#& maybe something w a little more effort if he’s going somewhere cool

[stardustvalentine]

always destined to be a frog <3

[mattsmunch]

── 𖦹 !　TICKLISH?

chris sturniolo x fem!reader.

SUMMARY: who knew a conversation about tickling would lead to this?

CONTENTS: SMUT! with small plot, established! friendship, dom!chris x sub!reader, pet names are used (ma,baby, angel, i think that’s all?), unprotected p n v (no bueno), a TEENY bit of fluff, + more…

WC: 5.6k

REQUEST: open <3

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS IS AN ORIGINAL STORYLINE. i DONT allow any copying, "inspiration" or plagiarism. a smidge new to writing smut so BARE W ME YALL! let me unleash my freak. NOT PROOF READ, ignore any typos pls n thx

“you’re a liar”

“i’m not i swear! im literally not ticklish” you snort,

"you’re definitely a liar," chris accuses again, seeing you snort and grab the remote from him. he takes the moment to dig his fingers into your side, searching for a reaction. your lips part in a small gasp, your face holding a stoic expression that contrasts with his surprised expression. his hands and jaw drop as you readjust on the bed, hitting play on the movie without a word.

“there’s no way, you’ve gotta be ticklish somewhere” chris throws your blanket off your lap, revealing your feet, and begins trying to tickle your toes through your socks. you shake your head with a smile, trying to hold back laughter.

chris exclaims, "it’s the socks!" while reaching for the hem of your ankle sock, but you quickly pull your leg away, denying him access.

you push chris's hands away every time he grabs your ankles, cackling as you do so. despite the effort to remain nonchalant, your body responds, the skin under his touch turning hot.

"you're not touching my bare feet, idiot! that’s disgusting," you tease, trying to play it cool.

“c’mon! you know you’re gonna laugh that’s why” chris giggles, a large grin on his face, as he playfully grapples with you over your feet. despite your protests, he uses his body weight to pin down your legs, resulting in squeals and pleas not to touch your bare feet.

as he disregards your objections, you let out a noise that is a mix between a groan and a giggle, your attempts to resist in vain.

chris swiftly removes your sock and tickles the sole of your foot with his fingers, prompting you to snort and playfully smack his back in protest.

"okay, well, you're broken!" he laughs, sitting back and resting against the headboard next to you. you put your sock back on and shake your head as you giggle.

chris's smile grows wider in response to your laughter, a sound he has yet to tire of even after 8 years of friendship.

you shrug as you reach for the bowl of popcorn and munch on a few pieces, your eyes fixed on the television in front of you.

“i mean, maybe,” you continue speaking, “you could literally touch me anywhere, and you still wouldn't get a reaction.”

chris remains still beside you, silently studying your figure. his gaze wanders down to your bare thighs peeking out from under his large hoodie, one that you’ve been wearing for so many years that it practically belongs to you now.

however, something about the sight of you in his clothes and in his bed, along with your words, causes his heart to thump a little too quickly for comfort.

Chris clears his throat and shakes his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the thoughts racing through his mind. He reaches for the popcorn in your lap, but you swiftly withdraw the bowl and smack his hand.

"no way!" you exclaim, feigning disgust, "you just touched my feet with those hands! go wash them first!"

as chris rolls his eyes playfully and gets up to head to the bathroom, you can't help but notice how your heart starts to flutter louder than before. despite yourself, the sight of his small smile makes your pulse quicken even more.

he disappears momentarily into the bathroom, the sound of the water running echoes from within, as he washes his hands. you remain on the bed, still struggling to compose yourself.

chris exits the bathroom with an exaggerated slowness, his hands covered in soap bubbles. he rubs them together aggressively, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in a determined expression, and locks eyes with you. the silence in the air is almost palpable as he stands there awkwardly.

“what are you doing?” you question

chris looks at you, and his tongue quickly darts out to moisten his lips.

"i’m washing my hands," he responds, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you raise an eyebrow and look at him skeptically. "yea, but why are you doing it outside the bathroom?" you ask, still questioning his actions.

chris looks down at his hands, then back up to the television, and finally back down to you. he shrugs sheepishly before hastily retreating back into the bathroom, the sound of the door shutting behind him.

you remain there for a moment, slightly confused by his behavior, but eventually turn your focus back to the movie playing on the screen.

after a few minutes, chris reemerges, wiping his hands against the front of his shirt, and slips back into the bed next to you.

you silently move the popcorn bowl between the both of you, and he grabs a handful and shovels it into his mouth. for a few moments, silence hangs in the air as you both continue to watch the movie without a word.

then, slowly, chris breaks the silence, speaking up to you.

“hey,” he begins, grabbing your attention. you turn your head towards him, waiting for him to continue.

chris turns to face you, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “can i ask you something?”

you turn to face him, a look of confusion on your features as you try to understand what he's talking about. it only takes a moment before realization dawns on you, as you recall the conversation about the discussion about ticklish spots.

"you mean...about the tickling thing?" you respond, wanting to confirm your suspicions. he nods, confirming your thought, "yeah," he responds, a hint of seriousness in his voice.

you turn back to him, still not quite sure where he's going with this. "what do you mean? i just meant i’m not...ticklish like you are," you shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“what are you looking at?” your question, his attention snaps back to the present as you speak, his cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment. for a few moments, the only sound comes from the movie playing in the background.

finally, he breaks the silence, his words coming out hesitantly.

“can…can i try something?” he mumbles softly, his eyes tracing your facial features slowly.

“uhm..sure?” you respond, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as chris slowly scoots closer to you.

“just…just don’t- don’t freak out ‘kay?” he sighs softly, placing a hand on your cheek as you nod.

as chris brushes his nose against yours, your eyebrows scrunch together in momentary confusion. but before you can process what's happening, his tongue slips out to moisten his lips, and his eyelids flutter closed and his lips pressed against yours.

your body tenses instinctively, but the soft caress of his thumb against your cheek instantly soothes you, and you can feel yourself melting into his lips.

the kiss is tender and unhurried, both of you moving delicately, as if any sudden move could shatter the fragile moment.

what started as a soft, gentle kiss gradually transforms into something much more intense. your tongue brushes against his lips, a silent request that is swiftly granted, and the pace picks up rapidly. your breathing quickens as your hands move to tangle themselves in his messy curls.

the kiss devolves into a messy dance of teeth and tongue, each battling for dominance, neither willing to back down.

chris groans, and his grip on your cheek shifts to your neck, gently squeezing while pulling you closer against him.

you break away from the kiss, gasping for air as you try to regain control of your breathing. the sensation of his hot breath on your skin has your head spinning. slowly, he lowers his head, tilting your chin up to expose more of your neck, and begins trailing a path of soft kisses down its length.

his lips travel down the smooth expanse of your skin, and he sucks gently, marking your flesh with small love bites that will no doubts be fun to explain later. as he reaches just below your ear, his tongue softly laps at your skin. a light moan escapes your lips, and your thighs involuntarily clench together, doing little to ease the aching need between them.

chris chuckles gently against your neck, planting a final soft peck before whispering into your ear, his voice low and sultry.

“that tickles ma?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. his voice is soft but authoritative at the same time, a hint of amusement in his tone as he feels your thighs clamp together against him.

you can practically feel the smugness radiating off him, knowing perfectly well that he's the one causing this reaction in you.

"tell me y/n," chris murmurs, his breath hot against your earlobe as his lips graze the sensitive skin. your body responds instinctively, a needy whimper escaping your parted lips. the growing hardness beneath his sweatpants presses insistently against your thigh, evidence of his desire.

chris's groan vibrates against your mouth when he captures your lips in a searing kiss. his hands find your hips, fingers digging in possessively as he effortlessly flips you onto your back, never breaking the intimate connection. your legs automatically wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

the sudden shift has you straddling chris's torso, your cunt pressing firmly against the rigid plane of his chest. he groans, the arousal between your legs immediately soaking through the thin fabric of his t shirt.

"fucking hell!" chris grits out, his cock now fully harden, creating a noticeable bulge in his sweatpants. you hastily reposition yourself, aligning your dripping cunt directly over his throbbing cock. both of you let out guttural moans as you begin to undulate your hips, rubbing your aching clit against his hardness.

"fuck, chris—" you whine into his neck, your lips sucking hickeys onto his neck. chris tosses his head back, eyes rolling shut as he grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements with increasing urgency. the friction builds with every roll of your pelvis. low moans fall between his soft, slightly puffy lips, the combination of your lips sucking all sorts of different sized hickeys along his neck and the way your cunt is soaking him through both his sweats and boxers, is enough to have him dangerously close to the edge. his grip tightens as he holds you in place, your hips begging to move.

"hold on, ma... i’m gonna fucking bust in my pants before i even get to touch you properly," chris grumbles, his voice low and strained with barely contained lust. he gently lifts you off his lap, positioning you so you're lying flat on your back while he looms above you. the soft glow of the TV casts a warm light across your features, highlighting the delicate flush spreading across your cheeks as he drinks in the sight of you.

atender smile tugs at the corners of chris’s mouth as realization settles over him - the gravity of the situation and the depth of his feelings for you in this charged moment. he leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, pouring all his affection and desire into the intimate gesture.

"you okay?" chris whispers, placing a feather-light kiss to your temple. at your quick nod, he lets out a soft chuckle, but his expression remains tender. "words, please. need to hear this is okay for you too, sweet girl," he urges, the endearment slipping easily from his lips and sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.

your walls clench involuntarily at the nickname, unused to hearing it in this context but craving more of his affectionate tone. the sincerity in his gaze makes it impossible to deny the truth - you're more than alright with this intimacy. in fact, the warmth of his words and the gentle way he's treating you only heighten your arousal, leaving you aching for his touch once again.

"yes, i’m okay... i want this chris, i promise," you whisper, extending your pinky finger between you, y/e/c eyes gazing up at him softly. the innocent gesture, reminiscent of childhood pacts, seems to inflame chris further, his already straining erection twitching in response to the simple, trusting act.

without hesitation, he wraps his own pinky around yours, and you both lean in to seal the agreement with a soft, lingering peck. as your fingers part, chris claims your mouth in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you thoroughly. his chilly palms slide beneath the hem of your hoodie, tracing teasing patterns along your hipbones.

chris gradually pulls the hoodie over your head, breaking their heated kiss briefly. but as soon as the fabric clears your face, his lips are back on yours, moving with renewed fervor. his hands roam the newly exposed skin of your torso, caressing the soft curves hidden beneath the thin fabric of your crop top.

he reluctantly pulls away once more, drinking in the sight of your body laid bare before him. a low, appreciative sigh escapes his lips as his gaze lands on the glinting silver of your belly button piercing, nestled tantalizingly above the waistband of your shorts. the intimate accessory draws his attention like a beacon.

"did i ever tell you how fucking sexy this looks on you?" chris murmurs, his fingers trailing slowly down your torso, eliciting soft gasps from your parted lips. "i was a complete mess when you first got it done..." he trails off, lost in memories, before continuing, "thought about it so fucking much."

his touch sends shivers down your spine as one finger teases the edge of your shorts' waistband, causing your back to arch off the bed instinctively. your breath catches in your throat as that same finger brushes dangerously close to your most intimate area, a wicked grin playing on chris's lips as he revels in your whimpers of frustration. then, in a cruel twist, he withdraws his hand entirely, leaving you aching and wanting more.

"gonna find out how ticklish this is too," chris growls, swiftly tugging down both your underwear and shorts in one fluid motion. he pauses, transfixed by the sight of your thong clinging to your slick, aroused folds. a low, appreciative hum rumbles in his chest as he licks his lips, his eyes darkening with desire.

your cheeks flush a deep crimson as you watch him discard the discarded garments carelessly across the floor, the sound echoing in the charged silence. your heart pounds wildly against your ribs, nerves coursing through your stomach like electric currents. the air feels heavy with anticipation, each ragged breath you take seeming to magnify the pulsating ache between your thighs.

chris notices the way your bottom lip has fallen between your teeth, a nervous tick of yours he’s picked up on.

"all this fuss just for little ol' me?" chris teases, attempting to lighten the intense atmosphere with a joke. his attempt succeeds, coaxing a soft, melodic giggle from your lips. your hands slap playfully against his shoulder, sending a spark of electricity through your touch.

"shut up and take it off," you smile coyly, tugging gently at the hem of his shirt. chris obliges, sitting up slightly and tearing the garment off in one swift motion. your eyes linger on his now-bare torso, drinking in the sight of his soft, freckled skin stretched taut over lean muscle. an inexplicable urge washes over you, prompting a fleeting fantasy of placing tender kisses upon each speckled mark.

your gaze meets chris's, his eyes such a dark shade of blue they could almost be mistaken for brown eyes. you both hold the moment, two warm smiles shared silently between you as he takes your hand, pressing a feather-light kiss to your palm.

"i’m gonna need you to let me know if it's too much or if you don't like what i’m doing, okay?" Chris murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble. "want you to feel good, ma." with that, he leans in, brushing a soft peck against your lips before trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. they dance along your skin, pausing to nibble delicately at the spot just above your belly button, where the piercing glints invitingly.

"chris!" you gasp sharply as his tongue blazes a searing path down to your pelvic bone, sending yet another shudder rippling through your frame. he smirks to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, before drawing your sensitive skin between his lips. soft sucks pepper your flesh, promising to leave behind a constellation of love bites. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, as your hands fly to tangle in his hair, wordlessly pleading for him to venture lower. but chris has other plans. his left hand snatches both your wrists, pinning them securely against your tummy, stifling your movements.

"patience, y/n," chris coos reassuringly, "i’m getting there." with that promise hanging in the air, he uses his free hand to throw your thighs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly for his next move. his mouth descends upon your slick inner thighs, lathering it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. the taste of your arousal fills his senses, a sweet-sour tang that makes him groan in appreciation. his tongue darts out, licking a slow, tantalizing path up your inner thigh, teasing closer and closer to your aching center without touching it directly.

"chris...please... need more," you plead, squirming beneath him. you try to lift your hips higher, desperate to bring your throbbing pussy closer to his waiting mouth. he chuckles softly, nipping at your inner thighs with his teeth. a surprised yelp escapes your lips as he moves to your other thigh, now tantalizingly close to your slick folds.

his lips glisten with anticipation as he looks up at you. using his free hand, he trails a single digit through your soaking folds, watching as your face contorts with pleasure. he gathers the copious fluids pooling around your entrance and brings his finger to your mouth. "open up for me," he commands softly.

as soon as his finger enters your mouth, your lips seal around it, and you moan softly at the taste of your own essence. your tongue swirls and laps, eagerly cleaning every inch until not a single drop remains. you maintain eye contact throughout, your eyes darkening with lust.

with a playful pop, chris withdraws his finger from your mouth. "every last fucking drop?" he teases, pouting exaggeratedly. "could've at least given me a little somethin', baby."

despite the jest, his cock twitches with need, the tip visibly glistening with pre-cum that's begun to soak through his boxers, clinging them to his thick length.

before you can form a response, chris’s tongue delves into your dripping folds, eliciting a soft moan from him as your flavor explodes across his taste buds. he knows he'll crave another taste of you soon, your essence already proving addictive. his hands release your wrists, allowing your fingers to tangle in his hair just as he seals his lips around your throbbing clit. he sucks hard, groaning as the vibrations send shockwaves through your core. more of your arousal trickles out, staining his sheets beneath you.

he hooks his arms under your knees, pushing them towards your chest to grant himself deeper access to your weeping pussy. his tongue plunders your folds, lapping up every drop of your essence.

"oh-…fuck!" you cry out, your hips undulating to meet the thrust of chris's probing fingers. each time they brush against that sensitive sponge-like spot deep inside, your pussy gushes in response, soaking his digits. whimpering moans spill from your lips as he skillfully curls his fingers, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

meanwhile, his tongue picks up speed, lashing at your clit with relentless fervor. the combined stimulation pushes you rapidly towards the brink, your body trembling with impending climax. his fingers pumping in and out while his mouth works overtime to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering form.

your body tenses, back arching off the bed as the overwhelming sensation crests within you. "chris!..oh god, yes!" you wail, your voice cracking with ecstasy. wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around chris's fingers as your orgasm rips through you.

through it all, chris maintains his relentless pace, tongue still lashing at your throbbing clit and fingers continuing their deep strokes. he drinks in every muffled scream and whimper, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. as your contractions start to subside, he slows his ministrations, savoring the aftermath of your explosive climax. finally, he releases your clit with a parting lick, withdrawing his fingers with a soft pop.

pride swells in chris's chest as he watches you collapse back onto the bed, spent and shaking from the force of your orgasm. he takes a moment to admire the flushed, sweat-dampened beauty of you, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your quivering thighs.

"that was definitely a reaction" he murmurs playfully, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. he leans down to press a tender kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. In this intimate moment, with your defenses lowered and your trust in him palpable, chris feels a deep connection, a sense of possession that only adds to his arousal.

As you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, chris's demeanor changes. the playful teasing fades, replaced by a hungry intensity in his gaze. he straightens, his impressive erection straining against his boxers, the damp fabric clinging to his thick length.

without a word, chris reaches for the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down just enough to free his cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. he gives his shaft a few slow pumps, his eyes never leaving yours as he says, "we can stop y/n” he murmurs softly, sliding his tip between your folds. a gasp leaves your lips, your legs immediately trying to close against him as you are still very sensitive. “just say the words…” he groans softly, teasing your entrance with his tip.

chris’s movements are deliberate and unhurried, giving you ample opportunity to voice your reservations if you choose. yet, as he teases the head of his cock between your slick folds, another startled gasp escapes your lips.

"she, baby," chris, his voice a soothing murmur against the tension. "just say the words...tell me to stop if you're not ready."

his tip continues to rub against your entrance, applying gentle pressure that makes you acutely aware of your body's responses. a shiver runs down your spine as your inner muscles clench involuntarily around nothing, craving the fullness only he can provide.

the silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken desires and lingering doubts. chris waits patiently, his cock still poised at your entrance, the heat of his breath ghosting over your most intimate flesh. he wants nothing more than to claim you, to bury himself deep and lose himself in your warmth. but he also respects your boundaries, willing to halt proceedings at the slightest indication of discomfort.

after what feels like an eternity, Chris speaks up, his voice low and gravelly with restraint. "y/n, i know you're still sensitive, but i need you, ma. please, tell me it's okay to keep going..." his words are a plea, a silent offer of comfort and reassurance should you require it. he holds his breath, waiting for your response, the tip of his cock twitching with anticipation.

you nod eagerly, opening your eyes to stare into his, “please chris” you mutter.

at the sight of your eager nod, chris's control snaps. with a guttural groan, he surges forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. your body yields to his size, accommodating the thickness of his cock as he fills you completely.

for a moment, chris remains still, savoring the exquisite feeling of being buried inside you. then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he begins to move, setting a steady, deep rhythm that has you gasping and arching into his touch once more.

"fuck, you feel incredible," chris growls, his hips snapping forward to drive his cock home again. "so tight and wet for me...like you were made to take my cock." he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, his pubic bone grinding against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves. you gasp at his words, never hearing such filth fall from his lips before.

“m-more…please…” you whimper softly, reaching out the grab his shoulders.

chris establishes a relentless pace, each stroke pushing you further along the path to another orgasm. his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounds into you with increasing fervor. the sound of flesh slapping against flesh mingles with your ragged breaths and stifled cries, creating a symphony of carnal pleasure.

"you like that, don't you?" chris pants, sweat beading on his brow as he loses himself in the primal act. "taking my cock like a good little slut...i bet you're gonna come all over it soon, aren't you? gonna let me fill you up ma?..."

he punctuates his filthy words with a sharp snap of his hips, angling to hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

chris’s thrusts become erratic, driven by a primal urge to claim you utterly. his cock pistons in and out of your dripping heat, the sound of his heavy breathing mingling with your high-pitched moans. each stroke sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to pull you under.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" you cry out, your nails digging into chris's shoulders as you cling to him. "harder, please...m’gonna cum”

chris obeys, slamming into you with abandon. the room echoes with the force of his thrusts, the bed creaking beneath you. sweat drips down his chest, mixing with the tang of sex that permeates the air. his hands grip your hips, pulling out and quickly flipping you onto your stomach.

with you pinned beneath him, chris exerts complete control, his dominance over your body evident in every commanding thrust. he grips your hips harshly, using the leverage to drill into you with renewed vigor. the change in position allows him to reach even deeper, his cock stroking that sweet spot within you that sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"take it, ma," chris grunts, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. "this is what you wanted, isn't it? for me to get a reaction out of you huh"

he once again punctuates his words with a brutal slam, the force causing your breasts to flatten against the mattress. hiss balls slap against your clit with each savage thrust, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge of oblivion.

lost in a haze of lust, chris becomes a creature of pure instinct, chasing his own release with single-minded determination. his hips piston back and forth, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your body rocks with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with his movements.

"fuck, gonna cum soon," chris snarls, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "gonna let me fill you up? hm angel? "

he leans forward, changing the angle of penetration and hitting that magic spot inside you with every pass. your vision blurs, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensation of being taken so thoroughly, so completely. you nod, moans falling from your mouth.

“y-yes…please chris…please cum in me..” you blabber, your face pressed into the mattress.

at your desperate plea, chris lets out a feral roar, his body tensing as he buries himself to the hilt one final time. with a hoarse cry, he erupts inside you, his hot seed pulsing deep within your core. the sensation triggers your own orgasm, waves of ecstasy washing over you as you convulse beneath him.

your walls clamp down around chris's throbbing cock, milking him for every drop as he continues to pump his release into you. the intense contractions draw out his pleasure, prolonging the blissful agony until they both collapse, spent and trembling.

in the aftermath, chris rolls off you, gathering you close as you both struggle to catch your breath.

chris lets out a final gasp as he rolls off you, wrapping you close to his chest. both of you lay there, panting heavily, struggling to catch your breath and slow down your racing hearts.

for several moments, neither of you speak, the silence of the room filled with the sound of your labored breathing. finally, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

"wow," is all he manages to say, his chest heaving up and down as he still struggles to catch his breath.

you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your ear, a testament to the intensity of what had just happened between the two of you. for a brief moment, you wonder if you should say something, but you're too spent to string together a coherent sentence.

instead, you simply nod in agreement, the wordless gesture seeming to convey your feelings perfectly.

chris tightens his arms around you, pulling you even closer against him. your body heat radiates off of eachother, your legs still tangled around his waist. despite the exhaustion, his heart continues to beat rapidly against your cheek, a constant reminder of the passion that had just occurred.

"that was..." he begins, his voice hoarse from their panting. he pauses for a moment, struggling to find the words to describe what had just happened.

he takes another deep, ragged breath, his chest heaving against your head. "amazing," he finally manages to say, his voice filled with awe and exhaustion. you nod, unable to find your voice still. the room is quiet once again, the only sound being the steady rise and fall of your breathing. chris's hands slowly stroke your back, tracing small, comforting circles on your skin.

he's clearly as spent as you are, but there's also a sense of deep satisfaction radiating from him.

a few moments pass in comfortable silence, the two of you simply holding each other as your breathing slowly returns to normal. chris leans his head down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, planting a soft kiss against your collarbone.

“chris?” you mutter softly

chris lifts his head slightly, his chin still resting on top of your head. "yeah?" he replies, his voice is equally soft.

he seems a little dazed still, but there's a hint of alertness in his tone, as if he was just roused from a pleasant dream.

chris huffs out a small laugh, his body shaking slightly from the chuckle. "fair point," he admits, a hint of amusement in his voice.

he pulls back just enough to be able to look down at your face, his gaze filled with a mixture of affection and playful mockery. you stare up at him through hooded eyes, a soft smile on your lips as you shake your head playfully. chris stares back down at you, his gaze softer than usual. he's still smiling slightly, but there's a new tenderness in his eyes.

he lifts one arm from your side, his hand moving to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his touch is gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking the moment.

"well then," he says, his voice just above a whisper, "guess i should confess how long i’ve been wanting to do that"you raise an eyebrow quizzically, silently prompting him to elaborate. his hand moves to your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles against your skin.

chris takes a deep breath before speaking, "i honestly don’t even remember the last time i wasn’t...interested in you" he confesses, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“i never..mentioned it cause i didn’t want to ruin our friendship or anything” he mumbles softly with a shrug.

“well there’s no way we can just go back to being friends after this” you sigh playfully

he lets out a snort, a small smirk on his face. "believe me, i have no plans on going back to being 'just friends'" he replies, his voice low and serious.

his hand moves down from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin as he continues to admire your features.

“then what…what are we doing?” you snort

he’s silent for a moment, simply staring down at you as his thumb continues to trace light circles on the skin above your collarbone.

finally, he gives a slight shrug, his eyes not leaving yours. "i’m not sure yet" he mutters quietly, his tone casual but the look in his eyes anything but. chris gently pulls you even closer, his arms wrapping around you possessively as if trying to ensure you don't disappear. you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and the heat radiating off his body as it molds against yours. you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“i don’t know what the future holds” he mutters softly against your skin. “but i know that i want you in it. whatever that means.”

the two of you lay there in each other’s arms, silently contemplating the unknown future, but both knowing that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

and in that moment, nothing else mattered. the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, together in the comfort of each other's arms.

in that small pocket of time, it didn't matter what would come next, or what label to put on what had just happened. all that mattered was that you were together, in the present. and right now, that was enough.

AUTHORS NOTE: nervous to post this but like i need to rip the bandage off LOLLL! hope you enjoyed :,) respectful feedback is welcomed.

TAG LIST: @freshloveee @floralsturniolo @chrissturnioloslittleslut @joces-wrld

[sugar-coat-it]

request request request!!! i love ur writing so much and all i can think about is thigh riding w matty maybe he cums in his pants

AHHHHHHHHHH anon I love you thank you <3 

Um yeah he’s gonna cum in his pants… who do you think I am

I’m combining this + a horny plotline I’ve been wanting to write 

Made him just a tad subby, I hope that's cool!

—--------------------------------------

Matty sits at the edge of your bed, his leg bouncing with anticipation as he waits for you to come out of the bathroom. You’d asked him to let you do a little fashion show for him with some new things you’d bought, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, except today it wasn’t with clothes, but with various lingerie pieces. He’s anxiously eyeing the bag on your sheets, praying that there aren’t any more sets in there, because he swears he might explode if there are. You’d already shown off a pretty sheer babydoll, a lacy set with cutouts, and an embroidered corset with a matching thong. He wanted to rip every single one of them off of your body, his hands white-knuckling at the sheets to try and control himself. You specifically told him that he was only meant to look, he couldn’t touch because you “weren’t sure which one’s you’re going to keep”. Bullshit. Matty knows better, you’re playing with him and you know it too. So, he’s been stuck here, painfully straining against his trousers and watching as you flaunt around in pieces of fabric that clad you so scantily, there’s almost no point in wearing anything at all. But, then again, he can’t deny how absolutely stunning you are in every one of them, he feels grateful just to be in your presence. There’s something so endearing about the way he reacts at the sight of you each time, how he swallows hard, a flush on his cheeks as his eyes widen with pure wonderment, you’d think he’d never seen you this bared to him before. 

“Okay, last one!” you call from behind the bathroom door, making your final adjustments to the undergarments. 

“It fuckin’ better be…” he mutters to himself, not even trying to hide the effects of the predicament you’ve put him in, he’s sat with his legs spread out. 

You’re just absolutely beaming before you’ve even got the door open, already knowing that this one will be his favorite, you can hardly wait to see the look on his face. You step out into your room and relish in the way Matty’s jaw just drops, a warmth spreading across your skin at how ravenous he looks right now with his legs spread open like that. Saving the best for last, you’d picked out a set consisting of a cupless bra and crotchless panties, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. His cock jumps immediately, Matty groans lowly at the way he can’t control the aching throbs beneath his trousers.

“Holy fuck,” he gapes, covering his mouth with disbelief, his tongue practically hanging out.

His breath is hot and panting against his hand, he feels like he’s burning up, god, the torture you’re putting him through. It, without a doubt, was his favorite of the lineup, despite how you look unfathomably sexy in all of them. You slink closer to him, watching the way his hands twitch and tense at his sides with the effort of not reaching out to feel you. He moans under his breath as you do a little turn in front of him, letting Matty see the full effect of the look and more specifically, an eyeful of your perfect ass. With that, he loses his patience, quickly deciding your rules can be damned as his hands move to hold your hips, he just needs something, anything to satiate himself. You bat him away before he can get to you, taking a step back as you tilt your head at him enticingly, clicking your tongue at his impulsiveness. Matty groans with frustration, his expression somewhere between a pout and a snarl.

“Fuck’s sake! Are you serious? My dick is so hard it fucking hurts, I’m genuinely going to die, you evil, evil woman!” he complains, motioning to the sizeable bulge, thick and straining against his thigh.

“Aww, poor thing,” you tease, leaning against your armoire as you cross your arms over your chest, only further accentuating your tits.

You turn away from him completely now, ignoring the way he’s trying not to literally pounce on you as you look at yourself in the floor-length mirror. You do look damn good, you can’t say you blame your boyfriend for being dangerous levels of horny. Humming, you run your hands over your sides, smoothing your fingers over the delicate straps holding the lingerie together. 

“I dunno if I’m going to keep it. What do you think?” you muse, glancing at him through the reflection in the mirror, he’s almost drooling, it’s only reminding you of how much power you really hold over him. 

Matty stays eerily quiet, you’re not even sure if he’s fully hearing you, his head too full with his urgent desire, his lust-darkened eyes trained on the curve of your ass. He doesn’t like being told he can’t do something, especially when what he wants is right in front of him, it drives him absolutely mental. He’s plotting what he can say or do to make you crumble, to have you begging him to touch you. You interrupt the turning of the gears in his head by moving to straddle one of his legs, Matty’s eyes snapping up to look at you, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, now unabashedly staring at your body poised on his thigh. He’s stonewalled by the rules you set that blatantly oppose his desire to take what’s in front of him, candy dangled right in front of his face. 

“If I can’t touch you, you can at least make this all worth my while, don’t you think?” he grumbles, blowing a frustrated puff of air up into his curls. 

“Oh, you want a different kind of show?” you smile coyly, knowing that your reasons for keeping him on the sidelines are flimsy, but it’s so damn fun. 

Matty just stares at you with lidded eyes, his head tilted back slightly as his hands fist at the blanket, knuckles white with the self-control he's exerting. He’s not interested in games anymore, impatience written all over his face. You take this as the perfect opportunity to start to slowly rock your hips back and forth on his thigh, your bare cunt against his jeans due to the panties being totally crotchless. Matty shudders as he realizes what you’re doing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly at the wet dream coming to life in front of him. You sigh out, finding a rhythm that suits you as you grind yourself on him, angling your hips so the rough fabric of his jeans catches just right against you. Pretty whimpers spill from your lips as Matty suddenly flexes the muscles in his thigh, encouraging you to go a little faster now as he creates the perfect surface for you to get yourself off on. Matty bites his lip with a groan, feeling you soaking into his jeans, a small wet patch forming as you work your hips shamelessly, he feels like he’s burning up with the effort of not grabbing your waist and guiding you, pressing you down harder against his thigh. You’re purposefully moaning a little louder than usual, really wanting to be his little star performer tonight as you ride his thigh, your tits bouncing with the effort of your movements. 

“Fuck…” he mutters, hot pants of breath parting his lips as he watches you, his cock throbbing so hard it’s almost painful.

You let out a lewd whine of his name, tossing your head back as you reach for your breasts, cupping them in your hands partly to make yourself feel good, and partly to drive Matty insane. You circle your peaked nipples with your thumbs, relishing in the sensations that tingle and spread over your flushed skin, a harsh pang of pleasure rippling deep inside you. Your eyes flutter shut as you focus on the way it all builds up, your pleasure only compounding with Matty’s intense eyes burning into you. He’s not even sure what to keep his gaze on, your gorgeous face contorted with pleasure, your hands grasping at your exposed tits, or at the mess you’re making on his thigh. He’s overwhelmed, his darling girl must have learned from the best on how to put on a good show. 

“Darlin’, love, please. Please, can I touch you? Need to feel you, hon, you’re killing me,” he rambles breathily, his chest heaving as he keeps his thigh flexed for you.

You just shake your head, not even bothering to open your eyes as you keep dragging your aching cunt against his thigh, feeling quite confident that you can get off on your own. Although, you’re quite pleased that he’s resorted to pleading now, his resolve crumbling with every roll of your hips. Matty, however, is anything but pleased.

“No?” he repeats, frustration clear in his tone as his jaw clenches. 

He’s about to bitch about it some more before you open your eyes and grab his chin swiftly, keeping a firm grip on his face to shut him up. You’ve got a wild look in your eyes that has Matty suddenly silenced, his breath catching in his throat at this sudden show of authority. 

“No. You’re gonna fucking watch,” you grin spitefully between panting breaths, the pace of your hips unfaltering. 

And just like that, he whimpers, squirming a little against the mattress as his erection twitches in his jeans, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. You keep your hold on his pretty face with one hand while the other keeps toying with your breast, adding to the pleasurable sensations flowing through you in waves. You’re staring at each other with such intensity, it’s making heat thrum under your skin, your heart beating out of your chest. Moaning wantonly, you go a little faster, losing your coherent rhythm as you start to buck and squirm on his thigh, trying to inch closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. Matty tilts his head down to kiss at the palm of your hand that’s gripping his jaw, running the tip of his tongue along the edge of your thumb. Your eyes widen, but you don’t stop him, allowing him to bend the rules for the sake of the way the sight of it is making your mind fuzzy. He’s getting into it now, you can tell, he is no longer fighting the position he’s in.

“Shit, close,” you gasp, your head tilting back as you keep riding, chasing your high at your poor boyfriend’s expense (though, really, who is he to complain? His hot girlfriend is using him to get off).

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my thigh, sweetheart? Gonna use me till you’re creaming on my jeans?” he whispers, never one to keep his filthy thoughts to himself.

You nod quickly, whining as you rut against him, your hold on him tightening along with the tension inside of you, relief just at your fingertips. Matty moans loudly, his brows deeply furrowed as he watches you tip over the edge right before his eyes. Your back arches as a silent cry overtakes your features, your lips part in a perfect circle as your eyes squeeze shut, shuddering throughout your whole body as your orgasm washes over you in intense waves. Your hips stutter against his thigh, having thoroughly left your mark on his jeans, traces of you stained on the fabric. When your eyes hazily blink open again, you’re met with Matty’s pretty, lidded eyes, a blush dusted on his cheeks up to his ears as he breaths heavily, quivers running through him like aftershocks. At first, you just thought his expression was due to how sexy he found the whole thing, but then you glance down to see a sizeable wet patch near his now softening erection. Your eyes go wide, Matty watching as the pieces click together for you. He just bites his lip, knowing he can’t hide the fact that he just came untouched from watching you ride his thigh. Shocked, you can hardly manage your next two words before, of course, he cuts you off.

“Did you-”

“Piss off…”

[ilovemylawyer]

hiii, im back <3333

i was just thinking about how doyoung kind of remains mysterious in his rituals, like i for once never seem to fully understand what tf is going on inside in his mind maybe i just didn't put enough effort in understanding his microexpressions, still ive been thinking about him winding down for the day lately and every trivial aspect of him like getting out of bath and using body oil or something, bonus points if it gets anomalous teehee because unlike some allegations of him being greasy i think he takes his hygiene very seriously!! atleast whenever he could. sooooo could you pleaaseee maybe sometime write about him just indulging himself in his unwind routine and getting ready for his next day, it's just very important for my mental health i think...yeahh and it doesn't matter which part of timeline it's set in, possibly somewhere in ep 6? im not being serious here, i never was.

lots of love byeee 💗💗💗

hihihi welcome back dear <33

doyoung is totally mysterious! i think it is absolutely intended by the show to make us, the viewers, not privy to the interworkings of his mind. this makes it easier for us to sympathize with dongsoo (to a point..) and it makes it easier for us as viewers to write doyoung off as a psycho criminal killer and NOT understand him as an inexperienced lovesick fool. i think this is totally intentional so i don't think you Missed anything by not scrubbing every scene <3

re: hygeine. HMMMM... so i am more of a greasetruther. at least up until the silver jacket gets replaced with suits and such. but all of that, the fashion upgrade for dy and his men, i see as a direct result of ds' desires. pre-suited dy and gang, his hair is noticeably like. greasy. it just is. i think if he cared about hygiene/appearance on his own, he'd keep his hair shorter and maybe own more than one pair of pants.

BUT! in ep6, he does change to become Cleaner. so your timing here would be correct. like i said i think this is only because of dongsoo. he realizes just how important status/respect/appearance* is to dongsoo, and decides to make himself more desirable by slicking his hair back and dressing like an adult. but i unfortunately do not think he would ever make this decision if not for dongsoo's high standards.

if i do this i think i can make it ep6, a little pre-funeral prep sesh. here are my problems: this would be totally doyoung centric, doyoung pov doyoung brained solo doyoung alone in his big borrowed house. this is AWESOME in theory, but i THRIVE with dialogue, back and forths and quips and spoken lies and stuff. i do not feel like i have a strong, detailed voice for bathtime relaxation. but also ep6 is a rocky dyds episode, ds is supposedly leaving for good and never coming back, dy knows his (ds') mom is going to be executed, dy has already said his would-be final goodbyes... this is tough.

and this: "im not being serious here, i never was." i think (and i could be wrong, i don't quite know, this is only my best guess) that you're trying to say something like "haha jk... unless?" but i am not entirely sure. but i take everything (EVERYTHING) very very very seriously even in our extremely fast paced irony-poisoned world. my friends call me "serious" all the time. there is no need to be anything but serious w/ me! otherwise i actually get pretty confused (which may be evident rn) but plzzz never feel any kind of shame or embarrassment for any kind of ask to me! FR!

i take this show and my contributions to it like, deathly seriously. that is the only reason i cannot 100% guarantee u that i can pull this off. i have started a doc and jotted down my initial notes/thoughts, so it is there! but this will not be my main focus rn. the longer i think on things the more ideas i get, so this request might just take me some time to mull over/break down/work out. and maybe it'll turn out like super radical gnarly awesome cool. this is something that we will find out together!

MUCH LOVE ALWAYS! thank u forever for ur ask and i promise i will think some more on this and see if i can't figure it out <33

[punkrogue]

I always feel so frustrated with how unimaginative Marvel is with Remy, the only interesting things he's had is New Sun and X-Factor. Idk if this is true, but I read there was some rumor that Remy was gonna be an alter ego of Sinister, which would've given the writers more to work with imo. I think why some writers like Rogue and Erik more since they're much easier to work with outside of shipping. Same with Kurt, whom I sometimes think Remy is a pale imitation of (Catholic, martial artist, looks demonic, ladies man, even his powers suit a thief more than Remy's). If Kurt and Rogue weren't siblings, I'd sooner ship Rogue with him than Remy. Also, since Remy can only charge non-living things, it just makes him look weak and limited compared to other characters. I don't say all this shit to be mean, but I do get frustrated with how little material he's given, and can understand why his character is constantly put on the back burner in various media compared to other X-Men characters.

Yeah I remember reading somewhere they'd thought about doing something like that with Remy and Sinister and I think instead went with New Sun? Something like that. Also considered having him be ANOTHER Secret Summers Brother and I'm glad we didn't go this route lol we need to stop the Summers-Grey family tree from taking over the whole X-verse while we can.

I'll say that I don't feel that Remy is a pale imitation of Kurt mainly because I feel Remy deals with a lotta things that Kurt really doesn't on a personal level (true parental abandonment like no margali in SIGHT kinda shit, street life, crime, child soldier gangland shit, the greys and blacks of morality etc). You see more of those things in his solos which can even get a bit of a noir vibe to them which is nice but people just rarely wanna put in the time and effort with Remy. They rarely get him so they knock him down into say, the TAS 90s Gambit mold and call it a day. Which is just ....... no one wants that. Not Gambit Haters, not Gambit Stans.

And I get what you're saying about his powers but I think if he could charge living matter constantly like he can as New Sun homie would be so comically OP. I think the real issue here is just again, fuckers don't know how to write him so they go for whatever's easiest. So it's all lame, dumb and boring. If they let him get funky with his powers a bit more it'd could be super cool.

The pro of Rogue and Magneto when made scene partners is that they do have much more solid pre-existing characterizations, vibes and "story packs". As a writer you can walk in and already there's a couple of things you can do which are kinda like Rogue or Magneto Classics. Remy not so much so he ends up being like, Rogue's loser sidekick which sucks.

I feel you tho on the shitshow that is comic Rogue-Kurt dynamics. I too can see the appeal and charm of them as a romantic ship just as much as I can see them working wonderfully as a sibling pair. My beef around them has been for years that we get this Big Reveal that Mystique is Kurt's Bio-Mom but after he has his initial freak out for a couple issues in Excalibur or Uncanny or w/e he was in at the time I forget I just remember Amanda is there this whole thing-- IT NEVER REALLY COMES UP AGAIN BETWEEN HIM AND ROGUE AND THEY JUST ACT LIKE NORMAL AND OCCASIONALLY MENTION THEY'RE SORT-OF RELATED IN A WAY THAT'S MORE OF A REMINDER TO THE AUDIENCE????? LIKE IT'S FUN TRIVIA INSTEAD OF A PLOT POINT OR IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP????

their first serious non-combat interaction was basically Kurt telling her to drop dead when she comes to Xavier for help when she's 17 and he's 21. He finally cuts her some slack after she ALMOST DIES IN A SUICIDE BY VILLAIN ATTEMPT to save Wolverine's fiance which makes Wolverine go "yeah okay fine your not total dogshit ig" so NOW Kurt'll stop being a raging asshole to the mentally ill teen lol (I'm shit talking Kurt rn but this is genuinely part of why I love him). Then there's MAYBE a couple of scenes that are outside of Action Stuff before the X-Men "die" in the late 80s and we get Excalibur where the two of them interact, the biggest of them is him FLIRTING WITH HER.

Uncanny X-Men (1963) #192

Now-- it's Kurt so this isn't anything really all that crazy. He jokingly flirts with like 90% of the X-Men. It's just the kinda silly funny quirky guy he is. But when I'm trying to think of say, Rogue-Kurt moments POST the Mystique Reveal that really feel like People Connecting or them Actually Being Siblings I draw a blank. This flirting scene is more iconic and stand out than basically all of their 00s and on interactions because it feels like a natural and very emotional conflict they WOULD have. He goofs around like he always does, her feelings get hurt, he realizes what he's done and feels like an ass and wants to fix it. EMOTIONS HAPPENED HERE, CHARACTERIZATION AND CONFLICTED OCCURRED. THIS CONFLICT AND LATER RECONCILIATION WILL LEAD TO A BETTER FRIENDSHIP AS WE GO! THANKS CLAREMONT!

Even at her wedding he's basically just like "well I AM her brother (remember? did you see that watchmojo listicle? have you read my wiki recently) and I AM blue so I should ALSO be in the wedding."

There's really not a lot of content of them like, hanging out, post 2004 or so. Some of that is just them being in different books but a lot of it just no one putting in the time or effort. X-Treme X-Men (2001) was all about Rogue looking into shit related to Destiny's writings and grappling with some Family and Personal Grief at the start there. Kurt shoulda been around for at least the first arc. Not thunderbird that absolutely nothing of a dude. It was the perfect setting to work on this issue that the 6 degrees of Mystique™ has made. One of the only other encounters between them I can think of that's post-90s is this:

Rogue (2001) #4

And this interaction is set like VERY SOON after she joined the X-Men!!!! So it's not even a truly modern scene of them just vibing!!!!

To me, they're NOT siblings. Not in the way Kurt is with Amanda who's his ACTUAL adoptive sister or even in the way that Rogue is with Bobby, Sam or Scott who she just has Massive Broship Energies with and it's entirely because their 6 Degrees of Mystique™ is tenuous at best for how much it would really matter to them. Kurt HAS a family! He HAS siblings! Mystique abandoned/lost him and never looked for him or intended to tell him about their connection until forced to. He was raised by Margali and sees HER FAMILY as HIS family and they think the same! Like that's a standard ass adoptive family vibe.

Rogue is found by Mystique and Irene and raised by them in near isolation ON ANOTHER CONTINENT and is never informed about Kurt even in a past "i had a baby and lost him" tense kinda way or Graydon either. To her knowledge growing up she HAS NO SIBLINGS OF ANY KIND. She meets and fights against and then beside Kurt with no idea there's literally anything connecting them but that they're both mutants and x-men for like, YEARS even IN canon. Their whole relationship is rocky as shit for a WHILE there and then she gets YEETED SECRETLY TO AUSTRALIA AND HE THINKS SHE DIED. And let's be clear-- sure he's upset about her "death" too but he is MUCH more upset over the "deaths" of Logan, Ororo and Peter who he ACTUALLY NAMES WHILE TALKING ABOUT THIS GRIEF. Because you know... THESE RELATIONSHIPS ACTUALLY HAD FUCKING SCREENTIME.

Excalibur (1988) #1

He's not a monster, he does give a shit about her, but realistically over the years VERY little time has been put into building ANY relationship between Rogue and Kurt of ANY kind and it's frustrating when they really wanna act like they've got one. They don't. And it pisses me off because realistically Rogue/Kurt is less fucked up than Amanda/Kurt and guess which one is canon. Because of the 6 Degrees of Mystique™ people don't really ship them even tho there's an even more Yikes Kurt ship that's canon and Does Not Seem To Fucking Die, there's been no real development of ANY kind of relationship between him and Rogue, they've lived their ENTIRE lives not knowing each other or not really being more than coworkers and Kurt has NO INTEREST in truly claiming Mystique as his mother which is valid-- she fucking sucks.

I think Rogue/Kurt has legs and it's aggravating to me because I also really like Rogue & Kurt siblingship! I grew up watching Evolution! The sibling vibes and friendship that grow naturally up between them even BEFORE the Mystique Reveal in that show are just CHEF'S KISS. But in comics they IMPLY a familial connection that really.... doesn't mean much... and then they don't show these two deciding it to make it mean something or organically falling into a good sibling relationship... so they cut off the dynamic at the knees. You'll be shit on if you try to go off script and explore a more romantic angle because "ew they're rElAtEd" (ignoring all the previously stated flaws in that argument), there's nothing in canon that helps you figure out how friendly they even truly are so good luck building something canon compliant and they just generally don't seem to even give a shit about this dynamic at all so without dipping into other adaptations/AUs it can be hard to find something to even SAY about them.

Like I'd love to see Rogue and Kurt engage like, finding out what the Mystique Reveal means to them and how they see each other. I'd love to see them becoming friends and then family. I'd love to see them making that CHOICE. Because really in this context it's a CHOICE. She's not his adoptive sister, Amanda is. She's not his bio sister either in 616, that idea got shot down early on. She's a girl his bio mom who is a stranger to him raised an ocean away while he was raised in a loving home with siblings he adores. They met when she was a villain, he vehemently disliked her until she almost died saving someone's life then he tried to at least be civil and friendly. He finds out Mystique is his bio mother and asks Rogue about her but at the end of the day feels no real connection to Mystique or her life. His mother is Margali. The circus was his family. He cares about Mystique, Irene and Rogue because he's a decent human being but like, not in the same amount or extent as his adoptive family.

You can't have a scene of him flirting, even jokingly, with her in the 80s then think a 1993 mom reveal some how totally erases that vibe. Especially when you then put like no effort into exploring that GOLDMINE OF A PLOT THREAD. They've got so few non-combat just hanging out and engaging in character development interactions in 616 canon I can count them on my hands. At this point you could spin a wheel and decide to give them any relationship dynamic and it could genuinely work because there's no real content of them in comics to use contest it.

Like at her wedding they bring up that he's her brother again. That shouldn't be something we have a "turn to the camera and remind the audience" moment about. That should be as "well duh" to me as Bobby being her best man or Scott and Alex being brothers. It's not. It's just not. Their connection is just a factoid at this point and I hate it. You can't close off all these other potential dynamics for them (romantic/enemies/rivals/shitty roommates/etc whatever) by making them connected via Mystique, having an line every like, 10 years that reminds us they're "siblings" (are they tho? are they really? is that how this works?) and kinda vaguely imply they don't hate each other which is really just riding on the fact that pretty much ALL the X-Men like Kurt and we the audience like both of them and then GIVE US NOTHING WITH THAT STATED DYNAMIC!

MORE TIME AND EFFORT WAS PUT INTO MAKING NATE GREY SEE MADYLENE PRYOR AS HIS MOTHER OVER JEAN THAN HAS EVER BEEN PUT INTO MAKING ROGUE AND KURT FEEL LIKE THEY'RE EVEN FRIENDS LET ALONE SIBLINGS AND I'M VERY MAD ABOUT IT!!!! EITHER GIVE ME WHAT I WANT OR CUT THE REINS AT LET ME DO WHATEVER!!!

fsdkjghksdl so i just get VERY heated about this it's a pet peeve of mine.

[imagine--if]

E. Nashton

A/N: Here you go, I promised, I hope you like it 😅💚 I think I'll do a part two of him confessing later, maybe disguising himself as The Riddler cus he's still a little shy 🥺️

Words: 1069

Everyone at work is the same. Quite loud and obnoxious, money-makers, party-goers, busy professionals. As professional as you can get in a city like Gotham, anyway. You just wanted to make enough money to have as easy a life as you could bargain for in this place, or maybe save up to move somewhere else. For now, though, you're stuck in the same office building, checking over the same papers sent up by the forensics accountants team downstairs.

But there's one employee down there who's just as quiet and polite as you try to be. You probably wouldn't have noticed him, just like his peers, if it wasn't for seeing his name signed in a rather odd style of handwriting at the top of a folder of pages full of numbers.

"Might be something to do with money laundering, I reckon," Zach tells you with a proud smirk, the man who sends the files up. "It's a good job we caught it, right?"

"Yeah, it's really good," you respond with a grateful smile, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. Your thumb stops under a top corner, and you study it, noticing the name. E. Nashton.

"And... this is your work?" you ask him with a slightly raised brow, Zach shrugging in answer.

"Well. No. The, uh, one of the guys did some of it, but I brought it to the team's attention and all. Obviously."

"Yeah, nice work, Zach," you agree, which does the trick, and he leaves smugly, going back downstairs and saying something to a man who seems startled when Zach thumps him a couple of times on the shoulder, in a friendly sort of way. You watch in interest, wondering if it's the E. Nashton written on these papers. Clear-framed glasses are pushed up the man's nose, and curious green eyes peer from behind them, delicate strands of sandy brown hair framing his round face. The face that looks defeated and mildly frustrated by the time Zach's left.

You frown to yourself, glancing at the work that's ordered perfectly and ready to send to your boss. No one else here puts the same level of effort into their work. Zach's probably told the poor guy that he's gotten all the credit. Maybe you could talk to him? It's just a word of encouragement from a colleague, right?

As everyone finishes their projects at the end of the day, you grab your things and head downstairs, weaving your way between people pushing at doors to get home. You only just catch the man you'd seen earlier, tapping him gingerly on the shoulder. But even that seems to surprise him, and he flinches, whirling round to face you with a wide-eyed expression. His cheeks flush when his eyes take you in properly, but you don't notice, apologising awkwardly.

"Hi- oh, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," he breathes, scarcely blinking, and you nod slowly at the reaction.

"Um, okay, well, I just wanted to thank you for the work that went up. It was all written really clearly, and I don't think I'll have to do much before it's sent off. It's nice to see someone putting more than the bare minimum in what they do, I guess. Kind of makes my job a bit easier, too."

Edward looks at the folder in your hands, then back up at you.

"I thought... Zach said-"

"Yeah, I know he sent it up and commissioned the work, that's... great," you say, not bothering to hide the slight tone of sarcasm, and a fond smile tugs at Edward's lips in response. "But you did it. So, thanks."

"W-well... you're most welcome," Edward says happily, almost giddily, and you smile back in amusement.

"Cool. It was nice talking to you. Edward?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, I- I'm Edward."

You reply with your name and a half-smile, Edward repeating it like it's something fascinating. You observe him for a moment; a little odd, but kind of sweet. You should have spoken to him sooner.

"See you around, then."

He seems somewhat disappointed as you take a step back, your hand lingering on the doorhandle that leads outside, but says goodbye anyway with a small smile and a watchful stare. You look away first, going off in the direction of your home, the interaction replaying in your head vaguely as you let yourself into your apartment.

Nice guy. There aren't many people like that in Gotham. Maybe you could chat again soon?

And then the thought's replaced with the next thing that nags for your attention.

...

Meanwhile, a man goes mad behind his laptop.

Square pictures are pulled up onto the screen from various social media sites, and Ed can't help but smile back at your naturally happy expressions in every one. It seemed so easy for everyone to be so happy and carefree. He wasn't everyone.

But then, neither were you.

Someone noticed him. No one ever notices him. And his boss was so quick to dismiss the scheme he had bought up, practically threatening his job for poking his nose in. Zach just likes every bit of praise he can get, and he gets far too much of it. But not this time. For once, somebody praised him. You praised him.

"You're so lovely," he whispers adoringly into the solitude of his apartment, the blue-white glare of the laptop reflecting in his glasses.

A part of Edward finds himself such a creep, so disgusting and wrong and alone, especially for stalking a pretty young workmate he'd only met half an hour ago. But no one ever spoke to him unless they had to. You didn't have to. But there you were, bright eyes and sweet words, appreciating justice as much as he does, and not letting the darker cases go like any corrupt citizen would.

He'd keep watching. He'd give it, what, a week or two? Just to be sure he wasn't mistaken, though he was almost certain he wasn't. That you really were some sort of beacon that stood out to him, company he liked at work, could fantasize clearly about at home. And then...

Then what? Blurt it out to you? Scare you off? No. Too risky. He could almost hear the pity and confusion in your voice with a rejection. E. Nashton was nearly as confident and important as he wanted to be...

...but The Riddler was.

｡ₓ ू ₒ ु Taglist ू ₒ ु ₓ｡

@simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dencchan @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @r4iner @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @vaylordd @dangerouslittlefairy @katjourno @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowers @hxney-lemcn @confusedchildsstuff @callsigncrash @sugahbabieexo @bokksieu @skateb0red @wilburrrsworld @philiasoul @darthcringe @felicityofbakerstreet @bloodypantomime @deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[seiyasabi]

A Shifter’s Dream

(This is a Yandere Bunny-Shifter N’Doul x Female Reader story :P Plz proceed w caution 

TW: !Noncon!, breeding kink!, hella cum!, he holds you down onto the mattress!, kinda sus bc u just turned 18, he deadass bites you, !pees on u in rabbit form, mounting!, mentions of euthanization of animals at the beginning!, etc..)

“-Mama, Mama!” Your voice echoes throughout the kitchen, as you hurry inside, hands clutching something protectively. Your mother turns, startled by your sudden appearance and anxious sounding voice. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did those neighbourhood boys bully you again?” Ever the mother hen, she frets over you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and taking a good look at you. 

Shaking your head, you lift your hands, showing the older woman a taupe coloured rabbit, “Look! Mrs. Ruitz next door is selling bunnies! She says this one is blind, so she hasn’t sold it, so she said she’d give him to me if you say yes! Please, please, please say yes! She said she’d put him down if he wasn’t sold,” Tears bead your eyes as you practically beg your mother, who doesn’t seem to have the heart to tell you ‘no’ at that moment. 

She sighs, weighing her options. You’re already ten, so you should be able to take care of him with minimal effort on her part… 

“I suppose that’s alright. You just have to promise me that you’ll take care of him!” You instantly perk up, a bright smile on your face. 

“I promise! I promise!” You hold the bun closer to your chest, practically rocking it in the process, “Thank you, Mama!” 

The older woman smiles once more, patting you goodnaturedly on the back, “Good. Now, let’s go talk to Mrs. Ruitz- we have no idea how to take care of it.” 

Walking across the street, your mother and your neighbour talk about your bunny’s proper care. It turns out, your bun is a male, who is previously named N’Doul. Not wanting to confuse the bunny, you decided to keep his unusual name, chattering away happily to him as you sat in the grass, barely listening to his care requirements. 

The bun listens intently to what you’re saying, relishing your gentle hold around him. 

He must be lucky, he thinks, to have found someone as lovely as you for a mate. 

-

Eight years later, and you and your bun are still going strong. You’d recently moved into your own apartment, trying out adult life as you start college. 

Today is your birthday, officially making you an adult. 

The day was filled with festivities: your mom made you your favourite breakfast in bed (scaring you half to death- apparently she has a copy of your apartment key), your friends took you out shopping, and your mom took you to a birthday dinner. All in all, it was a great day! 

But, a certain bun was seemingly more excited than you were for your birthday, because he seemingly peed himself in excitement the moment you picked him up. Lightly scolding him, you set him down on his rabbit bed that you made him, “‘Doul, what the heck man!” You laugh a little, remembering back to when he was but a teeny kit, “You’re not a baby anymore, bubs, you can’t just pee on me!” The bun is surprisingly smart, allowing you to let him mosy around your house (now your own apartment that you saved up for for years). After he figures out the layout, he’s able to figure out where his pee pad is, along with his grass bed, actual bed, and food/drink area. He is also able to hear where you are, allowing him to cutely hop after you if you’re not already carrying him. 

Going to the bathroom to wash your hands, you hear his barely audible pawsteps behind you, “It’s okay, ‘Doul, I’m just gonna clean myself off, okay?” Flipping on your faucet, you get your hands nice and wet, before you pump some soap onto your hands, and start scrubbing, “Maybe I should shower now, since I’m already here…” You trail off when you feel you bun settle himself on your foot. 

Glancing down, you catch him just in time, as he starts to hump you. Gasping in surprise, you try to gently shake him off, but that seemingly just gets himself off faster, as you feel a foreign wetness against your skin, “What the fuck? Are you serious, N’Doul?!” Annoyed with the way he’s suddenly acting, once you finish washing your hands, you reach down, and scoop the bun up, “That’s not cool, bro. Because of that, you can wait in my room while I shower.” 

Plopping him in his bunny bed, you turn on your heel, and hurry back into the bathroom, closing the door before he can follow you inside. 

-

Stepping out of your shower, you wrap yourself securely with your plush towel. Not bothering to wipe off the steam from your mirror, you bust out of the bathroom, only to be greeted with your now empty room. The door leading to the hallway is wide open, and your bunny is nowhere to be seen. Completely stupefied, you have no idea how to respond. Did the bun hop up high enough to hit the handle? That should be impossible! A Holland Lop is big, but not that big! 

“N’Doul? Bun? Where on Earth did you go?” Deeming your bunny’s safety higher than you changing into clothing, you quickly move out of your room clad in only your towel. 

You go room by room, searching frantically for your beloved pet. He has to be here somewhere! 

So, when you finally make it to your living room/kitchen, you let out a yell of fear. There, on your couch, is a naked, bunny eared, buff man who’s humping into your previously used panties, “Who the hell are you! Get the fuck out of my house!” Reaching for the baseball bat in the hallway, you hold it up with one hand threateningly, the other currently holding your towel. 

A deep, rumbling laugh is heard from the mysterious man, who then tosses aside your soiled panties, “Don't be like that, Love. Your N’Doul only getting myself ready for you.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? And what did you do with my bunny?” He chuckles, relishing your cute reaction. 

“I’m your bunny, (Your Name). I’m N’Doul.”

“The hell you are! Get out, before I bash your skull in!” He stands to his feet, completely towering over you. Gulping in fear, you move backwards, but then you notice his eyes. They’re the same milky white your bun has, “I-I’m warning you! Stay away from me, you creep!” 

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, showing how large his hands are compared to yours, “I’m not going to hurt you- I wouldn’t be a good mate if I did.” 

Without thinking, you chuck your baseball bat at his bunny-eared head, before turning and running to your room. You hear the metal bat make contact, along with a yelp of pain. Locking your door behind you, you search your room for your car keys. Not long after you dump out your purse in pursuit of your keys, you hear loud footsteps thumping towards you. 

A loud bang echoes throughout the room, as the man’s hit practically shakes the foundation of the wall, “Open the door, (Your Name)! Open it right now!” He sounds angry, and when you don’t respond fast enough, he starts trying to break down the door, his muscled body practically bending the thin wood with each body slam. 

Screaming in fear, you start to cry. Thick tears drip down your face, as you plead with him to stop, “I-I don’t want to! Get out of my house!” 

With one last mighty slam, the humanized N’Doul breaks into your bedroom. His nose is bleeding from the bat hitting him in the face, but other than that, he’s completely unscathed. Hearing you cry, he immediately goes to shush you, “Don’t cry, Love. Now that you’re considered an adult in your species, we can finally begin our life together.”

To his chagrin, you continue to sob, completely scared out of your mind, “No! Get out! Stop pretending to be my bunny, it’s weird!” He approaches you slowly, his much bigger form slightly bumping into a few pieces of furniture. This gives you enough time to make a break for it. 

You try to round his form, almost making it to what’s left of your bedroom door, only to be stopped by a meaty arm practically slamming you onto your bed. Trying to get up, you quickly realise that escape is impossible, as his muscular legs practically trap you against your mattress. He uses his weight to hold you down, as he bites into your neck, trying to make you submit. 

“Shh, stop resisting me, my Love. I promise that I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives,” He continues to bite at you, as your screams are muffled into your sheets. 

His large hands rip your towel off of you, exposing your slightly wet body to his prying fingers. The rough pads of his fingers rub at your erect nipples and unprepared slit, trying to get you as wet as possible. 

“You’ll be a wonderful mother, I can tell you were made for this,” His cock head bumps against your tight entrance, forcing itself in as you scream. 

He starts a breakneck pace almost immediately, relishing how your walls massage him so sinfully- as if you were made for only him, his inexperienced fingers rub at your clit harshly, trying to make this as pleasurable for you as possible, 

Whilst this was happening, a bolt of pure pleasure shot up your spine, as he hit a certain gummy patch in your pussy, causing you to gush uncontrollably. Loud keens escape your gaping mouth, as his harsh ministrations are enough to almost make you cum immediately. 

“Fuck, your body accepts me so perfectly, Love. It’s like it knows I’m going to pump you full of kits,” He lightly slaps at your clit, causing you to seize up in orgasm, quickly throwing him over the edge as well. Hot, virile cum overflows your womb, his swimmers quickly inseminating you. But it’s not enough. N’Doul, moments after orgasm, bucks into you even harsher than before, wanting to push as much of his cum as possible inside of you, “My perfect mate, I love you so much! I knew you were the one for me from the first time I met you! Only the love of my life would accept me even with my blindness!” 

Still sensitive from before, the both of you hustle over the edge in mere moments, your release squirting all over the both of you. 

“We’re not stopping until I know that you're pregnant, my love. Our wonderful kits are such a good birthday present, no?”

[moonbaby26]

Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

——————————

The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

[veinsandknuckles]

please write something w abed being comforted by his partner!! i don’t mind if it’s sfw or not!! just please make it soft and stuff! thanks!!

Very good prompt, thank you anon!!! Abed Nadir/Reader Abed shuts down, goes nonverbal and the reader helps him recover. PG-13 Content warnings: ableism, self harming stims, Autism Speaks (implied), reader and Abed are both hornballs (implied) I think I wrote a gender neutral reader, but if I didn’t succeed lmk what I should fix. Same goes for any content warnings I may have missed! -------- You turned heel and ran as soon as you heard Abed scream. There was nothing quite as painful, both sonically and emotionally, as that high pitched, drawn out shriek and you knew it never came until he’d been pushed well beyond his limits. It carried, too, before it trailed off - there was a good distance between your upcoming lecture and the library so by the time you threw open the door to the study room, you were out of breath.

Abed sat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and Britta crouched beside him, awkwardly patting his shoulder and waving a hand in front of his face.

When she saw you, she got to her feet to give you room. “I don’t know what happened, I found him like this.”

“Thank you, Britta.” You got to your knees in front of him and Abed stared right through you. It would be alright - you had a plan. “Abed, can you talk?”

Abed blinked. You drew a deep breath and looked him over. His grip was a little tighter, his posture was a little more hunched. You studied his hands - his nails were digging into his arms, he was hurting himself. As counterintuitive as it sounded and as heartbreaking as it was to see, you knew this was a good sign.

You kept your tone and face as neutral as possible so he wouldn’t have anything to interpret. “Can you make a sound?”

He screwed his eyes shut and after a pause, he managed a little hum.

“Alright, good. Last question, are we doing scenario A?”

This time the hum came quicker and stronger. Once meant yes, twice meant no. Silence meant he was beyond choosing. You turned to Britta.

“Britta, do you have Abed’s class schedule?”

“I think so.” She got out her backpack and started rifling. You could tell she was nervous, and like most nervous people, this meant she wanted to talk. “I should have a copy in my wallet, or I can get one from -“

“Can you find his professors and tell them what’s up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Great, thank you. I’ll keep you updated.” You turned back to Abed. “Abed, I’m going to grab you.”

With a bit of effort, you managed to get him on his feet with his arm across your shoulders. He stood on his own but held on tight. “Good. Now we’re going to walk, just follow my lead.”

The sight of the two of you staggering awkwardly down the halls was enough to make practically everyone stop and stare. You knew from experience that glaring right back sometimes prompted people to get out of the way but usually didn’t remind them to mind their own business. Abed had told you he didn’t notice, especially not when he was this far gone, and that if he noticed, he didn’t care. That didn’t stop you hurting on his behalf.

It took some doing, but in less than five minutes you made it to the right door. Abed walked on his own now so he entered ahead of you and stood motionless in the middle of the room while you turned on the lights, shut and locked the door behind you and made sure everything was as you’d left it. Popularity with the dean might be a mixed bag, but it definitely had its perks and the use of this dilapidated, dank corner of the campus as an emergency hide-out was one of them.

You made sure to walk into Abed’s eye line before touching him again, then took him by the arm and led him to an armchair placed against the far wall. He sat and you sat beside him.

From under your own chair, you got out a box of emergency supplies and dug out a candy bar, thanking the stars that no rats or stoners had found this little stash yet. You peeled off the wrapper and handed it to Abed who held it in both hands and took a bite. Slowly, gradually, his breathing deepened and his limbs relaxed.

“What time is it?” His voice was steady but quiet.

“It’s twenty minutes past three.”

“I have a test.”

“That’s alright, you can take it over another day. Britta is filling everyone in”

Abed sighed. He’d finished the candy and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“You want another one?”

He held his hands out, but wide apart, and you placed the whole box in his lap so he could help himself.

It always baffled you when people insisted Abed was difficult to read - all you’d had to do to learn was watch, listen, use a very little imagination and then ask him to explain whatever wasn’t logically obvious. He fished out a Rubik’s cube and went to work of separating the colours as thoroughly as he could.

“Thank you,” he said and looked at you properly for the first time.

For now, as long as nothing caught him off guard and he was careful, the danger had passed. You smiled and squeezed his knee. “Always.”

“Aren’t you missing your classes?”

“Eh. I like to be a little unpredictable - keeps them on their toes.”

He smiled back. “People love a good mystery. Simple mysteries, anyway.”

“Who are you calling simple?”

Abed looked a little questioning, so you waggled your eyebrows to signal that you were kidding. His expression didn’t change. “You’re not simple. You figured me out and not even I got very far with that.”

“I don’t know about all that... it’s usually easier to understand other people’s problems than to understand your own.”

“I guess that’s true.” He seemed to be working through something, so you let him be until he spoke again. When he did, he sounded hesitant. “Will you get bored?”

“How do you mean?”

“Once you’ve figured me out.���

“Abed, you’re not a puzzle.”

“I don’t know. A lot of awareness campaigns would disagree with you.”

“No, I meant you’re not a puzzle because that implies a challenge.”

Now he stared at you and his slightly offended expression made you laugh. It might suck to always be called special, but it did still mean you were special.

“Being with you is not hard work. At least it isn’t hard work for me.” But Abed didn’t look reassured, so you went on. “Does it feel like I’m trying to solve you?”

“I’m not sure. You’re methodical. Maybe I just worry about it, so I look for signs...”

You reached out and put an arm around him. Abed leant his head on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to make you feel like that because it’s not true. I love all of you. If I just wanted to learn how to help someone through a shutdown, there’s easier ways to do that than dating you.”

“Cool.” He held up his hand and you laced your fingers between his.

“Should I do anything differently?”

“No... I just needed to be sure.”

“What happened to stress you out, anyway?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t interesting.”

You snorted. “Alright then.”

He leaned out, a small smile playing on his lips. “So, if you're not dating me for my mind, it must be because I’m physically irresistible.”

“Of course it is.”

“Cool.”

“Every time you talk about Inspector Spacetime I tune out your voice and imagine climbing you like a palm tree.”

“What?”

“I meant -“ you began, but then Abed waggled his eyebrows and you laughed. “Oh, I see. Very nice.”

“My mind was somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

He pulled at you, gently, and you slipped out of your seat to sit on his lap. Abed put his arms around you and kissed you and the kiss still tasted of sugar. When he broke it, you felt short of breath for the second time that day.

You leaned your forehead against his to steady yourself and forced yourself to ask, “are you ready to get back out there?”

“Technically, yes. If I lie, will you stay here with me?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m not ready.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

[megamindsupremacy]

Hawkeye(s) fic recs

Killshot by arrowsandbows

When Clint abandons Kate, Kate finds a new sidekick.

On second thought, Yelena would probably have an issue with the word 'sidekick.'

-

Of arrows and soulmates by FluffyLlamacorn

The timer on Kate's arm only has a couple of hours left, which is just bad timing. There had been months left when they planned the date, then a couple of hours ago it jumped.

Kate isn't entirely sure, but meeting your soulmate while on a date with someone else is probably considered rude? When she meets him, her actual soulmate, aren't they supposed to start dating ASAP? That's what's supposed to happen to people with just the one timer: You've found the one, so you can trust fate and let yourself fall in love.

Kate isn't even sure she knows how that feels.

-

Backup by thebroadcast

She gets the text at two pm on a Tuesday.

KIDNAPPED NINJAS WARWICK HOTEL BRING BACKUP BATTERY DYING CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS SHIT

-

In which clint Barton is not the most well-adjusted avenger by cosmicocean

Clint gets the door open. The apartment is medium sized, with clothes and things strewn haphazardly all over the place.

“Honey, I’m home!” he yells.

“Don’t give me that shit!” A woman yells back. “You are in so much trouble.”

In which Clint takes them somewhere off the radar, where SHIELD won't find them.

(Short Ultron AU)

-

Cuddles by tonytones

Basically a bunch of small, happy fics about asexual soulmates Clint Barton and Kate Bishop. I want to mention that all my soulmark fics were inspired by tumblr and amusewithaview, who writes the best soulmark fics. There are going to be a lot of loving, platonic, cuddly superheroes in this.

-

My life in retirement by cuupid

Clint Barton has been a man of many different names

He has been Barney's Baby Brother. He has been the vigilante and superhero Hawkeye. He has been Agent Barton of SHIELD.

And now he's ready to be Clint Barton... thirty-seven year old retiree?

EDIT: ROUND TWO ADDITION

A Good Feeling by dentalfloss

“You work for SHIELD” Barton spat the agencies title at Coulson as though it were the nastiest cuss he knew. “We have nothing more to talk about.” Which was all good and fine, except-

“I have some things to discuss with you, actually,” Tony said and Clint’s bruised and swollen gaze turned towards him. “Many things. Nice things,” he tagged on when Clint’s gaze narrowed darkly. The kid might be passing out in slow motion before them but Tony was well aware he was still a threat and he made no move to approach. “Let me help,” he insisted anyway.

Or: the one where Clint may be a pretty formidable assassin for hire, but he was broke and his brother needed help he couldn’t afford so he needed a legitimate job for a little while. How fortunate Stark Tower was hiring.

-

Wiping off the Dust by dentalfloss

Teenaged Clint, it turns out, is a little shit.

Naturally this makes him Tony’s new favourite person.

-

what's my age again by verity

A for effort, H-A-W-K-E-Y-E, Kate says as soon as she frees herself from her harness. They really need to come up with a real sign instead of just fingerspelling all the time. Maybe miming drawing a bow, then pointing to the eyes. Something cool. You have to get over your boner for that boomerang arrow.

"Did you just sign 'angry penis'?" Sam says, distracted from his unresolved sexual tension with Natasha.

"Whatever," Kate says. She flips her hair. "I'm learning."

[ohheyitsokay]

concessions

part 2 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francesco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.4k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you run into the guys outside of the stadium and they promptly decide you’re going to be friends with them.

>>

Your friend was twelve minutes late. Not overly long but you could already tell what was going to happen.

It had been a long shot, anyway, an old classmate with little lasting connection. You had been trying to push yourself outside of your comfort zone anyway, why not? When she had originally reached out you’d been full of hope, enough to foolishly order your favorite appetizer as a ice breaker but the effort was in vain.

Fingernails gently clicking against the table, you caved and allowed yourself to look at your phone. It brought instant comfort, to escape the exposure of sitting alone in a restaurant, but you couldn’t stay. The air was cold as you sucked it through your teeth, weighing your options. The confidence it took to eat alone after being stood up was facing a strong competitor: your general policy not to waste good food and good money.

Shifting, you tried to settle, tried to pose yourself like you were in control, looking around the room as nonchalantly as you could. It was silly, your urge to keep moving, your feet on the ground, your hands on the table, your eyes on the other patrons, but you couldn’t help it. It was a nice place, nothing fancy, just a hole in the wall restaurant, filled only with a few locals.

Until your appetizer came around the corner, followed by a much more handsome man than you were prepared for.

His already smiling eyes met yours, and you looked away, startled, maybe blushing a little. He was familiar, too familiar. You tried to focus on the young lady waiting on you, and the steam coming from the plate in her hands.

Just focus on the food, you scolded yourself silently, thanking her and not ordering anything else. He was not your friend, he didn’t even know you, really. There was no need to make him feel uncomfortable.

Except, he wasn’t really worried about that, because he was sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he was grinning, confident and friendly, and your instincts raised no alarms other than confusion.

“Hello,” you replied, wondering honestly if you were dreaming. This was one of the men you’d met before, in that chaotic, over decorated room in the baseball stadium. He had been in front of you maybe fifteen total seconds, talking to James, before melting back into the sea of uniforms and caps. There was no reason he should remember you much less… be doing whatever was happening now.

The man mistook your expression for panicked forgetfulness and reintroduced himself.

“I’m Ben, Ben Miller? We met a a week or two ago,” he was searching your face for recognition, which of course was not the problem at all. It was sweet, how bashful he was when he pointed to the picture of the team’s logo on the poster by your table, and mouthed “the shortstop?���.

It seemed like he wasn’t trying to draw extra attention to himself, which was almost comical. Even with his casual tshirt and jeans he was easily the most noticeable person in the room – that’s how good he looked, and a testament to the visible confidence of men like him. He was all limber muscles and strong jaw and kind eyes and it wasn’t easy to just tuck that away.

“I – yeah,” this was awkward. “I’m sorry for staring at you, I just don’t normally see … non-locals here.” You smiled, weakly.

There was something in his voice and a glint in his eyes as his blue eyes glanced behind you.

“Would you believe it if I said we were locals?”

All of a sudden his looks were commonplace, because there was another man next to him who was a little broader and a little rougher around the edges- but surprisingly similar in casual masculinity. The “we" clicked into place.

“What’s this?” the first-baseman said, his expression more or less mirroring your own.

A handful of other men followed him and you wanted to melt into the chair. It was too much, too weird. They were all peering at you, dark eyebrows and cool toned cloth stretched over broad chests and it was the most bizarre thing. You weren’t really shy, per se, but stuff like this didn’t happen to you. Fidgeting you stared back at them, feeling helpless.

Ben came to your rescue again, guilty, but far too friendly to stop, like runaway dog at a park.

“I was just telling her that Will and I are from town! And we love it here,” he grinned, winningly, still failing to explain why he was seated with you.

Their hellos were amused and charismatic, for the most part, save the man in the back. It was… Francisco. Or rather, Mr. Morales.

Your heart thumped the same thump that you’d been feeling whenever you thought of him.

His voice was quieter, eyes reaching into yours like he had questions to ask, before he fixed them on the surroundings instead. They were crowding the area, all tall and much to large to fit in between tables. It would have been annoying if this were a busier place.

“You guys go on, I’ll be right there,” the shortstop across from you ushered them away, out of politeness or something else you weren’t sure. It was sad, to see him go again but the absence of attention made you breathe again. You waved, sure you looked ridiculous, and wondering if other women would be dying to be in your stead.

“Sorry, I just wanted to say hi,” Ben seemed earnest again, and you couldn’t help but relax. It was charming, the way his eyebrows dipped and he fidgeted, just a little. “You looked… lonely,” he added, hesitating before standing up with a gentle slap to the table. “Come join us if they don’t show, I’m sure the guys wont mind!”

You nodded, still more or less in shock, and he walked off, strides long and easy, like there was hardly anything weighing on his shoulders.

If they hadn’t been but 20 paces away, you would have shoved the plate aside and replaced its spot on the table with your face, and groaned aloud. You barely registered your food as you ate, wondering at the whole thing in awe as you took out your phone again to text James.

-

Frankie tried not to watch you. He really did. He loved his friends and they seldom got a chance, just the five of them to eat somewhere so homey and casual, without the whole crew, or fans and cameras, or other things to attend to. They’d been close for a long time, happy they enjoyed one another and trusted one another more than the rest of the team. It was what made them so good in the starting lineup – their communication and comradery off field translated into their game.

For awhile he was doing well. He wasn’t watching as you finished your food, hardly noticed the way your hands ran through your hair, barely registered when you stood up, brushing crumbs off your legs, and walked towards the front to pay.

But he did notice when you slid over to their table and… he couldn’t tear his eyes away as your hand touched Benny's shoulder. The movement was smooth and gentle and there was a sharp feeling in his gut.

“Thanks for before,” your voice was quite, more composed than before, now that your feet were under you properly. It wasn’t meant for him, wasn’t his to hear, but he listened anyway. The group was seated at one of those round corner booths, and really, there was no escaping it – they were on the ends.

Benny was saying no problem and Frankie took a long sip of his drink trying to cool down before he was choking on it as his friend invited you to join.

The idea of you sitting here was… a double edged sword. On one side, the chance to talk to you, be around you even in the low lights of the restaurant neons – was too good to be true. His daydreams of you hadn’t slowed down nearly as much as he had hoped after you were gone. And on the other… of all the men here, he didn’t stand much of a chance. The flicker of warmth your little wave had given him began to fade and he tried too late to get in control of his facial expressions as you considered the offer.

When Redfly reached across Ben, though, shoving the younger man to grab your hand, suppressing the growl in his throat was more important than the glare. Next to him, Pope eyes were sharp, catching everything unsaid. His friend was as tense as he was, feeling the charged energy fill the booth.

Some ridiculous part of Frankie was wanting to pull you away, tuck you under his arm, and keep you all to himself. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. He didn’t even know your name.

Then Will was pulling Tom back with laughter that didn't reach his eyes and Santi was apologizing, saying smooth words and coaxing you to reintrodunce yourself and pull up a chair and hang out.

Frankie would never know how Pope was so good at these things, how his passion made other people relent and reconsider and made them feel safe, but he was grateful for it. He tucked your name away, sure he wouldn’t forget it again. Especially because you pulled your chair up by him, and his heart swelled with something akin to pride as you leaned towards him, more than even Ben.

It could have been politeness, making room for the waitress, it could have been a coincidence, or that you wanted to be further from Tom, but he could quite bring himself to care. Having you close felt good, so much better than it should’ve, given the circumstances.

Even more than normal athletes, the Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and had ordered enough food for a week. There was plenty of talk and teasing and tossing of rolls, and it took you no time at all to settle in.

You found out you had some mutual acquaintances with Will, which helped, as you launched into comparisons of the town and laughed over shared observations. It made you feel at home, with him and Ben, and you understood how the brothers made everyone feel like family. Apparently there was girl Benny liked, who worked with the team’s athletic trainers. None of the boys had wheeled it out of him, but it took you less than fifteen minutes, your smile brighter as you sorted through his intentions.

Santi had a quick tongue, and you matched it. There was respect in his eyes as you leveled with Redfly, efficiently and effectively putting him back in his place. The older man head leaned back, nonchalantly, with raised eyebrows and low whistle, but Pope knew when Tom was embarrassed. There was an almost indiscernible bite onto the inside of the outfielder’s lower lip, a child’s tell.

He watched everyone, really, especially Frankie. They’d been playing together the longest and saw the best and worst of each other. It was fun, for him to watch his friend watch you. When you puckered your lips to suck a bead of water off your finger, Frankie’s jaw twitched. Like he was thinking of tilting his cheek towards you as you leaned in to kiss it – and Santi grinned, the gears in his mind turning.

For being as confused and awkward as you were before, it was crazy how well you fit.

Frankie liked your laugh, easy and pure, and the glint in your eyes when someone said something clever. He liked how friendly you were, even to Tom, and how you treated them like people. You never once stepped into the role of flirtatiously asking about the sport – or about being professional athletes all, and it was a breath of fresh air. Most outsiders would have their fingers tracing the curves of the muscles on Pope's arm as they asked him about pitching or would be tugging down the necklines of their shirts as they tried to be subtle about salaries. He liked how you talked about the food, asked them what they were up to that day, and actually listened when they answered. It was graceful, more that even Ironhead’s throw, how you managed to give each one of them attention, without controlling the conversation.

What Frankie liked best of all, though, was when yours eyes would meet his. They were narrow with laughter, and it was almost as if he were an hour away from know exactly what you were thinking. You’d lean towards him, just a hair, and under the thrum of conversations you would tell him little things, jokes or confessions like you were the best of friends.

When you murmured, “I actually don’t know anything about baseball,” he choked on his drink again, mind filled with unreachable moments. The boys were laughing at him, but he ignored it because they hadn’t heard you and... he could almost feel it – you against his chest as he showed how to swing a bat, your hand in his as he leaned in close, explaining, and him spinning you around in a victory hug.

All too soon the plates were being cleared and everyone was arguing over who should be paying. It made them smile, how earnestly you were offering, but there was no way in hell. 

You thanked them all verbally, but when Santi ended up paying, he got a quick peck on the cheek and that sharp feeling in Frankie’s gut returned with force.

As you left, before they could walk you out, you cherished the experience like a drop of honey on your tongue, confident this was a once in a life time thing, and excited to tell James about it. Of course you had texted him – he was the one who told you if you didn’t sit with them he’d never forgive you.

Then men behind you continued to talk, each silently thinking of their own reasons for being sure they’d see you again soon.

And when you walked past the window by the corner on the way to your car, a pair of deep brown eyes found yours through the glass. You waved, goodbye, and this time, the ache in your heart was aligned with the ache in his.

Thank goodness that old classmate never showed up.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms 

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi

[writinglizards]

someone wanted us to kiss for a picture and i thought you were gonna stage kiss me w/ your thumbs in the middle buT NO OH MY GOD THATS……………..THATS A REAL KISS WOW OK au -- another writing prompt I lost the link to 💖

Okay, so this got WAY out of hand, but here you go! <3

Title: A Portrait of the Artist in Love

Summary:  Jaskier's senior exhibition requires he present a sequence of cohesive photos representing a theme of his choosing. Geralt, after seeing the photos in person, notices one's missing.

Read on Ao3

"So what's the matter?" Geralt finally asks when Jaskier stomps through the living room for the third time in under twenty minutes, his eyes still firmly trained on the tv set. He can't look like he cares too much or Jaskier will shut down on him, he knows.

"What's the matter is I've got my senior exhibition in two months and I still haven't settled on a fucking theme, that's the matter," he bites out, back to the sofa and hands threaded firmly through his hair, tugging hard.

Geralt sighs. All of Jaskier's problems seem to circle back to his senior exhibition. "I thought you had some photos?"

"I did," he says, tone venomous, "and then Valdo decided he was going to do a series on music and I refuse to compete with that pompous arse." Geralt bites his tongue against the 'why does what Valdo's doing matter?' He knows better.

"So? What are your ideas?" Jaskier shifts as if to speak, "and don't tell me you don't have any, I know you do." He clicks the tv off and shifts around to face Jaskier's back as he sighs, shoulders going slack.

"I want to do something personal," he says, and Geralt can hear the frustration in his voice, "something important. Not--" he can picture the way his face is scrunched up just from his tone, "--not something predictable, something trite. I want to do something meaningful."

"Okay. So make it personal. What's important to you, Jaskier?" he asks, voice soft, and watches as Jaskier's shoulders gradually go taunt again.

"Oh. Oh I could--" he cuts off, whirls around, and the nearly manic light in his eyes makes Geralt smile.

"There you go," he says, and Jaskier beams. The look on his face steals Geralt’s breath, tightens his chest. Jaskier crosses the room, headed for his bedroom slash photo studio and presumably his camera, but he pauses at the couch to squeeze Geralt's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, darling." Geralt just rolls his eyes and clicks the tv back on.

* * * *

Jaskier never does share what idea he settled on, even after Geralt had asked, a few days later. He'd ducked his head, blushing, and told Geralt not to worry about it, it was fine, he'd get to see when it was done, and Geralt had let it go. Jaskier tends to hold his projects close to his chest until he's done with them anyway. It’s not personal.

They're seated at a cafe waiting for Yen to drop off Ciri for their afternoon trip to the zoo and Jaskier is, predicably, fiddling with his camera.

"Do you have to bring that everywhere?" he asks, tone light and teasing, and Jaskier only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Yes, you oaf, I do. I'm working," he snips, and then he lifts the camera and in a quick movement snaps a picture of Geralt's face.

"Jaskier."

"Just a test photo, love," he grins, not at all apologetic. Before Geralt can pitch anything close to a fit about Jaskier taking more photos of him (and out in public, no less), Yen and Ciri are stepping through the door. Ciri gives a delighted little shriek the way only children under five seem to do and throws herself at her father. Geralt catches her around the waist and hauls her into his lap, both of them laughing, and the photo is promptly forgotten about after that.

* * * *

"Can I come with you?"

"Why?" Geralt asks again, frowning at Jaskier where he stands next to their couch, shifting nervously with his camera clutched to his chest, "you don't like the barn."

"No, but I like Roach," he insists, "and I want to get some pictures of her. I haven't in a while." Geralt narrows his eyes.

"Is this about your project?" he asks, and the way Jaskier splutters is answer enough.

"Can't I just want to take nice photos of my best friend's lovely horse? Come on Geralt, I don't always have a reason." The color high on his cheeks says otherwise.

"Hm." He hefts his supply bag over his shoulder, "come on, then."

Jaskier practically beams the entire trip to the barn, even after he nearly slips in a spot of mud when they get there. His pure, simple joy is infectious, leaves Geralt grinning right alongside him. And if Jaskier takes pictures of him the entire time? Well, he's always taking pictures anyway.

* * * *

"Jask, my guy, must you always bring that stupid camera?" Lambert asks, "it's beer night," he says, as if beer should preclude Jaskier taking pictures.

"Yes, and? Your point?" He raises the camera to snap a blatant picture of Lambert. Aiden leans over to throw up a pair of bunny ears behind his boyfriend as if they're primary schoolers. Eskel laughs.

"Jaskier's exhibition's coming up, leave off," Geralt growls, reprimanding, and Jaskier grins all the brighter.

"Yes, thank you, darling!"

"Doesn't mean he needs to take pictures of us," Lambert grouches, but Aiden wraps his arm around his neck and pulls him into a gentle headlock.

"Be nice," Aiden admonishes, and Lambert grumbles, but subsides. After enough alcohol, no one really thinks about Jaskier's pictures.

* * * *

Catching Jaskier around their apartment snapping photos isn't strictly unusual. It's not even strictly unusual for Jaskier to be snapping photos of him, but--

"Must you take pictures while I'm trying to meditate?"

"Yeah," Jaskier answers, sunny and quick. Geralt gives a huff. The camera clicks again. "Just pretend I'm not here." Geralt hums an affirmative even though he knows it's an impossible task. He could never forget Jaskier was in a room with him.

* * * *

"Didn't know you were picking me up today," Geralt says, wandering over from his post by the medieval art exhibit to where Jaskier stands near the circulation desk, fiddling with his camera.

"Oh, well, you know," he grins brightly up at him, cheeks a little pink--maybe he's getting sick, "I was in the area and thought we could walk home together. I know you’ve got a little still but I can swing by Starbucks; I'll get you that fruity tea you like."

"Hm."

When he gets off his shift forty-five minutes later, Jaskier's waiting for him out front with the Starbucks already in hand, a radiant smile on his face, and Geralt’s chest clenches just looking at him.

* * * *

"Hey, so I know you're busy--" Jaskier starts over dinner one night, eyes focused down on his pasta, "and I don't know if you wanted to come or not, but the exhibition's next week and I--" he sneaks a glance up at Geralt from under his eyelashes, ducks his head, "--I'd like for you to be there."

Geralt can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, can't help the way affection swells in his chest. "Of course I'll go, Jask." It really is as simple as that.

* * * *

Geralt arrives in the midst of the opening hubbub. He knows Jaskier has to linger around his exhibit for at least the first hour or so and from what he understands it's tucked away somewhere toward the back, so Geralt takes a leisurely path in that general direction, stopping to look at the work Jaskier's classmates have done as he goes.

"Oh, Geralt!" Valdo's grinning as he waves him over and reluctantly he lets himself be lured in. "Good to see you here, my man. Jaskier's been a basketcase all day," he winks. Geralt rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure. Your work's good," he says, nodding back towards the row of photos behind them, all different instruments either alone or being played, the close up of hands on strings and keys.

"Don't let Jask hear you say that," he laughs, even as he preens at the praise. "And don't let him catch you over here, either. He'll be accusing infidelity in a heartbeat." Valdo winks again. Geralt doesn't even go to the effort of correcting the fact they're not together. Valdo never seems to remember anyway.

"Yeah. Have a good night, Valdo," he says before ducking out of the way of a shorter blonde woman who throws herself past him and into Valdo's arms, proclaiming her love for him and his photography. Another blonde follows behind her friend, smiling. Geralt hurries away before Priscilla and Essi can realize who Valdo had been talking to and rope him back into the conversation.

It's not that he dislikes Jaskier's friends it's just...they seem to assume things about the two of them. Yes, Geralt loves Jaskier, but Jaskier…he doesn’t know what Jaskier feels for him beyond a deep friendship.

He wanders a bit while he tries not to think about that, stopping to look at some of the other photos--landscapes, pets, significant others, children--until he spots Jaskier, all done up in the suit he'd picked out for the occasion months ago, the gold tie that Geralt had done for him this morning a beautiful contrast to the baby blue of his suit. And the pictures--

Geralt's breath catches. They're all of him; a photo of Geralt and Ciri from the zoo, Ciri seated on his shoulders, one tiny fist in his hair as she gestures wildly at the monkeys. Geralt astride Roach as he puts her through her paces at the barn, and later, Roach out in the pasture, Geralt leading her in a gentle cool down, the both of them in profile. Geralt and his brothers over beers, Geralt grinning, Eskel telling a story, hands spread wide, Lambert and Aiden leaning on each other across the table, smiles indulgent. Geralt meditating in their living room, the ghost of a smile on his face. Geralt at the museum, explaining the history of medieval art to a gaggle of tourists.

They're all him.

"Oh, thank fuck, Geralt, I--" Jaskier breaks off as he gets closer, takes in Geralt's expression, "Geralt?"

His mouth is dry and he has to clear his throat twice before he can get any words to work. "They're all of...me?" Jaskier flushes immediately.

"Well I mean--yes? I wanted it to be something important and personal and, uh, what's more personal than everything my best friend loves?" he explains rapidly, as if he's worried Geralt will cut him off, not let him explain.

"Oh," he says, because it's the only thing he can get out. And then as it dawns on him, "wait, if this is about--" he has to clear his throat again, uncharacteristically embarrassed, "--about what I love...why aren't you in any of them?"

"What, I--" Jaskier chokes off, that flush going a little darker, "I, I didn't--we weren't allowed to be the subjects of our own photos," he lies, and Geralt just raises a brow. He's seen his classmate's work--he knows it's a bullshit answer and Jaskier knows he knows.

"I didn't want to presume," he mumbles, then, a little firmer, "and it would have had to been staged. "I don't--staged photos are terrible, Geralt, you know how I feel about that." He does, but it doesn't change the fact Jaskier's collection is incomplete without him.

"Hm."

* * * *

He thinks about it for the rest of the exhibition and once he starts, it's like he can't stop. Jaskier has a collection of photos of things Geralt loves, and Jaskier's not in any of them.

It takes him almost a week to set it right.

"Geralt," Jaskier calls as the front door clicks open, Jaskier home from class. "Geralt darling, I'm famished, what--" he cuts off abruptly when he steps into the living room, gaze catching on the camera set on the tripod set up on the coffee table. Geralt stands in front of the lens, between the camera and the large bay window overlooking the distant park.

"Jaskier." Geralt's a little bit of a nervous wreck about it, but it's fine. Probably. After all, Jaskier spent months taking photos of Geralt and the things he loved. What's one more?

"Geralt, what--"

"Come here." Jaskier swallows roughly, adams apple bobbing, before he puts his bag down and steps up beside him. "Check the camera," Geralt says softly, "make sure I did it right."

Jaskier does, quick. "It's set on the ten second timer. Should I--?"

"Yeah," he says, stomach clenching in some horrible mix of fear and anticipation, "and come here."

"Geralt, if you'd wanted to take a picture together, I could have--" he says, setting the camera and starting over. He cuts off abruptly when Geralt loops an arm around his waist and tugs him in close until they're chest to chest, his other hand at Jaskier's jaw, thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek.

"I know," he says, voice pitched low, "but you're missing a picture." And then he dips his head and kisses him.

Jaskier makes a small, wounded noise and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, fingers tight in his hair as he presses up into Geralt's grip, surges against him. Geralt cups his jaw and nips at his lower lip, revels in the quiet gasp that leaves Jaskier open for him to lick into his mouth, deepen the kiss. Distantly he's aware of the camera going off, but it's inconsequential to the way Jaskier feels in his arms.

The kiss only breaks when Jaskier pulls away to hide his face in Geralt's throat, gasping for air. Geralt chuckles, a little breathless.

"Now I'm not complaining," Jaskier says, sounding a little dazed, "but what did I do to deserve that? Because I'd like to keep doing it. Repeatedly, if possible." Geralt laughs.

"You were missing a picture," Geralt says again, and the look on Jaskier's face when he pulls back is so confused it makes his chest constrict. "The things I love," Geralt reminds, and Jaskier flushes bright red.

"Geralt--" he stammers out, flustered, before he returns to hiding his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Melitele help me," He presses his lips to the fabric of Geralt's shirt, a warm, fleeting pressure, "you really are going to be the death of me."

"Don't see how," he hums, tips his head to rest his cheek against Jaskier's head.

"Thought you wanted a friendly picture and then you just--! You just wrapped your arm around my waist like you've done it a hundred times before and I thought, oh, he's going to pretend to kiss me, for the photo, because of course you would and you, you just--" he makes a tiny, outraged noise. Geralt chuckles again. "Don't laugh at me, Geralt, I almost died."

"Mmhm," he rubs his cheek where it rests, mussing Jaskier's hair. Jaskier just huffs. "How'd the picture come out?"

Reluctantly, Jaskier peels himself away to check the photo, and Geralt can already tell from the face he's making it didn't come out well. "You moved," Jaskier admonishes, eyes glued to the tiny viewer. He fiddles with a few settings before putting it back down on the tripod. "Alright," he presses his way back into Geralt's arms, "we'll just have to try again."

"Yeah," Geralt grins, and he kisses him again.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Nobody asked for this but I'm gonna do it anyways...

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Fluff Alphabet: Takeru/Aguni Edition

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

Takeru: only reason he let Aguni wear regular clothes and not swimwear is because he saw ARM in that tank top and was like "oh damn okay 😳." So, y'know, that. (And he'll never admit it but he kinda likes how Aguni is a little bit taller than he is....) Also likes that Aguni has a really dry, deadpan sense of humor—he ways finds a way to make Takeru laugh, even when he's not really trying.

Aguni: I think the physical aspect of things wasn't really a make-or-break for him at first—like, yeah, Takeru's a good-looking guy, but that's secondary. He liked how Takeru is such a live-wire, very loud and colorful and seemingly fearless, no matter what kind of trouble they got into. (But also...he likes the hair. That's a thing for him.)

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

Takeru: If they end up with one somehow, then, sure. But, like. He's not going out of his was to make it a thing. (But also, he has his cat, Ziggy, who he calls his baby, so...)

Aguni: Would secretly love to be a dad but is too worried he might mess the kid up or something. Is more than happy to be 'unofficial parent' to the neighborhood kids, though. Handing out ice pops to the kids that show up at the shop, keeping an eye out and telling them to get home before dark, maybe even showing one or two of them how to throw a better curveball...you know. Real Hallmark channel shit. (And yes, for those who were wondering: Ziggy the cat loves him and often curls up on his lap while he watches TV)

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle?

They don't really "cuddle" outside of bed. Just kinda sit next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, no big deal. But in bed, Aguni lies on his back with his arm sorta outstretched while Takeru...well, my man is worm on a string but OFF the string, he just flops all sorts of ways and a lot of them don't look comfortable but he falls asleep in minutes so whatever.

D = Dates what are dates with them like?

I don't think they do "dates"—they've got a long-term thing going on, so they often end up on the couch eating takeout and watching movies. I think they'd go to the movie theater sometimes (and talk shit for the entire film lol) and every once in a while grab dinner somewhere nice...but, usually because they have some cool limited-time-only dessert item that Takeru insists they try. (And Aguni pretends to be upset about having to get dressed up and go out, but is actually rather pleased to have a little romance...and get something to satisfy his sweet tooth.)

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

Aguni: Emergency Medical Contact

Takeru: Co-Signer On The Apartment Lease

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love?

Takeru: About a week after Aguni (drunkenly) confessed his crush. Literally spent a whole week like, "Wow, it's a shame I don't love him back. He's so kind and handsome and smart and funny...too bad, I guess..." until one night he sat up straight in bed and said "Hold up." He then immediately called Aguni and began demanding why Aguni didn't tell him he was in love with him this whole time.

Aguni: They had been friends since they were kids, so it's hard to say when his feelings went from "you're my best friend" to something different. But, once he figured it out, he swore never to mention it because that could complicate their friendship.

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

Takeru: Yes and no. He's got a bad case of "grabby hands" and often yanks Aguni to and fro to look at something or whatever. Just zero respect for the man's personal space. But otherwise...I imagine he's not particularly rough or gentle, just kind of normal. EXCEPT when it comes to the emotional stuff—like, the real heavy things. I think he's very gentle with that, not asking too many questions and just sort of taking care of him where he can.

Aguni: Generally gentle—physically, emotionally, whatever. But I do think that he's confrontational, like when there's an issue, he comes straight out and asks Takeru what's going on. Even corners him, sometimes. He seems like a "no bullshit" guy, and since Takeru is "Mr. 99% Bullshit" he's gotta deal with it as best he can.

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold hands?

The only time they "hold hands" is when Takeru is grabbing Aguni's wrist to drag him somewhere (or run away lol) and when Aguni is pulling Takeru's hand back to stop him from touching something...

I = Impression first impression/s

I headcanon that they met very young, like grade school age. After school, in the park, where Takeru was chilling in a tree and Aguni walked by and he was like "Hey, there's a spider up here, wanna see?" and Aguni is like "Not really, I don't like bugs..." Now, Takeru, being "weird bug kid extraordinaire" can't believe his strange little ears and hops down from the tree and starts explaining why bugs are so cool and that Aguni is wrong...and Aguni listens as this funky, tiny firecracker just talks his damn ear off. Aguni liked how excited Takeru got about things, and Takeru liked how Aguni actually listened to him. And they were fast friends after that!

J = Joker are they into pulling pranks?

Takeru fucks around all the time...and doesn't often find out, because Aguni tolerates all his antics. (To a certain point, but still.) Every once in a while, Aguni will tell some harmless little lie just to watch Takeru freak out—he told him once that Lady Gaga was leaving the music scene forever, and Takeru screamed so loud the neighbors filed a noise complaint.

K = Kisses how do they kiss?

I think they most often do quick pecks—at the breakfast table, when they get home from work. You know. Domestic stuff. But when it's not like that...I think 9/10 times it's Takeru initiating, and Aguni reciprocates by wrapping his arms around him in a big hug (because he likes it but also to keep that skinny little weirdo from wiggling so damn much, he's always moving, he can't just be still—)

L = Love who says I love you first?

Neither! I don't think they really say it at all! Why say something that doesn't need to be said? (At least, that's how they see it...)

M = Memory their favorite moment together

Aguni: It's not really a memory, but...just how they have breakfast together some mornings. Sipping coffee, discussing whatever's going on in the world, the general "togetherness" that comes with it is one of his favorite feelings.

Takeru: The time they spent a full 24 hours in a karaoke booth singing 80's hits and knocking back tequila shots and ordering way too much food.

N = Nickel do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

Takeru: Absolutely buys stuff for Aguni all the time. Mostly random snacks, or little knick-knacks that catch his eye. And also clothes, but...Aguni doesn't always approve.

Aguni: Doesn't buy Takeru stuff BUT leaves vases of flowers he grew on the table for Takeru to find.

O = Orange what color reminds them of their other half

Anything bright and obnoxious reminds Aguni of Takeru—red in particular, which also happens to be Takeru's favorite. And Takeru thinks Aguni has calm and soothing blue-green vibes. Like the ocean, beautiful and serene, but also dark and capable of incredible destruction.

P = Petnames what pet names do they use?

Takeru: All of them. Darling, babe, sweetheart (but he calls everyone those lol). Aguni-specific ones are always over-the-top and ridiculous like "brightest star in all of the heavens..." and he always gets an eye-roll for his efforts.

Aguni: Absolutely does not use pet names. Just says "hey you" or something. Once called Takeru "babe" and Takeru had to stop washing dishes and sit down because he was laughing so hard.

Q = Quaint what is their favorite non-modern thing?

Takeru: I feel like he would collect a ton of vintage stuff—clothes, records, just random little bits and bobs he comes across. But his favorite is definitely his record player—it belonged to his dad, and he keeps it in a place of honor in the hat shop.

Aguni: A set of very old and well-cared-for gardening tools. Takeru got them for him for his birthday, and he legit treasures them.

R = Rainy Day what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Lay on the couch and do literally nothing. Takeru gets the left end, Aguni takes the right, and they binge trash TV shows all day. (And also they make box-mix brownies and eat them straight out of the pan. It's "their thing.")

S = Sad how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Takeru: Aside from all his self-destrictive behaviors (binge-drinking, dangerous situations, etc.) he just really needs a good laugh. And Aguni somehow always manages to make him laugh with an unexpected, deadpan comment. Also, he makes Takeru actually talk through his problems instead of ignoring them...

Aguni: if he's in a bad mood, you just need to let him work through it on his own. He hates being "talked down to" and feels that most attempts at cheering up are cheap, so most people don't attempt. Buf...Takeru is not "most people" and breaks out his most ridiculous jokes to try to get Aguni to crack a smile.

T = Talking what do they love to talk about?

Other people! You know Takeru is the "XOXO Gossip Girl" of the neighborhood, but Aguni...he's like a little old church lady and ADORES hearing all the latest drama.

U = Unencumbered What helps them relax?

Both of them have the same method of relaxation and it's...bubble baths! Aguni does a basic, skin soothing soak and just hangs out in the warm water with a book or maybe just his thoughts to keep him company. But Takeru? He's got some fancy bath soaps, and he takes in a glass of wine and lights a few candles and does a face mask and it's a whole EVENT.

V - Very thoughts about each other

Takeru: Thinks Aguni needs to loosen up and take more risks...but also just loves the guy to pieces.

Aguni: Kinda wishes Takeru would calm tf down sometimes...but also knows that it's just how the guy is and wouldn't dare change him.

W = Wedding when, how, where do they propose?

They're not really the marrying type! They just have a mutual understanding of commitment and that's that.

(But if they did have a wedding... I think it would be a relatively small affair with all their closest friends and family. Like a dinner party, but somewhere extra nice and with lots of good food and alcohol. Intimate and meaningful, with just enough "extra" to satisfy Takeru.)

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" because they hid out in a karaoke booth (different from the 24-hour event that Takeru cherishes so much) to es ape the Yakuza and Takeru sang it over and over to pass the time.

Y = You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

"Breaking" to my "Entering." The "Assault" to my "Battery." (They both hate this sort of thing and try to come up with the worst answers possible lol)

Z = Zebra if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

They already have the cat, Ziggy, who is their perfect little angel.

[many-gay-magpies]

@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @ofaffectionate @yixiangs @cherry-riki

so uh. heyyy <3

pt 2 (technically pt 1 because it happens before) of blood bonds is here!! tagging everyone that i tagged for blood bonds (except for kyu </3) bcs why not

i'm not 100% on this, but that's mostly because i've been staring at it for a week, and y'all haven't, so i hope that you'll enjoy it thoroughly more than i do

wc: 1.7k, tw for blood, blood-sucking, death and mentions of death, and vague descriptions of a car crash. same as the last one pretty much, let me know if there's anything i missed!

that being said, have some bloodlust.

It's a scent that stops him in the middle of the street, blaring alarms through every inch of his body—thick and sweet, intoxicating, like the richest chocolates and tenderest meats. For a second, it brings him back to his days in the castle; feasts coating tables upon tables in every decadence he could imagine. He hasn't felt that kind of indulgence in a long time.

Jungwon is immediately aware of his instincts overcoming him; he knows what the smell is, he's smelled it coming off the other boys enough times to be familiar with it. But not this strong. Never this strong.

His head swims. Stars cloud his vision, and yet everything is ten times brighter, more crisp; his senses sharpened, sensitivity heightened. Jungwon battles with himself for a moment, there, on the side of the road, watching the car with the contents of it's driver's seat smelling so delectably like food as it drives by; no, no, don't give in, don't succumb, you've made it so far already, just hold on a little bit longer—but the gut-wrenching hunger inside him is like none he's ever faced before.

It tears at him, the unbearable hunger, the emptiness; twists his insides into knots and makes him double over against the brick wall beside him. He doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to take, doesn't want to hurt—but he's so, so hungry, and it smells so, so good and he just can't take it anymore. It's a kind of longing that burns him from the inside out, and maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt, to... to give in, just this once.

He's hungry. He needs food. Really, when he thinks about it for long enough, rationalizes it in his mind, that's all there is to it. Lions don't feel bad when they hunt gazelle, do they?

(Something is different here, though. Lions, unlike vampires, will stop. Lack of food will make their body grow cold, their energy sapped until there is nothing left; they grow tired, bodies moving slower and slower, until they breath their last breath. Vampires do not. Vampires will not stop. The hunger depletes them, eats at them, and then when it can eat no more it consumes them completely—writhing black hole taken ghastly, human shape. Death evades them, and so they become death in it's place—emptiness so great it would eat the whole world if it could.)

So, with his resolve melting as his hunger rages, Jungwon presses onward—taking advantage of the scenery's sudden clarity to slink towards the moving car at a truly frightening pace. Plus, it could be... fun, he finds himself thinking; fun, to play around a bit, see how much fear he can truly instill. In the past, Jay and Sunghoon's jokes to Sunoo to "not play with his food" when me mentioned spooking his victims the tiniest bit before feeding had left Jungwon feeling sick to his stomach—but now, the idea doesn't seem so bad.

A voice in Jungwon's head (the more logical Jungwon; the one that isn't starving, the one that's still on the edge of rational) tells him, you're being stupid, as he throws caution to the wind and teleports directly in front of the car. Someone could see you, do you even have any idea what you're doing? But the voice of hunger rises above all others, and Jungwon, smirking at the screech of tires on asphalt as the car skids to a stop in front of him, tells the voice, it's dark out, and we're in an abandoned part of the city; who, really, do you think could see us?

The voice protests, but the drone of Jungwon's hunger drowns it out. He feels cool metal on the palms of his hands, hears the metallic clang of his boots against the car's hood. The trembling of the man inside tinges his nerves with delight.

He raises his finger to his lips in a single gesture, shhh, and wonders if his eyes gleam red.

Thoughts run one by one through his mind, though they are fleeting, like mice; skittering into the darkness as soon as he catches sight of them. He should have listened to the hyungs, he should have been more careful, he shouldn't have waited this long—he knows the consequences of vampires going too long without blood from Sunghoon's stories, how could he have been so stupid?

But it all fades, irrelevant, in face of what sits before him now—food. A meal. Satiation, finally, an end to his hunger. He can feel his conscience slipping away more and more as the moments pass, the little Jungwon in his head letting go of it's logic.

It is with this quieting of the rational voice and sudden booming of the instinctual one that Jungwon teleports himself to the back seat of the man's car. It doesn't take long for him to be noticed—even the lack of his reflection in the rear view mirror cannot disguise the creak of expensive leather and the sigh he lets out.

"Jesus Christ--" the man nearly shouts, car jolting forward as he slams on the breaks. Jungwon doesn't flinch. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets an unblinking vermillion stare. "W-what the hell are you, kid?"

"Go on, guess," he says, brow raised. "I have all night."

Though even as he speaks, Jungwon knows the statement is a lie—he's the closest to the man, the closest to a human he's ever been since turning, no plexiglass or metal barrier between them—the smell of the man's racing heart and pumping blood chokes his senses like smoke, so thick he can barely breath. Jungwon doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold out—but he can feel how the seconds tick by, as if there's a pocket watch embedded in his skull. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Agonizing. Even so, Jungwon delights in the fear, the rabbit-quick pace of the man's heart. Equally as amused as he is overwhelmed, he decides that quickening it a little more won't hurt, and smirks, doing well to lick over his fangs in perfect line with the man's eyesight.

"Shit--" Eyes widen comically, and breath grows shaky with the reckless fumbling at car door handles in an effort to escape, pure, cold fear jolting through bones and bringing goosebumps to unsettled skin. It's useless, though; because all the doors lock, jammed shut, and the most he can do is huddle as close to the door as he can, as far away as possible from the boy with glowing eyes suddenly perched in his passenger seat.

"Surprised?" Jungwon asks with a grin.

The man gulps. "Th-this isn't happening," he mumbles, eyes focussed somewhere off in space, past Jungwon. "This can't be happening to me. This... this is impossible."

"Oh, it's very possible," hums Jungwon. "You'd be surprised to find out how much is." And he smirks wide again. He probably looks like a madman, but he doesn't care. He can taste the man's blood on the air.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispers. "W-whatever it is you want, I'll do it, just-- I don't wanna die. Please."

Any other day, the pleading would have gotten to him—any other day, Jungwon would have cried and screamed and torn at his own skin at the prospect of ever killing anyone, let alone drinking from them. But now, the logical him (the human him, he thinks for a moment) has been tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind, and the sound is like music to his ears.

"H-have mercy," the man stutters quietly.

Jungwon tilts his head. Mercy? a voice in his head whispers. It is a voice he hardly sees himself in, and yet it consumes him completely. There is no mercy. You are only prey.

It's funny how suddenly it hits him—how long he's waited for this, and how he can't stand to wait a second more. Faster than lightning Jungwon blinks on top of the man, pinning him down; the protests (physical as well as verbal) make no difference to him. He searches for a carotid artery with shaking fingers and, once he finds it, sinks his teeth in with a groan.

The car swerves in a panic, and the sound of it crashing into a streetlight is a distant ringing in Jungwon's mind. Everything is muffled, as if he's been thrust underwater, and he might as well have, with the way the smell and taste of blood blooms around him, inside him. He feels himself wanting more, needing more, craving more, the hunger never-ending as he sinks his teeth even further into his victim's neck.

Nothing else matters in that moment, and he knows, now, he knows what the others were talking about—how good it feels to feed when you've starved for so long.

His victim loses consciousness soon after that, but still Jungwon drinks. He can't find it in him to stop—it tastes so, so good and he's still so, so hungry, and it seems his hunger only grows the more he feeds; every bit of blood he drains, the sickness and lethargy drains away with it, leaving a hunger larger than he had known behind. Eyes closed, the world spins around him, and Jungwon can feel himself slowly revitalizing as he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

Jungwon loses track of time the longer he sits there.

The hunger is less ravaging, now, only a low growl in the back of his throat; and soon it peters out entirely. The body under him has grown cold—it's warmth taking new ownership. He feels the stolen blood and pulse humming under his skin.

There is plenty to worry about, he knows—plenty things he should, realistically, care more about than he does. But for the life of him he can't pick out what they are, buried beneath layers of cotton he doesn't care to reach through.

His mind is heavy with fullness, and heavy with sleep, and for the second time that day a little voice in the corner of it urges him to just give in—so he does.

[chibinekochan]

Valentine’s day taste testing - Ft. Mammon

As you all probably guessed, I planned to write something for this day.

So here's a fic featuring the winner of the poll from last week.

 I hope you enjoy your day!

 Gn. reader insert

2k words

---------------------------------------------

After gifting all the demons of your pacts your self-made chocolate there is only one more left.

  Mammon has been very elusive this entire day. 

Maybe he just doesn't know or care about Valentine’s Day? 

You are about to just hang his chocolate on Mammon's door when he suddenly opens it right in your face. 

"Oh hey… I was just about to go lookin' for ya. What a coincidence." Mammon is pretty surprised to see you. It seems like he is up to something. 

"I was looking for you. I have a present for you." You smile at him and hold the cute package of chocolates up. 

"Chocolate huh…" He huffs slightly. 

"Don't tell me you don't like chocolate?" You feel pretty dumb for not even considering this. 

"No, it's not that. I just know you gave some of these to everyone." Mammon puffs his cheeks. 

Now you see the issue. "Are you jealous?" 

"No-no, why would I be jealous? Like I don't get tons of chocolate from other people." Mammon pouts and takes the box anyway. 

"You sure are popular. I mean I called you, and you just ignore me and don't think that your chocolate is the same as everyone else's." Now you puff your cheeks. You put a ton of time and effort into the chocolate for Mammon. 

Now Mammon seems a bit ashamed of his words and opens the box. The chocolate all looks like gold coins and little cars. You clearly put a ton of effort into this. 

"Oh wow, these are so cool… I-I mean not bad at all." Mammon blushes and his voice slightly cracks. 

You smile nervously. "I hope you like them." 

"They are a fitting tribute to the great Mammon!" He gently puts them away in his room. You don't see any other chocolate in his room. 

"So what did you want from me?" Now you feel like bringing that up. 

"Ah yeah, I wanted to invite you to a taste test that I got invited to. You see, they want me to model for this chocolate brand. Especially their new line of coffee-flavored chocolate and so they thought it would be good for me to taste them first. They let me invite a person so, I figured I'd be nice and invite you." Mammon gives you this grand explanation. 

"That's very sweet of you Mammon. When is the taste test?" You are all into joining this event. 

"Well, it's today. I mean you probably got some other plans today. It's Valentine's Day after all." Mammon suddenly seems unsure. 

You hoped for Mammon to invite you to a date today but at least this means that you will spend the rest of the day together. 

"I have no plans so let's go!" You feel pretty excited, to be honest. 

Mammon is surprised. "You aren't going to flake out in the middle of it right?" 

"Of course not. I would never do that to you and happen to like chocolate." You also happen to like Mammon but don't mention that part. 

Mammon sighs from relief. "Great, then let's meet in an hour at the gate. I just gotta quickly do something." 

"I look forward to it." This is a great opportunity for you to dress something nice. You know it's not a date, but you still want to look nice for Mammon.

  With a bit of a beating heart, you arrive an hour later at the gate. 

Mammon is a bit late, he comes running from somewhere. 

"Sorry, it took a bit longer than I thought." He is completely out of breath. 

"It's fine I wasn't waiting for long." You don't mind, it'd just be a few minutes from now. 

Then Mammon notices that you changed. "Oh darn you are smoking… I mean you look good." Mammon clears his throat and corrects himself while blushing. 

You blush slightly at his words. "Thank you, Mammon."

"I should have dressed nice too." He mumbles under his breath. 

"Anyway, are you ready to go?" Mammon quickly gains his composure. 

"Yes, let's go!" You feel very excited by the prospect of new chocolate flavors and being with Mammon. 

Mammon leads you to a small cake shop. It seems closed, but Mammon has a key. "I got it from the owner himself." He makes sure that you know he didn't steal it. 

Somehow that thought hasn't crossed your mind at all.

  "He must really trust you." You smile.

Mammon blushes a bit and opens the door for you. Much like a true gentleman. 

It's a bit unexpected but nice regardless. 

The inside of the shop is cutely decorated. 

It's a bit more romantic than expected but very nice regardless. 

You can see a small table in the middle of the shop with several plates with an assortment of cutely shaped chocolates. Some of them look a bit crooked but very nice overall.

  "Go ahead and sit down. I will get us some coffee, or do you want something else?" Mammon naturally plays the host. 

Strangely, there is nobody here serving you two. Not that this is a bad thing. It makes this whole event even more romantic. 

"Coffee sounds perfect." You agree on the coffee and sit down.

  While taking a closer look at the chocolates, they look suspiciously self-made. 

Is this because they are samples? 

With some anticipation, you wait for Mammon to return. 

He comes back with a small tray with cups and a can of coffee. He looks like a real server.

  "Here you go, anything else that you need?" Mammon sounds like he has said this many times before. It's surprising to you. 

"I'm good, thank you." You smile at him. 

Mammon sits down across from you. He seems a bit stiff. 

"This place is very nice. I'm surprised we got it all to ourselves." It's pretty unusual but ingresses the romantic feeling a lot.

"I'm glad you like it." Mammon smiles slightly nervous. "You should try some chocolates." He shoves a plate in your direction. 

"Don't mind if I do." You choose a piece and plop it into your mouth. You take its taste in and let it melt for a while before chewing the rest of it. 

"This tastes so great." You didn't expect it to taste so good. "It tastes just like human world chocolate." This is very special to you since human food is so rare in the devildom.

  Your face lights up from joy. 

Mammon seems to relax from that sight. "I'm so glad that you like it." He gives you a big smile. 

"You should try some too." There honestly is so much that it would take Beel to finish it all. 

"I will just gotta enjoy some coffee first." Mammon gently waves you off. 

This is pretty strange, you would think he would be all over this. 

You drink a sip of coffee as well. It fits the chocolate very well. You take another piece, under the watchful eyes of Mammon. 

He looks embarrassed away once you look at him. That causes you to giggle slightly. 

Mammon huffs slightly.

  You decide it's about time for Mammon to try some delicious chocolate as well. You take a piece between your fingers. 

"Say Aaaah." You hold it in front of Mammon. 

He blushes even more than before. "H-hey what are you plannin?"

"I just want to give you a taste." You smile at him. 

"I can eat just fine all by myself." His blush only gets worse.

"Just open your mouth." You move the chocolate in front of him.

"F-ine but you better not do this with anyone else." Mammon pouts slightly and then opens his mouth. 

Carefully you feed him a piece of chocolate. 

"Don't worry you are the only person that I'm feeding." You giggle. 

"How is it?" You crook your head. 

"Pretty okay… Just sad that it wasn't the one you made." He mumbles the second part. 

"Maybe next time." You smirk slightly. 

This causes Mammon to almost choke. 

"You shouldn't say things like that." Mammon huffs.

  You eat another piece of chocolate. 

It's so good but by now you are pretty sure that these aren't part of some taste test. 

"Mammon be honest this isn't a taste test right? 

He sighs." I knew I couldn't hide it from you."

"You made these chocolates all by yourself too, didn't you?" You have a pretty strong feeling about this. 

"You can tell because they aren't that good?" Mammon looks slightly defeated. 

"No, they are great, even better now that I know. This must've taken forever to make." You are impressed, to say the least. 

This gives Mammon a great boost of confidence. 

"Well of course they are great, being made by me. It might took me a month to learn, and I had to work pretty hard at this place for it." Mammon boasts proudly. 

"You did all of this just for me?" You blush, this is such a sweet gesture. And here you thought Mammon wouldn't care at all about Valentine's Day. 

"W-well I mean… I just wanted to make some money, and it just happened to be here and then I just somehow spent all month making chocolate. It's not like I only did it to make you happy." Mammon awkwardly tries to make some excuses. 

"You don't need to cover the truth if you are being so sweet, you know." You can only shake your head. 

"Umm, so you really like this?" Mammon is very embarrassed. 

"Of course I do. Nobody ever did anything this awesome for me. Now I feel bad that I only made chocolate for you." You are very happy about all the work that Mammon put into this. 

"I'd only do something like this for you and that chocolate you made for me is more than enough for me. Even when you also made some for my brothers." Mammon is bothered by this. 

"I only made that extra chocolate because Beel noticed me making some and then Satan noticed. It was pretty clear that they would be hurt if they didn't get anything, so I made some for everyone. The only one I actually wanted to make valentine's chocolate for is you." You feel a bit shy after confessing that. 

"They really can't take a hint." Mammon sighs. "I can't blame you for this in that case." Mammon is still upset, but you are glad that he can see your side. 

"I'm glad you understand. I was a bit disappointed that you didn't ask me out today." You decide to be completely honest with Mammon. 

Mammon widens his eyes. "You wanted to go out with me?" He is so surprised that he is very straight forward. "I should've just invited you instead of being sneaky, but I thought you wouldn't care."

"Of course, I care for you Mammon. I like you and spending my Valentine's Day with you is something that I really wanted. I just wasn't sure if you would be up for some romantic stuff like that with me." You feel a bit nervous telling him all of this. It just seems right to be open to him. 

Mammon seems to be very taken aback by your confession. He seems unsure what to say. Then he clenches his hands. 

"I would be very much open to doing some romantic stuff with you." He speaks unusually quiet. Like he is admitting to a huge secret.

  You had some vague idea that he is interested in you but Mammon saying this so openly is still surprising. 

You blush a little and smile. Losing your words for a moment. Then you get up and in a spur of the moment decision, you walk over to the very surprised Mammon. 

He looks at you with a mix of confusion and anticipation when you lean down to him.

Then your lips meet his. It's a very sweet kiss. It just feels so right that it's a longer kiss than you planned for.

  Your heart is going crazy. 

When your lips part Mammon is bright red and looks slightly confused but also very happy at the same time. 

It almost looks like he doesn't believe what just happened. 

So you give him another kiss, you mainly just really want to kiss him again. 

This time Mammon leans into the kiss and even pulls you a bit closer. 

He is very eager to get more kisses. 

You break the kiss when you need to breathe. 

You both smile at each other, very happy with this date.

  Obey me! Masterlist