#he’s just really wonderful and attentive and it’s just really funny bc the way he is online is so different from in person

[cupid-styles]

wait if hockey harry spots yn at his game and is reallyyyy cocky coming up to her! but she’s actually there for another guy on the OTHER team bc he asked her out on a date (which is after the game) and harry becomes sooo jealous and basically tries to rough that guy up during the game so he doesn’t take yn on the date 🤭🤭🤭

I am simply OBSESSED!!!!!! I may also have to do a part two for this lmao

based on this blurb about hockey!harry and ballerina!y/n

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: violence, harry being a mega douche, jealousy

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry's bored.

Usually, at hockey games, he's rarely ever bored. He's been playing the sport since he was three and learned to ice skate just as he started walking. Hockey is his entire life — and yet, Coach Brock took him out to let one of the newbies get some time on the ice, so now he's sitting on the bench like a petulant child, arms crossed over his chest with a frown.

"Lighten up, Styles," Coach Brock had scolded him when he saw the immature pout covering his star player's face.

So now he's waiting, half paying attention to the game in front of him. He'd played hard enough for the first period that he blocked nearly every shot the opposing team tried to make. He didn't care much to see how the freshman kid was playing — he didn't even care to learn his name, really — instead scoping out the crowded stands at the evening's game. It was filled with students and fans of the university, the energy so lively that it was almost enough to send Harry into another adrenaline rush.

Only, when he sees Y/N up in the seats, talking to a girl he's seen her walk around campus with, his heart feels like it skips a beat.

He'll never admit it to anyone (especially not her), but he's fascinated by her. He thinks she's pretty and talented, strong and funny. But Harry lacks emotional communication skills, so instead of attempting to woo her, every comment that comes out of his mouth is an insult. That's why his throat instantly gets dry the second his eyes zero in on her. It's the first time he's seen her out of her usual ballet garb, instead opting for a loose sweater. Her hair, which is always in a neat bun, is down. And she just looks so pretty.

The loud halftime buzzer sounds out, ripping Harry from his daydreams. He can't help but wonder if she could maybe, just maybe, be there to see him. The thought is enough to send butterflies rifling through his stomach. He attempts to ignore them, though, putting on his usual dull facial expression as his teammates get up to go to the locker room.

He scrambles, realizing he's getting left in the dust all because he was fantasizing about Y/N. Embarrassed, he stands from the bench, trying to quickly catch up.

Except, when he's passing the away team's locker room, he sees her in his peripheral vision, walking down the lengthy hallway with a giddy look on her face. He knows Coach Brock will have his ass if he's late, but he can't help it. He really, seriously can't help it.

"Come to see me, Cinderella?" Harry asks cockily, a smirk at the edge of his lips. Her eyebrows immediately furrow and her lips part.

"No," she says slowly, cocking her head to the side, "I'm actually here for Malcolm."

Harry squints his eyes, mentally running through the entire team. There wasn't a single person named Malcolm.

"Did you just make that up to fuck with me?" he questions, feeling irritated by her teasing.

Y/N snorts, a smug grin appearing on her face. "No, actually. Malcolm plays for the other team."

His hands immediately ball up into fists at his side, anger beginning to pulse through his chest. He wants to fire a million questions at her — most importantly, why? — when Coach Brock sticks his head out into the hall.

"Styles! Stop trying to get your dick wet and get in here!"

His face warms, his jaw clenched as he turns on his heel to enter the locker room.

On his way in, he hears Y/N's voice bounce through the interior.

"Oh, don't you worry, Coach! He doesn't stand a chance!"

. . .

Approximately two seconds after halftime ends, Harry finds Malcom's jersey number, his eyes glued in on the player on the opposing team as he skated around, missing shots left and right. He was a shit player — why the hell would Y/N be interested in him?

As a punishment for being late to the halftime meeting, Coach kept Harry out for the first five minutes of the third period. When he realized the newbie was letting the game get away from them, they both knew he had no choice but to allow him back in.

So now Harry's attempting to take out his anger on every shot that's catapulted in his direction, expertly blocking the puck time and time again. His heart is thrumming steadily in his chest, he's sweating beneath his gear, but he's zeroed in — not just on the game, but on Malcolm, too.

Harry's waiting. Desperately so. All but begging him to do something so he has an excuse to launch his stupid body through the rink, landing punches to his face so he never has a chance with Y/N ever again.

With seven minutes left of the game, Harry's team is already up by 10. There's no way they're losing this one, especially with the way he's playing. But that's not the goal here.

Malcolm attempts to shoot another shot into their net, which Harry blocks easily, using his stick to send it skidding down the length of the ice. He can tell he's feeling defeated by the way his shoulders deflate slightly, and it makes Harry laugh behind his mask.

And apparently, that's what does it.

Just as he was about to skate away, Malcolm turns to look back at Harry, despite the game continuing on the other side of the rink.

"Something funny?" Malcolm asks, skating closer to his goal.

"Fuck off," Harry spits, slamming his stick down against the ice. "Think you have a game to lose, asshole."

"Is there a problem?" he snaps, inching closer to Harry. He cackles, letting his hockey stick smack down again.

"You're my fuckin' problem." Harry replies. "Get any closer to my goal and I'll kill you."

Malcolm lets out an amused snort, dropping his stick. It's only a moment before he extends his arms in front of him, pushing Harry harshly. Bingo.

He allows him to think he has the upper hand before he lets his own stick to fall, snapping his hand back and allowing it to collide directly with his jaw. A shocked sound falls from Malcolm's lips as he attempts to keep up with Harry's punches, but he falls back against the ice before he's able to get a single shot in. His vision is entirely red as he lands one final blow, feeling two pairs of arms pull him off. He hears loud, high-pitched noises from the refs' whistles, but all Harry can focus on is wanting to see the damage he's caused.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Coach Brock hisses into his ear. He realizes he's one of the people that stopped him, his hand locked roughly around his wrist as he guides him off the ice. The other hand belongs to the team captain, Dom.

"He was talking shit," Harry mutters, ripping his arm away from Dom's grasp. He reaches up to tear his helmet and face guard off, throwing them on the ground as Coach pulls him to the locker room.

"I don't give a fuck," he sneers, pushing him down onto the bench. The adrenaline is still pumping through his system, making it seem as though he can feel every single cell thrumming in his body. "You're so fucking suspended it's not even funny, Styles."

Harry grumbles as Coach Brock leaves the locker room, slamming the door in his wake. Wordlessly, Dom follows him. He knows they have a giant mess to clean up because of his actions tonight — both literally and figuratively.

Somehow, it doesn’t matter to him, though — not as long as Y/N doesn’t think he’s an animal now.

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h

[90ekz]

Hiii I loved ur bakugo where like hes at the gym and stuff and was wondering if you could do something like that but his s/o goes with him 🫢🫢

this is so funny bc this was actually in my drafts alr 😁

her possession ☆ b. katsuki. | pt 1.

katsuki loves when you tag along with him to the gym.

that sweet smile you give him when he spots you, cooking lunch with you after, its all so relaxing for the both of you.

not to mention your tight lil gym shorts but he’s supposed to stay focused.

this particular day though, you seemed a bit.. tight lipped, and he didn’t know why.

“you good?”

his question floated in the air between you before you just mumbled a soft “yea”, much to katsuki’s dismay.

suspicious, but whatever.

when you moved to lower body exercises, katsuki couldn’t help but notice your noises of annoyance the whole time. he’d look over and you’d be scoffing or smacking your teeth, was he doing something wrong?

“the hell’s up with you?”

“what’s up with me? what’s up with her?”

katsuki’s attention was directed towards the front desk lady. they made eye contact briefly before she tore her eyes away like she’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

he looked back at your annoyed face before making a confused one of his own.

“seriously? you really don’t get it?”

another shrug.

“she’s been drooling all over you since we got here. no way you don’t see that shit.”

katsuki couldn’t help but let a smirk curl onto his lips. you were so easily jealous, it humored him.

“you jealous or sumn?”

you feigned confusion, making katsuki laugh. you knew he was attractive, everyone knew that, but he was yours.

and you were gonna prove it.

“im getting some wipes. come with me.” katsuki was already confused by that request, not to mention that you went to the ones farthest away from your station, but… whatever.

he grabbed some wipes while you made sure the desk girl was watching you.

“babe. ‘s something on your neck.”

before he could respond, you were tonguing the sensitive spot on his neck, causing him to groan a bit too loud for a public gym.

you almost laughed when the desk woman gasped at the display, and katsuki tried to hide his various obvious (and very ‘angry’) blush.

“got it.”

#katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x black reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki drabble #mha drabbles #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #anime #katsuki x black!reader #im going insane btw #this is sloppy but yolo! #you embarrassed him so bad he had to apologize to the front desk lady while acting like he didn’t like it #ugh you make life so hard for him 😒 #you got put on gym probation too btw

[nothomegal]

ITS CHRISTMAS EVE (or at least where I live bc timezones) and I would like to gove Pyramid Head smoochies under mistletoe pls 😌

Aww I was having this idea too! And since it's Christmas allow me to bless you with a drawing!...

...And a lilttle one-shot!

"Mistletoe"

(Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Warning: suggestive implications by the end, but mostly fluff!

Word Count: 1k

Christmas was always a funny holiday for (Y/N). Either because they never truly felt connected to it or because they haven't felt the 'magic of Christmas' since childhood. Don't get me wrong, they would still put some decorations when they could, but ever since they came to Silent Hill such tradition was lost.

Not like they mind it too much though, they already have the absolute best gift and company they could ever ask for! Just tell me, who in their right mind would be upset about having a nearly 8ft tall demi-god creature as your forever partner? You have to be chronically insane to turn down such blessing!

And speaking of the creature, (Y/N)'s daydream was interrupted when a large hand curled around their arm and stopped them. They shoot a curious glance to their lover, who was already looking at whatever got his attention.

Right above them, placed on the old metallic door frame with, what they suppose is duct tape, were hangign a bunch of oddly shaped pieces of paper. Some pieces where green, others painted green, and all of them where kept together with a piece of damaged red cloth that was tied as a bow.

(Y/N) stares at that weird construction with furrowed brows, really trying to grasp what the hell they're looking at. Pyra was still as well, but his head tilted towards his human as he curiously observes their reaction. Seems like they too have no clue what is this-.

However, (Y/N) manages to make out the shape of it and instantly burst out laughing.

—"No way! No way someone actually made one!"— you say between laughs.

The beast simply observes them, letting out a low wondering rumble. Is that another pointless joke humans have? (Y/N) is laughing hard so it must be something very funny or very stupid.

After the laughter had ceased, (Y/N) takes a look at their monster and suddenly remember what he wanted in the first place. Oh, right. They were supposed to explain what is that.

—"Okay, okay."— you say between giggles as you point at the object. —"That thing over there is supposed to be a mistletoe. Remember when I told you about Christmas and how people decorate that one fuzzy tree? Well, this thing is also kinda a Christmas tradition. People hang it somewhere high and when two step or pass underneath it, they have to kiss."—

While (Y/N) explains, Pyra listens to them carefully. But the second they mention the kiss part, the air between them shifts and becomes... Odd. And Pyra himself still, way too still.

(Y/N) of course feels the change, and is quick to start clarifying.

—"But of course, it's optional. It's not like you're forced to kiss anyone. If anything, I never did! So I suppose this will remain as a silly tradition some-"—

Their speech is replaced by a tiny gasp when the monster suddenly grabs their jaw, gently lifting and moving their gaze where he needed. Their eyes narrow slightly when they noticed a tongue peek out from his helmet and slowly, almost shily, wiggle towards their face.

—"Aww. What a polite guy."— you chuckle as a little blush creeps on your cheeks. —"Well of course I'll give you a kiss."—

Ever since they introduced this new method of showing affection, it wasn't rare to witness Pyra ask for a 'kiss' once or twice. It's kinda funny to see how shy he gets, always taking it slow and giving them enough time to stop or pull away. Do they do that? Nuh-uh! Do they think it feels gross? Weird, yes. But (Y/N) is deranged so it's fine.

The pink muscle soon presses against their lips, and they respond by giving it a kiss while holding it in place gently, totally unbothered by its wet and slippery texture. They could feel Pyra practically melt into the gesture, he does it every time. It's small, but is the closest they can get to an actual kiss, and the intimacy and specialness of it seems to get the beast to his very core.

After some second, when (Y/N) attempts to lean back, a pair of big arms gets a hold around them, cementing them in place completely and pulling them closer to the monster. The said beast lets out a low menacing growl as his tongue licks their cheek and part of the jaw. The message was clear...

M̵̞͔̥̏̌̊o̷͕͒̓͑ͅŗ̷̭̝̓̾e̵̠̤͓̅̒̋.

He wanted more.

Despite the apparentaly hostile growls, (Y/N) showed no intimidation and simply chuckled as they roll their eyes.

—"Someone is feeling frisky, huh?"—

Another, and a bit louder, growl resonated from inside the beast's helmet. His grip around them tightening and the tongue sliding along their lips, almost begging for them to kiss it again.

—"Calm down tiger. We both know if we continue you'll get too carried on."— you coo, sliding one of your hands along one side of his helmet.

He groans with certain displeasure, but his grip soon losens as he slightly tilts his head into their touch, yet he doesn't let go neither.

—"If you're really feeling like doing it then let's go somewhere else. You don't want anyone to see me naked, don't you?"—

This time their answer is no longuer a growl or a sound, but the same pair of big hands lighting their form up and swinging over a broad shoulder.

Before starting to walk however, the monster reaches up and snatches the little paper mistletoe. (Y/N) of course notices that and can't hold back the little laugh.

—"Well well, see you really liked this particular tradition."—

They get no response as the monster resumes his walking. But the small squeeze on one of their thighs was enough proof to know that they got it right and it won't be the last time the see the little item.

After this little interaction, and probably after what's about to come, (Y/N) doubts to ever be able to feel that magic of Christmas again.

However, they realize that they still experienced something new. The magic of the mistletoe.

Is that an actual thing? Who knows.

But it worked on Pyra so it must be a thing, right?

It worked well after all.

...Too well.

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal art #nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head x y/n #gn y/n #gn reader #happy holidays y'all ❤️ #slasher fluff

[mahg-stuff]

Hi. Can I request a big daddy elvis (late 70s) in which he and female reader are having an argument and he says something really mean so she heads into the bedroom and cries. He goes into the bedroom to apologize and then make out. Smut, detailed if you can and also some aftercare. Thanks

Tysm for the request! Enjoy it lovee! ♡

Kiss'n make it better

────────

Word count: 6.4k (quick) Summary: Bde grows stuffy as he witnesses you playing a card game with the guys, but not only that, you are in your delicate bed attire while you do it. Pairing: (1976)bd!elvis x afab!reader Warnings: 18+!, smut, p in v, elvis finally fully takes the reader, cherry cream pie (if you know what I mean...), kissing whilst bodily fluids are present on the mouth, tasting of bodily fluids, playing around with spit?oral fixation?, mention of elvis’ medications/pill use & dr. nick (im sorry), elvis’ standards for his women, toxicity, once again elvis being volatile, use of the word daddy, & of course fluff + baby talk!!

───

AN: Hello there! I was off and on while writing this since I was eager to let it out soon bc I felt I’d left the anon hanging for too long so, certain areas may seem rushed/lack context but I did my best with the details! I hope it’s not a bother, but overall I enjoyed writing this little piece. Anywho, my dear anon I hope you are pleased with this! And to the rest of you loves, enjoy! ♡ (keep the requests coming!!😚)

- pls excuse any errors, your girl got tired half way through cleaning it up 🥹💋

────────────────────────

Elvis was, as of now, getting his day-by-day measurements of meds from Dr. Nick within the master bathroom in his room. In the meantime, you held up in his bed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited, you both had just woken up. He would always make sure to do it in a different room, given that you had eventually told him that you didn't enjoy seeing everything they put in him. When you witnessed firsthand how much his body had to ingest, you expressed your concern, but he waved you off, saying everything was always under control.

At some point, you stopped showing concern upfront to him because it had resulted in the first argument between the two of you, however, you'd unconsciously always be pinching away at your arm's flesh as you worried about him. You were still relatively new to his lifestyle, but you were gradually adapting.

Things were taking quite a while, so you began wandering around his room. You'd only been together for a few months now, so you were still trying to settle in. Elvis asked you to move in right away, and you soon found out he didn't like being left alone. As you moved around the room, you were still in your night slip. It was a look that he found especially appealing. You tip-toed barefoot to the door, peeking outside, and then back over to the closed bathroom door in the bedroom. 

You heard them mumbling inside and decided, Why not go downstairs? 

Making your entrance to the living room and taking in more glances of the house you hadn't paid much attention to before, your eyes shot up towards the voices in the kitchen. As you peered into the kitchen, you saw two of his guys sitting there chatting with some cards in their hands. They took notice of your presence and glanced over at you, their eyes lingering on your attire. Going quite unnoticed by you. 

One clears his throat.

"Hey there, y/n, ya need anythin'?" 

You shrug, not really knowing what you need or want, but feeling a bit restless. 

"No, just bored waiting on El," you reply absentmindedly. 

One of the guys chuckles and nudges the other, whispering something to him. You catch a snippet of their conversation and wonder if they're talking about you.

"What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. 

The guys exchange glances before one of them speaks up, struggling to find the right words. 

"Oh, nothin', just...you know...we were just talkin' 'bout how...um...how fashionable you look today." 

You give them a skeptical look, not fully convinced by their compliment. 

"Really? They're just my pajamas, the first thing I found in the closet last night," you admit with a sheepish shrug as you look down at your delicate garments. 

They both burst into laughter, causing you to giggle along. The guys exchange knowing glances, struggling to contain their amusement at your naivety. Being new in Elvis' life and feeling a bit clueless around the guys sometimes—I mean, you'd never been surrounded by so many men before, so it was uncommon for you to catch their brash ways.

 

One of the guys begins talking, "Since you're bored, why don't ya join us? We're playin’ a card game." 

You happily agree and take a seat at the table. They explain the rules to you as one of them shuffles the deck of cards. The game soon progresses, and the guys bring out their competitive sides, teasing each other and making playful taunts. Even though they might’ve been acting a little abruptly, it was clear that they were enjoying themselves. Amidst the banter, one of the guys turns to you with a mischievous grin. 

"Hey, watch out, I wouldn't want ya to get too confused with all these cards. It might be a bit too much for a girl to handle," he says snarkily. 

You titter and shake your head, clearly letting the comment go over and past your head. 

"I can handle." 

You say it humbly.

***

Elvis, grumbling his way downstairs to look where you'd wandered off, stops at the bottom of the stairway as he hears his precious girl's laughter from the kitchen. He stalks quietly towards the doorframe of the kitchen, there he sees you sitting pretty with his men. He scans your body until he gets to your bare, wriggling sooties that are dangled just above the ground in the chair. Elvis clenches his fists, feeling his irritation rise at the sight of you playing with the guys.

As he watches, he can't help but notice the unkempt yet alluring exterior you possess. Your tousled hair and streaked makeup from the night before only seem to enhance your beauty, giving you a tempting appeal that could captivate those around you. He had set certain expectations for you, and seeing you in this compromising situation with the guys confirms that you were not fulfilling them. He storms in, his footsteps echoing through the room as he confronts the scene before him. 

"Darlin', you know bedder than to be gallivantin' 'round in your night attire with these fellas." He narrows his eyes, his southern accent thickening as he speaks.

Your head quickly turned to that familiar gruff voice, his appearance matching the roughness in his tone. There he stood, portly and only in a silk robe, a region of dark hair trailing down his navel from the open slit and his luscious sideburns framing his face. His noir hair, slightly disheveled from a restless night, completed the picture of a man who demanded attentiveness. As you caught his gaze, you could see a mix of disappointment and fret in his eyes. You instinctively straightened up, feeling a twinge of shame creeping into your conscience for some reason as you looked down at your attire and then back at him. 

"Well, I thought it'd be okay. I mean, I do live here now. Shouldn't I be comfortable, El?" You voiced cunningly, not purposefully trying to provoke him but unable to resist the urge to justify yourself. 

But there was an inimitable standard he held you to, one that required impeccability and grace. 

"Goddammit!" He started. 

"No man's woman should be 'round men in such whorey showin' garments. 'Specially not mah women!" 

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his strong reaction. The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew tense, and you could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on you. 

His pride was unexpected for you. 

As you searched for words to respond, his intense gaze never wavered, making you feel insecure and exposed. 

"W-Well, the guys think otherwise!" You spoke aloud as your throat tightened. Well, at least you thought they didn't find your attire whorey—a word Elvis had introduced to you when he saw an outfit you picked out while shopping with him. 

Elvis glared over at them, and they both quickly stood up from their positions, some cards falling off the table as they did so. 

"That right?" 

"N-No Ep, 'course not." They stood there longer than they should have. 

"The hell y'all still doin' standin' here, for?! Go on an' do sumn then." Elvis spoke sternly as he pointed, his robe falling more open with his motion. 

The guys hastily scampered away, not wanting to further incur Elvis' anger. You look at Elvis, noticing his neglected appearance and glazed eyes. Nervous, you place your cards down, your eyebrows puckering in disarray. 

"What was that, Elvis?" you ask softly, but your voice is filled with slight perplexity. 

"They didn't do anything." You squeaked. 

"Didn't do anyhtin'." He scoffed under his breath. He shook his head and met your gaze again. 

"Matter uh fact, the hell were you thinkin' wonderin' off?" His words were a bit slurred. 

"Know all yur attention should be on me, 'n only me." Elvis' words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of fury and vulnerability. 

You could sense an ache behind his harsh tone, and it struck a chord within you. 

"Elvis." You delicately said his name, the concern evident in your voice.

But before you could continue, he raised his voice again, his drooping eyes glaring. 

"Kept mah eyes off ya for just uh moment, den I find you playin' bimbo wit' 'em fellas." 

Your heart sank as Elvis' words echoed in the room. 

This wasn't your Elvis. 

Your bottom lip quivered as you stood up from your seat, covering your face with one hand as you moved to leave the room. 

"The hell are ya goin'." He says this as he tries to stop you, but you pull away forcefully and hastily walk upstairs. 

Elvis hears your faint sniffle from the hallway, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He paced around, mumbling words to himself as he held his forehead, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

It was clear that his head wasn't in the right place. 

***

As Elvis continued to pace, he barely grasps the impact of his words and considers the hurt he may have caused. 

"Baby," he muffles to himself as he looks around. 

He rubs his eyes and begins to walk towards the staircase. 

"Baby." He muffled again, as if he were whispering a plea into the empty space. 

He reaches the top step and hesitates, unsure of whether to knock on the closed bedroom door or barge right in. 

"B-Baby, a-a-ah wannas come in," he says gently in his gruff voice. 

"W-Wanna come in." Elvis stands in front of the door, his voice quivering with desperation. 

His babyish tone reveals the depth of his regret. Your ears perk up on the other side of the door, straining to catch every word. You can sense the turmoil in his voice, the vulnerability, and the longing.

It's a side of him you were weak for, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Slowly, you rise from the bed, your footsteps barely audible as you make your way to the door. With a shaken hand, you turn the knob and open the door, revealing Elvis standing there, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. He takes in your appearance—your tear stained cheeks, red, fuzzy nose, and the slight puffiness of your eyes. His face softens with concern, and without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace. Your face buried into his exposed, hairy, warm torso through the opening of his robe. 

Feverishly, he brings his large palms up to either side of your face and pulls your face upwards. Taking in your babyfaced features. Your damp lashes flutter as you meet his gaze. 

"A-Ah made my little 'un cry." he mumbles as he grazes the pad of his thumb under your eye. 

"Y-Ya know ah ain't meant what I said back dere," he continues, his voice filled with veracity. 

"M-My temper… mah words came out wrong. A-Ah, wudnit wha I meant—", he trails off just before he wavers off, trying to focus his eyesight all of a sudden. 

As his eyelids droop, a gentle sigh escapes his lips. You can see the drowsiness etched across his weathered face, the lines deepening in the dim light of the room. 

It always tortured you when you saw him like this. 

You noticed it was one of the many effects the pills had on him, before starting him up, they'd slow him down first. 

Even with his abrupt weariness, you recognize that sincerity in his voice and the sorryness in his slumped eyes. You reached out and took his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, offering a silent reassurance that you understood what he was trying to get out. 

You cared deeply for him, so forgiving him always came in a hurry for you.

***

As you both stood there, the grogginess began to fade, and his eyes soon became more and more focused. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. He gave your cheek a gentle squeeze. His gaze lingered on your face as he continued to graze his thumb gently on your cheek. 

"Let me m-make it up t-ta mah sweet girl, hmm." He says it so softly with that drawl of his.

As you listen to his soft voice, filled with tenderness and warmth, it becomes evident that he was speaking to you with the same affection one would reserve for a baby. One of his traits you had gotten used to and valued thoroughly. Your cheeks fill with warmth. He holds you by the waist, turning you over, and fully enters the bedroom with you. Shutting the door, he then leads you to the bed, helping you sit down on the edge. Elvis sits down beside you, and you feel the bed sink from his weight. 

He turns your face over to him, and he places a hand on your cheek. He begins caressing your face ever so lightly, as if you were made of spun glass. 

"Kiss'n make it better." He mumbles pouty-lippedly as his thumb runs over your lips. 

You stare into his hollow eyes, nodding, as he begins to push his thumb into your small mouth. Politely opening your mouth for him, the taste of his skin lingers on your tongue as his thumb explores the contours of your mouth. You both hold each other's gaze, and you lightly suckle on it, watching his eyes light up at your action. He gently brings his thumb out, a string of saliva dribbling down your lip. Elvis smudges your saliva all around your soft pout, making your lips appear glossy, then brings his thumb up to his lips to suck off your slobber. As you both continue your intimate encounter, the air around you seems to grow heavier. His fingers then work their way down your torso, tracing your dainty body. With a famished mutter, he slides his hand beneath your slip, teasingly grazing over your soft, small chest, giving one of your nipples a tug. You can't help but whimper at his action.

And want grows between you, feeling a surge of heat run from your face down to your toes. 

"C'mere, let ol’ daddy kiss ya," he leans in, capturing your lips in a fervent, persistent kiss. 

The taste of him fills your palate as he slips his tongue inside your pretty mouth. You find yourself feeling fuzzy in the rush of the moment, willingly giving into his actions. His large hands begin gripping your small waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His supple kisses had always been tender and gentle, but this one was different. It left you almost breathless. His touch was heavy, and you found yourself slipping in the heat of the moment. Your slip rises upwards at his action, revealing the pair of tiny matching ruffled shorts. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his pillowy lips glistening. His eyes lock onto yours—a look of want. Elvis' hefty hand goes down to your upper thigh, and he grazes the fabric of your shorts. 

"Take 'em off, 'ittle." He rasps quietly, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitches with a half-laugh. "Kay." You gently get off the bed and look over at him as he keenly stares at you with his still-glazed-over eyes. 

A look you may never get used to. 

You began pulling down at the hem of your waistband until the fabric hit the ground, being completely bare underneath. 

While the length of your slip fell just enough to cover your most delicate parts, he whispered, "Lemme see her." 

His voice is playful as he motions for you to come closer.

You take a step toward him. He reaches out and gently tugs at your hip, his thumb rubbing your hipbone, sending a muzzy feeling to your belly. With his other hand, he reaches over to the hem of the fabric, pulling it up—he throbs between his legs.

From his view, he could see all of you. Your narrow hips and thighs and the smallest patch of curls that covered your pussy. The little crease in the middle—so sweet, you were puffy, and sticky just from his kisses. You looked over at his garb—his robe now fully undone from all his movement, also nothing underneath. You took in as the section of his body hair went from his pudgy chest to his soft belly, which hung just barely over his waistline, and then turned into thick curls at his mound. His corpulent and hard, leaky cock presently standing tall just for you against his paunch. You gazed at the ridge of his pretty, purplish, rosy tip weep as it peeked from his foreskin.

Suddenly, you jolted as you felt his thumb at your swollen clit, a splotchy pink filling your cheeks. His touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers perfectly caressing your sensitive nub. You couldn't help but whimper, the lovely sound escaping your pursed lips as your hips instinctively bucked against his digit. 

"Ain't nothin' more purdy than seein' you all pink 'n warmed up. Could spend all day thumbin' away at that ‘dorable clit uh yours." He babbled as he applied more pressure and quickened the pace of his movements. 

Making you even more rosy. 

You could feel the heat building between your legs, the ache for release becoming almost unbearable. Every swipe of his thumb seemed to bring you closer to the edge, pushing you towards the brink of ecstasy. Your back began to arch as you leaned into his touch, but just as you were almost there, he pulled his thumb away. You let out a frustrated whimper, desperately wanting him to continue, then you went to cup yourself until he swiftly stopped you. 

"Dun cha get greedy on me now," he whispered, his voice coated with directness and a hint of humor. 

You couldn't help but pout, your need for satisfaction overwhelmed your senses. You ached. He had never stopped on the brink of your release like this before. His hand left your trembling body, resulting in you feeling empty and yearning for more. You watched as he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting the remnants of your sweet desire, a sly smile playing on his lips. The rosiness in your cheeks seems to grow darker with his action.

"Ah can't have ya fallin' apart jus yet," he murmured, his voice low. 

You looked at him doe-eyed as you clamped your legs, standing there. 

"Little 'un." Elvis whispered as he reached out for a hand. 

"Idenit time for ya to blossom," he continued as he pulled you closer, his warm breath hitting your cheek. "'ittle flower of yours needs ta bloom." Elvis gave you a nod as he spoke and guided you. 

"Bloom," you repeated as you held his strong gaze, and he began helping you lay on the bed. 

"Mhm, correct baby." He cooed as he helped you lie down. 

When you finally understood what he had said, your heart seemed to race. Staring up at the mirror above you on the ceiling, you took in as you laid delicately on his silk bedding. You began recalling the past nights and days of glancing up at yourself while Elvis rutted against your tummy when he cuddled you until he came, or when he'd only do little more than barely let the tip of his cock pierce your tiny hole—but never more than that. 

Now, he indicated that he wanted to take things further. You were both a little afraid and excited by it. Even so, you were genuinely more willing than ever. It made you rub your legs together thinking about it. You would constantly pester him for more, but he would tell you that it wasn't the right moment and that he knew when it would be. Thinking of his words from earlier, you thought maybe this would be his way of making it better after he'd lashed out. Maybe, he wanted to make it up to you by fully fulfilling your needs. You beamed at the thought.

Lost in your little mind, you were interrupted as you felt the bed sink next to you.

There he lay, still in his loose, silky garb, fully open, his hairy manliness laying solid against his belly while his balls were perfectly nestled below his shaft. You looked over at him as he began lying on his side to face you. His jawline was soft and his cheeks full, adding to the suppleness of his overall appearance. His overgrown sideburns adding to his rugged allure. The word ‘mesmerizing’ repeating in your head.

"Rest on yur side f'me, baby." You began turning over for him, but before you could, he stopped you—he saw the mild unease in your eyes. 

His hand cradled the side of your cheek as your eyes stared into his. However, he couldn't help but smile, thinking your muddled face looked adorable. 

"Hers dudden needs to be afraid." He whispered softly and patted your head now. 

With each light pat on your head, his warmth enveloped you, making you feel comforted in his presence. You smiled back at him softly, it sort of surprised you when he caught it. 

"H-Her knows." You whispered back in the same way he spoke to you. 

It was really rubbing off on you, for sure.

He leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then motioned for you to rest on your side. Such a baby, you thought as you gave his chubby face one last glance. As you shifted onto your side, he scooted in closer, so he was spooning you, his round stomach pressing into you. You felt the hardness of his length up against your lower back, feeling the warmth radiating off as it throbbed against the thin fabric of your slip. You couldn't deny the growing ache between your legs, yearning for his touch and for him to take control. 

Elvis began lifting the hem of your garment, exposing your bare, pretty, round backside to him. His hand rested on the curve of your hip, his touch both firm and gentle. A shiver ran down your spine as his palm traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending those funny feelings through your body. You felt him move your leg a bit, so your pussy lips were peeking out between your thighs from his view. You felt him pulsing along your rear now, slick already forming at your petals. You couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. You heard him snicker behind you, bringing a blush to your cheeks. Elvis grabbed his thick shaft in one hand and brought it between your thighs, your slick and his precum mixing into one as he rubbed the ridge of his cock along your lips. 

Eagerly, you try to slide down, so his tip pushes up towards your entrance. 

"Careful, too big for yuh to take so fast," he warns as you bare down on his leaky tip. 

You move back unconsciously, and the head of cock grazes at your swollen clit causing you to shudder. 

Trying again, you huff, "Won't fit." 

Elvis is quite amused by this, and he tittered as he leaned into your neck for a quick peck. 

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "Baby, needa take time t'stretch ya out properly." 

He trails his fingers along your inner thighs, teasingly rubbing circles on your sensitive heat. Your body reacts, flushing with chills and impatience. You can feel yourself clenching at nothing. Elvis raises the leg you weren’t resting on with his other arm, and you blush at how vulnerable you seem in the pose. He moves the hand he was massaging you with toward your mouth. You understood what he meant, of course. Carefully, you used your hand to hold the back of his large one as you carefully spit into it. You watch as Elvis gruffly giggles at your compliance as you gaze up at the mirror, his eyes peeking over you as he watches his hand lower back down.

Bringing his hand back down to your throbbing core, now slick with both your juices and saliva. His fingers glide along your folds, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. As his thumb brushes against your clit, a shudder runs through your body, aching for more. You arch your back, silently begging for his touch to become more demanding, more intense. His finger begins to pry at your snug cunt, slipping inside with ease from all your wetness. You feel him begin to inch a second finger inside of you, stretching you further and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, his fingers deeper than you were used to. He would only nag at your hole in the past. You whimper as he starts to move his fingers in and out—a slow and deliberate rhythm. Your hips instinctively press down on his hand, seeking more friction and more of his lengthy fingers. You can't help but squeal, the sound escaping your lips as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting a sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. You try closing your legs, but he still holds one up. He feels your leg shift and hears your cute squeal. Elvis lets go, letting your leg rest down, with a snicker as he looks over at you with a mischievous grin. Soothing his palm up and down against your thigh, he leaned to kiss your upper arm. 

"Ya kay, 'ittle?" he whispered in his southern drawl. 

You nod, unable to form words, as the sensations overwhelm you. 

Slowly, he removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you aching for more. But before you have a chance to say anything, Elvis is already positioning himself between your legs from behind. He catches a glimpse of your sweet little gaping hole that was dripping with want. He begins rubbing the ridge of his cock along your pussy, you feel his chest vibrate behind you from a low groan. His tip begins to ease in as he coos in your ear slowly. Without delay, he plunges inside you halfway, his lip curling at your tightness. You wail as he bucks his hips further, and you try to get away due to the harsh feeling of the big stretch. He carefully moves the arm he was resting on to go under your waist to hold you from your firm stomach as he hitches up the rest of your babydoll. Pulling you towards him, his gut pressing into you more. 

Taking a glance at your clenched fists and shut eyes, he grumbles, "S'okay baby, breathe." 

You gulp down and gasp, "'S't-too much." 

"Needa bit more little 'un." He croons and brings his empty hand to swipe at your clit from the front in order to break you in with more ease. 

With a final buck of his hips, he fills your sweet cunt completely, taking him all in. You cry out at the forceful pinch, your hand gripping at his hand that held you from your tummy. Elvis grunts loudly when you clench at his cock. 

"M-Mah god, baby, let loose f'me. You'll break me off wit' all tha squeezin'." He blurts out, his voice strained with pleasure and urgency.

Your body trembles against his, and he continues to swipe at your tender nub, wanting to bring any type of pleasure to you right now. Elvis glanced up at your face, a tear dribbling down from the corner of yours. He leaned in, kissing it away. Gently opening your glossy eyes, you look up towards the mirror, taking in the way you were both at last bound. His robe was still hanging loosely on his body, and his hair was tousled as he pressed his face into your nape. As you gripped him with your hand, you felt him grab hold of it and start pulling it down to your heat. Placing it between your thighs, where you and him connected, you traced his weighty balls over with your small hand. Indicating he was practically balls deep inside your dear little hole. 

"Yuh feel him inside ya." He whispered airily into your nape, the bass of his voice rumbling against your back. 

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of shyness and alertness. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond, as you focused on the sensation of him filling you completely. His hand remained on yours, guiding your movements as you continued to explore the intimate connection between your bodies. Your digits now covered by both yours and his fluids. Elvis let his hand loose and moved it over to your waist, both of his arms now holding you in a spoon position. As the initial sting began to fade and pleasure took its place, you began moving, slowly your movements against him became more confident. Each motion became braver as desire continued to build between you both. Your whimpers got louder, and you felt the hairs on your nape stand as you heard a little huff come from Elvis behind you. His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Pulling himself out slightly and then bucking into you again, causing you to let out a high-pitched moan as you experienced the overwhelming sensation for the first time. A dance of pain and pleasure intertwined within you. You were sure a trickle of blood had stained the satin sheets beneath you both as you felt the warm wetness building between you two. You were too busy taking in the feeling of his hardness inside you, he noticed as he peeked up at the mirror and saw you lying there with your small mouth gaping and your hand buried between your thighs where he had left it. 

"Touch yuh'self sweetheart." He grunted into your ear as he strained himself from moving his hips too harshly, his grip on your waist still firmly in his arms.

You complied, your fingers danced over your sensitive folds, slick with arousal, and maybe more, until they found your swollen clit. As you began to rub circles around it, your moans grew louder and more dire, echoing through the room. The mirror gave you a clear view of your own flushed face, your eyes filled with desire and vulnerability. The way he watched you, his dark eyes smoldering with lust, only fueled the fire burning within you. Every movement caused the robe to sway gently, revealing hints of his luscious curves beneath. As your fingers continued their rhythmic dance upon your clit, you couldn't help but imagine his hands—those strong and skilled hands—taking over. The thought of his touch, his fingers tracing the same patterns you were now creating, made your toes wriggle. Your breath hitched as you quivered as the warm, fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen became more and more unbearable. His thrusts became more vigorous, matching the intensity building within you. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans mingling with his low grunts. As he maintained his relentless pace, you surrendered yourself completely to what your body was feeling. The tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter until, finally, with one strong thrust, you unraveled into a state of euphoria on his cock. Your body trembled with sheer bliss as he continued to move inside you, he watched as your pretty face contorted and your blush deepened. 

"O-Oh god." You whined loudly, tightening around him, and the throbbing of his girthy cock became even more pronounced. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, looking for his own release. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you moan prettily but uncontrollably. He glared over at you, bringing one hand up to grasp your jaw, his thumb once again finding its way into your mouth.

"N-Not so loud baby. Ain't want no 'un else hearin' ya gone like this, only me." He spoke between each heavy breath, sounding imposing. 

You nodded, unable to say any words. 

His thumb pressed against your tongue, silencing your moans as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. The room was filled with the sound of skin pushing against skin, blending with your muffled cries of pleasure. You felt your ears grow hotter as his grunts turned into gruff whines, it made you wonder how such a man could make such pretty sounds. He pressed into you harder, the suppleness of his hair-filled belly now squished into your lower back. Elvis' grip on you toughens under you, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he pulls you closer, seeking an even deeper connection. His other hand now filled with your drool. Watching as his lip was now curled, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his beautiful expression slipping into that o-face of his through the mirror. With one final thrust, he let out a garish whine, emptying himself inside of your now-tamed pussy, filling you completely with his essence. You couldn't help but muffle a sob and bite down on his thumb as you felt his scorching seed paint your walls. 

He was still so far buried inside you as he let out heavy sighs. Elvis slowly began to withdraw his upper body from you, looking down at the slight space between his belly and your back, shifting his hips slowly to pull out, the base of his cock streaked with your pure blood. He paused as he felt your tongue pushing at his thumb and looked over, your eyes were watery. 

He withdrew his large hand, you turned your head over to him, the position putting a little discomfort on your neck as he was still spooning you. You were in awe of his blushed face and matted, lush hair sticking to his forehead from all his sweat. Bringing the hand you still held between your thighs over to hold the side of his face, your eyes widened as you focused on the redness of your blood on your digits, which had now smudged a bit on his cheek. Elvis took in your expression and glanced over at your small hand against his cheek, he snickered. Grabbing ahold of it, he brought it over to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss and even a subtle lick. Your purity now smudged along his soft lips. 

"A fine 'ittle flower 'as bloomed," he mumbled as he leaned his face into you. 

Your heart raced as his lips pushed against yours gently. The taste of his kiss, a mixture of your blood and his own essence, sent warmth down your spine. He steadily pulled away, enjoying the fact that your lips were stained right along with his. 

It left you brain-scattered and your hind eyes in a fuzzy state.

You were brought back when you felt him pulling his practically flaccid cock out of you. You winced as a dull ache shot through your body. Quickly sensing soreness, but a satisfied, weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, knowing he'd finally gone completely with you. You stiffened as the warmth of his spew slowly oozed out of your snug, bruised hole. 

Elvis' view was a delight, he thought, watching as the scarlet milky mess glazed your puffed-up pussy lips, running down your inner thigh. Slumbering on your back now, your babydoll still pushed up but remained covering your small chest. 

But before you could turn to fully face him, you panicked as he stood up from the bed abruptly. 

"E-Elvis," you sputtered out, even reaching your hand out for him. 

He ignored your plea as he hurriedly walked towards the bathroom. His footsteps echoed in the silence, and you suddenly felt anxious. Moments later, he emerged with a damp towel in his hand. As he approached you, he saw the look on your face as you laid on your back. 

"Hey, what's wit' da worried eyes baby," he asked gently while gently leaning over at you. 

You still felt the pang of fret in your chest as Elvis leaned over you, his concern evident in his eyes. 

"I-I just got scared. Thought you w-were leaving," you admitted, your voice shaky. 

Elvis' expression softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair off your face. 

"Aww, don' worry, sweetheart. Am here now, ain't goin' anywhere," he reassured you, his voice smooth and reassuring in his drawl. 

His touch was comforting, and you felt yourself relax under his calm presence. 

As his hand lingered on your cheek, he spoke again. "Ah's needs ta clean my little girl now, kay." 

You nodded as Elvis stood in front of you while you lay splayed on the bed. He softly lifted your legs and began to gently wipe away the sticky residue, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His sunken eyes met yours briefly, a glimmer of tenderness, before he focused back on cleaning you up. You flinched as he swiped at your tender bud, and he couldn't help but grin. Finishing up, he tossed the used rag aside. Elvis had always been thorough in his caretaking when it came to you. As he gently began tugging your delicate top down to cover you, he paused and scrunched it up, revealing your small, supple chest and your soft pink meek nipples. 

Leaning down to give both of your petite mounds delicate kisses, "Almost forgot 'bout 'em sweet lil' things," he muffled as he kissed your warm skin. 

You found yourself giggling as you ran a hand through his tousled-up hair. One of the things he had made you become—a giggler. 

He stood back up and fixed your babydoll fully now as he smiled at you.

"All done, my little 'un," he whispered softly, his voice filled with pride and adoration. 

Collapsing beside you, his hand tenderly stroked your hair, whispering, "We'll get tha rest uh us cleaned up later." 

He then continued as you moved over to fully face him, his robe now imperfectly tied. "Needa hold ya darlin’, ah know how emotional you puny things can be after experiencin' this kinda thing." 

You snuggled closer to him with a giggle, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. The tubbiness of him being all the more cozy. As you both basked in each other, you felt the palm of his hand smooth down at your lower abdomen. 

"Yuh sore?" His voice held that babyish tone. 

"Bits," you mumbled as your cheek rested against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

His hand continued to caress your belly, his touch gentle. “Love her lots,” he suddenly blurted and leaned in to give your forehead a kiss. 

You gazed up at him, leaning in to kiss the fullness between his neck and chin. “Loves daddy lots too,” you whispered as you followed up with another kiss before you snuggled into him again. 

• Master List

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#elvis #elvis presley #70s elvis #elvis fans #elvis presley fandom #daddy elvis #elvis fanfic #big daddy elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #big daddy elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fluff #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley one shot #elvis x reader #bd!elvis #elvis presely smut #elvis presley imagine #1976 elvis #big daddy elvis fanfic #request! #kiss’n make it better

[pix3lplays]

Listen, I'm gonna need more of Sunday headcanons bcs I love manipulative red flags!! Also the fic i'm 😨 Really good I loved it but holy-

🫡🫡🫡 No but I HEAR you he is literally such a red flag, I want him and I want him NOW. And also YEAH I don’t know what possessed me while I was writing that fic, but it was something deep and dark and terrible and- Anywaysss enough about me~ Have some more hcs for our favorite manipulative man~

Cw! Yandere themes, dark content, Public humiliation and other punishments, stalking, mutilation

-Hsr Sunday hcs-

Here is a Very. Bad. Man. But how could you know that? He’s just so…dazzling an actor. And you’re just a prop on his stage… When you’re courting he does all sorts of wonderful things to show his appreciation. Taking you to the opera, just so he can see you dressed up, a box seat of course… This man writes you songs, plays them to you on the violin… Buying you jewelry, clipping necklaces around your neck, or sliding rings onto your fingers, you not knowing about the tracking devices embedded into the jewels. He is a calculating, patient predator, watching his phone while he lays in bed at night, observing your location, making sure you’re asleep safe and sound before it’s his turn. He’s quick to propose you moving in with him. (So much easier to keep an eye on you). He cares about you so much, and he really thinks you’re ready for this next step in your relationship! It’s so sweet to watch him excitedly helping you move in, carrying boxes and rearranging things around the manor so you’ll have room to make yourself comfortable. It’s funny, really. For a long time, you feel like you don’t deserve this man, or the way he wraps his arm around yours and pats your hand, or how he smiles at you so kindly. He snuggles you at night so sweetly, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist (so you can’t escape) so he can bury his face in the back of your head, taking in the scent of your hair. He quite literally purrs sweet things into your ears at night, during the day, literally whenever the mood strikes his fancy. He’s not the most physically affectionate man, at least in public, but he does this thing where he holds your hand and leans down to say things that are only meant for you. One of his early signs that this man wasn’t actually all that well is when he’s upset at you. He doesn’t talk it out with you like a normal person. He waits for his vengeance, instead opting to do something to humiliate you in public. Whether that’s making a little, demeaning comment about you in front of someone, or straight-up forcing you to do something humiliating in public. His most common form of torture centers around your deep reliance on him. You literally can’t be without your boyfriend. He made sure of that. So when he tries to get you to do something on your own…like make a toast at a fancy party or something like that, you simply can’t, and you just have to wallow in your humiliation and wait for him to finally swoop in and rescue you, like your knight in shining armor. He acts so, SO indifferent at the end of the day when you’re in the bedroom crying about how he embarrassed you in front of everyone-and he just smiles and shushes you and pulls you into his chest and tells you he’s so sorry you’re just not ready to stand on your own two feet. He very much believes in punishment must fit the crime. For example, if you’re just sort of being a brat to him then fine. No dinner tonight. Going to try and run away? He doesn’t take too kindly to that. He’ll have you chained up in a separate bedroom, so you don’t even get to see him, and if he’s Particularly upset at you because you nearly made it, expect him to get physical with you. Slicing off fingers or breaking limbs or ripping off nails…it’s merciless. He’s not necessarily a fan of mutilating you. But he will. For example, if he catches you staring at someone else…trying to get someone else’s attention…especially if it’s in an attempt to get help…he’ll just have one of your eyes removed. And the worst part is he’s the only one you can go to for comfort. So even while you’re bleeding from an eye wound, cradling the bleeding socket with your hand, your forehead is pressed up against this man’s chest while he rubs your back and hums you a sweet song, telling you that everything would be okay, if you just behaved yourself. You stop daring to go against him pretty fast.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Sunday #Sunday x reader #Hsr Sunday x reader #Honkai star rail Sunday x reader

[transboysokka]

So my favorite character in The Brothers Sun is Taiwan. Like yeah Taiwan has its own shows and movies but it just feels Different to see Taiwan in a big international/American show! It’s SO cool actually and so um here are some thoughts I had and things I Noticed about different Taiwan scenes and things in the show idk

Episode 1

the opening shot of Taipei tells us this is a Thursday- the top of 101 is green and is a different color every day of the week

that corkscrew-shaped apartment building we see Charles living in is kind of an urban legend here in Taipei. They say it’s the most expensive place to live in the city, that each apartment has its own swimming pool, and that there’s an elevator specifically to bring cars up to display in your living room. No idea if the interiors look like that for real though

I was gonna say it’s pretty crazy he has an American-style oven in Taipei bc nobody does but actually in that apartment… yeah he probably would

afaik there’s not a way to (“legally”/officially) stream any of those famous British baking shows here rip

I do wonder if they actually filmed the opening scene in the corkscrew building or if they just really pay attention to detail because the skyline seen out the window matches up to what it would really look like from that part of the city

the shoes, I mean we all know about shoes-off houses but yeah

豆漿. Soy milk. Yeah

They definitely eat Hi-chews in one of these scenes

Episode 2

It makes way more sense for the guys to have snuck out for shaved ice as kids than youtiao… I’m just saying… like would *I* do that yes but it’s usually just like. A thing you eat with soup or breakfast

Episode 3

“Are you sure you can handle-“ “the heat? I’m from Taiwan.” lmfao BITCH Taiwan has some of the blandest cuisine I’ve ever tasted (he does think it’s too spicy tho lol)

“Keelung. A fishing village just north of Taipei.” Okay like I can see how the older generation would call it that but it’s actually a whole ass city…

Episode 5

Not a Taiwan thing but the Maotai made me laugh. It’s like the Coca Cola of Chinese baijiu and imho it’s just as awful as every other brand

Episode 6

ok the episode that made me want to make this list

the Costco shit IS funny because vitamins, baby formula, that’s all the good stuff you want to bring back from abroad BUT actually we have Costco in Taiwan and can easily get a lot of that stuff? This concept imo would fit a lot better for China than Taiwan. It’s still very much a thing to load your suitcase up with baby formula on the way home to China, and there’s actually a huge smuggling business bringing it in through Hong Kong but I digress

Idk why I’m happy to hear Changhua and Douliu mentioned in an American TV show… Seriously, I don’t know. They’re kind of like nowhere places I’ve never even been. I just feel like everyone’s grandparents live there.

Even the way they film Mama Sun on the plane. Like the Mandarin music in the background with the announcement for Taoyuan airport… to me it feels specifically like a transpacific flight to Taiwan lolol but that’s definitely like a bias probably

Okay not to be SO nitpicky but so when she looks out the window on the plane to see Taipei 101 etc I’m not sure about that? The airport is actually in another city and I feel like I usually come in around and over the ocean or something?

But WOW the taxi scene my favorite scene it’s SO visceral and SO Taiwan… the street, the lights, the Cosmed/Mos Burger/7-Eleven, the street noises, like I can FEEL Taiwan through the screen and HER FACE taking it all in I WANT TO SOB

The temple, beautiful like this episode makes me believe Michelle Yeoh is Taiwanese lol

I appreciate the viscerality of the night market shots too but it seemed a bit empty

Okay so Mama Sun’s mom is super rich too based on where she lives which I guess it makes sense. But what I am curious about is the story about why they’re speaking Cantonese because Taiwan has a lot of languages but that’s not one of them like officially at all. I wonder if there’s a character backstory there or they just like. Didn’t want to bother teaching Michelle how to speak Minnan or something

The cemetery too is so fancy, I mean it fits but wow that’s expensive real estate

In the hospital scene, Taipei 101 is lit blue out the window, making it a Friday. Has everything in the show so far happened in only 8 days?

Episode 7

“Last night the Boxers made their move” 101 says it’s Tuesday for anyone keeping track

I LOST it at the Foodpanda driver assassin the first time I saw this… So Taiwan

Big fancy church in Taipei? I know they exist but I’ve never seen one in person (like 2%? of the country is Christian)

A mom bringing back tea as a souvenir from Taiwan? 100% real

Episode 8

RAW is a real restaurant in Taipei. It’s very fancy and very expensive and had I think two Michelin stars. I don’t know ANYONE who’s actually been there lol

#the brothers sun #text #greatest hits #100

[cowpokeomens]

absolution

Pairing: Pastor!Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! A looot of references to religion (it all takes place in a church, so), smut smut smut (p-in-v) I'm including dubcon bc consent is weird with power dynamics, age gaps (10 yr) (everyone is of legal age though!!), some body horror stuff, power imbalance, I think that's all but if you come across something that I missed please reach out so I can tag accordingly!!! Love u bye!!!

A/N: This was really cathartic to write lmao I have a sprinkling of Religious Trauma and this helped me work through some of those feelings in my own weird horny way. It is porn, please don't start expecting me to be some kinda respectable writer with plotlines or whatever. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS. Okay enjoy!!!!

The guilt of it is eating you alive. 

The pressure between your legs- the raw, empty ache that plagues you day in and day out. Sitting on your pew, you are once again swept away by long, glossy hair and inked knuckles, turning sacred pages of a holy book that can do nothing to hold your attention at this moment.

What an impression of Christ he makes, you think to yourself, sounding hypnotized even in your internal monologue. 

He arrived when you were 19, to your small town, to your even smaller church. The rest of the folks in town think your congregation is too… fanatical. You can’t imagine a world in which someone could be over-zealous for the word of God, and even so, Pastor Karlsson had done a lot to level the congregation out. 

He was a divorcee, not by his choice, he has said. He was only 29 when he first rolled into town, funny accent and even funnier sounding name causing immediate distrust in your tight-knit community.

But God, did he have a testimony. Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, the tattoos adorning his body told you the story better than those gaudy stained glass windows in the snobby Catholic churches ever could. A lecherous lifestyle with a woman who didn’t love him, not really - not the way you do. He had humbled himself to you all, and you gladly let him in. He was made a pillar in your community - he became a leader to the congregation.

Which is why you always suppressed your feelings, putting them in a locked sarcophagus and hurling it to the far recesses of your mind. You will not be the thing that tries to come between him and the Lord.

You look up at him as he speaks, standing at the pulpit and wielding the word of God like the Archangel Michael who so valiantly struck down Satan. He who is made in God’s image; Had it not been for your utter devotion to the Lord, you would have wondered if he could sin at all.

But you knew better. Everyone carried their own sins. You had heard stories of husbands and wives who idolized each other so much that they left the church altogether. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving God’s light to worship something as sinful as human flesh, couldn’t imagine risking an eternity of paradise for what would one day be dust. 

Not that you’d know, of course. You’d never felt the touch of a man outside of when Pastor Karlsson baptized you the day before your 21st birthday. It had been fuel for weeks, his gentle hand on your back, guiding you underneath the water of the river that ran out behind the church. You had stuffed yourself full of your own fingers that night, stuffed your mouth full of bed linens so that no one would hear how you came undone at the mere thought of him. 

Perhaps you are the lecherous one, after all. Though you can’t help but think that God has given you Pastor Karlsson on purpose, as a test of your faith. A test that you believed you were passing, for the most part. You haven’t missed a Sunday sermon since you caught the flu in 2021, and even so, you watched the livestreams on Facebook. You keep your nose in your Bible, and ignore the clench in your gut when he tells you good morning. 

This morning is different. 

This morning is worse. 

You just come off of your period- disgusting and uncomfortable as it was, you are thankful it was over and you can enjoy the rest of your June in peace. But it lingers under your skin, an itch that can’t be scratched. Your emotions are raw, and you burst into tears twice this week, unprompted. Worst of all is the ache. 

You didn’t know you could feel so empty. It claws at your insides like a caged beast, mockingly calling in the voice of Moloch himself, “Fill me up, fill me up.”

You threw yourself headfirst into your studies; you reviewed Ecclesiastes as a way to ground yourself, to remind yourself that this was a temporary feeling, and would pale in comparison to the absolution of Heaven. 

Still, sitting in your pew, you felt the hunger gnashing at you, gnawing at your throat. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. You stutter through your hymnal, barely reading half the words. Your mother keeps giving you concerned looks, your father aloof as ever. Halfway through the sermon, she hisses in your ear, “What is the matter with you?” 

You blink up at her, wide-eyed, and stammer out a “I - I don’t know. I feel… weird.” 

She purses her lips, but says nothing, turning back to Pastor Karlsson in the pulpit. 

You pass the time in silence, feeling itchy and hot, until the sermon concludes, and everyone makes a mass exodus to the dirt lot where their cars are parked.

“Hold on.” Your mother stops you as you begin exiting your pew. 

She walks over and, to your utter horror, greets Pastor Karlsson, pulling him aside and speaking to him in hushed tones. He nods once, glancing at you, then nods again as she steps away. She looks grateful, patting his shoulder in that way that mothers do. 

He looks at you then, and his full attention is enough to make you combust. Suddenly your dress is too tight on your chest, your breasts straining with every breath against the linen that encases you. Your bones itch, but your hands stay resolutely tucked into your sides, your Bible held against your chest.

You’re so busy focusing on breathing that you don’t realize he’s walking towards you until he’s right in front of you, smiling warmly while greeting you by name. Your mother is by his side, looking at you in such a way that tells you she had something to do with this interaction. 

“Darling, Pastor Karlsson here wants a word with you. He even said he’d give you a ride back to the house! I’ll set aside a plate for you at home, you two take your time here.” She was smiling in a way that made all of her teeth visible, like a snarling animal. A lead brick settles in your stomach at the expression as you look up at Pastor Karlsson.

He was so tall, you think as you peer up at him. Dark eyes meet yours, making your gaze flicker away to something else- anything else to avoid the intensity you find there. Looking directly into his eyes was like looking into the maw of a starving beast- you weren’t brave enough to even consider it.

Your mother departs with a final “Wonderful sermon, Joakim, thank you!” Flashing one of her pageant smiles at him - one she’s never given your father - as she goes. 

He nods politely, murmuring a quiet, “All the glory to God.” before turning back to you. He gives you a thoughtful look before he speaks again.

“Your mother is concerned about you.” His tone was not accusatory or pointed, just repeating facts. 

You inhale shakily. “Yeah, I feel kind of weird today.” Admitting to such a thing is not a lie - you do feel weird today. 

He nods, as if understanding. Then, “Would you like to speak in my office? I have to pick up a few things, then we can head out.”

The thought of being in an enclosed space with him made you almost pass out, but you persevere, giving a meek nod as you follow him out of the sanctuary.

It was a short walk from the sanctuary to his office, your church is small, even among small churches. You love its modesty; It is a far cry from the towering spires and flying buttresses you saw in your history books back in school, but it has a self-effacing quality that makes it approachable to people from all walks of life. 

The walls are painted white, though slightly yellowed with age. Dark wood lines the floor, blue carpet cushioning your steps as you walk. There aren’t many windows - it was built for insulation, not sight-seeing, after all. Crosses hang sporadically throughout the hallways, some wooden, carved by members, others purchased at a discount at the craft stores a few towns over. 

His office is a glorified coat closet, something the elders threw together haphazardly when God called him to serve. It fit a desk, a desktop computer that was older than dirt, and two chairs, one on either side of the desk. The carpet is green, the walls beige, and you have always thought it is an entirely unbecoming space for such a Godly man. It’s a good thing he was humble; God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble, you think, almost bitterly, as he sits down in the chair by the computer. You make a mental note to work on your own humility as you sit down in the chair opposite him. 

“So, what’s got you feeling weird?” He asks with a small smile, putting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. His hair falls over his shoulders with the movement, cascading down in a curtain of silk. You remind yourself to breathe. 

Stammering, you try to explain yourself. “I’m- I’m not sure, Pastor Karlsson-”

“Joakim.” He interrupts you gently. 

You blink at him, confusion evident in your face. He must find something about the expression amusing, because he’s smiling softly and continuing, “You can call me Joakim. We’re both grown-ups here.”

You swallow loudly, the sound all but ricochets in the stillness of the room. “R-right. I’m not really sure why I feel so weird. I just had a really hard time focusing today.” You suddenly realize what you’ve said, correcting yourself quickly. “Not that the sermon wasn’t good! Your sermons are always wonderful, Pastor Karls - Joakim.” 

He’s smiling broadly now, clearly entertained by your flailing. “It’s okay, käresta, I understand what you mean." A pause, then he lowers his hands. "Is there something on your mind specifically? Something that’s preventing you from focusing?”

You go still, scared to breathe too fully, lest it give you away. Your eyes slide to the ground, teeth coming out to gnaw at your lip. You can feel your heart racing in your throat- the throbbing sensation makes you wonder if you’ll actually vomit from anxiety. You freeze further when Joakim places a hand on your arm, gently.

His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our sins, and sin is sin -”

“- Is sin.” You finish for him, sounding unconvinced. You take a deep breath, then redirect your gaze back to him. His eyes are soft with concern, mouth pulled into the faintest frown. Hating to imagine you’re the reason he’s so upset, you blurt out before you can even process your words.

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts about a man in the congregation.” Once the words have been said, you fight the urge to grab them clean out of the air and stuff them back into your mouth. 

The hand on your arm tenses for half a second, then relaxes again. “Okay.” He begins calmly, pulling his hand back to the table. You resist the urge to whimper at the loss of contact. “I can see where your concern is coming from. Is this man married?”

There were only so many unmarried men in the congregation; it would be an easy elimination if you were truthful. But... You were already coming clean about one sin, no need to add on others, you reasoned. Shaking your head in a negative, you give a meek, “No, he’s not.”

Joakim nods thoughtfully, staying silent for a moment. You can all but see the gears turning in his mind, deducing who it could be. You wonder if he lists himself amongst the unmarried men- or if he is courting some woman, unbeknownst to you all. No, your mind fired at you venomously. He is not the sort of man to slink around in the shadows. 

Finally, he spoke. “While lust is never something to give full rein to, it is understandable, biologically speaking.” Upon seeing your confusion, he offers another soft smile, continuing. “You’re at an age where your body wants you to have children. It is what God made you for, it’s only natural that someone as devoted as you are would respond strongly to His plan. You’re not doing anything wrong, käresta.”

Relief floods your body, making your shoulders sag at the loss of tension. You aren’t doing anything wrong, Joakim even told you so. But that makes you wonder- is there anything you should be doing? You’re about to ask when he speaks again. 

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you privately for a while now.” He huffs a small laugh. “It seems the Lord thought today would be a good time, so it shall be.” 

You straighten your shoulders, sitting up, wanting to make sure he knows he has your full attention. Looking at him fully, you’re not surprised why your body is so responsive to him. He’s so handsome, even with the shadow of dark stubble on his face. You wonder what keeps him up at night, which chapters he gets stuck on for days before clarity dawns on him. It’s no mystery why your body is putting thoughts of lust in your mind; he’s the sort of man who would make a wonderful father. 

You cut off that train of thought, needing to focus on the present moment. He needs your full attention for whatever he’s going to say next. 

“The Lord has been communicating with me for some months now, on the topic of finding a wife.” You both take deep breaths, though for different reasons, you imagine. “You’ve heard my testimony on my previous marriage, so I don’t need to emphasize how much I’ve prayed about this.”

Your heart breaks, shatters, combusts into nothing but ash at his words. The Lord wants him to find a wife, and it sounds like he has someone in mind. You swallow the lump of bile in your throat, trying to listen to his next words as your guts fight the natural inclination to stay in your body.

“I’ve spoken to God a lot, the last few months- even by pastor standards.” The playful smile he gives you feels like a knife twisting in your chest. “And if I’m understanding his message correctly, I believe God wants me to court you.”

You’re so busy wallowing that you don’t understand what he’s said at first. The words sink in slowly, like the drip of an IV into your veins. When you think you understand, you manage a, “What?”

He chuckles, not a degrading sound, rather like he understands your confusion. “I know, it seems sudden, but I’ve been speaking to the Lord about this for many months, and-”

“Oh my goodness.” You interrupt as realization hits you like a freight train. “No - I know. I know. Because God has been speaking to me, too.”

Joakim’s brow furrows at you, and it feels nice to not be the confused one for once. 

You continue, looking up at him shyly. “The… lustful thoughts I’ve been having, they-” You pause, building up your courage. “They’re about you.” 

He’s frozen, mouth slightly agape as he processes your confession. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes darker than usual as he asks, “You’ve been having lustful thoughts about… me?”

You nod, cheeks tinged pink. “When you’re in the pulpit - I try to focus, I really do, but my mind wanders to… other things.” 

You should be embarrassed, should be ashamed of admitting something so unbecoming. But the comfort of this being God’s plan washes away any ill regards you have about the situation; this is what He has always intended. 

“Other things?” He echoes, eyes focused on you intensely. His voice is hushed, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Like what?”

Your blush deepens at his inquiry. “Well, it’s more of a feeling than an exact thought…”

He’s leaning forward now, all but hanging over his desk at your words. He looks hungry, you realize suddenly; Like he’d seen firsthand the famine in Canaan, pupils blown wide, mouth open, breathing slowly. “A feeling?” He prompts.

Nodding, you find yourself leaning forward too, almost desperate to close the gap between you both. You can feel the dust in the air, hear the quiet electric hum of his old desktop computer. Your breath is coming too loudly, it ricochets off the walls around you both. “It feels like an ache.” You explain, sounding hoarse. “It feels like an emptiness.” 

He takes a shaky breath, pushing himself back from his desk in a controlled motion. Standing up, he makes his way around the desk to stand in front of you, one of his calloused hands guiding your chin up to look at him. 

“Do you want me to help you - with the emptiness? The ache?” He questions, eyes boring into yours. 

The thought of it makes your thighs clench together, and the feeling is so delicious that you almost vocalize it. Your mouth is dry, but you feel wetness gathering in your cotton panties already. You almost forget to respond, nodding and breathing out, “Yes, please.”

“Always so well-mannered.” He praises, making you feel warm. You would do just about anything for him to keep going.

The hand on your jaw guides you upward until you’re standing in front of him. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat emanating from his body, feel the way the air vibrates between you. His eyes travel down to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to your lips again. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy, lillis?” He asks, eyes half-lidded and voice quiet.

You shake your head, a tiny movement. “No.” You pause, then decide to continue. “I wanted to save myself.”

His inhale is sharp, deep. “Such a good girl.” The words light a fire in your belly, and the familiar gnawing is back, worse than ever before. You shift on your feet, subconsciously searching for any kind of friction. He picks up on the movement. 

“Do you feel empty, now? Are you desolate?” You can feel where his breath hits your face. If you tilted your head right, your lips would meet. The clothes you’re wearing feel itchy - too tight, too rough.  

You can’t speak, so you nod “yes.” His eyes run down your figure, back up again to your lips. 

“Show me where.” Is his only command. You can’t read his expression fully, features arranged into careful neutrality. The spark in his eyes seemed to hint at desperation, though.

Your face is probably the color of a sun-ripened tomato, but you do as he says, grabbing his free hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingers curl up through your skirt, cupping your mound. Your eyelids flutter shut at the contact, hands coming up to rest against his chest to steady yourself. Heartbeat racing, you don’t think there could be anything better than the feeling of what’s happening right now.

“Here? Is this where you feel empty?” His lips move against your cheek, breath fanning across your ear, making you shiver.

You blink several times, trying to clear your head. “Joakim, please.” Is all you can muster, fingers gripping at his shirt. 

You can feel him sag against you as his lips crash into yours. You’re not completely sure of what to do, allowing him to guide your lips open, licking into your mouth. You hear yourself groaning into the kiss, crowding impossibly closer until your bodies are pressed against each other fully. 

He breaks the embrace to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck. The feeling is euphoric, making your hips buck into his without conscious decision.

Hands run down your sides, coming up again underneath your dress skirt to grip at the backs of your thighs, yanking you forward with such force that you almost topple over. His left hand is at your back in an instant, holding you steady before unzipping the back of your dress in a swift motion. 

The material pools around your front, hanging loosely until you pry it off, happy to be rid of the too-rough fabric at last. His lips are back on yours in an instant, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other kneads the flesh of your breast through your bra. 

You outright moan at the feeling, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as your mouth opens to let the sound out. He works a knee between your legs, rubbing the meaty flesh of his thigh against your core in such a way that has you seeing spots in your vision. Fingers curling into claws where they grip onto his shoulders, you grind down onto his leg, an animalistic snarl escaping you as you do so. 

You know this feeling; Though it’s a sin to give into lust, you’ve made yourself climax before, silently, long after everyone had laid down to rest at night. This is so much more, though - you feel as though someone has soaked you in gasoline and laid a lit match to your flesh. Nothing could have torn you from the carnal desire you felt, being entwined with Joakim like this. You want to take turns ripping each other apart, severing limbs and gluing them back together until you have both been remade in His image. You want to bite and gnaw and lick until you taste blood, to soothe the worried skin with soft whispers and softer hands. Dragged to Hell and back, nailed to a cross and left to rot, rising from the dead with such vigor that Lazarus would envy you - you wanted it all, so long as this moment didn’t end.

“Joakim - I, I -” You choke out, eyes focusing on his, foreheads pressed together.

“Good girl, give it to me, everything you’ve got.” He urged you, the hand on your neck coming down against your hip, ushering your pelvis against his thigh. 

Burying your head in his chest, you climax with a wanton moan, body shuddering through the shockwaves of it. Your breathing is labored, vision blurry from clenching your eyes shut so tightly.

He’s gently prying you off his leg then, maneuvering your positions until you find yourself face-down on his desk. Using a knee, he nudges your knees apart until he fits comfortably between them. The new angle has you feeling vulnerable, visible, licentious. 

You don’t have time to dwell on the feeling, because suddenly his fingers are playing with your folds through your ruined panties. Your knees almost buckle at the stimulation, so sensitive it almost hurts. Gripping the other side of the desk to hold yourself upright, you do your very best to stay still as he explores your body. 

Two fingers hook into the side of your panties, moving them to the side. You know he can see everything like this, and while part of you is screaming at the debauchery of it, another, louder part of you hopes he likes what he sees. You’re fighting the urge to sneak a glance at him when the two fingers that moved your panties aside are thrust deep into your core. 

You let out a howl that could rival a rabid dog, nails scraping against the wooden laminate of the desk as your hands clench into fists. He’s curling his fingers inside you slowly, and you can feel every millimeter of it. A string of drool escapes your open mouth, cascading down into a puddle on a stack of prayer requests from this morning’s sermon. 

“That’s it, so good, just take it, lillis.” He murmurs, fingers still unfurling deep inside you. 

You don’t know that you can do anything but take it. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, taking up twice as much space as you’re used to. You feel wonderfully full, the emptiness inside you finally satiated.

But then he’s pulling them out, and you almost sob at the loss of it. You could feel your hole clenching on nothing, throbbing with want; Whether you enjoy it or not, you aren’t even sure. 

You hear a zipper, then the sound of something metallic hitting the carpet. When you turn your neck to see what’s happening, you’re met with the sight of Joakim’s full manhood on display. 

You’ve never seen a man naked before. There were pictures, shown to you unwillingly by the cruel boys who called you a “Bible-thumper” in school, but this is entirely different.

Joakim is… prettier, you think is the right word. His tip is pink, almost red, and wet-looking in the glow of the fluorescent office lights. Veins bulge along the length, throbbing at you angrily as if to mock the throbbing happening within you. It’s big, you realize suddenly. You can’t begin to fathom how it’s going to fit inside you, when his fingers alone made you feel so full already.

A hand is placed at the back of your neck, holding you flat in place. The weight is reassuring, grounding in its pressure as you’re pressed fully against the desk, the cool laminate a welcome reprieve from the fever burning in your skin. You feel him press his tip against your folds, running it through the slickness there, before slowly pushing past your threshold. 

“It hurts.” Is the first thing you whine, legs already trembling. It does hurt - in a sharp way, like stretching to reach your toes first thing in the morning. 

You gasp as he leans over, thrusting further into you as he whispers in your ear. “Shh, I know. It’s the price we must pay for our sin.” His murmur relaxes you a bit, reassures you of what you’re doing. Joakim would not lead you astray; God had spoken to him, given him fortitude in the last months. This was His plan.

The stretch continues as he slowly slides further into you, until your bodies are joined completely. You’re panting, open-mouthed as he fills you entirely. Your toes are barely brushing against the ground from how far he’s pushed you into the desk, corners digging into your hips sharply. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, unraveling the muscles that have been pulled taut with anticipation. Your breathing slows, body easing around the intrusion until only the sensation of fullness remains.

Joakim pulls back then, a slow movement that has you inhaling harshly as he drags along your inner walls. Your mouth goes to ask him what he’s doing, when he slams back into you, cutting off your train of thought in favor of gargling on your breath. 

“Oh my God,” You keen, eyes so wide they might bulge out of your head altogether. 

A jarring slap lands against your backside, stinging skin left in its wake. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Joakim rasps, sounding as out of breath as you do. 

He pulls back again, only to crash back into you a half-second later. The force of it jolts you, making you wail as your hands reach out for something, anything to hold onto. Documents and envelopes fly onto the floor in your frenzy, looking as haphazard as you feel. 

He continues at an unrelenting pace, hand still firmly gripping the base of your neck from behind. You know you’re being loud; A distant part of you even registers that, given the circumstances, you should probably be much, much quieter. You can’t bring yourself to care, though, an endless chant of Joakim’s name falling from your lips as you do what you can to grind back into him.

The hand leaves your neck, coming down to grab onto your hip while his other hand mirrors the action. Your pelvis is lifted off the desk, thrusts never even pausing as the new angle drives him deeper into you. Tears spring in your eyes from the overstimulation, having climaxed only a few short minutes ago. 

This is absolution, You think. Being tangled together, conjoined like this - There is no fear of sin, no guilt at succumbing to the lust-filled desires of the flesh. As Joakim plunges himself into you, over and over, you find yourself almost dizzy with relief at the weight lifted off your shoulders, the panic of condemnation a distant memory. 

His arm wraps around the front of your hips, holding you in place, as his free hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head towards him. 

“Say the Lord’s prayer.” He groans in your ear, breath hot and sticky. “Beg for His forgiveness. ‘Our Father-’”

“‘-Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” You whimper, the words slipping off your tongue like muscle memory as your body is rocked back and forth by his thrusts. “‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth-” Your voice is cut off by your own gasp as he reaches something in you that you’ve never felt before. Knees shaking, you dig your fingers deeper into the mess of papers surrounding you to try and stabilize yourself. 

“Keep going. ‘On Earth, as it is in Heaven.’” He urges, grip tightening on you. 

“‘Give us today our daily bread,’” You continue, moaning pitifully as he drives into that same spot again. “‘And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.’”

Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation driving you mad. Joakim is mouthing at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue brushing over a spot that makes you shiver into him. A fire is building in your belly, lapping at the bottom of your throat as you move closer and closer to climax. 

“‘L-lead us not into temp- temptation,’” You stutter, mind hazy with want. “‘But d-deliver us from evil.’”

Joakim’s voice is back in your ear. “‘For thine is the Kingdom,” A harsh thrust, “‘The Power,” Another thrust, “And the Glory forever.’” 

The fire burns so hot that it rips the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Your eyes struggle to stay open, fluttering closed each time he rams into you. A particularly harsh pull of your hair reminds you that he is waiting for your response.

“Amen.” You whisper, vision going white as you climax, body twitching forcefully in his arms. His hips stutter once before he buries himself inside you, spilling his seed into you as he does. 

Whether you lay there for seconds or days, you don’t know. Eventually, Joakim pulls out, a string of his release coming with him, rolling down the inside of your thighs. You whimper at the loss, still too sensitive to move. 

“C’mon, käresta, we need to get you dressed. Your mother will wonder where you are.” His voice is gentle behind you, hand rubbing against your lower back to rouse you. 

Your joints pop in protest as you try to push yourself up off the desk. The room is a mess of papers and scattered writing utensils, your dress nothing more than a rumpled pile of cloth on the ground. 

You slip it over your head gingerly, every muscle in your body somehow sore. Joakim zips up the garment for you, running his hands over your clothed back, as if to smooth the wrinkles. 

Turning to face him, you’re met with a soft pair of lips to your forehead, dark hair brushing against your cheeks. The kiss makes you feel brave as you ask, “Joakim?”

His eyes are warm as he gazes down at you, his fingers coming up to comb through your tangled hair. “Hmm?” Is his response as he works out a particularly knotted strand.

You flutter your eyelashes, a move that feels foreign, but somehow right. Looking up at him demurely, you ask, “Will you be leading tonight’s Bible study?”

#jolly karlsson smut #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly karlsson fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens smut

[secret-history-hyperfixation]

Things I love about Bunny:

(a.k.a. me being a Bunny apologist)

• Adhd Humor (“Metahemeralism”)

• He’s definitely a twunk. 6’3” athlete, but also:

“Bunny lay on his stomach on the hearth rug, doing his homework”

• Just wants to be included with what’s going on between his friends. (Fomo king)

• Deflects when people ask if he's drunk or if he has a hickey.

• He’s a good artist.

• He says this about Charles:

“Charles is a handsome fellow and a sterling character all around, but I wouldn’t want to marry him, would I?”

• The jokes he makes, albeit insensitive, are so ridiculous. He definitely likes attention and making himself and other people laugh.

(The “queers being obsessed with food” gibe was so ridiculously funny to me. Bc he says that and then proceeds to be obsessed with food himself.)

• Steals a cheesecake, doesn’t like it, keeps eating it anyway.

• That time he kept stealing lamb chops, and Charles was babyishly pleading for him to “wait a minute, there won’t be enough to go around.”

• Henry being his best friend.

- Changed his major to be in Henry's class

- Wears the same glasses

- Gushes to his dad about him

- Says to Richard: “That Henry… I love him, and you love him”

• Sidenote: I love Bunny's dad. He seems so sweet. He likes to dote on his grandchildren and also their pets.

• Bunny is the baby in his family.

His terrible jokes are prob a result of this. Most likely the only way to get attention being the youngest in a family of FIVE BOYS. (nightmare)

• He is so submissive around Marion.

It’s adorable that Marion is his girlfriend bc she is such a mom, and Bunny so easily submits to her.

(When Marion is mad at him, he still sulks his way home to her even tho he's like: "who does she think she is? telling me what to do?” And then five minutes later he goes “anyways guess I'll head home now.”)

• Also, their relationship is described as that of a 20 year marriage. (silly. sweet.)

• Every person that is not the Greek Class seems to *love* Bunny.

• But Julian calls him, "timid, puritanical, almost"; "He's such a sweet boy, so silly; I'm really very fond of him."

• And Judy thinks he's hilarious.

• Bunny is not violent, unlike Henry, or even Charles. He really just talks a lot of shit.

Even when he says queer people should be burned at the stake, Richard asks him "What about Francis? He's your friend.” (Bc obvi Richard, with his amazing gaydar even tho he’s straight, can tell Francis is queer.) And Bunny is like, “He just needs to get a girlfriend.”

That’s clearly a shitty, tone-deaf thing to say, but he's not violent even though he just said “burn them.”

• Also, why is Bunny inquiring about the stuff Francis is into? He must be wondering for himself.👀

I was rooting for Bunny the first half of the book, even when I knew what would happen.🤦

#he just like me fr #minus the -obias and -isms #bunny corcoran #secret history #richard papen #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #henry winter #julian morrow #tsh #tsh donna tartt #the secret history

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

nonidol!lee hyunjae x f!reader

6.7k words (my hand slipped, sorry), fluff, angst, low-key e2l, ex friends 2 implied lovers?, low-key rich kid au, swearing, drinking and drunk talks/crying, a shitty situation, a bitchy ex gf, uhh very low-key hurt/comfort?, lots of mentions of pizza and soft drinks, THE PLOT IS SO RUSHED IM SORRY I CRAMMED.

a/n: requests now closed! whew,,, what a doozy 😭 im sorry if it feels rushed bc it low-key really was such a rushed and ambitious plot on my part. to the anon who requested it, ik it's not exactly what u asked for and im sorry ><

The pizzeria was like your second home. Maybe it was your home, but you weren't sure if calling a pizza place your home was the best word. It acted as your bubble away from academic responsibilities, family obligations, and anything else you wanted to forget. For the past three years of your college career, you made this place your comfort spot, while also picking up some spare change.

Your friend and co-worker Dae bumped her hip with yours as she passed by you with her hands full of empty plastic cups to refill. "Your group of banshees just walked in," she mused, slipping past you to the fountain drink machine on the bar counter.

Your head perked up and watched the front door on the other side of the room open to let a wave of your friends in. Dae liked to joke that your friend group consisted of a bunch of "banshees" from how loud they could be. You couldn't blame her at all; it was hilariously accurate. On a bad night, the group's volume could reach levels of a nightmare baby being birthed from the Devil's anus.

"Yn-ie!" Chanhee and Jacob waved to you as the group of five made their way through the tight spaces between tables.

"Hey, guys," you greeted them. "You're so lucky a group just left." You nodded toward the circular table in the back corner where your friends often made their home. It was big enough to seat seven—ten, if you squished—but it was almost always for you and your friends.

The pizzeria's owner and your boss, Mr. Moretti, usually didn't mind your friends occupying the space. You were pretty sure he was glad your friends were hiding themselves away in the back. (Not because of the merriment, just because of the noise. Some customers just wanted pizza and a quiet night, and you could respect that.)

"Waitress! Waitress!" Changmin screeched, waving one of his hands around like a lunatic.

You came up to the table with an unimpressed look on your face, and Kevin wrestled his neighbor back into this seat. "Okay, so Changmin doesn't get to eat tonight," you drawled and braced your hands on the backs of Sunwoo and Chanhee's chairs.

"I was just wondering how long it takes for someone to get service around here," Changmin jested. He feigned one of those pompous brushes of his hair, mocking one of the rich pricks who had come in here last month thinking that the RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE sign didn't apply to him. Changmin broke into a lopsided grin at your arched brows. "What? I think I'm funny."

Your eyes widened in a silent 'Can you believe this guy?'

"He's sugar high because someone let him get to the cupcakes," Kevin directed his flat gaze to his counterpart, Jacob.

Jacob's hands lifted in innocence. "What? No one was eating them, and he said he was hungry."

"Okay, drinks, folks!" You clapped to regain their attention. You did, after all, have other customers. "What're we feeling tonight?"

A chorus of drink orders flew up into the air—coke, iced water, Sprite, lemonade—and you nodded, stepping away to grab them those very beverages. Your friends had all been here enough times to know exactly what was on the menu, so while you stepped away briefly for their drinks, they could deliberate and get back to you as soon as you returned.

Like a well oiled machine, you delivered them their drinks, and Kevin doled out the lineup for tonight.

"You know, I was thinking of painting my nails black," Kevin said as he finished off the order. He held his hand out in front of him, inspecting the state of his bare nails.

Sunwoo straightened in his seat. "We should do it together, hyung!—I mean… you could probably paint my nails. I dunno if you should trust me with one of those thin ass brushes."

"You're right," Chanhee chimed in, "we shouldn't."

You snickered to yourself as you left your friends to their own devices and pinned their order sheet to one of the clips hanging in the kitchen window. There was a set of plates set out on the window sill, the bill reading for table three, and you picked it up to take over to them. Dae appeared next to you, tightening her ponytail, and grabbed the dishes for table four right beside it.

With both your hands full, you departed to deliver your respective orders.

As you set the dishes off food down onto table three, you heard the telltale swish of the door opening, and night air flooded into the room. On instinct, you straightened with a smile to greet them. "Hi! Welcome—" your voice died on your throat, and when his eyes locked with yours, you stuttered, "—in. For how many?"

Lee Hyunjae brushed a hand through his blond hair, his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of a girl who was unfortunately familiar to you. A couple of the guys with him, you recognized, too, but he was the one who had made you trip over your words.

One of them with jet black hair and kind, feline-like eyes, lifted four of his fingers in a wordless signal.

You nodded, lips set in a firm line, and gestured to the open four-seater at table eight.

You tucked your empty tray beneath your arm, mentally thanking anyone who was listening that his party was seated in Dae's section and not yours. Thank god for odd numbers.

Dae was swift to chirp out her usual cheeriness to the newcomers, and you scurried back over to the register to cash a table's check. As you did so, your eyes flitted up toward Hyunjae's table. He glanced over at you periodically, looking away whenever you were already looking at him.

What the hell was he doing here? You wanted to yell, scream. Out of all the places, out of all the nights, out of all the times… how long had it been since you last saw him, you wondered to yourself as you let the bitterness seep into your bones and meld with the marrow. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

You strode over to table seven to set their check down on the edge of the table. Everything in the pizzeria was so close together; it was near impossible not to catch the words being exchanged at table eight.

"—don't understand why you chose this dump, Hyunjae." That was the girl, the one who's face made you want to throw something at it. Her name was Kyla, and the last time you saw her in person, she had just become Hyunjae's girlfriend.

Sometimes you questioned how they even managed to stay together so long, but then again, people like them deserved each other.

"Eric just wanted pizza, babe," drawled the blond, his arm casually draped over the back of her chair.

The two others seated at the table consisted of the man with jet black hair, and another with a medium-toned brown hair peeking out of a gray hoodie. The latter said, "You guys'll love this place! Their breadsticks are literally the fluffiest things in the world."

A smile curled onto your face at that comment. Now that you thought about it, you'd seen him around before.

You slid over to table one and began stacking the dirty dishes left behind by customers who had gone. Table eight's conversation continued.

"Is it normal to be able to see grease in the air?" Kyla gagged, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She soaked in the close quarters of the restaurant with little appreciation.

The other third wheel at table eight, the one with black hair, lifted his eyebrows. "It's cozy in here, Kyla."

"Yeah, just give it a chance," Hyunjae chimed in.

You brushed past their table to grab table seven's check and hustle it back over to the register. You met Dae at the counter, her hands once again full with cups that needed filling.

A grunt left her lips. "Table eight," she began.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Sheesh."

Her head turned to you over her shoulder. "You know 'em?"

"Unfortunately." You pursed your lips. "It's been awhile," you amended. "I only know the couple at the table—enough to say, good luck, girl."

Dae made a face, but she pulled her shoulders back to solidify her posture. You always admired her work ethic and her customer service skills. As fellow waitresses during many a dinner rush hour, you both had to deal with your own handfuls of difficult people. At this point, it wasn't difficult to sniff them out from a mile away. There were some days you just wanted them to yell at you and get it over with.

Just as Dae left to go drop off drinks, your friends' order hit the window sill. You tucked the finished bill for table seven into your apron pocket and grabbed the trays to set on the table for your friends.

"You look like you're about to gnaw my fingers off, Jacob," you teased with a twinge of nervousness.

The man grinned at you, with teeth. "I'm hungry."

"Valid." You backed away from the table, and the carnage began.

You laughed, ducking your head, as you left your friends to their feast. You arrived at table seven and wished them a good night—

"Do you not have cherry coke? Isn't that, like, a universal fountain drink?"

You glanced over to see Dae's mouth twitch just slightly, but gave nothing else away. "No, we only have regular Coke and Diet Coke; I said that earlier, miss."

Kyla stared at her as if she'd just gotten her puppy revoked. "But they both taste like ass."

"You can have a fruit punch instead," Dae offered.

"But I don't want fruit punch."

You saw that the other two boys at the table fidgeted nervously. They were making eyes at Hyunjae, urging him to do something.

He seemed to lift his gaze to yours at that exact moment and you wondered what he saw in them. Something shifted in him, a silent acceptance of surrender.

The next thing you knew, he was leaning into the conversation. "Ky, you can just get a water or something and then we'll go get a drink after this. How does that sound?"

She threw a look over at him. "I really just want a cherry coke, Hyunjae. If I have to be forced to eat at this place, then the least you could do is get me a cherry coke."

Okay, that was enough.

"Is there a problem here?" You asked, sidling up beside Dae. You saw her loosen up out of the corner of your eye.

Kyla opened her mouth to retort something, but she halted abruptly. Her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing, like she was trying to figure something out. You knew the moment she recognized you. A slow smile curled onto her mouth. "Oh my god… Yn Ln. Mommy and daddy kick you out or something? Why are you working at this dump?"

You were certain your eye started twitching.

Hyunjae grappled her shoulder. "Kyla."

"This is gold," she chirped. "Wow, I didn't think anything good could come of this dinner, but—" she sneered, "wow. You look awful."

"Takes one to know one," you said with venom dripping from your words. "We have a right to refuse service, ma'am, so if you don't quit badgering my friend and me, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She didn't seem to catch your drift. "No. Get me. A cherry coke."

You suppressed every urge to fuck this girl up. To Dae, you murmured, "Can you cover my tables?"

"For sure, girl," she said, giving you a reassuring clasp on the shoulder. "Should I call Moretti?"

"No, I think we should be fine—"

"Wait until I tell everyone I know about how absolute ass this place is," Kyla ripped you back out into reality. She had her phone out now, and Eric, the guy in the hoodie, was reaching across the table to stop her.

You weren't allowed to touch her, you reminded yourself. You could do this with just words. No matter how much it killed you to not sucker punch her stupid, pearly whites in. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," you told her through gritted teeth. "Either you buckle down with your regular Coca-Cola, or you get out."

"How about—no."

All breath dissipated from your lungs when you felt the carbonated liquid dumped in your face, the blocks of ice just missing your eyes. The entire establishment seemed to freeze with you.

You scoffed, slowly wiping the soda from your eyes and shaking out your arms. You couldn't seem to form coherent speech.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You recognized Kevin's hardened voice behind you, his hand squeezing your shoulder to tell you he was here.

As Kyla and Kevin dueled it out, you found Hyunjae's eyes again. To his credit, he seemed horrified and apologetic, his mouth parted in shock. But then again, he didn't have much credit anymore in your book.

Your hands fisted. You wanted to yell at him to get out. It had been a decent evening, a good evening, before he and his like came in and threw a drink in your face.

You didn't want to address the burning bitterness that coursed beneath all the annoyance and anger—out of everything, why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he try harder to help you? Why was he with her when he could be with y—nevermind. That didn't matter.

Even now, your back still ached from when he'd last left it stabbed.

"Are you okay, Yn-ie?"

You realized that Hyunjae and his party had gone now, and the shop patrons were slowly going back to whatever they had been doing before. Chanhee appeared before you with a couple napkins from the dispenser on the table, and Dae rushed over with a massive roll of paper towels. Your other friends had flocked over, too, to help clean up and also attend to customers while you pulled your shit together.

You gave a nod, finding your voice to tell them so. Your gaze casted briefly toward the front door where you knew he wouldn't ever be stepping back into.

You told yourself that was a good thing.

It was late when you finally pushed out of the back doors of the pizzeria building. Your car was parked out back with many of the other employee cars; it was just a lot more convenient and a lot less traffic. It had been a couple days since the fiasco with Kyla and Hyunjae, and you hadn't heard or seen him once since then.

That was a good thing. It was supposed to be a good thing. After all, why would he suddenly reappear in your life now? What purpose or what significance did that have?

You were going to try and forget about him again. Your life was plenty good without him, and yet…

"Yn."

Speak of the Devil. You swore under your breath as you nearly tripped over the curb. His voice was haunting, as was his presence, his whole silhouette. You'd once found a home with all those things—with him.

You and he stopped beside your car. "What are you doing here?" You asked him.

Hyunjae had his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I, uhm," he began, "I wanted to say sorry."

"Sorry?" You parroted. The word was sticky in your mouth and it clung to all the wrong crevices.

"Yeah, for the other night." He clasped the back of his neck. "I… I broke up with her, by the way."

Your eyes widened at his words. He broke up with Kyla? A part of you wanted to pump the sky and jump up and down—finally. Fucking finally! But there was another part of you, the rational one, who yanked you back to Earth and smacked you in the head to think about it. Three years of dating that girl, and just now he decided to break up with her? What was the tipping point? There was no way he didn't know she acted like a spoiled brat all the time.

What was so good about her anyway? You thought you had understood at the time—she had more money, more connections. Her parents were old money rich, not entrepreneurs like yours. It was stupid to think that was the reason, and you couldn't afford to go down that rabbit hole of methodology again.

"So?"

Your singular word seemed to slap him in the face. "So? I—" Frustration flickered across his face for a split second. Now he knew how you felt.

You couldn't wait for him to say anything; you had so much to say to him. "Listen Jaehyun," you said plainly. "I don't know what you want from me. You broke up with your girlfriend? Good for you. You're sorry for the other night? Okay. I don't know if you expect me to grovel and praise you for owning up for once—"

"Okay, what?" He cut in. "First of all, I don't expect you to grovel or praise me or whatever. Second, what do you mean 'owning up for once?'"

"I mean it exactly like I said it." You clenched the strap of your bag in your hand. Crazy how your car was literally right next to you, but you couldn't get into it. Your feet were glued to the street, and a part of you wanted to know how this ended. "The last time I saw you, Kyla laughed in my face, and you encouraged her. You dropped me like our years of friendship meant jack shit to you. I don't know what you're trying to pull, Jaehyun, and I don't wanna know."

Hyunjae leaned his head back, eyes closed for a second. "Yn, it's so much more complicated than that."

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. "That's such bullshit, and you know it. You don't get to come back and tell me this." There was a shakiness in your voice now, and you knew you had to get going or risk yelling. "That's just not fair."

"I know it's not fair."

"Good."

"Fine," he bit out. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Your hand found purchase on the driver's side door. Say something. Give me a reason to stay. "Maybe your sense of guilt has finally returned and your brain wanted to make amends."

He rolled his eyes, and it felt like a stab in your chest. "I'm going to leave now."

"Thank god." The words tasted sour in your mouth and you realized that he hadn't given you a reason to stay; in fact, it had been the exact opposite.

You both went your separate ways again. When you clambered into your car and watched him walk away through your rear view, it dawned on you that the entire conversation had been one massive circle. You wanted to hear him out—of course, you did.

You used to know him, after all. You used to know him so well. And perhaps that was why you hadn't just now.

"We need to talk."

A pair of hands slammed down on your desk and you nearly fell out of your chair. You tugged your earbuds out of your ear to give whoever this was a piece of your—

You frowned. "Oh. It's you."

Hyunjae frowned back at you. He was wearing a jean jacket today, hair styled presentably. He didn't have to look so good in this lighting, but you supposed even the sun liked to favor him. "Yes, it's me. Can you get up so we can—" He nodded out toward the library window beside you, "—talk?"

"So you want us to jump out the window?"

"You are so annoying."

Your smile was saccharine. "Not as annoying as you."

It had currently been around fifteen hours since he showed up at the back alley to confront you with that sorry apology. You'd woken up this morning less mad and more sad… smad. Sure, you were smad. It seemed that a night of sleep hadn't deterred your ex-best friend from talking to you, and you couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

"You don't even go to this school," you told him in a pathetic attempt to wave him away without actually waving him away.

"This is a public campus, Yn." He pulled out the seat across from you before you could protest. "I don't have to go to this school."

You scowled. The organ in your chest was beating awfully fast—you really hoped you weren't about to get in a screaming match with him here of all places. "What do you want, Hyunjae? You can't just show up everywhere I go unannounced."

"I don't do that."

"I'm starting to think you're obsessed with me, actually."

"Will you just—"

"Heya, Yn." Relief flooded through you at the sight of Changmin and Sunwoo walking up to your table. The former narrowed his eyes behind his dark-framed glasses. "Everything okay?"

You flipped your notebook closed and swiftly packed all of your items up. "Yeah, perfectly," you said. Hyunjae didn't follow as you stood up. "Bye, Hyunjae."

As you walked toward the library exit, Changmin and Sunwoo converged on either side of you. "What was that all about?" Sunwoo asked, his head peering behind you at the boy who was no doubt still sitting at the table. "Why is he here?"

You shook your head and pushed out onto the university grounds, propping the door open for your friends trailing behind. "Dude, I have no idea. He dropped by on my way out of work last night—"

"He what?"

"It wasn't even a productive conversation," you told them. You didn't know where you were going, but you turned around to face them as you walked backward along the path. Maybe you shouldn't have just left him there. "I don't even know how he knew I was at the library."

Changmin's mouth quirked downward. "Isn't this like… kind of creepy? What's with him anyway?"

"Yeah, Yn, how do you know him?" Sunwoo chimed in.

You sighed, face scrunching up as you thought about where to begin. Swiveling back to front, your friends clung onto you—both physically and to your words. "Our parents loathe each other, because they're business rivals, but Hyunjae and I went to the same schools when we were kids and we became friends."

It had been the two of you against the world—best petty friends. That first time his parents had driven him over to your house for a play date, the looks on both yours and his parents had been priceless. It'd been a wonder that they'd let you continue with the play date. From that point on, however, you both became friends for life, all despite the odds.

At least, that was how it had been.

Three years ago, just before both of you were going to begin your college careers, he had pretended that everything between the two of you was nothing more than dumpster fire. He ended up with Kyla, he became a jerk, and you'd spiraled. Had it been something you'd done? Had it been you? Did his parents open his eyes to your families' petty rivalry and get him to turn on you? That was what it had seemed like.

You'd survived, somehow. You had friends now—good friends, nice friends, un-petty friends. (But Hyunjae had been that person for you, too, once upon a time.)

You found yourself in your apartment at six in the evening the next day, staring at a half-drunk glass of wine and a crossword on your coffee table. You'd snatched up one of the newspapers in the lobby to busy yourself with in an attempt to take your mind off thrown cups of coke, bitchy ex girlfriends, and bitter ex friends.

It hadn't worked yet.

A knock on your front door drew your focus away, and you dragged yourself up from the couch to see who it was. Something panged in your chest at the face on the other side of the peephole.

You ripped the door open. "Do you want a restraining order?"

Hyunjae stood on the other side looking a little less put together than yesterday, but still more put together than you. "Yn, can we please just talk?"

"How do you even know where I live?" You asked him, not moving from the threshold, and thus, leaving him no room to come in.

"I literally helped you move in three years ago," he said, blinking. Oh. "Now, can I please come in?"

At least he was saying please, you reasoned with yourself. Begrudgingly, you let him in.

His shoulders seemed to deflate as he slipped inside, and he left his shoes on the show rack by the front door. Once you'd replaced all the locks, you swept past him to your kitchen area. "Want a drink?"

"Uhm, sure. Yeah, thanks."

You came back to the couch with another glass and poured him some of the red.

The two of you sat on the couch beside each other with a comfortable amount of space in the middle. He picked up his glass and chugged the entire thing, while you finished off your own glass and reached for the bottle. It felt so strange to be in his space again—or at least, for him to be in your space again. You didn't know if the jittery kick in your heart was from nervousness, excitement, or both.

What more did he have to say to you?

When you topped your glass off again, Hyunjae refilled his own.

"What do you want from me, Hyunjae?" You asked him for what felt like the hundredth time within the past week. You didn't have the heart to look at him now, the alcohol making your brain buzz and your chest heavy.

He nursed his glass, elbows braced on his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out rough. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "You're probably so fucking tired of me, but I just… I knew I had to make things right."

You tugged your legs onto the couch and tucked them under you. "Why? Because you broke up with your girlfriend for throwing soda in my face?" For a moment, the thought amused you. Out of all the things to break up with Kyla for—out of all the things—it'd been over Coca-Cola.

Hyunjae swallowed down his wine. "No, that's not—that's not why I wanted to break up with her. I mean, part of it, of course. She'd disrespected you and your friend and the workplace."

His words and their sincerity drew your eyes to him on your left. His head hung, but you could see the glazed look in his eyes, dulling out those pretty, mahogany irises of his. He looked like your Hyunjae for once, not the one who had appeared in the doorway of the pizzeria with his arm around a girl who didn't appreciate him or anyone.

"And I'm sorry for that," he continued. "I'm sorry I didn't do more to prevent that from happening."

You stared down into the dark stillness of your wine glass. "Well, it wasn't exactly your fault," you said quietly.

You heard him huff, "Yeah, sure." He lifted the glass up to his lips again, and you did the same.

"The little altercation was recorded and posted online," Hyunjae suddenly said. "And when my parents saw, they pretty much backed out of the partnership between our company and Kyla's parents'. They didn't let me break up with her before because of the contract or whatever, but after that PR nightmare, they pretty much cut ties for me."

He took another swig, and you found yourself really looking at him this time.

"I was and have been an asshole to you, Yn," he said. "And it's no excuse, but it was… I was just trying to make it easier for both of us."

The wine was penetrating your defenses. Or maybe that was his story. But either way, the stinging in the corners of your eyes led to a watering of your vision, and everything was getting blurry. The lights, him, your whole view of the situation. His parents hadn't turned him, but shackled him instead.

"I thought," you began, lifting a hand up to wipe your eyes dry, "you hated me."

Hyunjae raised his head, shaking it, then hanging it again. He drank. "I couldn't hate you. I tried—I tried to make it easier to see you differently, but… Yn, you were my best friend." His voice broke at the end and he swallowed. "I thought about you so much these past few years, and it was so hard to get through it without you."

Your heart was sinking fast into your stomach and you could feel it hammer against your bones. You'd thought about him too much, as much as you loathed to admit. The man who you felt had simply thrown you away… how pathetic was it that you couldn't stop caring? But now, the lens was widening. Maybe your feelings weren't so unique.

Both you and Hyunjae moved at the same time, arms raising to drain your glasses of the last bits of wine.

You told yourself it was the wine that was making you want to cry, but when you and Hyunjae looked at each other, his eyes were lined with silver. He sniffled, setting his glass on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," he whispered, biting his lip when emotion made him screw his face up and turn away from you.

You put your glass next to his and clambered over the sofa to wrap your arms around him. He turned his face into your chest and sobbed, the sound coaxing a crest of emotion out of you, too, and you held him and rocked him through the oncoming waves.

It was the wine, you thought. God it was the wine. It had to be the wine.

But your best friend was here in your arms, where he belonged, you liked to think. He was home.

You curled your hand over the back of his head, your cheeks damp. "'m sorry they forced you into that relationship," you rasped. The bitterness was sweeping back in a different color. "I wish I knew."

He sniffled. "They threatened to do something to your parents' company. I couldn't—I couldn't let you and them get involved."

The confession stabbed through you. You had no idea what his parents had told him, and made him do, for the sake of business. You had no idea how unhappy he was, and god—you wished you'd known. Maybe things wouldn't have come to such hurt.

Hyunjae pulled himself away from you and wiped his eyes. "I think after all that shit, I'm a little fucked up."

The both of you shared a watery laugh, the space that had originally been left between you, nonexistent.

You cupped the sides of his face. "You made it though, and you've been so strong, Jae."

His bottom lip trembled. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Yeah, I forgive you." How could you not? And it was the wine—you swore it was the wine—that had you leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his hairline. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into you, his hand reaching up to cover your hand with his own.

"I like you a whole lot better than her," he murmured.

"I'd hope so," you mused, patting his cheek. "You deserve to have someone so much better than her."

He gulped, eyes searching your face. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Your heartbeat stuttered when he leaned forward slightly. You could smell the wine on his breath as it fanned over your skin. It felt as if the world slowed in that moment—the lights were dimmer, his eyelids low, lips shiny and plush.

And then he blinked, energy and alarm and… something else in his expression. He pulled out of your hold and his ears turned bright red. "I should go."

Your lips parted. "Wait—"

He practically leapt off the couch and banged his knee against the wall as he hobbled into his shoes. "Damn—I—" he opened the front door, pausing over the threshold. You didn't know why he was leaving; you wanted him to stay. Why, why, why was he leaving? "I, uhm, I've overstayed my welcome."

The door rattled as he closed it behind him, as if to tell you to not follow him out. You were left on the couch alone again, two empty glasses of wine, feeling stripped.

What the hell was that?

"And he just… left?"

You nodded, sweeping the apron around your waist over the hook in the back room of the pizzeria. It was late when yours and Dae's shift ended, as per usual. The shop was pretty much closed, leaving the two of you and two of the cooks who usually closed up the establishment when you both left.

For the entirety of your shift, you had been turning over yesterday's events over and over again. "I don't know what I did wrong, y'know? Maybe I crossed a boundary or something? I dunno."

Worry gnawed at your stomach as you recalled what happened to Dae. You both stepped out of the back of the building to head to your respective cars. It was dark out, as it usually was, with a few street lights along the road that you and Dae stuck to while walking.

As you approached your car, you noticed Hyunjae standing beside it with his hands tucked in his pockets and his head turned toward you. Rather than the sourness you'd felt for him at the beginning of the week, the feeling twisting in your chest was sweeter, but bitter still.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Dae said to you softly with a gentle nudge of your arm. She walked ahead of you and passed by your car to get to hers, leaving you to confront the man plaguing your every thought for the past week.

You swallowed as you made your way over to the driver's side door where he was standing. "Hey."

Hyunjae gave a slight bob of his head. "Hey."

"Did I do something wrong yesterday?" You asked him, earnestly, searching his face for any hint as to why he had left so abruptly.

"No, it wasn't your fault—it definitely wasn't your fault," he told you. He sucked in a breath, carding a hand through his hair. "I had an epiphany of sorts."

"An epiphany?" You furrowed your brows.

His cheeks had flushed slightly, and he couldn't exactly meet your eyes. "I thought it was just the alcohol clouding my judgment, and in combination with all the emotions, and I just—" he shook his head. "It's probably not important, but…"

You bumped your elbow with his. "Jae, you're here. It probably is important."

A small smile curled up onto his face. "Y'know," he began, finally lifting his head to look you in the eyes, "she would have agreed with me and brushed me off."

You knew who the "she" he was talking about was. You frowned. "She was never good enough for you, Hyunjae."

"I know." He sighed. "I just wanna be enough for you though now."

Surprise lit across your face, and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach start to take flight. You couldn't think coherently with his words, and you were probably reading into it too much. The two of you had been away so long that you probably forgot how to read him; there was no doubt that something changed over the past three years, right?

When you failed to find a reply, he shifted slightly, his body facing straight toward you. "I've had a lot of time to think, and the whole time I was with her, I just kept comparing her to you." He stepped closer to you and his hand reached out to tentatively take your fingers with his. "She never measured up; maybe that made me even more bitter for ruining our friendship."

You met his eyes. There was that glimmer of the rich brown like what you'd seen last night. (Your Hyunjae was present and accounted for.) "What… what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I," he said, fully taking your hands with his, "would like to start over on a slightly different note. But if you don't feel the same, we can start wherever you're comfortable with."

It would be different, you realized. But it would be a good different, right?

You found your voice, curled your fingers around his in the space between you. "Okay."

His smile slowly widened, his eyes squinting into upturned crescent moons. "Okay?"

You nodded, returning the expression. "Let's start over on that different note."

The pizzeria was as alive as usual. It was warm, smelled like tomatoes and cheese and bread, and it was still your home away from home. You had just finished your break and were tying your apron back on when Dae bumped her hip against yours as she passed by with a tray of dirty dishes.

"Your banshees just got in," she said, before disappearing through the kitchen doors.

Your gaze went to the door where you found your five friends, and the additional three, who were filing in altogether. You made eye contact with one person in particular, his smile softening into something fond at the corners of his mouth. He lifted a hand in greeting, grabbing everyone else's attention as they said their hellos to you.

The eight of them made their way over to the round table in the back corner, piling into the chairs around it.

"Waitress! Waitress!" The hyena-like sound set off an alarm in your head and you came over to the table to give Changmin a stink eye. He grinned innocently. "Oh yay, it worked."

You gave him an unimpressed look. "You sound like a chihuahua."

"Joke's on you, I think chihuahuas are cute," he huffed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

You braced your hand on the back of Hyunjae's chair, the other one gently patting the top of his head. He acknowledged your greeting, his hand reaching up to cover yours on the chair back. "What's to drink, y'all?"

A chorus of beverages rang out, and you mentally counted the few repeats and the singles. You promised to be right back, and left to go grab them. As you went, you could hear your boys start up a lively debate about the multipurpose properties of the lemon. You wondered if that was what they had been bickering about on the car ride over here, and you heard Eric say something about lemons for cleaning; Juyeon just said lemonade; and Changmin said for inflicting "more pain." (No, you didn't want to know.)

When you returned to their table to pass out your drinks, you went around, leaving Hyunjae for last. You set his cup of coke in front of him and he passed you a smile.

"You're not gonna dump that on me, are you?" You asked, eyes narrowing playfully.

He grinned. "As long as you don't dump me, we're good."

Sunwoo made a face from across the table. "Yuck, get a room!"

Chanhee smacked him upside the head. "At least they have someone to be yucky with."

"This feels familiar somehow," Kevin pondered aloud. "Like déjà vu."

Jacob shrugged. "Maybe in another universe. I dunno, it seems like something we would have said to Sunwoo at some point."

"Hey!—"

You were halfway through a laugh when Hyunjae caught your attention, twisted around in his chair to smile up at you. "What's up?" You asked him.

His eyes, you could never get sick of his eyes. They glistened in the lighting here. "Nothing," he said swiftly, "I'm just… happy to be here." With you.

You understood, and you caught his hand on the back of the chair and gave him a little squeeze. "I'm happy you're here, too." It seemed that some things were just meant to come full circle.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @kflixnet @ericlvr

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #the boyz x reader #lee hyunjae x reader #hyunjae x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz angst #the boyz imagines #the boyz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #hyunjae drabbles #hyunjae angst #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae oneshots #hyunjae scenarios

[scekrex]

Hey so my birthday was coming up and so I was wondering if you could do Adam x reader where he celebrates the reader's birthday with him! Thank you and have an amazing day/night!

Holy shit, I hope I'm still in time for your birthday!! I'm currently on vacay w a homie but I had to make time to write that for ya!! Happy fucking birthday hun, I hope you have an amazing day xoxo/p

Birthday boy

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When you first opened your eyes you noticed Adam was gone, there was no gentle giant lying next to you, hugging you close to his chest like he always did, in fact his side of the bed was cold. When you checked the time you were quite surprised to find that it was already 2pm, so Adam had not only left you for whatever reason there was, he had also let you sleep in. A thing the first man usually didn't do, he was craving your attention too much to let you sleep in every day. Something about today seemed off.

While you would've loved to stay in bed even longer, you were curious where your boyfriend went, so you forced yourself to leave the warm and cozy sheets behind and exit the bedroom. “Adam?” you called out for the first man as you walked through the living room - no response though. You tried again, a little louder this time, “Adam?” This time you got a response, the bathroom door swung open, revealing Adam with nothing but a towel around his waist, you grinned at the brunette, “While this is a great way to wish me a good morning I'd like to fucking know why you left me alone in bed.” Adam frowned at that, tilting his head a little, “I always let you sleep in on your fucking birthday, babes.”

And that was when you realized what it was that you had forgotten about - your birthday. Adam looked quite amused as he spotted the realization that was on display on your face. Of course someone like you would forget their own birthday, good thing that he had already planned the day. “Go get ready, fuckhead,” the brunette told you and walked over to you, pulling you into a soft kiss once he had reached you, “We’re going to grab fucking birthday lunch.” That the first man didn't need to repeat, you placed a quick kiss on his chin and then locked yourself inside the bathroom.

While you were getting ready, Adam called Lute, “Sup, Danger Tits, is shit settled?” When his lieutenant responded, the first man was sure he could hear her roll her eyes at that - he really started to get on her nerves. Like, she was happy Adam was so focused on celebrating your birthday, but seriously, you were dead, what's the big deal? She didn't fully understand, but maybe she didn't need to understand. She knew it meant a lot to you and therefore it meant a lot to Adam which resulted in her doing most of the work - not that she truly minded though. She honestly just likes to complain about Adam. “Yes, Sir, everything is settled. Make sure you won't be back before 5pm though.” Adam nodded at her words before realizing that Lute was very much not able to see him, “You’re the fucking best.” And with those words he hung up.

Just in time because only a moment later you stepped outside the bathroom door, your hair was still wet from the shower you had just taken and your body was fully naked - not because you chose to leave the bathroom like that, no, not at all, but because Adam that sneaky bastard had taken the last towel without telling you. “That’s quite the look, babes,” he hummed with a sly grin on his lips as he made his way over to you. The first man's hands found their way to your hips, pressing your body against his as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, “But I don't fucking think I'll let you leave like that.” You playfully shoved him backwards a little, “Haha, very funny, I need to get dressed and so do you so move bitch, I'm ready for birthday lunch.” Adam wrapped his arm around your shoulders lazily and guided you to the bedroom as if you haven't been in living in that apartment for ages and he was showing you around, but you let him - there were no plans for today, all you wanted was a chill day with Adam by your side and the fact that Adam was taking you out for lunch made it even better - while you liked to celebrate your birthday usually this year you didn't feel like doing all the preparation so you had told Adam that and he had been fine with it being just you and him this year.

So the both of you got dressed, nothing too fancy, nothing too casual, a simple yet balanced in-between. And when you walked through heaven's streets and Adam took a right turn, you knew where the both of you were heading to. Your favorite restaurant. “Adam, they're always booked,” you mumbled as the first man confidently entered the restaurant, pride written all over his face as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side, “I know babes, that's why I fucking reserved a table.” You stopped in your tracks, grabbing him by his sleeve to stop him from walking as well, “You did what now?” Adam's grin only widened as he proudly repeated his words, you could only stare at him. How? This was the most popular place in all of heaven, it's always booked, there's barely a chance to get a table - let alone on the date you want it. Fuck, Adam must've pulled a lot of fucking strings to get you two in. “You did not,” disbelief was still heavy in your voice and in your eyes and Adam shook his head, “I fucking did, now c’mon babes.” And with those words he guided you inside the huge building and towards your table once the two of you had checked in.

“How the fuck did ya crazy ass manage to do that?” you asked, still not quite able to believe where you were sitting - Adam hadn't just reserved any table, he had reserved a table as close to the stage as possible. He had gone all in just to get you a table with the perfect view in your favorite restaurant on your birthday. The first man leaned back in his chair lazily, acting like it was no big deal at all, “Oh y'know, I know the owner ‘n’ that fuckhead owed me sooo.” You just stared at Adam as one of the workers from there handed you the menu. Was this actually happening? And why was Adam acting like this was not a big deal at all? You had been begging him to go to that restaurant with him for months and all of a sudden you found yourself inside its walls, closest to the stage with your boyfriend by your side. Fuck.

“You’re a crazy fucking bitch, y’know that, right?” you mumbled as your eyes scanned the menu that had been handed to you, the brunette sitting across the table just responded with a lazy, “Oh but you love your crazy bitch-boyfriend.” And of course he was fucking right.

-

As Adam and you walked the streets back home you couldn't help but question his behavior as he continued to check his phone for either the time or an important notification. It was currently 4:40pm and it would take you at least another thirty minutes to reach your apartment. “Why don't we simply fly?” you had asked him earlier, his response had been even more weird and suspicious, “I wanna enjoy the view,” he had said while he had checked his phone screen. Ah, yes, the beautiful view of his phone screen, of fucking course.

“Okay,” you sighed, visibly annoyed by Adam's strange and uncommon behavior, “The fuck got up your ass?” The brunette looked at you in confusion, a frown met your annoyed look, “No fucking idea what you mean, babes.” You rolled your eyes at him but continued to walk next to him in silence, of course he had no idea what you were talking about, like fucking always. Usually you wouldn't mind him acting all strange but it was your birthday, in God's name. Why did he decide to be like that today?

You didn't argue with him though and when you finally reached your apartment and unlocked the door, you were greeted by Lute. The fuck was going on? The lieutenant of Adam greeted you with a wide, promising grin and you immediately knew you didn't like what was going on in the slightest bit. “Sup bitch, you got here well? Did Adam take care of you?” You eyed her with as much suspicion as you had eyed Adam with earlier as you pulled away from the hug she had been trying to give you. “Lute, quit that bullshit,” the exorcist’s grin fell at your words and for a moment she genuinely thought she fucked up, but then she realized Adam still hadn't told you shit and that he had probably been acting super fucking weird because of it.

The woman wrapped her arm around your shoulder as she led you inside, Adam followed behind you, he kept his distance though. As you entered the living room, the brunette behind you turned on the light and revealed that all of your loved ones had been waiting for you. Your eyes roamed over the people that had gathered inside your apartment. So Adam had really organized all of that, huh? Yeah surely not, Lute had obviously helped him. Did you mind that? Not in the slightest bit - I mean how could you? All of the people you loved and cared about had managed to make time for whatever it was Adam had planned.

You spun in Lute's arm, pulling the surprised white haired woman into a tight, warm and thankful hug. She had helped, obviously, and you were very thankful for that. Adam stood next to you, crossing his arms over his chest while he watched you and Lute hug. “Am I not getting a fucking thank-you kiss from my boyfriend for organizing all that shit?” and you knew he was joking, knew he didn't expect you to kiss you, especially in front of all those people so dear to you, yet you grabbed him by the collar and placed a soft yet quick kiss on his lips.

“Thanks, fuckhead.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[watermelonsugacry]

wondering if request are still open for since 2010 series if so I have to wonder if bandmate!yn and harry ever had some more risky or slightly steamy moment together on stage during one direction days. Like maybe when they all sitting together and yn sits right next to harry and discretely puts her hand on his neck to pull his hair while he’s singing?

Ok so whenever this would happen, 8 out of 10 times it would be Harry initiating it bc we all know how touchy-feely he is. And there are honestly too many moments like this of the two of them to keep track of but here are a few of them!

On the band’s last tour, Liam, Niall and Louis are all having a chat on stage about how much of a good audience everyone has been and pointing out some funny signs that caught their attention.

But what fans are really focused on is the other two band members off to the side of the stage.

Harry stands so close to YN that his chest is practically pressing into her shoulder, leaning down to talk into her ear from all the noise around them. He then points to a sign somewhere among the crowd. Fans watch as her face turns confused, her lip scrunching up as she can't see what he's seeing.

Harry puts a large hand on the back of her neck, talking against the skin of her ear as he extends his arm to fully point out the mysterious sign. The fans in the stands are shaking as they record the intimate-looking behavior of their favorite shipped duo. Even more so when YN finally puts a hand above her eyes to block the blinding stage lights and her shoulders are moving as she laughs, finally spotting the sign that reads: 1D you make me Horan-y.

As she goes to speak in his right ear to comment, he quickly moves his head the other way for her to speak into his left. Fans have noticed how much the two tend to shift their heads in that way but they are certainly not complaining because when the video is paused just right, it looks like the two are going in for a kiss.

...

On their Take Me Home Tour, there's no denying how much fun the fans have when the band begins their segment of the show where they answer fan-asked questions--especially with how much YN and Harry drift towards one another.

Once Liam's read a question asking the band what Disney character they would like to be, he turns his attention to Harry first.

"I'd be Mufasa."

She puts a hand on her hip while the other lazily holds the microphone to her mouth, "Well he's quite hot. M'not ashamed to say it."

YN cheekily shrugs as the fans around the arena scream out from her comment. All the boys laugh along and she curiously looks at how Harry chuckles while swiping his thumb over Liam's forehead. She's quickly shaking her head, patting Harry on the shoulder, and mouthing to him that that's the wrong character.

He smirks and quickly floats closer over to her while the rest of the band discusses their answers. The fans erupt in screams at the sight of him putting a hand on her hip, pulling her to his chest as he leans down to speak into her ear. The audience can probably guess what he's explaining to her but they mainly focus on the way his fingers spread themselves over her hip, the way his pinky mindlessly loops under her belt loop and how his index finger barely grazes over the top of her jeans and to the slightly exposed skin of her back.

After he's finished explaining the sexual act, Harry pulls back and repeats his actions of brushing his thumb over her forehead and mouthing the word Simba.

The crowd lets out excited, high-pitched screams at the sight of him letting out a boyish giggle when YN's jaw drops and her eyes go wide. She quickly recovers though when she beckons him back to her, leaning up in the balls of her feet to cheekily tell him, "Oh, so that's what that's called. Never knew it had a name."

While Harry forces himself to laugh instead of scowl at the thought of his secret crush being with another guy, YN answers the question by saying that she'd like to be one of the mermaids from Peter Pan.

...

On the Where We Are Tour, fans in the pit push and shove their way over to the right side of the stage to get the best view they can of YN and Harry sitting side by side on the risen platforms in the middle of the catwalk.

It's well known that every show the two are constantly talking with one another, barely holding their microphones to their lips just in time to not miss their singing parts.

Almost every show has Harry or YN pulling out each other's earpieces, leaning in so close (often times a little too close) to speak into one another ears.

This time is the others except that YN was a little more touchy than usual. YN isn't a huge fan of physical touch but to the public eye, she had to be for various photo shoots, meeting various celebrities constantly, and hugging, high-fiving and kissing multiple fans. When it came to the other boys on stage, there was always an occasional water fight, roughhousing in the green rooms before having to get dressed in their outfits for the show, and the constant hair pulling, face picking and arm slapping.

Yet today, Harry notices the subtle touches she's been giving more than unusual: a hand on his hip as she maneuvers around him as they depart down the stage when singing Midnight Memories, leaning her head on his shoulder briefly during Kiss You, and a squeeze to his wrist during their trip down the catwalk for Why Don't We Go There.

This show seems like any other when fans see the way that as soon as the two band members are seated and give a couple of initial waves to the fans, YN is scooting up close to Harry and pulling out his earpiece.

"Your hair is getting long innit?" She says over Niall introducing the next song.

Harry leans his head back a bit to say into her ear, "Gemma said it needed a trim already."

"No, not yet," She shakes her head with a fond smile. "I like how curly s'getting."

And Harry just has to sit and soak in her compliment as she lifts her microphone to her lips to sing her intro to Don't Forget Where You Belong.

When Harry's solo comes on, YN doesn't really know what comes over her but she reaches out to brush her fingers along his overgrown ringlets. He gives her a glance with a quick raise of his brows before turning his attention back to the crowd. He's only assuming that it might have been an impulse action on her part and it'll have her pulling her hand back to her lap the next second; but she doesn't stop.

YN gently moves her hand to the back of his neck and before she even realizes what she's doing, her fingers card up the base of his scalp all the while Harry's trying to keep his eyes from fluttering closed. It's such an intimate, gentle act that he might combust altogether. Especially when she does a small, playful tug to his hair.

...

On the band’s last show of their last tour, everyone takes a moment to give hugs to one another and to say that YN and Harry took center stage is an understatement.

She naturally wraps her arms over the tops of his broad shoulders and digs her teary face into the crook of his neck. Harry leans down to wrap his arms around the bottom of her back and pulls her flush to his chest. The two stay in their embrace for a minute longer than when they hugged their other band members but they honestly didn't care. Their management team can't say shit when YN pulls back, cupping his cheeks and shaking her head with a teary-eyed smile.

He gives her her favorite dimpled smile and gives a pat to her hip--a little too low that his hand is basically on the top of her bum--before joining up with the rest of their band members in a group hug.

...

And of course there are some other quick moments that never get passed fans:

On their Where We Are Tour when moving past one another on stage, YN doesn't think twice about leaning forward and Harry puts his arms above his head as he slides behind her, trying desperately not to think about the way her bum brushed up against his pelvis.

On the same tour when all six of them are seated side by side on the step of the stage's catwalk when Harry sings his solo for Little Things, the two of them turn their heads to look at each other at the same time without thinking. Given their close proximity, YN can't help her eyes linger down to his lips before quickly turning away.

During a performance for Drag Me Down on their last tour, while YN sings the chorus, she takes a hold of her microphone stand as she lowers herself down with a sultry sway of her hips. All the while Harry has a hard time keeping his eyes forwards and not on his bandmate next to him.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02 @fdl305

#missed writing little blurbs like this #harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #one direction #harry styles and reader #harry styles and y/n #harry styles and you #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fic

[bonefall]

so was ashfur just like sitting up in starclan plotting his really good dishonor titles while he watched people live their lives or is he just. lowkey a really excellent namer. actually how taboo would it be for a leader to have a friend of theirs come up with names bc the friend is better at it. that would be so funny

It's actually not taboo at all for someone else to come up with the name, as long as the leader makes it official! In fact, every leader probably has a couple of cats of high status (deputy, patrol head) that they run names by.

If the leader has fully outsourced it may be a bit insulting, like, "oh so you don't want to do your sacred duty??" But kept quiet or done respectfully, that's totally allowed. The leader simply has the holy authority to set the names.

(I like keeping name "rules" loose because I try to stress that names are very personal and dependant on the leader. A Star who knows they are uncreative and has someone they can trust to do this with them? That's a wonderful way to show something meaningful about the character and the way they rule!)

I can see Blackstar doing this with Russetfur.

Anyway... yeah, Ashfur is lowkey just a really creative person. His skill with his absolutely SCATHING Dishonor Titles is that he is FILLED with spite. He looks for something that will HURT his victim and crafts a name around it.

And he doesn't need a ton of "prep time." He came up with Clearface on the spot. She started calling him out on wanting punishments for people who had already paid for their crimes or done nothing wrong, and his gaze was clear and almost considerate, as if he was thinking about her words.

In truth, her little speech was all the time he needed to come up with something that would emotionally obliterate her on the spot.

Not that it was hard to find it for Blossomfall. She oozes insecurity, in his mind. The way she leans on her family. How she does nothing alone. Betrayed her Clan twice, ay? Ha. That isn't the action of someone truly self-assured.

Twigbranch was also easy. She's always apologizing. Eager to please, suggestible. Ashfur has heard she can stand up for herself, yes, so simply plant a seed in her mind. Make her think she's stupid, tell her to pay attention to her claws, and she will make them fumble all on her own.

And that was important for breaking some of the coalition between her and Alderheart. All the cats who are close with the Cleric's den are troublesome. So it's important-- construct a Blasphemy problem. Or, bring attention to it, really.

BB!Ashfur DOES believe in what he's doing. This isn't JUST incel entitlement like canon! Incel entitlement is part of it, but secondary. He really believes that the Clans have strayed from the righteous path.

Openly challenging a leader, defying the will of StarClan, all this inability to prove their honor in battle... he'll fix it. And he means it. These cats are becoming unruly heathens and he will snap them back into line.

Squilf is a bonus, really. The minute it's between her and his wider goals, his goals will win out.

#BB!TBC #Better bones au #BB!Ashfur is pretty Frollo-esque lmao #The parts of him that people tend to forget in favor of how he goes after Esmerelda #How he's been like. Killing minorities for decades and smashed a mother's head on steps and tried to drown a baby #Anyway go watch Hunchback again. One of the best disney movies actually

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one

(Enemies to Enemies Who Fuck)

(HaruKaku in Bonten timeline)

(some past-MuSan and past-KakuIza with a subtle RanOmi bc why not, it's my fic and I don't have self-restrain when it comes to multishipping)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!

All of them. Bonten is their own warning. Substance abuse. Really unhealthy coping mechanisms. Depression. Mental health problems. Suicide. Major character death. (it's Bonten, they all want to kill themselves and some of them succeed, okay?) Mentions of unsafe sex, but there is no smut or graphic depiction of it.

I tried to not be too graphic with any of this topics, the focus is mostly on what the characters are thinking/feeling. But it's hard anyway, tbh the last scene was actually difficult and painful for me to write. So please, don't take the CW lightly and prioritize your mental health!

Angst and Hurt/No Comfort.

MANGA SPOILERS!!!!

Notes: HaruKaku came as an hilarious idea. Because they are hilarious, let's be real. Soulmates archnemesis, doomed to hate each other in every timeline. But then Bonten happened and of course, I ended up writing some angsty shit instead of focusing in all the other moments when they are hilarious. Kudos for me, yey! 🥲

This is canon complicit (again, is Bonten, beware!)

It alternates from Kakucho's POV to Sanzu's POV. I did that thing again of using "Haruchiyo" when he's in his most vulnerable state because for some reason I like playing with his name like this.

(English is not my first language, be nice please 🙈)

(the art is from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid who is in part responsible for the archnemesis brain riot, but mostly the hilarious part, tbh)

Is not that Kakucho enjoys Sanzu's company. Or that the pinkette gradually started to grow on him. Quite the opposite, to be honest. He hates him a little bit more every day, every shared mission, every time they had to spent hours together.

But with Sanzu, he feels. He feels intensely, he feels with passion. Even if it's twisted, at least he's not empty anymore. The void that threatens to devour him seems to disappear when he's around the other man. Sometimes, Kakucho wants to murder him, but he knows he can't. Others, he wonders what would happen to him if he also loses the only person that it's still able to provoke an intense emotion on him.

Hate is better than apathy, isn't it?

They hate each other passionately. Sanzu finds his reactions too funny for stopping it, always willing to go a little further, to push Kakucho to the edge. It's too easy to pick on him, making him forget about his allegedly righteous patience.

It's disgusting, how Kakucho thinks of himself like he was better than the rest of them. So Sanzu enjoys to proves him wrong, to show him that they are the same (even if he can't stand that fact either, seeing that burning rage in those heterochromatic eyes makes it worth it).

Now that he thinks about it, it was probably a matter of time, considering that his king denied them the right to kill each other, they needed to find a way of releasing all that build up anger. That's probably why isn't that surprising when it finally happens.

It looked like a regular night. Sanzu was high as a kite, trying to forget every one of his lives. Kakucho just seemed to be there, he can't recall exactly why, some type of report, but he didn't pay any attention to it at the moment, too intoxicated for actually caring for something that could wait until tomorrow.

“Why are you still here? You like me that much or what?”

The pinkette man says, slurring his words.

“Are you that high? You know I hate you.”

Is the harsh answer that he earns. It's brutal, but real. Kakucho's honesty has something that grounds him to the present. It's sickening. It's exactly what he wants right now.

“I hate you too, don't worry.” He laughs, finding his own words amusing. “Think about it, me and you. Just us, hating each other all night long.”

“You're crazy.”

“And you didn't say no.”

(If he was more honest with himself, he would admit that he was trying to find another way of punishing his broken mind and his body. But he's not.)

And oh, it actually feels good. Kakucho fucks him with the same brutality that talks to him. He couldn't bear any type of gentle touch (specially not from someone that it's so linked to Mucho, but he isn't thinking in that, he promised himself to forget his old captain a long time ago).

There isn't any type of care between them, only spite. Both men are too broken for having the ability to love someone again. Indeed, this was precisely what he needed. This is perfect.

The next day, Kakucho feels nauseated. How couldn't he? Sanzu was high as fuck, too intoxicated to give proper consent to do anything. So even if he was also a little drunk, even if it wasn't his idea, Kakucho feels guilty for what happened.

Until Sanzu just laughs at his poorly attempt of apologizing, mocking his morals once more. He was about to punch him in the face, but the lingering guilt doesn't allow him to do it. Not that one more bruise would make a difference, actually.

Both are covered in so many marks that more than sex, it looks like they tried to kill each other. Yeah, maybe he should stop feeling sorry for Sanzu, considering this. Maybe that was the best way to get rid of that not-so-pent-up hate.

And it works. At least for a while, it works. Until it happens again. And again.

Is not that they are lovers (Kakucho wants to puke with that idea). They just fuck from time to time. That's all. They hate each other, they wish they could kill the other. But they can't. So, sometimes, they fuck.

Their relationship is not pretty. At all. Or better. If Kakucho had to use only one word for describing it, he would say “real”. They don't lie to each other, what would be the point? Both are too able of seeing between the lies, they are too similar in so many ways. But that raw honesty only makes it worse.

Kakucho knows it's a mistake, that he shouldn't care about Sanzu's fate (he brought it on himself and he doesn't seem to have any complains). But Mikey is worse every day, the king is falling and his loyal dog is falling with him. Kakucho needs to do something, because the uneasiness he feels every time he sees them is now living rent-free in his mind.

That's why, one day, Kakucho tries. He's trying to find his clothes, dressing quickly, wanting to get out of this room that only makes him feel sick. Then, he looks at Sanzu, his pink hair scattered on the pillows, a lazy and satisfied smile than only appears after sex (and never lasts). There is some twisted vulnerability in how content the other man is while lighting up a joint, as if seeing these new swelling (all this pain) on his skin was something he wanted.

(Kakucho can't shake the feeling that Sanzu is using him as another way of hurting himself and that infuriates him so fucking much... Maybe that's the real reason why he decides against his best judgment and opens his big mouth.)

“Is not worth it.”

“Uh?”

Sanzu looks at the other, not sure if he actually heard something. He just wants to smoke and relax, to feel the post-orgasmic satisfaction while it lasts, to enjoy the pain in his body (one more of his little punishments).

“I said is not worth it. Dying with Mikey.”

If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face just for saying this. Thinking like that, talking like that about his king is treason. It should be. But it's difficult to pretend Kakucho's isn't right about this when, unfortunately, it's the only one Sanzu trusts with Mikey's well-being (It's the one he calls every time Mikey is being suicidal again).

“You wish you could be me, you wish you had died with Izana.”

Sanzu spits his words, burning with all the rage he feels every time he has to acknowledge the reality of how is Mikey.

“That's not what this is about-”

Kakucho is unable to finish his sentence, turning pale in anger when Sanzu cuts him. 'Good'.

“You're a selfish bastard, aren't you? You want me to be like you, stuck here with no purpose, jerking yourself with the memory of a ghost. Pretend it's because of your high morals, that you're worried about me or some other bullshit. But you're just another selfish bastard. And you envy me.”

If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face. But he can't (he wants to, oh, he wants it so much, but he can't disobey Mikey's orders). So, instead of bullets, he uses his words.

“At least Izana cared about me.”

Is the last thing he hears before Kakucho slams the door. Sanzu laughs maniacally, throwing the first shit he can find to the place the other man was a few seconds a go. He's momentary satisfaction long forgotten, replaced only by hate (and pain, but one that he refuses to see).

The worst part is that in a sickening way, he trusts Kakucho. They don't lie to each other, that makes it so much worse, because both of them know that what the other said is true. He hates him, he hates him with every fiber of his body. He doesn't want this words to be true, he can't accept that. He needs to keep living in this denial, to pretend Mikey is fine (to pretend he doesn't keep mixing this Mikey with that in his nightmares, to pretend they don't look so alike).

It's been three days. Three whole days since Mikey's death was splattered on the news (no one seems to care about Takemichi's death, even with all that footage of how the hero tried to save the most dangerous man in Japan). Kakucho cares, but he knows damn well that he wouldn't be welcomed within the hero's friends, so he would have to say goodbye in his own way (again).

During this days, Kakucho learned some things, like the fact that apparently everyone had some kind of contingency plan in case this happened (no, for when this happened, all of them could see that Mikey was more on the edge every day). But nobody spoke to him about it, keeping him in the darkness, the only idiot that didn't prepare himself for the end. Well, not the only, he knows that, of course he knows that.

(Sanzu would have killed them in the blink of an eye. Anyone who dared to imply that Bonten needed to be prepared to function without a king.)

Kakucho understands the need for secrets, of course he does. The idea of Mikey falling would be considered treason a few days ago, it was taboo to think like that. At the same time, none of them wanted to acknowledge it, like saying it out loud would make it more real. He can't even be mad when the Haitanis (obviously) thought about him on their own schemes, making sure Kakucho was also safe. Or as safe as any of them could be now that Bonten was crumbleling.

It's been three days. Bonten is crumbleling. Mikey is dead. And Sanzu disappeared the same day. Everyone knows he's dead, but they don't say it. Not in front of Takeomi, who's still desperately looking, going out in the rain for hours. Trying to find something, some clue that leads him to his little brother. Clinging to the hope that he's still alive somewhere. That he's going to find him, high as fuck, but alive (Kakucho thinks being able to find Sanzu's body at all would already be a miracle).

Only Ran is able to convince Takeomi to rest a little bit, promising that he and Rindou will help with the search as long as the older man gets a few hours of sleep. Takeomi just nods, mumbling “Today is his birthday, Ran. Is his fucking birthday and he's out there alone.” while Ran drags him softly, a concerned look plastered in those violet eyes.

Kakucho hates it, hates having to see all this sorrow around him (again). He doesn't lament the loss of Mikey and Sanzu, he's incapable of doing it. Grief took his heart for hostage a long time ago, there is nothing more for him to mourn.

More than anything, Kakucho hates himself, because he's jealous of Sanzu. He knows he shouldn't, but he hates that the pinkette man was right about him. He envies Sanzu, who had the privilege of dying with Mikey, of dying with his king.

Kakucho hates the Mad Dog even more right now. But he's aware that once this hate fades away, he would feel empty again. So he clings onto this feeling, he needs this rage as a motor to keep moving.

It doesn't matter if this energy is fulled with rage, he needs it. He can't fail his friends, what's left of his family. Kakucho has to keep living even if he can't remember how being alive felt anymore. Even if he's more dead inside every day.

So, over and over... Kakucho would keep living.

The rain keeps pouring down without truce, Haruchiyo shrinks inside the leather jacket that was always too big for him. Now the only thing that makes him feel protected from that annoying rain (from the world). To be honest, he isn't completely aware how he managed to recover it from his penthouse, but it seemed important in that moment.

The jacket and the old picture that he's still clutching in his pocket, the only two things he cared enough to take. He doesn't even need to look at it to see the four happy smiles stained with watermelon juice. Two pink haired kids that could be confused by twins, one with a shy smile, the other with a cheerful one, happy to be included with his brother friends. Next, a fierce smile showing two small fangs, already a force of nature at his young age. In the middle, a blond kid with the most radiant smile Haruchiyo ever saw, capable of making everything shine just with his presence. Full of life, of dreams. Full of potential. Brighter than the sun, a true leader.

But that was a long time ago and, once again, Sanzu is the only one who remembers. The man staggering in the rain is now the only survivor from that photo. Only him, alone in this fuck up world where nothing and no one matters anymore. Not without Mikey. Even Bonten can burn from what he cares.

He keeps walking (it feels more like floating for him, floating in a cloud of pain and numbness at the same time). Until he finally reaches his destination, an abandoned bowling alley. Sanzu enters in some kind of trance, not sure if he's dissociating or too intoxicated. He doesn't care.

He sits down exactly in the same place his king sat down. How many days had passed since that moment? One? Two? Ages. It certainly feels like ages for him. Haruchiyo hugs himself, trying to make space for his legs inside the big comforting jacket. Completely curled up. And he cries, he cries like he hasn't allowed himself to do so in the last ten years.

He's starting to sober up, he can feel it. Because the flashbacks are coming back. Shinichiro jumping from that bridge. Mikey jumping from this exact building. Mikey falling from the stairs, that awful “clonk”. Mikey jumping again from this building.

Haruchiyo screams, holding his head with both hands, begging the images to stop, unable to continue reliving those memories. He needs everything to stop, to be quiet, his shattered mind can't take it anymore.

He takes out a small box from his pocket, looking at the content. Everything he needs is here, he knows how to do it, how to make sure he's not going to wake up from this trip. His stupid hands are shaking while he gets the syringe ready.

For some reason, he suddenly remembers Kakucho's words a few months ago. He hates it, he hates thinking in that fucker when he's about to die. But the other man was right, wasn't he? Mikey never cared about Sanzu, he spent years of his life trying to keep his king alive and it was all for nothing. Everything blew up in one night.

A manic laugh escapes between his whimpers. Of course is that, he's fucking jealous. Sanzu is fucking jealous because at least Kakucho got to held Izana's hand when he died, he got to comfort his king in his last moments. Sanzu didn't had that, Hanagaki was the one holding Mikey's hand. Always that cockroach, never him.

What did he expect anyway? Haruchiyo is just a failure. He never deserved to be the one making his king last moments less painful. Of course, he should had known. He failed everyone. He failed Shinichiro, unable to protect Mikey, to be the friend he promised he would be. He failed Mikey, watching him falling into the darkness, becoming the same empty shell he already saw in a past that never happened, and doing nothing about it.

Sanzu doesn't have anything left. He also killed his own chance of happiness a long time ago (he also failed his captain, didn't he?). The only thing left for him is to disappear, to follow his king. He's going with him, because he's being following Mikey for so long, that he doesn't see any other choice. He's going with him, because he doesn't deserve to keep living when he couldn't save Mikey.

But it's fine, the drug is already kicking in, his body feels more relaxed. Even his mind seems to be quiet, almost in peace. He looks at the old photo one last time, before drifting out of consciousness, looking for safety in the inner part of the leather, pretending it smells like cheesecake.

It's fine, because at the end of the day... Haruchiyo was just a failure.

#me writing🌻 #harukaku #sanzu haruchiyo #kakucho #akashi takeomi #ran haitani #s62 generation #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyo revengers fic #oneshot #angst #hurt/no comfort #bonten timeline #i made myself cry #i broke my own heart #canon complicit #ken wakui pay my theraphy bills #because i'm blaming this on you since i have no shame #you can't tell me sanzu didn't ended like this after mikey jumped #bonten is their own warning #archnemesis soulmates #dead dove do not eat

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Controversial Character Tournament Round 2: Kokichi Ouma from Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony vs Peter Pan from Once Upon A Time

(remember that these characters are fictional and your fellow tumblr users are real. i will block you if you harass others in the notes, please consider sending your unhinged harassment to my inbox instead)

Propaganda under the cut, may contain spoilers:

Kokichi Ouma:

LOVE: - "hes a bitch and that makes a lot of people hate him and a lot of other people love him. no one can decide on his motives and i think thats kind of the point. i like him personally but hes a raging asshole <3" - "Not a single DR fan I've ever met is neutral about Kokichi, he's perfect for this poll. I think he's a clever character with consistent internal logic, and his interactions with the other characters are as compelling as they are hilarious. He looks like a dog squeaky toy, and he plots like Artemis Fowl. He's one of my favorite characters in the series and I love him dearly." - "NOBODY CARES ABOUT THIS BOY'S PSYCHOLOGY AT ALL. HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF AND HIS IMAGE AND MADE EVERYONE HATE HIM AND CONSIDER HIM A MONSTER ON THE SLIGHT CHANCE HE COULD USE HIS LIFE TO HELP EVERYONE ELSE ESCAPE AND SURVIVE AND NOBODY CARES. THEY SHOW HIS BREAKDOWN AND NOBODY BELIEVES HIM. I'M SO TIRED" - "not only is he a danganronpa character (inherently controversial) he is also the antagonist and constantly lying because That's His Whole Deal. people either love him or hate his guts. he's a little piece of shit. i would submit komaeda but i feel like views on him are more positive, generally. sorry i have bad taste in video games" - "he's a horrible little guy trying his best in not very good ways what more could you want" - "I don't know, people say he's badly written because they don't pay attention to his arc beyond the cartoonish facade he very obviously forces, and they don't like him because he caused someone's death which like..fair (he did feel super bad about it though so its fine.) Some people also don't enjoy his wonderful personality and think he's a mean piece of shit, which he is, but it's fine. They're just sensitive." - "I know people don't like him because he's like. a shittier version of Komaeda. But that's what's so GOOD about him. He's a shitty asshole of a person, playing pretend at being a villain because he's desperate!!! I think that's really fun. He's dooming himself and I want him to be okay after everything ends, but he dies so he can't even have that much :(" - "so i saw you got submissions for him. but not enough i need to submit him myself he is my favorite character from anything ever. he is the silly man he is so funny one time (actually, two times if you count one optional interaction) he asked a robot if he had a dick and it's absolutely iconic i love him"

HATE: - "(dangan spoilers ahead if that matters) look ok i didn’t originally feel too strongly about kokichi. i think his character is interestingly written (can’t say well-written bc danganronpa but yaknow) and he adds a lot of charm to v3. i understand why he’s popular- he’s one of the few characters in v3 to have both a personality and plot relevance. but oh my GODDDDD he is not a good person!!!! and i am so SICK of seeing him woobified into ‘ooh little baby he did his best he wasn’t doing anything wrong’ JUST BECAUSE you find out he was trying to end the killing game after he dies doesn’t mean he wasn’t incredibly fucked up throughout the game!!! like he was incredibly manipulative, a bully, encouraged infighting, Literally Orchestrated A Murder And Protected Himself From Danger By Getting The Big Stupid Sweetheart To Do It which caused TWO unnecessary deaths and- oh yeah- tricked everyone into believing he was the mastermind and the world had ended to make them so depressed that they just wouldn’t do anything anymore bc can’t kill someone if you’re rotting away in your room!!! AUGH like he’s a good character but it’s BECAUSE he sucks that he’s interesting. maybe this is just the komaeda fan in me but sometimes!!! the character is cooler when you understand that they’re a bad person. at least komaeda gets an actual redemption arc. kokichi’s just an asshole that the game tries to make you sympathetic for at the very end but he spends the entire game being an asshole so why the hell would i like him??? and then i go in a fandom tag and it’s constant unending ‘kokichi did nothing wrong’ the whole point of his character is that he does EVERYTHING wrong. i truly feel like the dr team was trying to replicate komaeda’s popularity but it was messy and poorly handled bc he’s not even a bad person in an interesting way like komaeda he’s just got trust issues that lead him to be stupid and An Asshole. then again people eat it up so what do i know lmao. i love to hate that little shit i wanna punt him into the goddamn stratosphere. score a field goal with that asshat. this is all lighthearted btw i love to die on small hills" - "WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE HIM OH MY GOOOOOOD HES SUCH A FLAT CHARACTER HES A SODA I LEFT OUT FOR 3 DAYS kokichi oma is easily the WORST written danganronpa character. it has been a while since i was into danganronpa so the details are a bit fuzzy but my rage has NOT subsided. following the success of Easily One Of The At Least Top Three Best Written Danganronpa Characters known as nagito komaeda, kokichi had some shoes to fill. he instead showed up in clown shoes. kokichis whole premise is that you dont know if hes lying or not, him being a huge clown and causing shit for like a good third of the cast. kokichi was a simple character. hes a bitch, he sturs shit up, he eat hot chip and lie, it was FINE. not GREAT, but FINE. and then he died. suddenly— kokichi was from modest beginnings. he was actually a genius who was actually doing all of this to save everyone. he was a martyr. they TRIED to follow up on the success of nagito komaeda, and failed miserably. the guy literally has nazi imagery he didnt need to be complex he just needed to be an asshole and force the plot. for assholes that force the plot with actual good depth, may i interest you in byakuya togami? for guys who lie all the time with actual good depth, may i interest you in sou hiyori the beanie man himself from your turn to die [similar genre]? seriously. you guys could do SO much better. just... get better taste oh my GOD JUST BECAUSE HES A TWINK DOESNT MEAN HES WELL WRITTEN" - "Omg I hate this guy,,, people either baby him & make him a uwu soft boy or a funky clown dude, & both those types of people forget all the things he has done??? even if he "redeemed" himself in the end (which i don't think he did--) that still doesn't negate all of the things he did before??? actions speak louder than words but he could never rely on that bc all the does is lie anyway-- i have some strong opinions about him."

Peter Pan:

LOVE: - "My propaganda is that like. Half of the OUaT fandom is OBSESSED with this guy and the other half write fanfiction about their self-inserts beating the shit out of him. The tumblr sphere might be a bit too biased in favor of love and I doubt he'll make it far but from what I've seen people either adore this guy or want him dead in the streets"

#poll #round 2 #11 submissions #1 submission #danganronpa #once upon a time #peter pan #kokichi ouma #drv3 kokichi #danganronpa kokichi #drv3 ouma #ouat #ouat peter pan

[loving-mista]

Jjk dating and before dating hcs (gojo, nanami and geto)

What was it like before and after dating them?

Gojo satorou

Dating

Gojo is very affectionate boyfriend, but who can blame him he totally adoes his s/o he believes you are amazing in those blue eyes of his all 6 of em

He's such a attention whore he absolutely loves pda

His hands are almost always on you in some way

He loves taking you out on extravagant dates, but he honestly enjoys at home dates more!

Binging a ton of movies, some worse than others but no matter how bad the movie is gojo is always happy just being next to you holding you in his arms while you both watch the movie

He introduces you to his students, and it's funny they all seem to like you more than they like gojo

If someone tries to hit on you while you both are out he doesn't think much I mean look a you, he totally gets it your the catch he'd apologize but he'd be cocky about it to "better luck next time, this beauty is mine sorry~"

You adore his students and they adore you he'd often tease you about being a good mom

•Before dating however gojo was such a cocky bastard yet he was desperate for your attention

• he didn't even realize he liked you in a romantic way til shoko made a comment on how you'd make a good wife when you brought bento boxes for the students after their training

• that made gojo think, of you as a wife but not any wife his wife

• days after that he found himself wondering what it would be like to hold you... it was really distracting him

• after a while tho he would begin to flirt with you, trying to see you flustered or even blush a bit

• he came to terms with his feelings towards you pretty quick he was simply madly in love with you, that's not a big deal right?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Nanami kento

Dating

Nanami is serious most of the time, however that doesn't stop him from being pretty romantic from time to time

Sure he's stern at times but he can be pretty sweet when you least expect it

Unlike gojo nanami perfers dates to have the romantic aspect rather than the extravagant aspect he likes for some reason

Candle lit dinners followed by bathing together after a long day at work are some of his favorite things to do

Nanami isn't to big on pda especially if you both are at work he wants to keep things professional, however if you get injured whilst on a mission he is extremely caring and affectionate once you get back

There's something about the way you tend to him when he's sick or Injured that makes his heart flutter, if it were up to him he'd get sick often if it meant being in your care 25/8

He's a good listener, he loves to hear you rant about anything; if it is something you enjoy talking abt he listener intently with a lovestruck expression

Affectionate behind closed doors

Before dating

• again he wants to stay professional, work and home life have to remain separate

• but when you were paired with him the seemingly calm and focused man lost his train of thought

• his mind was clouded with thoughts of you

• it was gojo who pointed out his crush on you, and he hated the fact that he was right

• gojo noticed how nanamis gaze softened and his usual stern voice became more calm and soft everytime you walked into rhe room while they were speaking

• "soo you love them dontcha" "oh shut it satoru"

• gojo made it his personal mission to get you both together, you made Nanami less angry meaning no more angry scolding from him right?

• unfortunately nanami wasn't going to let gojo get you both together because who knows what he would come up with so he had to confess quickly

Sugurū geto

• smug bastard (prob worse than gojo)

• you both are high-school sweethearts tho so your used to it

• he's such a tease, if you both are walking together expect him to randomly put you hand on your waist and even run it inder your shirt

• IT sucks bc sometimes his hands are cold

If you get flustered hed play dumb,

Hes very affectionate, he also playfully bites alot for some reason

Sex jokes alot of them

But all that aside he is a hopeless romantic

Hes a sucker for I love you texts forehead kisses and all

His daughters love you and call him petty for it but he gets all salty that you spend more time w them than you do with him

Dates consist of mostly him spoiling both you a his daughters

But on sme occasions you both do have small yet v romantic dinner dates

Before dating

• biggest shipper for the 2 of you was gojo

• of you 3 were assigned smth together gojo was a no show and would later text his best friend "how was your date ;)"

•the first time gojo did that was when geto realized gojo was onto something

• in other words he realized he loved you

• since then its hard for him to concentrate on anything without thinking of you

#jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #gojo x oc #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo

[anxious-witch]

What a year, huh? We all know I have to be emotional on tumblr.com whenever the opportunity arises because that's one way I allow myself to have an emotional catharsis (for legal reasons this a joke)

In all seriousness though, this year has been a lot for me. Both in a good and bad sense, but Käärijä and Joker Out improved it significantly. And more importantly, their fandoms. (More inder the cut bc this is long af)

I have never really been someone who knows anything about the artists' whose music I listened to. Before this, I don't think I ever listened to a full album of someone, just random songs that I liked. Finding stuff from personal life of bands/musicians I liked usually made me depressed so I didn't bother.

Then, ESC 2023. happened. I frankly have no idea what flipped the switch in my head. Bojere interactions? The way people on tumblr were so welcoming even back when I was mostly posting about Let 3 and Käärijä only? I don't know, I only know that we are here now, regardless.

Another thing about me is that I used to be very pessimistic person. Likez genuinely. I have been "unofficially"(long story) diagnosed with depression and anxiety since I was 11, which is over a decade now. I always had a lot of bad experiences with people and really awful trust issues. I have been doing better for some time now, but it is very hard to let go of the feeling of pessimism and helplessness. In a world where awful things happen every second, what can I possibly do that would change anything?

Then ESC happened. Käärijä lost and I thought "another injustice that will never be corrected". Except, instead of feeling defeated, everyone just loved him more. In those weeks after and later on months, all I have seen had been unrelenting love and acceptance of Jere. Reminding him that despite not winning Eurovision, he is our winner and we'll forever think of him as such. Jere who has a wonderfully belly and strong thighs and is short and by no means is he conventional in any sense. And people loved him not despite all that but because all that. Because we all found ways to relate to him, or to what he went through.

His story of almost dying and still getting where he did only served to highlight that more. Because of he did it, why can't we get to what we want? Why can't I? It shifted my whole perspective.

Then, Joker Out. It is so, so funny to me how I barely paid any attention to them during ESC, except for bojere interactions and was dragged in it by the shared fandom, when now I post most about them.

But yes, JO. A band from Slovenia that while tehnically isn't Balkan, felt so close to me. Like they could understand all the things I kept to myself because of where I was. And then they showed me there is still hope.

I have never seen a band from around here take a pride flag on the stage. Never. I know it's a thing, especially abroad, but God I have never seen that happen here. And with how much love they always took it! That's...wow. It gave me hope that not only is it possible for injustices to be corrected, but that ot's possible to do it even in the environment I'm in.

And then...the Virtual Letters Project happened. Or well positive confessions that @spockowhales turned into Virtual Letters Project.

That's when I knew it's truly possible. I have seen tumblr posts, yes. But getting stuff so directly addressed about or to JO made me realize how much of a "wave" they all created. So many people said they helped them with their depression, with viewing their world differentky with meeting new peoplez with daring to do something new.

I have no words to describe how much that meant to me and I really hope that when they read those letters, they understood the impact they had.

But even that aside, I want to thank everyone in this fandom. People I have talked to, people I have interacted with it any way, through replies, reblogs, likes, anon asks. I appreciate every single one of you for helping create such a wonderful space. We had our ups and downs in the fandom, but we are all here because we love these fandoms, these people so much to keep talking about it even months after.

Thank you and I wish everyone here a wonderful New Year with even more laugh, love and positivity ❤️ have a good one

#rio rambles #käärijä #joker out #man this is so long but I couldn't stop myself #rio writes a love letter to jere JO and the fandom in general I guess lmao