my classes. See you around pretty boy.

Danny even more daze: Pretty? Me?

Hours later: *Im Fenton Lab*

Sam: Danny, just because the new guy is hot and a decent person doesn't mean he's automatically a ghost

Danny: No one that perfect moves here unless they are a ghost. Wake up, Sam.

Tucker: He did sort of pop up out of nowhere. I can't find anything on him online and get this. He's supposed to have moved with his family, but there are literally no records of them or Tim Drake anywhere.

Danny: I knew it. He's a ghost! Just like that, Red Robin guy thats been running around the city breaking into places.

Sam: I'll admit that Red Robin is a ghost. No sane human would ever be willing to wear that in public.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[gumigirl]

middle school sweethearts! megumi f. × fem!reader

an: since this is a middle school au, megumi and reader are both around 10-12. thought i should let that be known, i guess. incase it wasn't obvious.

“ew, get off of her!” megumi would scowl, disgruntled as he shoved yet another boy off of you— he was dangling a worm infront your face from one of the flower beds. overdramatic as ever, the boy would fall to the ground, scraping his knee.

“what's your deal, fushiguro?!” the boy huffed out in annoyance, teeth gritted, worm somewhere unknown. meanwhile, you were dusting off your dress with a small frown etched onto your lips. megumi couldn't help but notice, stepping between you and the unknown boy. “scram, loser. what's your deal, huh?” he scoffed, big blue eyes narrowing into a small glare as he 'shielded' you from the boy.

“megumi, i'm fine.” you sighed exasperatedly from behind him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, lips curled into a small pout before protesting— as always. “you don't always have to do that, i can handle myself, y'know.”

megumi's shoulders would fall lax at your soft touch, letting out a sharp breath he didn't know he was holding. both of you were stubborn, and he knew he'd never stop trying to protect you. “you're being silly. just let me help you for once.”

“it wasn't a big deal, it was just a worm.” you retorted, brows furrowing in childish manner as your arms folded across your chest, small splotches of dirt smudged onto your frilly dress. it was new too, your mother was going to throw a fit.

“whatever..” megumi scoffed incredulously, his lips almost twitching into a small pout as he tilted his head over his shoulder to peer at you through the corner of his eyes. “you could atleast be greatful..” at this point, the boy that who was on the ground had scampered away, probably to tell a teacher that megumi pushed him— not like he cared, anyway. he was much more focused on you.

“i am greatful,” you huffed, your voice softening ever so slightly, frown softening into an equally as childish pout as your best friend's. “but you're gonna scare everybody off if you keep being so mean.”

“not that it matters..” megumi groaned at your scolding, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you, your hand still gently lingering on his shoulder. “you have me. that's good enough, right?”

“...yeah, i guess it is.” you sighed in defeat.

[fatopiaplus]

Rafael de la Vega & Emeraude Foster

[emmyrosee]

Imagine having a kid with Sukuna and him urging you to have a day out after giving birth and taking care of the baby so you can have a fun stress free day with friends, and then him having a daddy daughter date. I thought it’s cute 🥰

oh… oh you KNOW HOW I FEEEEEEEEL ABOUT A DAD!AU (bro this got so long im sO SORRY-)

———

“Okay, there’s three bottles of milk in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

“And her melts are in the cabinet!”

“I know, I live here too.”

“Oh! And her stuffed lamb is her favorite to nap with-“

“Babe,” Sukuna laughs, wrapping an arm around you. In his other arm, Akiara is held securely, with an arm under her thighs to keep her perched against his chest, the pacifier in her mouth bouncing as she rattles a small toy in her hands. “I got this. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you need me, call me.”

“I’m not going to call you. Go have fun,” he encourages. Deep down, he knows you’re terrified to leave the baby with anyone for more than 15 minutes, always keeping her in close proximity and within earshot. The farthest you’ve gone is to shower while Sukuna indulges with tummy time, and it seems that every time, you’re surprised the house hasn’t crumbled in the brief period.

But Akiara is five months now. And your friends begged you to come shopping with them, missing you from outings with the group. Sukuna knows you trust him implicitly, but your separation anxiety is physically felt in the air this point. He pulls you in for a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “go. If the house catches on fire, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I can handle a few hours with my own spawn.” You tense slightly, and he offers you a stern look, “do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“Then let me take care of everything. Go.”

You offer him a shaky sigh and make your way over to Akiara in his arms, “mommy loves you so much, okay?” You whisper. She babbles and grabs your hair, and Sukuna can see the nervous tears welling up. “I’ll be home in two hours tops.”

“Don’t time yourself,” he chuckles. “Go with your girlfriends. I gave you the credit card, go buy some clothes, or a necklace, or those expensive ass pastries you love so much.” Then, he nods his head towards the door, “scram. Before you cry your mascara off.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Okay-“ you blow them both a few kisses as you slowly make your way to the door, “I love you both so much. Behave. Oh, and nap time is at 1:30-“

“Babe. Go,” he snickers. He watches as you open the door and walk backwards out, your eyes focused on the two of them until the door shuts fully, keeping you outside and them on the inside. Sukuna sighs in relief and he adjusts Akiara to be held arms length, “you, stinky girl, need a bath,” he hums, and when the little girl coos, he brings her tiny body up to his mouth to playfully bite her chubby belly, hiccupy laughter filling the air briefly before he pulls a face of disgust and holds her back out. “Yeah. You stink. Like a lot.”

Sukuna wastes no time in setting up her bathtub and cleansing the tiny child with her soaps, letting her splash the warm water for some time until she reaches up for him. He barely gets her out of the tub and into a towel before his phone buzzes wildly. He sighs and answers it, “do I have to block your number?”

“No!” You whine. “I just wanted to see how things were going. I just got to the restaurant, wanted to make sure everything was okay before I ate.”

“Well the dog got out, I broke a vase and our kid went to college, so not great,” he says flatly, and when you huff in annoyance, and smirks, “everything is fine. She just had a bath, I’m trying to dry her off, and then we’re going to watch some of those dancing fruits she likes so much. Goodbye.”

“Wait- you bathed her before you fed her?” You ask.

He pulls his mouth into a straight line, “yes. Because she smelt like shit fart-“

“Sukuna!” You snap.

“If I have to bathe her again, I will. It’s not the end of the world,” he tries to soothe. When you click your tongue he chuckles again. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” you say, ending the phone call. He pockets the device and looks down at his child. “Shes your mother alright,” he says. His daughter merely babbles and chews on her fingers. He gets her settled into a clean diaper before hoisting her back and onto his hip, making his way to the living room, resting her on his massive stomach and clicking on the TV for some entertainment. There’s a baseball game on, surely you won’t mind if he indulges while his baby lays on his chest.

The colors are good stimulation.

“Who you got money on?” He asks Akiara, who blinks eyes like yours up at him. When she smiles a gummy smile, he shrugs, “I don’t know. They’ve got a really good pitcher.” His thick fingers gently stroke up and down her spine, so gently and warm that he feels Akiara’s breathing slowly even out, his little girl falling asleep on his chest. He winces, he knows you’re not going to be thrilled about an early nap time, but who the hell is he to wake a sleeping baby?

A sleeping baby who sleeps for hours. You’re going to be pissed at him.

By the time the game is over, Akiara is still fast asleep on his chest, tiny hands balled into fists as her long lashes lay on her cheeks. Sukuna’s gotta give you credit, you haven’t called or texted since her bath, and now it’s well into four hours since you’ve left and you’re still out with your friends. He’s proud of you.

He’s not sure how long in total Akiara was sleeping for, but not long after the game, she slowly twitches awake, eyes fluttering open before fixating on him. He watches fondly as her body slowly wakes up, starting with her sleepy eyes that blink open, followed by her mouth which opens to let out the smallest yawn.

“Good morning, sleepy girl,” he hums, gently cradling the back of her head. “Was that a good nap?” Akiara merely thunks her head back against his chest in response. He kisses her head softly before standing up, shuffling to the kitchen to grab one of the prepared bottles from the fridge. He pops it in her mouth, where her tiny fists assist him in holding it. The child drinks the milk happily, wide eyes blinking as she downs the beverage hungrily. He smirks, “definitely my kid.”

With that, you come home.

He can tell by the jingling of keys you’re trying to hurry in as fast as possible, and he snickers at your struggle. Once the door finally creaks open, you haul your bags into the home and kick the door shut, smiling as your eyes land on your little family. “Hey you.”

“What’s up?” He hums, kissing you as you get close. “How was it?”

“It was great!” You squeal, and he can’t fight the way his heart squeezes at your excitement. “I got some new dresses, a pair of heels, some perfumes- oh, and I got you a cologne-“

“That’s my girl,” he says, but he can tell your attention is focused on the small girl he’s currently burping, and he shrugs, “you want to take over?”

When you nod sheepishly, he gently passes Akiara over to you, and you coo down at her, “hi, Mumma’s girl,” you coo, and she burps loudly in your face. “Well excuse you!”

Sukuna can’t fight the laughter that barks from his throat, snickers tearing through until you’re smiling and shaking your head, and he pulls you in for another hug.

He loves that his small family fits in his arms.

[countingfailuresnotstars]

I'm genuinely fucking tired of people telling me yes and then changing answer at the last fucking minute especially when it's stuff I needed help with

[landoughnut]

Nurse He's Out Again

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader (fc - brooke shields :)

♡ summary - just lando thirsting on the main and giving being a pr nightmare, also him fighting for his life in the comments

♡ warnings - horny/simp lando, crack, some fluff, some cursing, one kms mention

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | wanted to do a social media one cause i love reading them so much so here we are! i really love this actually so i hope you enjoy xoxo

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[ilovemitsuya]

Hiii!!! Can I request a ff where reader is sick and is trying to hide it from Sylus but he notices right away and insists he take care of her.

sylus x reader

The first signs were easy enough to ignore. A dull ache in my chest, a persistent weariness that clung to me no matter how much I rested. I told myself it was just stress, but as the days passed the symptoms grew worse. My strength began to wane, and the pain became harder to hide. I stared at my computer not noticing a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay? You’ve been staring at your screen for a while now.” I look over my shoulder to see Tara staring at me.

“I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.” I said as I looked away from her.

“I think you should take it easy. You’ve been overworking yourself a lot.” She thought for a moment, her finger resting on her chin. “I know! Me and the others are going to do karaoke you should join us.”

I thought about it for second. I could really use the time to go out but I couldn’t even speak, let alone sing. “I’m sorry can we do it next time?”

Tara put on a frown “Awh, next time you better go. Promise?”

I looked at her with a smile

“Promise.”

Besides, I’m meeting up with Sylus later on. Suddenly i remembered that he had a business trip he was talking about. He said I had to go but I can’t let him see me like this. Otherwise he would stay with me and not even go himself. It was an important trip I didn’t want to ruin it for him.

I knew Sylus would notice eventually.

He was too observant, too attuned to every detail of my life.

So I hid it. I avoided his gaze when I would have to excuse myself when the coughing fits became too intense. I thought I was being careful, and that I could keep this secret until I found a way to manage it on my own.

But I underestimated him.

╔══════╗

“You're late, sweetie." he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “If I had to wait any longer I would’ve sent Mephisto out looking for you.”

Sylus said leaning back on his motorcycle.

“Yeah, that won’t be necessary.”

Sylus gave me one last look before he threw a motorcycle helmet my way nearly dropping it.

He patted the seat behind him when he noticed I wasn’t moving.

I was way too tired to even move.

“Get on or I’m leaving without you.”

I snap out of my thoughts and quickly scram to sit behind him.

———-

At first it was subtle. A slight hesitation in her step, a flash of pain quickly masked by a practiced smile. Sylus watched her from the corner of his eye, his mind a whirlwind of calculations.

She was careful. Too careful. Avoiding his gaze when she thought he wasn't looking, suppressing coughs when she thought he wasn't listening. But Sylus knew. He always knew.

He sat in the chair by the window, the vastness of the space outside doing very little to calm his mind. His fingers tapped against the armrest, each tap a mark of his growing frustration. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

“Mephisto, keep a close eye on her.”

caw caw

She had been acting differently for days now. And while she thought she had done her best to hide it, Sylus was not one to be easily deceived.

╔══════╗

I knew he started watching me more closely. His eyes narrowing with that sharp, calculating look I knew so well. I could feel his suspicion growing, could sense the weight of his gaze on me even when I wasn't looking. But I kept up the act, clinging to the hope that I could keep him in the dark just a little longer.

Later that evening he barged in the room without warning, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. I looked up, startled, meeting his eyes only to see the truth in them - he knew.

"You're sick," Sylus stated, his voice low and void of the warmth he had once reserved for me.

For a moment, I tried to deflect, to brush it off as nothing. "What? I’m perfectly fine.” I said trying to hold in my cough. Perfect timing.

But it was the way the energy shifted in the room. The way he loomed over me with a commanding presence, his expression unreadable made it clear there was no escaping this. "Don't lie to me." he hissed, and the force of his words sent a shiver down my spine.

"You're hiding something."

I shook my head, standing to meet him. But there was a hesitation in my movements, a reluctance I couldn't fully hide. "No, I haven't. I've just been... tired. There's nothing to worry about."

But Sylus was done with her evasions.

He grabbed her wrist, not roughly, but firmly enough to stop her from retreating.

"Don't lie to me, Sweetie." he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"Something's wrong. I can see it. You've been hiding it from me, and I want to know why."

I pulled my wrist from his grasp and took a step back, shaking my head. "It's nothing, Sylus. I'm fine.

You don't need to worry."

"Don't you dare try to shut me out," he growled, his tone sharper than he intended. "I know something is wrong, and I won't let you deny it."

Sylus thought she might continue to deny it. But then she crumbled, her shoulders slumping as she finally let her guard down.

"I've been feeling sick," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It started a few days ago, and it's just been getting worse. I didn't want to tell you because I wanted you to let me go to that business trip with you.”

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek with a surprising gentleness.

“Is that what this is all about? You were hiding your sickness because you wanted me to let you go on the business trip?”

I leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding me in a way I hadn't felt in days. "Yes, I’m sorry.”

His expression hardened again, but there was a softness in his eyes that made my heart ache. "Well, you’re right, you’re not going."

“But I—“

“I’m canceling the trip. I’m staying here with you until you feel better.”

He looked back at me, and for a brief moment, I saw something tender in his gaze, something that reminded me why I had fallen for him in the first place.

“I knew something was wrong. Mephisto snitched you out.”

That damn bird.

"Let's get you to bed," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to rest."

He picked me up bridal style and held me in his arms.

"I'm fine, Sylus. I don't need to be treated like-"

He silenced her with a look, one that she couldn’t argue against. "You need to rest," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "And I'm going to make sure you do."

Without waiting for her response, Sylus guided her toward the bed.

She hesitated for a moment, but the exhaustion was too much, and she allowed him to help her lie down.

Sylus moved with a surprising gentleness, adjusting the pillows and smoothing the blankets as he settled her in.

Once she was comfortable, he sat down beside she on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His touch was soft, tender. A stark contrast to the man who ruled Onychinus with an iron fist.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard," he murmured, his eyes studying her face with an intensity that was almost protective.

"You need to let me take care of you. You’re like a sick kitten who needs to be monitored."

I looked up at him, my eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

"I didn't want to worry you,"

Sylus's expression softened even further, his thumb gently tracing the outline of my cheek. "You worrying me by hiding things is worse," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you."

He leaned down, pressing his cheek to my forehead, lingering there for a moment as if he was attempting to strengthen me.

When he pulled back, my eyes were already starting to droop, the weight of the day finally catching up. But even as sleep began to claim me, I reached out, my hand finding his.

"Sylus," I murmured, voice drowsy. "Stay with me?"

"I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. His voice steady. He slipped under the blankets, his arms wrapping around me protectively. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Sylus held her close, his fingers gently stroking her hair. He listened as her breathing slowly evened out, the tension in her body melting away as she drifted into sleep.

For a long time, Sylus simply watched her. His mind racing with plans for when she wakes up. As she slept, Sylus allowed himself to relax, the tight coil of worry in his chest loosening for the first time in days. He would take care of her, no matter what it took. Because she was worth protecting at all costs.

I’ll kiss anyone who requests