#<- in his tag so i can laugh at my past self if he does turn out to be The Guy

[vigilskeep]

i made my little warden but experienced a healthy dose of “idk i guess i’ll pick this because it’s what xarius wouldn’t pick” “i wish i could say what xarius would” “where’s xarius”. which may have an subtle psychological message that i should at least try playing xarius instead

[dollishmehrayan]

HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out��� without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."

[smutoperator]

New Year's Dinner

Kim Sohee x Male Reader (+3 more guys)

Tags: (lots of) anal, birthday, bubble butt, business meeting, cuckolding, dinner, double anal, (lots of) double penetration double vaginal, (lots of) facefucking, gangbang, hotwife, spanish, (a little) triple penetration/triple anal.

Happy Sohee Day and a Happy New Year

Word count: 4587

Since leaving the public eye some months ago, Sohee has kept a very low profile, sharing very little of her life with her fiancé and likely future husband. It's the last day of the year, which also happens to be her birthday, and she's with him preparing the new year's dinner.

Sohee's fiancé invited you to the dinner, as you were his most trusted friend from work, while also bringing a pair of Spanish businessmen, Ramon and Toni, to sign more deals for his company. "Happy birthday, Sohee; the food is delicious," you told her. "Thank you," she answered. Sohee is always happy to see you; in fact, she probably likes you more than her own fiancé, but he's got the money, and you don't.

"Would you like some coffee?" Sohee asks Toni. "Sí," he answers, and she's able to understand Spanish, serving him a cup of coffee. As Sohee bends over to serve him, you notice that she's not wearing any panties under her dress, and a white liquid is covering the entrance of her asshole.

You move your head to take a glimpse at Sohee's fantastic backside while making sure neither she nor her fiancé notice it, as you quickly talk some business with Ramon and Sohee's boyfriend.

But you weren't the only pervert in that room, far from it. Ramon also notices Sohee is wearing nothing under her shirt and attempts to touch her pussy, making her let out a small moan.

"Are you ok, baby?" her fiancé notices. "Yes, I'm fine," Sohee answers as she blushes a little. "I'll go to the kitchen and get some other stuff for you; the main course is almost ready," she says as Ramon keeps touching her under her skirt and gives her fat ass a big stare when she leaves. Luckily for him, her fiancé is too distracted with you and Toni talking to him.

"Tu novia tiene un culo muy grande," Ramon says to Sohee's fiancé. Lucky for him, he can't understand Spanish, but you can and give him a big smile. From your past times with Sohee, you know it doesn't take long for her ass to become the center of attention of any dudes conversations, but watching it time after time always makes you laugh.

"What did you say?" her fiancé asks Ramon. "This coffee is great; you're lucky to have a wife like Sohee," he answers. "Well, she's not my wife yet," the fiancé replies.

You leave the table and move towards the kitchen to check on Sohee. The first thing you're greeted with is her bending her fat ass as she checks the oven. "Do you need some help?" you ask her. "Sure, take those to the table," she replies, giving you some cutlery.

But your clumsy self strikes again, and you drop them on the floor. Well, not really; little does she know you did that on purpose so she could bend her ass again and give you a perfect view of that big butt that has hypnotized you since her idol days, and when Sohee faces you again, you make your move.

"HUH?" Sohee gasps, very confused, as you pull your cock out of your pants. Still as big as the last time she saw it many months ago when she was still dancing on music show stages. "What are you doing? Did you forget I'm not single anymore?" she tells you, baffled. "Yeah, I know, but he's not seeing it. I really miss you, Sohee, it's the last day of the year and your birthday too, and that's my gift to you," you say.

"That's very inappropriate; you're my fiancé's best friend," Sohee says to you. "Well, I saw that cum in your ass already; I can tell he already delivered such a good birthday gift you couldn't even bother to put your panties back on and flaunted it as a trophy. Don't fool me, Sohee, you're still the same bubble butt anal slut of your idol days," you say to her.

Sohee hesitates at first, but finally caves and pushes her head towards your shaft. Well, just like you missed her big butt, she missed your thick cock too, rolling her eyes and savoring it as if it was the first time she sucked it. it was maybe the 50th or so but it still tasted brand new to her.

"Good girl, that's it, take your birthday gift," you say to Sohee as she bobs her head on your pole and soon gets sloppy like she always does. Quickly you grab her head and start fucking her pretty face too. "I missed using this fucking mouth so much, oh fuck," you say as soon as she gags on your cock for the first time in a while. "Worship my fucking balls, you slut," you say to her as Sohee soon starts massaging them.

"Oh yeah, perfect," you say as Sohee gives you a big smile. A harder facefuck follows, your cock getting pushed deep in her mouth, and as she gags again, many bubbles come out of her mouth. "Holy shit, nobody sucks that cock better than you," you praise her, letting Sohee choke herself full of cock as she keeps deepthroating and bobbing her head on it, getting sloppier at each turn.

Sohee is already cock-drunk and ready for another round of crazy sucking until she hears some footsteps, and another guy appears to the side of you.

"OH MY GOD!" WHAT IS HAPPENING?" a surprised Sohee asks when Toni also pulls his cock out of his pants. "Did you plan this?" Sohee asks you. "Maybe," you say to her.

Sohee takes Toni's cock in her mouth as you watch her suck his soul the same way she did to you. She jerks your shaft off, never losing sight of it, and then takes turns sucking one guy and masturbating the other, getting increasingly fast. "Oh yes, baby," both of you say as Sohee makes a sloppy mess of both your cocks.

"You like the way I suck these two cocks while my fiancé is alone at the table?" a naughty Sohee asks as she sticks her tongue out. It turns out she loves being a slutty cheater. Who would have guessed?

Sohee keeps taking turns sucking you and Toni's cocks, moving further down to give their balls some extra love. "Oh, I love sucking those dicks like that," she says as more bubbles come out of her mouth and she keeps gags on them. "Oh, I'm fucking suffocating on these cocks," she says. She deepthroats you, and saliva runs down her chin. "That feels so fucking good," she says.

Unfortunately, the noises she was fearing finally came out of the dining room. "Sohee, where is the dinner?" her fiance says it loud and she hears it. Quickly trying to pretend what she just did never happened, Sohee collects herself, lowering her skirt as her fat ass is way to exposed. She rushes in the direction of the oven only to find out that the turkey she had prepared had been burned as she got too distracted sucking a different kind of meat.

"I'm sorry, but the dinner is facing some issues," Sohee says. But her fiancé already knows as he can feel the burnt smell slowly creeping into the room. "It's fine; we're going to have a different kind of dinner tonight," he says.

"What do you mean?" Sohee asks. "Get on the table; you'll be tonight's dinner. we're gonna celebate your birthday and a happy 2025 with a bang, Sohee," he says. "What are you talking about?" Sohee keeps asking. "What do you think I invited all of them tonight?" her fiance rhetorically asks.

Sohee feels a bit upset that you guys were playing with her. But she never passes on an opportunity to get banged by multiple dudes since the first time she became a sensation due to her big butt and got to do it. She quickly lifts her skirt up, showing off her best asset completely uncovered and climbing on the top of the table.

"This is crazy," Sohee says, but her husband quickly puts a stop to it. "Stop playing dumb; this is exactly what you wanted, you fucking slut. You told me yesterday your birthday wish was a gangbang, and I knew you meant it," he continues, spanking her fat ass.

Ramon and Toni are already smelling blood as they start pinching Sohee's meaty pussy. You just watch, with a big smile on her face. In the end, things always come full circle. Regardless of her retirement, Sohee will always be that bubble butt slut that will be forever remembered, and tonight is the perfect time for her to show it.

Sohee gets spit-roasted like a turkey, as it doesn't take long for her fiancé to shove his cock in her pussy while Toni and Ramon shut her mouth at the same time. She moans and pleases their cocks while you watch Sohee morph into the big slut she's always been, getting her face fucked and pussy pounded. Soon you join them as you three take turns fucking her face. "Keep sucking that cock," you tell her as each guy gives her throat violent poundings while her fiancé is now the one watching it.

The four dudes encircle Sohee as she moves from cock to cock. Her mouth and hands are always full as she makes sure to give all of them the needed attention. More facefucking comes while some guys also slap their cocks in her face. "Open your mouth, take those cocks; you like that?" you command Sohee as your turn to fuck her face arrives. You also pinch her covered tits for good measure.

You guys rip Sohee's clothes off her hot body in a matter of seconds while also getting yourselves completely naked. Her pretty face is already a mess full of saliva after so much choking on your big cocks. Toni spins her, and each guy tries to reach and hit her ass when it's facing them.

Toni sends Sohee's face in the direction of her fiancé's cock while inserting his in her pussy. She lets out a little scream, getting caught by surprise but already knowing what's going to happen to her in that room: she's going to get passed around like a hot potato. Toni lifts her left leg while her fiancé grabs her arms and fucks her face, giving her an acrobatic spit-roasting while you just watch and jerk your cock off to the scene alongside Ramon.

Sohee gets spun around as her fiancé lets you take a turn on her next. Toni grabs her head and shoves his cock in her face as her belly now faces upward and her lower body is wide open for you to take it. And you don't disappoint, lifting her body and pounding her pussy while Toni makes Sohee choke on his cock, her fiancé laughing in the background as Sohee gets freely used by both your cocks.

"AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH, YEAHHHH." Sohee screams as you soon switch to fucking her fat ass while Toni keeps pounding her throat balls deep. All her fiancé does is laugh. Sohee lets out another scream as Toni grabs her and puts her body right on Ramon's lap, and soon he shoves his cock in her ass.

But things didn't stop there as Toni quickly flipped around and put his cock in Sohee's pussy. "Oh fuck, straight to the fucking DP?" Sohee says as both spaniard cocks stuff her at the same time. "Me gusta demasiado ser follada por grandes pollas españolas," she follows it up with some spanish.7

"Put that fucking cock close to her mouth," Sohee tells you as she already goes airtight, and you pound her throat like crazy. "FUCK THOSE HOLES, USE ME LIKE A SLUT, FASTER, FASTER," she commands as soon as your cock slightly slips out of her mouth. Ramon and Toni act like a perfect duo, using Sohee's ass and pussy to perfection. Her fiancé follows suit as he takes Toni's place in her pussy. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK." Sohee tries to scream but your cock muffles her mouth.

You enjoy watching Sohee scream as she gets stuffed like a holiday dinner, putting your balls in her face and making her lick it while she gets relentlessly pounded on both her holes. You slap your cok in her face, and she reaches to massage your butthole from behind. "GIVE ME ALL THOSE COCKS," she keeps commanding. "You mean like that?" her fiance asks, choking her and pounding her pussy even harder. "YES, LIKE THAT," she answers.

"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, FUCK, PUT THOSE FUCKING COCKS IN ME," Sohee screams. You finally get your turn in her pussy as Ramon is more than happy to keep proving the anal anchor role in the DP for a little longer. Sohee puts her legs up and spreads them, welcoming your meat in her pussy. "Ah yeah, you guys want to stuff me so bad," Sohee says as you stretch her pussy out and slap and grope her tits, her fiancé staring at her hot body getting used and choking her.

"AHHHH, HARDER, HARDER," Sohee keeps demanding as she seems unfazed by the crazy DP that she's taking, truly a top-notch slut. "YES, CHOKE ME LIKE ABTICH," Sohee says as she jerks her fiancé's dick. As Ramon takes a little break from Sohee's loosened-up asshole and rubs his cock in her fat buttcheeks, you seize the opportunity and take his place inside her butthole. "YES, YES, FUCK MY ASS," Sohee says.

The traffic of cocks around Sohee's fuckhole is like rush hour on a congested highway. Too many cocks for too little space. Each guy just instinctively fitting his cock in the first hole that comes open, no matter if it is her ass, pussy, or mouth. "AHHHHH FUCK," she screams as both you and Ramon get in her ass at the same time, but Toni is quickly there to shut her mouth, and her fiancé comes in to insert just a little of his cock in her pussy, meaning Sohee experiences an airtight triple penetration even if for just a little.

You guys reset things up for another round as you sit on the couch, and Sohee immediately goes in your direction, impaling her pussy on your dick. "GIVE ME ALL THOSE COCKS," she commands and quickly gets, getting swarmed in just a couple seconds as her fiancé penetrates her ass and Toni and Ramon stuff her mouth balls deep.

"OH FUCK, THAT'S IT. OH MY GOD USE MY ASS," Sohee screams really loud as her fiance gives her butthole crazy angry thrusts, maybe he doesn't like having her getting passed around by all those guys that much and is punishing her. You seize the opportunity and pump up Sohee's push as her body gets thrown hard into yours and the couch. You spread her ass and anchor another DP as Sohee gets her butthole stretched out by Ramon while Toni fucks her face. "AH FUCK," she screams again as they pound her fat ass at full speed and then take turns feeding it for Sohee to taste as she remains airtight at all moments.

You and Ramon switch positions and give Sohee the perfect airtight DP, so much so that her fiancé starts filming it as you grab her waist and pound Sohee's big fat butt, Ramon thrusts into her pussy, and Toni fucks her face, all three cocks working in perfect sync and using her like the perfect big butt slut she is. "FUCKKKKKK, YES, YES, YES, PUT THOSE COCKS IN MY HOLES," she screams. I LOVE IT," she screams, getting messier ad messier while you let her fiance pound her ass too.

The DP continues for a few more minutes as Sohee gets passed around like a hot potato, you, her fiancé, and Toni happily taking turns between her ass and her mouth while Ramon just chills at the bottom, fucking her pussy. The truth is there is no better position than cowgirl to stuff Sohee, as her fat ass stands out amidst all those cocks fighting to penetrate her naughty fuckholes while she gets drilled hard, her butt spanked until her flesh pops out, her face completely wasted and sweaty as your cocks can't stop using it like an onahole. "AH, AH, AH, AH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Sohee screams each time a cock is out of her mouth. She keeps with this tune until you surprise her with a sudden move.

"AHHHH, TWO COCKS IN MY PUSSY?" Sohee exclaims, and indeed she's right, as both you and Ramon now stretch her cunt together. "Hopefully," you say, spanking her ass as her pussy. "OH FUCK, YEAH, TWO COCKS IN MY FUCKING PUSSY, THAT'S SO GOOD, FUCK YES, USE THAT FUCKING PUSSY," she says as she chokes on Toni's cock while both you and Ramon stretch her cunt to the fullest, you adding a thumb to her asshole, spoiling your next move.

Sohee sits in her fiancé's lap as she moves her head from side to side, taking turns stuffing her mouth with Toni and Ramon's cocks. Meanwhile, you stay behind her stuffing her fat ass. "AHHHH FUCKKK," she screams as she knows no one fucks that big ass better than you do in that position, using her butthole to please yourself in the most animalesque way possible.

"OH, THAT'S DEEP," Sohee screams as you sodomize her like crazy. "STUFF THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE," she keeps demanding, you taking it hard while her fiancé pumps her pussy. "AHHHHH, FUCKKK, AHHHHH, AHHHH, OH MY GOD," she keeps screaming as her butthole gets loosed up.

FUCKKKKK, TWO FUCKING COCKS IN MY PUSSY AGAIN," Sohee celebrates as Toni takes your place and stuffs her from behind right in her pussy while she savors the taste of her asshole from your cock. He then switches to her ass and pounds Sohee hard, making her scream and spanking it. "Taste it, bitch," he says.

Toni gives his cock to Sohee for her to taste while Ramon fucks her ass. "YES, THERE YOU GO, THERE YOU GO," she screams. You spank her tits while her fiancé covers her face, allowing you to get around and stick your cock back in Sohee's cunt. "YES, YES, USE ALL MY FUCKING HOLES," she commands as she receives a sideways DP from you and Ramon. "She can take it anywhere," her fiancé says.

"What are you saying?" Sohee's fiancé pokers her as Toni stuffs his cock in her mouth, balls deep, and puts her airtight again. "FUCK ME HARDER, FUCK ME HARDER, FUCK ME HARDER," Sohee screams as soon as her mouth is uncovered. "You want to ride all of us one by one?" Toni asks her as Sohee agrees to jump on his cock.

Toni grabs Sohee's body and fucks her pussy. "Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck," she repeatedly says as he hammers his cock upwards in her cunt, Sohee masturbating herself to cope with the heat. "AHHHHHHHHHH YEAH," she screams as he keeps going. "Next cock," Toni says, giving her ass a little tap as Sohee moves to you and you pound her pussy in a similar manner. "AHHHH, YES, YES, YES," she says. "Next guy," Ramon says, as it's his turn, putting Sohee a little sideways and pounding her pussy. "Use your feet and jerk his cock off," he orders as he switches to her ass while she performs a footjob on her fiancé. Finally, her fiancé shoves his cock in her ass and pounds her to oblivion.

"Go, go, go, keep going," the guys cheer on Sohee as her fat ass gets destroyed. "OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AHHHHHH," Sohee screams as she gets drilled hard. "Can you do it, slut?" Ramon asks. "Turn around; I'm going to fuck your pussy," Ramon says as Sohee gets back to his cock, and he spanks her ass while pounding her stretched-out cunt. But he doesn't get back to you as her fiancé comes in and stuffs her ass alongside him.

"Turn around," you tell Sohee as your turn comes, upset that he had to wait a little bit more. You put her in a full nelson and pound her asshole at full speed, Sohee smiling. "Oh fuck, I like that; stretch that fucking ass, yes, hit your fucking balls in my pussy like that," Sohee begs.

"You wanna put your cock in there? I want your cock in there too," Sohee tells Toni as he domes in and delivers a second dick in her ass. "Oh yeah, you want it in my ass?" Sohee asks, very excited, as you anchor her in the DP, and Toni pounds her asshole hard.

"DON'T FUCKING STOP, TWO FUCKING COCKS IN MY ASS, AHHHHH, I'M GONNA FUCKING CUM," Sohee screams as she gets pumped hard. You and Toni reach your hands into her pussy and start building her juices up until she explodes in a squirting fountain. "Come for us, bitch; there you go," you say as she squirts.

"YOU GUYS ARE SO DEEP IN MY FUCKING HOLES, AHHHHH," Sohee screams again as her fiancé and Ramon now take turns fucking her ass and pounding her, pressing her body to the couch, her fiancé extremely jealous and wanting to split her in half. "OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she keeps screaming. Toni is next as he takes her sideways in her ass, making her tits bounce hard as he drills her like an animal.

Sohee keeps getting passed around, landing with her head on the ground as you pound her ass in a pile driver position. "Open that ass, show me your fucking hole," you say. Sohee is a screaming mess as you toy with her, switching between her ass and pussy. One guy pulls out; another comes in as the pile-driving assfucking keeps going for many minutes. Sohee can't even think straight at this moment, as she's the best birthday gift she could get. "Squirt for us again, slut," you demand of her.

"Let me take you up," Ramon brings Sohee back on her feet only to quickly lift her in the air and insert his cock in her pussy again. You come from behind and stuff her in the ass, giving Sohee a standing DP. "Oh my God," Sohee moans as she's about to get double stuffed again. "You take it so fucking well," Ramon says as she bounces on both cocks, you also groping her tits. "Put it in that fucking hole right there," she demands as she gets carried in the air and rides both cocks like a pro.

"Vamos a follar a esta puta hasta que no pueda caminar," Toni tells Ramon as the Spaniard duo now shares Sohee, her back at the lifted spit-roasting position at the very beginning of the gangbang, Ramon drilling her ass while Toni drills her face. Once they are done, Toni brings Sohee back to the couch. "Put your ass up," he demands. Sohee obliges as she keeps screaming like a whore, her fat ass once again in prime position for more drilling.

"Hey guys, let's fuck that ass a little more," you tell. "You want to fuck it right there?" Sohee asks as she fists her butthole, loosening it up further for more anal bombardment. You try to stick your cock and double-stuff her ass alongside her fist, but it's so deep you have to settle for her pussy. Sohee then opens her ass, and you fuck her, gaping her hard as you mount on top of her and hit her balls deep in the ass. "AHHHH OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, THAT'S DEEP," Sohee screams.

The other guys follow suit as they take turns fucking Sohee's ass. She can't even walk at this point, her hair completely messed as she gets drilled nonstop. "There you go, fuck yeah, AHHHHHH," Sohee moans. The guys spit on her butthole, play, and take their cocks in and out of it, drill it hard, spit roast her, fuck her face, and do anything they can to use Sohee's sexy, slutty body, and especially her fat bubble butt, they do.

The guys keep taking turns fucking Sohee on all fours, spanking her ass hard, and switching between her throbbing cunt and her used-up asshole. She's on the verge of collapsing, but you guys don't stop. You make Sohee rim your asshole as Ramon sticks it in her pussy and Toni comes in from behind for a sideways DP this time. "OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK YES, RIGHT THERE," Sohee screams as the two Spaniards double-stuff her, and you impale her mouth with your sword, her husband now just watching as she gets used like a fuckdoll.

"We need to try one last thing with this bitch," you tell both Toni and Ramon. Sohee gets on all fours on the couch, and the cocks start coming in. First Ramon, then Toni, then yours, and soon, she announces.

"OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH MY GOD, OHHHHH," Sohee screams endlessly. "What's going on?" you ask her. "I'VE GOT THREE COCKS IN MY ASS," she says as your cock, Ramon's, and Toni's fight for the very little space in Sohee's ass.

"Let's try again," you say as you guys reorganize yourselves to fit your cocks deeper in Sohee's ass. "OH MY GOD, OH, MY GOD, OH MY GOD," she goes back to screaming as she gets triple penetrated. If there is one fat ass worth of having three big cocks stretching it out, it has to be Sohee's. "OH FUCK, OH FUCK, THREEE FUCKING COCKS IN MY ASS AGAIN," she tries to scream, but this time her fiancé is there to cover her mouth.

All guys fuck. Sohee's face hard following the triple stuffing, turning her into nothing but a cock whore. "Don't stop for a second," you say as her mouth once again becomes a cock repository. Sohee is completely out of breath, and you guys are also very close to draining your balls, as Ramon soon announces.

"Vamos a llenar a esta puta de semen," the Spaniard says as Sohee dives from cock to cock to have one final taste of those thick pricks. "Give me all that fucking cum, cover my face; I want this for my birthday," she begs. It doesn't take long for Sohee to get the first load, a big fat blast from her fiancé. "Give me more, give me more," she begs. Next is Ramon, as he glazes her eyes and the left side of her face, full of cum. "Yeah, get it in my fucking eyes," she says. Toni follows suit and surprises Sohee with a bullseye shot on the right side before you finish it off with a big blast right in the center of her face. "Happy birthday, Sohee, you bubble butt cumslut," you say to her, covering her face with your sperm just seconds before the clock strikes midnight and a new year starts.

"That was a wonderful dinner," Ramon says afterwards. Sohee agrees, so she makes a proposal. "Let's do it every month," she says. And indeed, the two Spaniards decided to make sure to make it happen, as they signed the contract with Sohee's fiancé company with a clause that read.

"He must let us gangbang his fiancée/future wife every month.".

Truly a contract inked with cum.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:14」 — j.wonwoo

» seventeen menu | wonwoo menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ vampire!Wonwoo × fem!Reader wc: 3.8k summary: Y/N has always avoided sex during her period in the past. Not because she found it gross but because her partners did. Wonwoo is different. Wonwoo loves it. Wonwoo also happens to be a vampire so he might be a bit biased. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, vampires, mentions of: food consumption, blood & blood consumption (vampire, remember?), periods and menstruation, vampiric powers & abilities; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i've already stated in the smut warnings but if blood bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS. if period sex bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS. This is filthy, nasty, and i don't care lol i've done my part to warn those who don't want to see this. to those of you that do read this, i see you and i'm kissing ur forehead. wonwoo is a vampire, blood does no phase him at all. this is for my bestie Sky cause this is her main ult so, enjoy this, my love! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), bloodplay (if it makes you uncomfortable, LOOK AWAY. i’m not responsible for your media consumption. I’m warning you now. If anything to do with blood makes you uncomfortable, this fic is not for you!), period sex (again. Look away if you don’t like it.), oral (m receiving, f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms. Wonwoo doesn’t need to cause this ain’t twilight), use of pet names (darling, baby, etc.), soft dom!Wonwoo, sub!Reader, I think that’s everything but if I missed something, let me know! kinks: Bloodplay + period sex dialogue prompt: ��❛ Aw darling, I almost believe you. ❜❜

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“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” your boyfriend asked over the phone. “All I have here are pads, chocolate, sliced pepperonis, and root beer. Do you need a heating pad or some pain relief?”

You let out a soft laugh as you leaned back against your pillows. “No,” you answered. “I have the heating pad and I’ve already taken enough ibuprofen to knock out a child,” you continued. “I just need those things.” Silence fell over you as you adjusted the heating pad that was tucked under your blanket.

“And maybe you,” you added in an undertone. You heard a deep chuckle on the other side of the phone. “Well, let me check out and then once I’m there, I’m all yours, baby,” Wonwoo answered. “Okay, please hurry,” you said as another cramp hit, a sharp pain deep in your abdomen making you wince and whimper in pain.

Wonwoo frowned as he heard you whimper. He hated seeing and hearing you in pain, it made his non beating heart hurt. “Can you open a window?” he asked as he headed towards the self checkout. “Yeah.. I think so. Why?” you asked, confusion in your voice.

“So I can just come in without bothering with the front door,” Wonwoo answered as he started to set his items down, scanning them while holding the phone to his ear. “Jeon Wonwoo, you are not flying into my open window on the twentieth story! You will use the lobby elevator like everyone else,” you scolded. 

Wonwoo held back a laugh as a smirk crossed his face as he deposited his scanned items into a plastic bag. “Unless you want everyone to know you’re a vampire, I suggest you act like a person and walk through the front door like all guests do.” As he finished scanning, he tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder as he fished out his wallet.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he pulled out his card, holding it over the reader until the light blinked and the reader beeped. He slid the card back into his wallet, stuffing it back in his pocket as he grabbed his phone and bag, nodding towards the store attendant and making a move for the exit.

“I promise I will walk through the front door, use the elevator, and walk to your door like every other normal, boring human,” he whispered as he exited the shop onto the sidewalk. “Good,” you replied, sounding pleased. “Let yourself in,” you added quickly. “You know the code.”

The walk to your place was only ten minutes for him from the shop where he’d picked up the items you requested and then some. The thought of flying to your window and entering your apartment that way was even more appealing as he forced himself to walk the same pace as those around him. It would have saved so much time but he did promise.

The elevator ride up was slow but thankfully empty and when he reached your floor, he walked to your door at the end of the hall, punching in the code on the number pad which beeped and he let himself in, opening the door and shutting it behind him.

Your apartment was cool, mimicking the cool temperatures outside over the misty city. He walked further into the apartment after removing his shoes. He walked into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter and unpacking the things he bought. As he put the bag away, he heard a small whine coming from your room. He walked down to your room in a split second and carefully pushed open the door, peering into the room.

The curtains had been drawn, leaving only a sliver of light coming into the room. The TV was on, some show you weren’t paying attention to playing in the background. On the middle of the bed, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a small mountain of plushies was a lump which he could correctly assume was you. He let himself into the room, crossing to the edge of your bed and removing his coat which he threw on the chair in the corner.

He gently climbed onto the bed, the movement making your body dip with the mattress.

You turned slowly, looking up at him, only your face visible from a small hole in your blanket burrito. Wonwoo let out a chuckle as he laid down behind you, sliding an arm under your entire body and pulled you back against him. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled but he could tell you felt anything but fine.

“Aw, darling,” he said softly, a hint of amusement to his voice. “I almost believe you.”

After a moment, he felt you shake your head no and he only tightened his grip. “It hurts,” you said in a broken voice. “I know,” he murmured, lifting his head and moving a hand to pull the blanket back to expose your head. “I know it hurts, baby,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “And you can’t take any more medicine?” You shook your head again.

“I’ve already taken so much. It’s just not working,” you cried softly. Wonwoo grimaced as your body jerked in pain, doubling over. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the back of your head. “No,” you answered, tucking your head into the blankets. Wonwoo chuckled as he sat up, pulling you into his lap so you were on your back, looking up at him.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat something,” he said, gently caressing your cheek. “Come on,” he said as he helped you sit up, unwrapping the blankets. You whined as the cool air hit your exposed skin. “You can wrap back up once you get off the bed,” Wonwoo said as he got to his feet, holding your blanket. You scrambled up to join him and he quickly wrapped the blanket around you, enveloping you in its warmth.

“I got all your favorites,” he said as he guided you to the door and down the hall to the living area. You climbed up into one of the stools at the island as he walked into the kitchen, turning on the overhead light. You looked at the spread with wide eyes. “You really went all out,” you said softly.

Wonwoo smiled, walking over to the sink and turning on the faucet to wash his hands. He then moved to open one of your cupboards, grabbing one of your pots, filling it with water and placing it on the stove, turning the burner on. “I was thinking army stew,” he said as he moved to the fridge, peering inside to see what you had, grabbing a package of tiny sausages, a couple eggs, some cheese, and veggies.

You watched as he worked, cutting veggies faster than your eyes could keep up. He added the soup base for the ramen as well as a few other sauce items before adding the sausages, some spam he found in the pantry, fishcake, and the veggies. As those boiled, he cracked the eggs, adding them to a bowl and whisking them with chopsticks.

He added the noodles, cheese and carefully poured the egg mixture in once the noodles softened and placed a lid over it. While it finished cooking, he opened the convenience store tteokbokki, adding the sauce packet and water before placing it in the microwave.

Once everything was done, he moved you to the table, setting up the hotplate before bringing over the pan of stew and setting it down on the hotplate. He finished setting the table, grabbing something to drink and set those down as well before sitting with you. He filled your bowl first before serving himself and you shook your head. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly. “I would have been fine with just some convenience store ramen.” Wonwoo smiled as you took a bite, eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed the taste. “That right there is exactly why I did it,” he said, picking up a piece of spicy rice cake and eating it. “Seeing you happy and enjoying things makes it all worth it.”

After you had your fill and the pan was cleared, you indulged in some chocolate before returning to your room to watch some TV with Wonwoo, curled up into his side. The food had made you feel better but the cramps were back and you kept whining as every contraction made you press your face into your boyfriend’s chest.

Wonwoo kept one arm around you, holding you against him while he watched the TV screen. He wasn’t really paying attention, not when he could hear every little sound of pain you made, felt every time your heart rate kicked up or the jerk of your body as the pain became too unbearable for you.

“You know,” he said softly, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “Orgasms can help alleviate menstrual cramps.” You lifted your head to look at him through squinted eyes. “I’m just sayin’!” he said with a shrug. You buried your face in his chest again. “Isn’t that, like, gross though?” you asked, your voice muffled. “Is what gross?” Wonwoo asked.

You lifted your head. “Period sex. Aren’t most guys, like, grossed out by that?”

Wonwoo stared at you dumbfounded. Did you really just say that to him of all people?

“Babe,” he said softly. “I don’t know if you know this,” he started. “But I’m a vampire. Blood does not bother me in the slightest.” Your eyes widened comically. “Oh, right,” you said softly. “But like, that much blood? Wouldn’t that send you into a feeding frenzy or something?”

Wonwoo’s laughter resonated around the room as he threw his head back. “I’m not a shark! I’m a vampire,” he replied, chest bouncing as he laughed. “I can control myself a lot more than you think. Vampires aren’t animals. We don’t smell blood and just go feral,” he continued.

Your cheeks burned as he dispelled your assumptions and you suddenly felt very bad about judging him in that regard. “Sorry,” you said softly. Wonwoo pressed a kiss to your forehead. “For what?” he asked. “Unless you’ve dated other vampires, I don’t think that’s something you would rightfully know. I’m not upset, baby. It’s just a silly notion that movies and television have instilled in the populace.”

Silence fell over the two of you, only the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. “I’d like to help,” he said suddenly. “I’d like to help you feel better and if giving you an orgasm helps, I’m not gonna complain.” Your cheeks burned as you processed his words. “Won’t it get messy?” you asked, your voice meek. Wonwoo kissed the top of your head before getting up and disappearing for a moment.

When he returned, it was with a few of your old red towels. Ones you’d stained in the past when dying your hair at home. “I’m sure you won’t mind if these get stained?” he asked. You shook your head, watching him move to set the towels on the bed before he disappeared again, quick as lightning. He returned with a container of wipes which he set on the bed side table.

“Up,” he said as he grabbed the towels. You scrambled up and watched as he placed the towels down, overlapping them. “Put your blanket over there so you don’t get blood on it,” he instructed, pointing to the chair in the corner. You did as he said and then turned back to face the bed. “C’mere,” he said, holding his hand out.

You walked around the bed, taking his hand, letting out a giggle as he pulled you against him, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a soft kiss. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded in response as his hands moved, sliding down to your hips and pulling you towards him as his lips met yours again, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

Your lips parted, moaning as you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, caressing your own tongue. His hands continued to roam up and down your body, squeezing your sides, the curve of your ass, cupping your chest. You could feel the heat starting to pool in your belly as you felt his semi-hard cock press against your stomach. 

Wonwoo pulled back, breaking the kiss to turn you around to face the bed. His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass back against his growing erection with a groan. “Get on the bed,” he breathed, lips trailing down your neck to your shoulder. 

You carefully climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself in the middle of the towels as your boyfriend removed his sweater and pants, leaving on his underwear and white tee as he crawled onto the bed. He pushed the hem of your shirt up, kissing your exposed stomach up towards your chest.

You let out a gasp as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple, his mouth claiming it as he teased the bud. You ran your fingers through his hair, head falling back against the pillows. Wonwoo pushed your shirt up past your chest, his hand stabbing and kneading your breast. He pulled away, tongue and lips repeating the same thing on your other nipple before he had you sit up so he could remove your top.

You laid back against the pillows as he kissed down your chest and stomach. He glanced up at you with dark eyes as he started to tug your shorts and underwear down, discarding them and spreading your legs. The smell of blood invaded his senses as he glanced down, seeing the small string of your tampon. He would deal with that later though.

“If you want me to stop at any point,” he said softly, looking up at you. “Just tell me.” You nodded as he lightly raked his nails up and down your thighs. “Nothing is off limits for me,” he explained. “Blood does not bother me, I’ve told you this.” You nodded once more, laying naked under his heated gaze.

You watched as he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it off over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. His red eyes studied you as he tossed it aside. Wordlessly, he leaned back over, licking the tips of his fingers before taking your lips in a searing kiss as his wet fingers pressed against your clit, immediately starting to work against it.

You moaned into his mouth as he rubbed slowly, lightly flicking and pinching your clit. Your arousal had started to pool, allowing his fingers to glide much smoother and faster. Tension started to build, heat rising in your body. Wonwoo pulled back, eyes meeting yours. “I’m going to remove this,” he said, fingers gently pulling on the string of your tampon. “Okay?”

You nodded, keeping your body relaxed as he started to pull slowly, removing the plug from your body. Once it was gone, he threw it in the waste bin between your bed and the side table. His fingers were back on you in an instant, rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your hips started to move, chasing his fingers. You felt his fingers move lower and lower until they slid inside your cunt. You let out a groan as he curled his fingers, keeping his eyes on your face as he moved slowly, pumping his fingers in and out of you, a soft and slight squelching noise making your cheeks burn.

“From now on,” Wonwoo said as he curled his fingers against your walls again. “Don’t wear tampons around me. Just wear pads.” You couldn’t respond as his fingers moved faster, coaxing your body closer and closer to an orgasm.

Just before you came, he stopped, pulling his fingers out of you. “Wonwoo!” you whined as he smirked at you. Looking up at him, you watched as he brought his blood covered fingers closer to his face. “Here,” you said, trying to grab the container of wipes but let out a gasp as he instead stuck his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue instead. “Wonwoo!” you admonished in total shock.

Wonwoo gave you a smile before he maneuvered down your body until his face was level with your cunt. You propped yourself up on your elbows. “No fucking way,” you said but your words fell short as you felt his tongue lick against your slit, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he tasted your blood. The tip of his tongue dipped into your entrance before sliding up to your clit and you fell back against the bed with a moan as he started to lick, tease, and suck the sensitive nub.

The lewd slurping sounds, coupled with the fact that you were freely bleeding onto his tongue had your cheeks burning from embarrassment but you couldn’t deny it was also extremely erotic in a way. Your vampire boyfriend, who was not grossed out by blood, was more than willing to finger you, eat you out, and fuck you while you were on your period.

To say you hit the jackpot was an understatement.

Wonwoo felt the same way. Being allowed to taste you during this time of the month that you normally kept private from him was intoxicating and he knew that this would become your new normal routine.

You let out a whine as your orgasm drew closer and closer, back arching off the towels as Wonwoo flattened his tongue against your clit. Your hips tried to move, chasing the feeling of his tongue against you but he held you down, instead suckling on your clit until you finally came with a moan of his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

Wonwoo continued to lap slowly at your cunt until you shuddered, tugging gently on his hair and breathlessly begging him to stop. He pulled back and you stared in both shock and awe as his blood covered lips as he licked them slowly, maintaining eye contact with you.

You moaned as you watched him lick as much of the blood from his face as he could until he grabbed the container of wipes, pulling one out and wiping the areas of his face he couldn’t reach. He tossed the used tissue away and quickly removed his underwear, pushing the fabric down until his cock sprang free. He kicked them off the rest of the way before moving between your thighs.

“You don’t have to – hng!” you let out a moan as he pushed into your hole easily, the blood and your arousal mixing together to create the best possible lubricant. Any spasming and muscle contractions your uterus had been in the process of making ceased as his cock filled your cunt in one motion.

Wonwoo didn’t even need to give you time to adjust as your walls welcomed his cock instantly. He started to rut into you immediately, hips giving you a few testing thrusts before he really set into a hard and heavy pace. “F-fuck,” you gasped, nails digging into his back as he snapped his hips against yours.

“Feel good?” Wonwoo asked in a deep voice, a hint of amusement in his tone. You nodded eagerly, eyes rolling back as he started to pound into you, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room with an undertone of his cock entering your wet cunt.

“I knew it would,” Wonwoo breathed as he grabbed your thigh, pushing it up so he could angle his thrusts to hit the soft gummy spot that had you crying out in pleasure. He didn’t give a damn if your neighbors complained. He loved it when you screamed for him. When he made you feel so good that you cried out in pleasure.

“We’re doing this every time you’re on your period,” he grunted with effort as he slammed into you. “Gonna fuck you every night if I have to just to keep the cramps away.” Your fingers curled into his hair as you held onto him tighter, the leg that wasn’t being held up wrapping around his waist.

“Won-oo,” you mumbled, your grip on his hair tightening. “M’gonna cum.” Wonwoo pushed your thigh against your side, ramming into you, the tip of his cock barely brushing your cervix as he helped you chase your high, your own hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. “Fuck,” he growled. “Cum for me, baby. Show me out wet you can really get.”

You came immediately, crying out in pure bliss as your walls clenched around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm before chasing his own. His thrusts grew more erratic, wild and sloppy as your cum and blood mixed, making sloshing sounds as he frantically fucked you. “Ah shit,” he groaned, head burying into your shoulder. “I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You let out a cry of pain as you felt his sharp teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder as he came, sinking his entire cock into you as his load exploded, releasing a stream of thick milky cum into your bloody cunt. A mixture of the fluid spilled out of you, falling onto the towels under you as Wonwoo sucked from the fresh wound in your shoulder.

He pulled back, murmuring an apology as he licked over the holes created by his teeth. “That’ll heal,” he added as he moved to the other side of your neck, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him as he gave you a small couple thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you. “I’ll help you clean,” he added before you could complain about the mess. “Just let me stay like this for a bit.

Clean up was a lot easier than you expected. Wonwoo carried you to the shower, hopping in with you for a bit and helping you wash off, making sure to wash away any cum that spilled out of you. He then got out, drying off and dressing at lightning speed while you finished. He threw the soiled towels and sheets in the wash, placing new ones down before you got out of the shower.

As he requested, you didn’t put another tampon in, instead lining your panties with the pads he picked up for you as you dressed. You pulled on a sweatshirt and shorts, leaving your bra off. Something comfortable and easy for him to remove.

“You know,” he said as you settled on the bed next to him, wrapped up in the blankets and watching the TV at low volume.

“Just in case the cramps come back.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[vxnuslogy]

— what does it mean to be a star?

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: sunday has stayed with you and the stellaron hunters for a few years. your lives has been filled with many adventures, both good and bad. but like any other story crafted by elio, they must come to an end eventually.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, implications of committing suicide, not proofread that much.

– author’s note: one final (?) stellaron hunter!sunday fic before he gets released. ive missed writing for this man. art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 1.9k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms ; if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know by sending an ask off anon or filling out the forms in my pinned !!!

“what do you think makes a star, a star?”

elio asked you that question decades ago. and only now have you arrived at one final answer. out of curiosity, you asked each hunter the same question over the years that have passed, each of them giving one answer that didn’t quite match the rest.

“to be the top player of course!” silver wolf exclaimed, her tone in a matter of fact manner as she didn’t even look up from her console. you only shook your head in amusement, jotting her answer down in a new journal your boss had given you as a present.

“a star you ask,” kafka tilted her head curiously at you. eyes freed from her usual contacts and makeup followed your movement as you stirred the coffee in your cup. “well, a star for me would be something that captures the attention of others without much effort. stars often piqued your interest, didn’t they?” you only smiled in response and nodded. you made a mental note to write it down later before you went to bed.

firefly took a little longer than the last two to answer. you patiently waited, spooning pieces of cake to your lips as the girl in front of you was deep in thought. “a guide. even in your darkest moment, a star will shine as a guide for you to follow so you don’t stray from your path.” she answered in a whisper. eyes wistful as she played with the dessert on her plate. 

“a star,” blade’s gruff voice cut through the night like a knife. a few bottles of local xianzhou wine separating you two as you sat on the roof overlooking the stars above. you hadn’t expected blade of all people to humor your questions, but here you were, grateful in his presence. “it means to burn. so brightly you are unrecognizable, to others and yourself.”

“you have a sad answer,” you mutter, taking a sip of the wine from the small cup as the man huffs. 

“time takes a heavy toll for both you and i,” the wind sways his hair in a deathly dance. he brings his cup to his lips and drinks in one go. you don’t mention how you can barely finish a cup with how strong the drink was—blade could not feel the pain of it in his throat, and he never will. “you’ve already burned through the remains of your past self. it won’t be long before you look in the mirror and be unable to recognize your reflection.”

you frown at his response. “you’re pessimistic.”

“and you’re hypocritical.”

you have no rebuttal to his accusation, after all, at the very core of your character, the word “hypocrite” hangs like a thorny crown. 

“tell me, starcatcher,” red eyes reflected the conflict you’ve been massing deep within the columns of your bones. they crash onto your being like how the oceans do to the shores—unrelenting and loud. “are you that afraid of losing another that you love them as if tomorrow they’ll die?”

you fled the roof that night. unable to face your hopelessness head on after a fresh wound of death lingers by your heart. another attempt, another reminder of the welling darkness that swells from the tip of your fingers and slowly corrupts your entire body. it drowns you and you can’t help but fear that time is clutching your shoulder, weighing you down to the ocean floor as it laughs at your predicament.

“so it’s decided then.”

but that’s no longer the case. no, not anymore. it's been decades since then, and you’ve changed.

elio sits by his office chair, typewriter moved to the side as he personally penned the final bits of your songbird’s script. you were elio’s editor and proofreader. you don’t exactly remember when it started but when you were still an unwilling understudy—an actor who refused to acknowledge the stage—he would trap you in his office and force you to read over his script to make sure there were no errors.

a small and sad smile tugged at your lips as you read the pages of inked fate. “this is for the best.”

“the best, yes,” elio ceases his writing. compiling the papers into one bulk and staring right at you. “but it's not the ending you wanted.”

you shook your head, “my preferred ending isn’t relevant to how the story ends. it’s not my story to tell.”

“yes, but it's a story you’re meant to read,” there was pity in his eyes. your heart felt too heavy with realization to even feel offended by such a look. “you have the right to feel dissatisfied.”

“thank you, elio, truly,” you only gave destiny’s slave one final smile before standing. you quietly made your way to the door, forcing your steps to sound quiet and lacking sadness. but you can’t do that, you never will. building up walls will only prove to be a waste of effort. not when elio knows every brick by heart.

with a heavy sigh, you linger by the office door before making your way to your workshop. memories from years ago flood your mind as the halls fill your senses. photos from vacation, missions, and simple outings hang by the walls while certain trinkets and relics from bygone travels litter the many desks and drawers. time did take a heavy toll just like blade said. kafka’s skin started to wrinkle a bit, silver wolf started growing taller, firefly grew paler and paler, and blade looked more like death with every breath he took.

time was a painful thing to remember—it’s not infinite. and even if it was, it's never always kind to everyone. and you? you are worse than time and death itself. you were the inevitable–finality. 

“good morning, [name].”

a voice from behind greets you like a new sunrise–a reminder that a new day is here. you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. seeing sunday in blade’s shirt hang over his body like a blanket, firefly’s hair ties on his wrists and a spare console from silver wolf in one hand brings you so much joy. 

“sunday, good morning!” you sounded breathless. tucking both hands behind your back to hide your shaking as he joined you on your way to the workshop he’s made as his makeshift nest.

sunday smiles—filled with all the hope you’ve craved and lost. it stings your heart like a needle but you don’t show it. you’re first to look away, like all the other times in his presence, unable to face the way his wings flutter and smile twitch in concern.

when you reach the workshop, you flicker the lights on and sunday makes himself at home. sitting by the windowsill as you sat down by your table. scattered fabrics for sunday’s final mission lay in your hands, and you’d be damned if you messed up now. even with a heavy heart, you willed your hands to work, all the while ignoring the concerned stare of the angel sunbathing by the window.

the two of you spend the first few hours of morning in each other’s quiet presence before your tongue itches to ask him a question. “sunday,” you call his name and you curse the flutter in your chest when he immediately looks at you. he noticed his overly quick response and covered half of his face with a fist, pretending to hide a cough instead of his coloring cheeks.

“yes?” he asks, attention solely on you as you pin the needle back on the cushion and smooth out any creases.

“what does it mean to be a star?”

he blinked owlishly at your question. a soft hum escaped his lips as his fingers tapped on the rim of his cup in contemplation. “is there…” he tests the waters—seeing if it's too hot or too cold. “any particular occasion for you to ask me a question?”

you shake your head in amusement when his more formal tone slips out. “no, not at all. just a little tradition is all.”

“well, then,” the words die out on his tongue. every once in a while, sunday would peer at you like a lost child but you’d only nod encouragingly. “a star means to be remembered.” he looked out the window, watching the clouds pass by in a blur. “even if they aren’t always there, you know they exist.”

sometimes you wonder if it's possible for sunday to look at himself through the lens of your eyes. he was beautiful like the praise of idrila, happiness like aha’s laughter, and the curiosity for adventure like akivili. sunday wasn’t just a star, he was the entire universe. and he remained blissfully unaware of it.

“[name], is everything all right?” 

you’re snapped out of your daze when you feel his hand on your cheek. lost in the replays of sunday’s image in your mind, you didn’t notice the stray tears that had betrayed your image of an unbothered editor. 

“please, don’t cry,” he whispers, pressing your foreheads together. his thumb gently wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes. you can’t help but chuckle. sunday truly was like a sponge when it comes to others’ habits.

“what hurts you so?”

“what makes you think i’m hurt?” quite frankly, you were hurt. so incredibly hurt by his eventual departure but your heart knows his stay was only temporary. but that didn’t mean you never hoped. 

hoped. over the course of a few years, sunday had succeeded in the mission the other hunters failed at. he made you hope again.

“kafka is cooking everyone’s breakfast. it’ll surely brighten up your mood.” he states taking your hand in his and tugging you in the direction of the dining room and kitchen. sunday maneuvered through the headquarters with such ease your ribs began to clamp on your heart again.

this was his home, his respite. but only for a short time.

when the two of you enter the room, you notice his frown. the emotions of everyone were palpable—it felt suffocating. your eyes met blade and you just smiled. one deep breath in and you snapped back into your joyous self. bringing temporary light to the room.

even as you ate and chatted, there were undertones of sadness. sunday nudged your side and quietly asked you, “are you quite sure everything is alright? everyone seems sad today.”

you look at them one by one. kafka’s eyes are slowly being accompanied by eye bags and wrinkles, silver wolf is nearing blade’s shoulder, firefly looks paler, and blade’s hand shakes as he holds his chopsticks. you look at sunday’s eyes, and smile. even he was a victim of time with the way his hair grew longer and face filled with more life.

“they’re just worried,” you look away first like always. meeting blade’s gaze halfway and smiling to yourself when you see him huff in denial. “your next mission is here.”

what does it mean to be a star? elio asked you that question a long, long time ago. and you only found the answer in the form of an angel with wings behind his ears and eyes that shined like the sun. the star you’ve grown to love burns brighter than the sun but still requires rest when night falls. 

to be a star means to be remembered, even in the face of departure. you remain bright and unforgotten. left in the care of a conductor and an express you’ve once loved.

to be a star means to face the inevitable that sunday was meant for greater things than being just a fugitive venturing the universe.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI, NSWF, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v penetration, rough sex, degradation, no after care, slight non-con, after bruising, sukuna sucks during sex A/N: I never said Sukuna was gonna be a good guy yet... but that doesn't mean I don't plan to try and redeem him. Sukuna is an absolute toxic man at this point, so keep that in mind.

index part five | part seven

part five word count: 2,931

you couldn't quite figure out what had come over Sukuna recently. over the past few days, he seemed to be everywhere you were. after your kiss, he’d been noticeably kinder—or at least less overtly hostile—and he wasn’t completely avoiding you anymore.

“is it just me, or did someone kidnap my brother and replace him with a clone?” Yuji asked, watching as Sukuna offered you a bite of his food before retreating to his room to eat.

you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “probably, but I’m not complaining. if I can get through a day without being cursed out every other sentence, I’m all for it.”

“it’s just weird,” Yuji said, leaning against the counter and staring at the stairs as if expecting answers to materialize. “it’s like he only acts like this around you.”

his comment made your cheeks warm. there was no way he’d figure it out so quickly. “maybe he’s been sipping on some respect women juice?” you suggested with a smile.

Yuji’s face lit up as if a light bulb had gone off. “that’s it! I bet he found a girlfriend!”

you choked on your drink. Yuji’s theory left you sputtering, trying to regain your composure. “uh, yeah, maybe,” you managed to say, still a bit flustered.

Yuji’s excitement was palpable. “it makes sense, right? maybe he’s trying to impress someone.”

you forced a laugh, hoping Yuji wouldn’t press further. “sure, let’s go with that.”

Yuji seemed to accept this explanation, nodding to himself. “well, if it means he’s less of a jerk, I guess I’m okay with it.”

as Yuji wandered off, you found yourself alone with your thoughts, your mind racing. Sukuna's recent change in behavior was a puzzle, and while Yuji’s theory was amusing, you knew there was more to it. a darker truth, a deeper desire burning inside of your bones that would never dare admit to your best friend.

when sukuna emerged from his room later, his usual guarded demeanor was back in place, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes when he looked at you. it was a stark contrast to the rough exterior he usually wore.

“Yuji’s got a big mouth. could hear him all the way upstairs,” sukuna said gruffly, though there was no real malice in his tone.

you raised an eyebrow, playing along. “yeah, he does. but what’s this about you being a clone?”

sukuna smirked, a trace of his old self peeking through. “I guess I’ll have to keep you guessing.”

as he walked past you, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. you weren’t sure if you should push it with him, but you were aching to bring up the kiss. the way he spoke about wanting to see if you were innocent. the feeling of his hands on your hips – and the fact that you were ready to let him do whatever he wished. maybe if you just-

“you’re starin’ at me like I’ve got two heads, doll.” Sukuna’s voice cracked through your thoughts. he tilted his head quizzically at you, trying to read your expression with a smirk. “having a walking wet dream about me?”

“sukuna!” you hissed, whipping around to scan the living room, ensuring that Yuji and Choso were both well out of earshot. “don’t be so crass.”

Sukuna’s smirk only grew as he advanced, his presence forcing you against the counter. “looks like we’re right back to where we were a few days ago,” he drawled, his eyes glinting with mischief.

you felt a flush creep up your neck at the memory, the way it played so vividly in your mind as if it had happened just moments ago. “I thought you’d have forgotten by now.”

Sukuna leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “if you find yourself feeling lonely tonight, you know exactly where to find me.”

a shiver jolted through your body at his words, and you had to clamp down on the urge to grab his face and pull him into a kiss right there in the kitchen. Sukuna’s low, rumbling chuckle echoed in your ears as he drew back, his eyes dancing with a mischievous glint. with one last, lingering wink, he turned and walked back to his room, leaving you to grapple with the heat of his words and the buzz of his presence still lingering in the air.

you felt like a machine, mechanically going through the motions to get ready to go to bed, the electricity still buzzing inside of you. you combed through your hair (with a little more care than usual), brushed your teeth (maybe a little to vigorously), and applied a lovely, scented lotion. sure, maybe you added some extra steps to your routine, and maybe you slipped on a cuter set of pajamas than usual.

but no matter how much you might have primped, you swore up and down that you wouldn’t be the one to make the first move.

as you lay in bed, struggling to quiet your racing thoughts and falling prey to fantasies that danced through your mind, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand. you nearly leaped out of bed to grab it, a surge of anticipation and nervous energy rushing through you.

‘Kuna: you up?’

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the audacity of his text—so straightforward, so typical of him. a whirlwind of emotions churned inside you as you debated whether or not to reply. before you could make up your mind, your phone buzzed again.

‘Kuna: get up here.’

your heart skipped a beat. it was as if an invisible string had yanked you from your bed. without a second thought, you slipped out of bed, making sure to close your door quietly behind you. you crept up the stairs as stealthily as possible, the silence of the house amplifying each step you took. when you reached Sukuna’s door, you knocked softly, the anticipation making your pulse race.

when the doorknob turned, Sukuna swung it open, revealing himself in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. your hands were already trembling with nerves, the sight of him in such a casual state sending a jolt of excitement through you. “come in, welcome to my dungeon,” he said with a lopsided grin, stepping aside to let you enter.

as you stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety settled into your stomach. the space before you was one you had always been forbidden from entering—a room even Yuji hesitated to tread. the room was a stark contrast to the rest of the house, a sanctuary that seemed to exude Sukuna’s very essence.

��wow, I feel like I’m breaking some sort of rule by being in here,” you joked, trying to mask your unease as you took in the scene. the room was dark and moody, with deep-toned bedding and a set of weights casually thrown into one corner. heavy metal band posters adorned the walls, each one screaming Sukuna’s personality.

before you could comment further on the eclectic decor, Sukuna closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. he spun you around to face him, his lips crashing into yours with an urgent intensity. “been wanting to do that every damn day,” he growled, his voice rough with longing as he nipped at your lips. the fierceness of his kiss sent shivers down your spine, and all your previous anxiety seemed to melt away under the heat of his touch.

“why haven’t you?” you asked through kisses, your hands already coming around to fist the back of his shirt.

“damn brats all over the place.” he muttered, bringing his hands onto your face. you weren’t surprised by how rough and insistent he was being – your desire to just be touched by him overwhelmed you.

“well, you’ve got me all to yourself now.” you told him as his lips trailed from yours down your neck, biting the skin there and causing you to groan.

he didn’t respond, only guided you backwards until your legs hit the edge of his bed before you laid on your back. Sukuna leaned above you, looking down at you as you stared up at him. maybe, you told yourself, just maybe he was looking at you with actual affection.

“I told you I’ve been wanting to see how innocent you were, now I’ve got the chance.” Sukuna grunted as he dipped his head down to your neck again while his hands began to roam your body. everywhere he touched, everywhere he kissed, left a trail of fire that had your skin burning.

through your heavy, pleasured breathing, you grabbed his face to bring him up to kiss you – but he pulled away to dive into your breasts. you gasped at the contact, feeling him shoving the material up your body and roughly pulling it over your head. “Sukuna,” you squealed, wanting to cover up.

as your arms went to cover yourself, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them over you with one hand. Sukuna immediately latched himself onto one of your perked up nipples, sucking and nipping at them feverishly. when he bit a little too hard, you yelped out, only making him go harder at the sound.

you wanted him to kiss you, but every time you tried to connect your lips with his he buried his face elsewhere. his hand untied your silky shorts, shoving them down your legs. you might’ve thought nothing of it until you felt a cool breeze hitting your already dripping core. he’d taken your panties with your pants.

“Sukuna, maybe we should slow-”

“shh.” he interrupted, letting his grip on your wrist go before moving that hand to cover your mouth. “wanna taste you.”

with your eyes as wide as saucers, you watched as he nuzzled into your heat, quickly licking a stripe through your folds. your back arched and you moaned into his hand at the contact, wanting more. needing more.

as if your reaction told him all he needed to hear, he suddenly slurped up your juices loudly, his tongue diving into your pussy. “Skna,” you whined, muffled by his skin as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“taste s’ good.” Sukuna murmured as he devoured you. instinctively, your thighs began to squeeze shut, clenching his head between them. he didn’t even look up at you as he pulled up from licking you to spit on your clit before taking it between his lips, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around it.

he removed his hand from your mouth to pry one of your legs to the side, gripping it so hard you were sure you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingertips. “Sukuna, feel s’ good.” you rasped as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace now, every suck of your clit sending you closer and closer to your orgasm.

just as you thought you were about to cum, and were close to warning him, he withdrew his fingers and his mouth, leaving you cold. “need t’ fuck you right now.” Sukuna growled, grasping your hips and flipping you with harsh speed so that you were on your stomach. he slid a hand under you, pulling your hips up so that your ass was in the air. 

“fuck, do you have a condom?” you asked, your body trembling with desire and a tightness in your gut from getting so close to your release.

“no, don’t use ‘em.” you wanted to protest, but you were so desperate for him to just put it inside of you.

you tried to turn your body, so that you could see his face, but his hand shot to the back of your neck and lower back to keep you in place. “stay still f’ me doll.” he groaned, and before you could plead with him to kiss you, you felt his tip teasing your entrance.

when the hell did he take off his pants?

while you weren’t inexperienced with sex, having a few flings over your college years, you were pretty sure it had never been like this. just as you were thinking he’d slowly enter you – just like your past experiences – you shrieked as he shoved his cock fully inside of you.

pain and pleasure seared through you as tears pricked your eyes. “you’re so – fuck – so tight.” Sukuna panted as he wasted no time in bullying his cock inside until it was kissing your cervix.

“you’re – mph – too big, Sukuna.” you moaned, trying to will your walls to stretch for him so that you wouldn’t feel the pain. “s-slow down.”

but he either didn’t hear you over his own pleasure, or didn’t care, because his pace only quickened. “that’s right, doll – hah – take my fat cock like the little slut you are.” Sukuna bit out, snapping his hips into yours with such force that you almost fell forward.

“Sukuna, please—” you whimpered, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. you could barely muster the words, but you needed him to kiss you, to slow down and be gentler.

the hand Sukuna held on to the back of your neck slipped around to grab your throat, pulling your body back to meet his pace. “takin’ it s’ well.” slap. “knew you weren’t innocent.” slap. “gonna be m’ dirty whore.”

with every dirty insult, you tried to tell yourself that he probably just had a degradation kink. he didn’t actually mean those things. with your body still at war between pain and pleasure, you felt him bullying your g spot with his cock and you arrived at the edge yet again.

“Sukuna – ha – slow down – mph – ‘m gonna cum.” you hiccupped, tears rolling down your face now at the stimulation your body was being put through. every time his tip hit your g spot you felt the wave start to crash over you. he didn’t slow down, sending you right over the cliff.

your vision went white as a blazing hot orgasm rocketed through you, your body spasming and clenching around his cock while you tried to keep quiet and not scream his name. even as you rode out your release, he continued bullying into you, harder and faster now as he relished the feeling of you milking him.

“that’s right, cum on this dick.” Sukuna barked, his grip tightening on your throat to the point you were beginning to see stars. his hips snapped into yours more forcefully, echoing lewd, wet slaps through the room as he neared the ledge as well, losing control of his thrusts.

just as you were about to tell him to pull out, since he wasn’t wearing a condom, you felt a twitch inside of you as he let out a loud groan. warmth spread through your pussy, coating your walls with his cum as he rutted into you. “fuck fuck fuck.” he growled out, slamming into you until he was absolutely drained of cum.

you both were panting heavily when he pulled out of you. “that was-” you started to say with a weak smile, until Sukuna practically threw a towel in your direction.

“here, to clean up.” he stated, using a washcloth to clean himself off before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants.

shame rushed through you suddenly. he didn’t even look at you as he went to take a drink of water, merely letting you clean yourself off as you felt his cum seeping out of you. you screamed at him in your mind to just look at you, to kiss you softly and help you clean up the mess he made, to hold you and caress you and to –

“’m gonna crash now.” Sukuna broke through your storm of thoughts, pulling back his blankets and climbing in bed while you still sat on the edge. “maybe you should go back downstairs, so it’s not suspicious in the morning.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you scrambled to put your pajamas back on, your movements hurried and frantic. “y-yeah, that makes sense,” you forced out, trying to sound casual despite the tears now streaming down your cheeks. you refused to turn around, unwilling to let him see you cry. “goodnight,” you mumbled as you opened his door and fled from the room, shutting it quietly behind you.

you stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling numb and disoriented, as if your legs were unable to move on their own. with a sense of zombie-like detachment, you made your way down the stairs, no longer caring about making any noise. you trudged into the bathroom; the fluorescent lights harsh against your tear-streaked face.

you grabbed a wet washcloth and began to clean up, your silent sobs almost breaking through. as you wiped your legs, a sudden sharp pain made you flinch. glancing down, you saw dark bruises beginning to form on your thighs, one set specifically looking like finger markings. panic surged through you, and you rushed to the mirror, your breath hitching as you saw a handprint emerging on your neck and a raw, angry bite mark between your neck and shoulder. the sight made your heart race, and your breathing came in shallow gasps, the reality of what had happened crashing down on you with brutal clarity.

when your head finally hit the pillow, your entire body aching and tears still rolling down your face, you found sleep quickly. and this time, there were no pleasant dreams to make you feel better.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

A/N DISCLAIMER: let me just clarify, this is NOT how sex should be unless both parties' consent to this level of degradation and roughness. if you're into that kind of thing and your partner is too, then by all means have at it! I took this from my own past relationship, and how it was, and I know it was never supposed to be like that. so please, don't think this is normal whatsoever. IT IS NOT. this is purely a work of fiction, and I would never tell anyone that this was okay.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this WIP let me know! ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[chronic-escapixt]

A Deal with the Devil (Part 2)

witch!Kai x Bennett!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, smut, dubcon, cnc kidnapping, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, fluffyish- aftercare, mean!Kai

word count: 2.7k

summary: the aftermath of a deal you made with a certain sociopath means you're his personal play thing

A profile like that of a grecian bust of the divine, pink lips that draw your attention with every biting word, each feature you know well enough to sculpt from memory yet you stare at him like it's your first time. 

Eyes a chaotic shade of stormy blue fit with a sinister glint when he catches you, lips curling upward into a smirk. The cocky bastard.

You fluster, a fleeting itch in the back of your throat makes you cough and you curl into the cool glass of the window, trying to focus on anything other than his presence. His chuckle reaches your ears even over the car radio. 

That's when you notice you’re getting further away from any familiar scenery or landmarks. All you can think about is if you’ll ever be seen alive again. It’s not like it’s completely unreasonable to assume the self-admitted sociopath is taking you to your final resting place. Not, of course, before torturing you to the content of his sadistic little heart. As of now, he seems to be most content with simply humiliating you.

You barely register the melodies of pop radio over the racing of your own heart. Kai mutters something about modern music being absolute garbage before flipping indiscriminately between the stations and turning it off altogether so that you sit in silence. 

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of an apartment door, his key in the lock but he keeps you pinned in place with his body, caged in from the side by his bicep. At this point, it’s comical, the idea of running. You tried that before, and you didn’t get far before he caught you. Whether he used the magic still clearly at his disposal or his brute strength alone, you were trapped and any resistance was futile at this point. 

The key turns and you audibly swallow the lump in your throat. He ushers you inside with a firm hand. The door shuts on what’s likely your best chance at survival and you watch as he places the keys on the ceramic holder. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

It’s a relatively nice place, small, but modern, oddly cozy. Not really the torture chamber you expected. 

“This is actually your place?” 

“According to my lease it is. What were you expecting, a subterranean lair? Or an abandoned laboratory?” he jeers at you with a short laugh. 

“Well, yes.. sort of, but this is a pleasant surprise.”

His smile falters, “do you actually think I’m some comic book villain?” 

“I like your place, Kai. I really do,” he glances skeptically, “it looks nice. I’m just confused as to why am I here?” 

There’s a pause. He doesn’t say anything. Then he claps his hands together like he just got an idea and brushes past you into the nearby kitchenette, sectioned off from the rest of the space by an island.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. Mi casa es su casa, so just make yourself at home.” Completely bulldozing over your question. just like Kai to keep you in the dark just to watch you squirm. 

He snatches a jar from the cupboard, immediately digging in by collecting the sweet jam on his fingertips. Your eyes follow the hypnotic path of his hand from the jar to his lips. That same hand that captured your body in the library, kneaded your flesh so firmly he surely left his  fingerprints in their wake. 

Dammit. you’re staring again. It’s beginning to be pathetic.

“..when.. can i.. go back to my home?” you ask with many pauses and marked hesitancy.  

He hums and ponders the idea while sucking the gooey berry preserves from each digit, “you can go… when I’m done with you.” His final word punctuated with the smacking of his lips. 

“What does that mean? I have a life, and people that care about me.. they’ll be worried if I don't come home…” 

Your words quiet to a whisper when you catch his gaze change into an icy glower. It seems you’ve struck a nerve, though unintentional, you can’t find your next ones fast enough to walk it back before he lashes back in contempt.

“Who? Bonnie and the gang? If they really cared, don’t you think they’d at least try to call and find out if you're still alive— let you know they’re coming to save you? I mean, Elena must’ve reunited with them by now and told them about your daring sacrifice.” 

It was clear as day that you wanted him all to yourself. There was nothing sacrificial about it, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your cellphone started to burn a hole in your pocket. It hasn’t wrung once since you left, nothing, not one notification from anyone.

“Maybe they think you’re dead already or here’s a thought, maybe you’re not as high on their list of priorities as you might think.”

His words cut deep, each laced with enough venom to paralyze you. Who could blame them if they didn't care? You were the one who was dumb enough to release Kai from his prison in the first place— unleash untold danger on your friends. You can say he tricked you and lied but maybe you chose to ignore the red flags. 

Despite everything, you’re still in love with him, and that’s a betrayal of your friends. 

He doesn’t love you or anyone, and if you’re honest with yourself, that’s the worst part.

“Look, I’m just saying we’re not so different. I know what it’s like to look like a failure in the eyes of everyone you care about, to want to prove yourself..” He’s tending to the wounds he just inflicted moments ago. 

“That's not true,” you mutter but even you don’t believe that. 

He gives a nonchalant shrug while cleaning his sticky hands with a damp rag, “whatever you say, princess. I personally think that with my guidance you could be a rather ruthless little witch. Then what everyone else thinks about you won't even matter.” 

Your head felt like it was spinning. “What are you saying?”

He leans forward, his nose nearly bumping yours across the counter, “Call me generous, but I feel like I could offer you so much more in this deal..”

“Kai.. I-”

“Oh, hold that thought, babe!” He looks down at his watch. “I'm cutting it really close.. I have to go.” He rounds the counter and throws on a nearby gray hoodie. 

“Where are you going?” You follow behind.

“I have.. something to take care of and I’ll probably be a while so don’t wait up for me. Oh, and in the meantime, there’s food in the cupboard if you get hungry, you can watch tv— there’s so many channels these days and maybe take a shower— clean yourself up so you can get out of those cum-soaked panties, hmm?” 

That last part made you self-conscious, rubbing your thighs together and feeling slick with the juices he drew from you in the library, that mixed with the cum he ruined your cunt with spilling into your panties as you speak. 

He moves fast, snatching his keys back from the ceramic holder as he heads for the door. 

“Kai—” you call out after him. 

He waves you off, shooting you a quick “buh-bye,” before slipping out, the door shutting in your face, the resounding click of the automatic lock trapping you. 

That’s when your phone vibrates. You eagerly pull it from your jacket pocket, only to find a junk notification. no word from Bonnie or the gang. Kai’s words echo in your mind. You debate calling her, but you can’t bring yourself to face her and let her know you’re willingly here with the devil so you shoot her a quick text instead at least letting her know you’re alright and not to worry.

You hop in the shower, not before putting your clothes in the wash. You throw on one of Kai’s t-shirts from his closet and curl up on the couch where you flip through the channels to find something to distract your ever-racing mind. You find one of those throwback channels and nod off to a marathon of Baywatch.

It's way past midnight when you’re jolted awake by the door opening. Kai hurries in and turns on all the lights. 

You get up and find him at the kitchen island where he has a bottle of champagne and searching the cabinets for the glasses. 

“C’mere, celebrate with me,” Kai waves you over. 

“Celebrate what?” you ask, plopping down on the bar stool, still rubbing your eyes.

“I won,” he muses, placing the twin glasses in front of you.

“Won what?” 

“The merge, dummy,” he rolls his eyes.

You look down grimly, remembering the merge, and what that means, “So, Jo is..”

“No— no, Jo is fine. Luke on the other hand, is..”he clicks his tongue with the wave of his hand across his throat, “dead as a doornail, in fact.” His eyes momentarily go distant before resuming the task of finding the bottle opener. 

You’re confused, “what do you mean? you merged with Luke? but how? he’s not even—” 

Kai shrugs, “hey, I don’t know the logistics, but I do know that your precious Jo is still alive.. for the time being, and I can make my own magic, so I won’t need to siphon it outta of you. Aren’t you a lucky girl?” He opens the bottle and tops off your glass with sparkling wine.

“So, I guess you won’t need to keep me around anymore…” you try to sound relieved, but your eyes betray you. You won’t meet his, focusing only on the liquid swirling in your glass. You didn’t want to be his magic bag or hostage, but something about being near him again has made you miss the time you spent together and the intimacy you shared.

Kai smirks. “I did what everyone said I couldn’t.. and even after all they did to stop me, they couldn’t stop the inevitable and now I know they’re more afraid than ever.” 

You scoff, “Sure, if being feared is what you’re into then, congrats, you’re the new bigbad of Mystic Falls.” you raise your glass before downing the wine with one bitter swallow. 

“Well if I’m the new bigbad, what does that make you? The damsel not-really-in distress?” Kai extinguishes your attitude when he leans in closer, caging you against the island, the rasp of his voice dripping with sex, “You’ve known me long enough to understand I like being feared, especially by the likes of you. The more I mess with you the less you try to fight back. I think it's because some weird part of you craves it.” His eyes drink you in deeper than the wine, appreciating how sexy you looked with nothing but his t-shirt hanging on your body. 

In one motion he catches you off guard and you drop your glass, shattering it all over the kitchen tile as he scoops you up and places your ass on the countertop. Your shirt bunching up around your hips when you scramble back with a surprised whimper.

“Kai, what are you doing!”

“That wine was shitty. I need something sweet to take away the bitter taste on my tongue..” he growls like a feral animal, yanking you closer, closing in on your bare pussy, his trembling target.

“Any reason you’re not wearing any undies?” He cocks a brow. 

You bite your lip hard, the tickle of his breath already sending you into a hazy nervous ramble, “I don’t have any other clothes here and your boxers were too big. i-i just put my clothes in the wash.. they’re probably done so i’ll go put them on—” he grips you harder when you try to get up.

“That won’t be necessary.” His eyes hold an unbreakable focus.

Bold licks follow the length of your slit. You suck in a sharp breath. His warm tongue slides through your folds, working you up to a puffy elevated state of sensitivity. He’s just savoring you to his satisfaction before he really gets to work, parting and licking any arousal that already starts to leak from your little hole.

He thrusts his tongue inside you. Before you can even fool yourself that you have the strength to push him away, you’re cumming on his face, embarrassingly quickly because you’re still sensitive from his touch earlier. 

Kai is calculated with how he plays you, moving his face in a way that stimulates everything all at once. His nose rubbing your clitoris, alternating between sucking and licking up the mess you’re becoming, creating the sloppiest noises. 

You tremble at the onset of another high, no break in between them if his wicked tongue had anything to say about it. You latch onto his raven locks.

Gasping out his name only to be cut off by your own moans as he takes another. 

“Mhmm stappp! god, you’re such an ass-” your hand shoots out to push at him.

He peppers your inner thigh with open mouth kisses, spreading your slick across your quivering flesh, half his face drenched and glistening. His fingers pick up where his tongue left off. Two digits curling inside your cunt to begin a steady rhythm. 

“You agreed to be mine, remember? Or did that little fact already escape your empty head? I’ll do whatever I want with you.. meaning, if I want to eat you until you're just a puddle that I can slurp up with a straw, I will do that..”

Your clit has grown hard, swollen and darkened tempting him to nip at it with his teeth. The pain awakens something in you that makes the marble surface even more slippery, any protests devolve into indiscernible whimpers. 

“Oh stop that, you fuckin love it,” he growls, reaching up under your shirt to squeeze your breast. 

He sucks on your clit while fucking your cunt, making your head spin. You're way beyond overstimulated. Wound so tight the pain clouded your vision, his fingers reaching a bruising pace. You feel a sudden urgency inside you and shove at his head. 

“Nwait- wait, Kai! No—no, I can’t!” It lances through you, like electricity, or more like a dam breaking the way your release gushes against his face. You clamp your thighs around his head, truly losing track of whether you want him away or impossibly closer.

Kai finally pulls back with a satisfied grin while you catch your breath. He’s so pleased with himself and all you can manage was a mortified stare.

“Look at the mess you made..” he tsks, feigning disappointment yet so suddenly delicate with how he handles you.

“i- i didn’t mean to.. i told you to stop…i-i,” you stammer, still trembling all the way down to your toes. You pull the shirt over your exposed center.

He would have told you that you squirted and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen but he likes watching you panic. Your palpable humiliation is amusing. 

Kai tilts his head with a satisfied sigh, “you’re spent, let's get you to bed.” He hauls you into his arms and carries you back into the bedroom, not far from the kitchenette. deposits you in the middle of his bed and curls up beside you after carefully wiping you down with a damp rag. 

He's so caring, you almost believe the sweet nothings he cooes in your ear. Almost.

“are you gonna let me go…” you murmur in a hushed voice

Kai pulls you closer, tucks the loose curls behind your ear and hums, “nope, not on my to do list.”

“But you don't need me anymore..” you pout.

He cranes his neck to quietly admire you then whispers, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re not getting out of our deal that easily.”

“Oh god.. I've sold my soul to the devil,” you chuckle faintly and curl deeper into the comfort of his embrace while he tightens his arm around you.

“Shhs-shh, just get some rest.. you’re gonna need it.”

[nrdmssgs]

Sleep, my brother

Masterlist

Nikto befriends reader at their darkest hour. Angst, hurt/comfort TW: mentions of depressive episodes (no descriptions), swearing AN: I had this idea for a while now and a friend of mine, to whom I wanted to dedicate this one-shot, made an incredibly beautiful, striking and sad songfic with Nikto. So it was my sign to finally get on with it. I won't tag a person, to whom I owe this, because this is quite personal, I'm not sure, they will be happy to see their name here. I love you, I wish it didnt hurt so bad.

Cold wind reaches the old table and steam over two cups of tea shutters and leans to the side. You don't react and keep tracing cracks on the oilcloth with your finger, not caring about grease and dust.

One should have start worrying, when a big figure covered with a strange concoction of gear appeared at the stair hall next to their flat. Or when that figure froze right in front of their flat and reached out for a doorbell. Nobody in their right mind would let him in.

But you did. At this point, you didn't care about an obviously military animal lurking around you. The last bits of self-preservation instincts died long ago, when you made the plan and rented this flat for the New Year's holidays. A man standing at your threshold with a few guns and knives, sleeping in carbines scattered around his gear, wouldn't change anything. Or maybe he could lend you a bullet in a spirit of festive celebrations.

You chuckled to your own thoughts automatically. You got no more smiles left, no more laughs, but this lifeless shadow of a sarcastic reaction was still there with you.

He said, it will take him only fifteen minutes, asked you to wait in the kitchen, wear your headphones, watch anything on your smartphone. As if you were that naive and didn't understand, what a guy with a sniper rifle can seek on a top floor of a nine-story block of flats.

This was a strange evening: once you started bringing your plan to life - everything went weird. First, your rented flat turned out decorated for the New Year celebration. The landlord must have thought, you were planning to celebrate. There was a tiny Christmas tree in the bedroom, a plastic faded garland and even a "Happy 1995!" poster right from the past. Then there was this guy... You knew, your home is turning into a crazy place, but never thought, killers, the guys from 90-s TV will come out this fast.

Even your childhood memories of endless bandit-series couldn't prepare you to this encounter. What one does, when a killer uses their room as a sniping position? Runs? Calls anyone? Writes a funny twitter thread?

You were out of ideas, but more importantly - you were out of fear or any emotions at all. So you found cups and teabags in a kitchen drawer and made some tea. There wasn't much thinking behind it - your plan was far too important to try to do the right thing with this guy.

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty, then into fourty-something. You sat with your back facing the kitchen door and watched distant windows turning blue each time one scene of the festive concert changed for another. Everybody was watching the bloody concert today. And in an hour or so your hometown will turn to you, light up a thousand suns of TVs, look at you with myriads of copies of the same face with the darkest holes instead of eyes. "This was a tough year..." will it chant deep in your brain. You won't even need to hear the damned voice to know, exactly, what he tells.

But that won't happen anymore, because this will be the last-

"We are out." A hoarse voice right behind you drags you back to reality. In this time, he spent in the next room, you forgot, that the man speaks so strange. One accent mixes with another, the constant 'we, us' as if there was an army behind him.

"Ok." You don't turn back, just drag an ashtray closer to you and pat your pockets absentmindedly.

Your lighter clicks a few times in an absolute silence. He did just tell you, he's heading out of your place, didn't he? After taking the first smoke drag, you turn back and meet his blizzard gray eyes.

"Waiting for someone?" He points at the second mug. You wish he didn't wear that stupid mask, so that you had a chance to read his face and understand whether he's just confused or grows irritated.

"It's for you. Must have run cold already. Forget it."

The man ignores your last words and squeezes between your chair and the kitchen counter. He unfastens the belts holding his mask and moves it to the side, revealing a black balaclava under it. He takes a mug and looks around while you try to contemplate, what is actually happening.

"We didn't do anything there. Shitty intel. The target didn't come."

"You won't..." You don't know how to ask this, and just tap your hip at the same place where he has a handgun carabiner.

"I am many things, but not a butcher." It's the first time, your guest refers to himself as "I", but you mark this fact just with a tired sigh.

"You're... Disappointed?" The man takes a sip from his mug and catches your palm before you take another drag of your cig.

At first his gaze is cold, irritated, disgusted even. He pulls your cigarette from your fingers, brings it closer to his face, inhales your smoke and returns you the stub.

At first his gaze is cold, irritated, disgusted even. He pulls your cigarette from your fingers, brings it closer to his face, inhales your smoke and returns you the stub. And then his eyes soften and grow worried. As if he realizes something.

"Nobody's coming to celebrate with you?"

"I'm fine with that. Nobody is a way better option than..." You motion towards the window, uncertain if he can even understand, what you meant to say.

For a few minutes, silence wraps your kitchen. Only distant echoes of fireworks and the monotonous humming of the elevator engine muffled by the flat walls accompanies you two. Then he speaks again.

"We are staying with you."

He's not even asking. And that was not a part of your plan.

"No need, I am not celebrating really-"

"What are you doing then?" He cuts you off, completely ignoring your attempts to be polite.

In a desperate attempt to get rid of him, you mumble something about being tired and just planning to go to bed, but it's as if he doesn't hear you. In a few gulps, he finishes his tea, takes his guns and knives off his belt and puts it all on the refrigerator.

"So that you don't worry. We won't do anything stupid," he comments, and you don't bother noting, that the guy is so massive - he can snap your neck with his bare hands, so 'anything stupid' can happen without guns even.

Lastly, he takes the rifle off his shoulder and sets it down in the far corner without looking. A plaintive twang of strings rings in the kitchen, and you instinctively turn towards the sound.

A cheap guitar with a crooked neck - he must have hit it with the butt of his gun, hides in the dark corner. You two don't ask each other, don't share a single word. He just takes it, you light another cigarette and wet your throat with a cold tea. He tries to tune it and start playing. Nothing special, random melodies.

Little by little, you realize, his weird mix of accents must have an origin somewhere around here. Even though, he doesn't sing - you recognize the melodies, he plays. These are the melodies from your childhood. You listen and forget about time. For a short moment, the world narrows to this little kitchen, and feels somehow cozy.

Somehow bearable.

But then he starts playing one particular song, that you vaguely remember, and when you recognize it - the sound cuts your found peace like a razor blade. The man must have noticed your darkened face, because he stops abruptly and looks at you.

"Bad memories?"

"No, I liked this one back when it came out. It's just the guy, who sings it - he went mad." You look past your guest's shoulder, outside, at blue lit windows. "They all are going mad lately."

The man looks in the same direction for a few seconds and then turns back to you.

"Talking to furniture? Listening to the voices in their heads?"

"Talking to butchers," you say that in the most plain voice you can muster, but the lump rolling up your throat is still apparent, "Listening to butchers. Becoming butchers."

You realize that this probably sounds pompous and expect your guest to laugh. But he remains serious. And then something unusual happens: for the first time this evening, he switches to another language: your language.

"Obizhayut tebya tut?"*

Yes. A lot. So fucking much, you don't have any strength left. It hurts so bad, you just wish this all to end. Any way possible. Just make it quick.

But that you can't tell anyone. Not even to some strange man, that a decent person should be afraid of. So you just wave your hand uncertainly and mumble.

"Da kto menya tut obidit..."*

Nobody in his place would hear how much pain hides behind this little lie. But this man hears.

He puts the guitar aside, stands up and touches your shoulder after leveling with your chair.

"You need to sleep. Let's go."

"I need to..." He squeezes your shoulder softly and you grow silent. The turbid, dark-red air outside the window gets colored by bright sheaves of sparks and the cannonade of New Year's fireworks reaches you. Its midnight. And despite everything, you're still here.

Maybe because this whole evening is so surreal, maybe because the last few years felt like a drenching nightmare, but it feels so easy to go sleep on a sofa in a rented flat on a New Years night with this strange man guarding you. He sits in the corner, making sure, you have enough room. His hand runs softly over your shoulder, pets your head, fingers draw little circles between your shoulder blades. You almost fall asleep when he speaks again.

"We liked that song."

"Me too. Liked many things until lately."

"You know what?" He looks down at you, and you notice, there is no coldness left in his eyes. His gaze is still intense, but the blizzard is not roaring there anymore. "Fuck that shithead. It's our song now. We own it. You and... me."

You feel sorry once again that you can't see his whole face, so his expression remains unreadable. But his voice sounds dead serious. So you nod in response.

That night you drift to sleep to the stranger humming a melody from your childhood. He was a threat, a guest, a strange encounter. He was many things, but wasn't a butcher. Because he made sure, the next morning came.

"Obizhayut tebya tut?" - Anyone brings you trouble here?

"Da kto menya tut obidit..." *Nobody would dare/be interested in that.

[syluscore]

Every Version of You (4)

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Message me if you'd like to take over this story and continue it, I will not be continuing it, my apologies~

(i struggled a lot with this part and putting it off because it's filler. it's the event that needed to happen to get from point a to point b. but i've done it so now updates should come quicker!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

SONGS: I Can't Handle Change - Roar and I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART FOUR: dejecting from one's self, anxiety, crying, some comfort, thoughts of giving up, arguing, let me know if there's something else that needs to be tagged

TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce , @greywardensaywhat , @kennedyswhore , @british-mint-bunny , @all-mights-babygirl , @weasleytwinscumslut , @pinkrose1422 , @ir3nic-sluvv , @blue4pple , @izuoyarmin , @cosmcqt

!!!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" FOUR

You stand, frozen in place, right in front of the giant tube that’s supposed to contain Leon. Every noise in the room sounds far away. You’re not even sure you’re really standing here right now with how unreal you feel. How disconnected you feel from yourself.

Numb. You feel numb.

Is any of this real? How can it be real? You know it’s stupid to question yourself like this. You always laughed off people who would ask dumb questions like, “Is this a dream?” Of course it’s not a dream! But now you’re questioning if this is a fucking dream. You don’t know, maybe you never knew.

You can tell the men are trying to talk to you, but you can’t seem to force yourself out of your own head. Can’t make yourself care enough to socialize with any of them. You wanna stay inside your mind’s fuzziness. It wraps you like a blanket and it’s the only solace you can seem to find.

You’ve been able to push your feelings down–to just push yourself through the motions, but it seems to be hitting you all at once now. And you’re not sure why, but you’re dreading facing Leon. And there’s no specific reason for your anxiety, maybe it’s just everything coming to the surface in the face of a conversation you don’t know how to have.

Maybe you’re dreading his reaction. 

“Hey!” you hear someone yell to get your attention as they nudge your shoulder, which finally snaps you out of your almost hypnotic state. 

Your head snaps in their direction, “Hmm? What?”

Your eyes meet older Leon’s. “Are you ready?” It’s a stupid fucking question. You and him both know it, but for some reason, you still find yourself having a hard time responding. You open your mouth several times to reply, but no sound manages to make it past your lips.

“Are you okay?” he lowers his voice to nearly a whisper.

You’re not sure why that does something to your brain–why you’re biting your lip as tears slip down your cheeks again. Why did the dam break right now? Before you can even force the tears back down, force yourself to keep it together, he’s wrapping his arms around you.

You’re limp in his grasp. Wide eyed and arms hanging at your sides. You’re stiff in his arms, unable to properly react. His chin is resting on top of your head as he presses your cheek into his chest.

You wish he’d just stop. Pull himself away from you. Read your body language and take the hint. But he doesn’t. He only clings to you tighter.

And you don’t know why, fuck, you don’t know why anything anymore, but you soften in his arms. You allow yourself to accept his embrace. And for some reason, it makes you feel somewhat calmer. As if you can finally breathe in his arms.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah? Just breathe. You’re fine, everything is fine. I’ve got you.”

And you believe him completely. You pull your head away from his chest and look back into his eyes. 

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath, holding it, then opening your eyes as you release it.

“That’s it. Feeling better?” He tucks your hair behind your ear and you can’t speak. You force yourself to nod. Just nodding feels like it takes all of your energy. 

You’re exhausted, utterly and undoubtedly exhausted. You could pass out while standing up if you allowed yourself to. But you know you can’t. You know you must swallow down all of the negative feelings because there’s much more pressing matters at hand. You are not what’s important right now. 

“I’m okay,” you assure Leon softly. “Let’s do this.”

“You’re sure?” He cocks an eyebrow in obvious disbelief. 

You nod your head weakly. “Like ripping a band-aid off, right?” He rubs your shoulders, but doesn’t attempt to move on. “I’m sure, Leon, please.”

He finally releases you, but not before offering up his hand. It confuses you at first, but you eventually relent and intertwine your fingers with his. You’ll take any link to ground you that you can. You’re still not fully convinced that you won’t just fade into nothingness, maybe you’d even welcome it and allow it to consume you. 

It’d be so easy to let yourself go as well, but you’re not hanging on for yourself. You’re hanging on for Leon and maybe that’s enough for you. Well, it has to be enough for you, it’s all you have to cling to.

“Okay, here we go,” Luis mumbles as he pulls the lever and the blinding light is back and somehow stronger this time. 

Before you can even reach up to cover your own eyes, someone else’s hand is covering them. Your free hand shoots up to cover the hand over your eyes. It’s obvious who it is, so you run your hand up his arm and cover his eyes with your hand. It’s not the most comfortable position, but you’re fucking greatful for it.

The light is gone and you both drop your hands, looking ahead as Leon’s drenched body is pulled from the liquid by Chris. Chris pulls Leon’s body down the ladder with the help of Luis and they lay him on the ground.

“Leon? Leon, can you hear me?” Chris speaks as Leon’s eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly wakes up. 

Leon’s eyes finally stay open and he stares up at Chris with a blank expression on his face. He slowly blinks as confusion creeps up his face.

He suddenly sits up and pushes himself to his feet, stumbling backwards away from Chris and Luis. His wet clothes cling to his body, throwing off his balance as he braces himself against the wall. 

“Leon. Calm down,” Luis tries to level with him.

He shakes his head, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just here to help-”

“Help with what, asshole?”

Older Leon speaks up, “Well, if you’d let him explain and stop interrupting-”

“And who the fuck are you?” Leon spits out as his eyes dart to older Leon’s. He looks down at your laced fingers and then his eyes meet yours. “What’s going on?”

You pull your hand from older Leon’s and take a few steps toward Leon, “I’m not entirely sure, but everything’s okay, okay?”

“Don’t,” he puts his hand out in front of him causing you to halt your movements. “Just… stay over there.” 

You feel your face fall at the tone of his voice, talking as if he’s disgusted by you. It causes you to step backwards, your back colliding with older Leon’s chest. 

“It’s okay,” he quietly speaks into your ear, “He’s just confused right now.” You nod your head in response, because what else can you do?

Leon continues arguing with Chris and Luis, but you tone it out. You turn and look up at older Leon’s face. He brings his hand down to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently beneath your eye. Your eyelids instinctively close in the comfort of his gesture.

“And what the fuck is going on over there?” Leon’s raised voice brings your attention back to him. “Who the fuck is that?”

Your eyes dart between the two of them, not sure if you should tell Leon the truth. Older Leon meets your gaze and nods his head once, encouraging you to speak.

You take a deep breath before speaking, “He’s you, Leon. From the future.” 

The room is quiet as you and Leon stare at each other. His face is skeptical as he looks between you and the older man.

“You’re joking?” He huffs out and you shake your head at him. Another moment of silence passes. “What do you mean by that?”

“He’s here to save me, Leon.”

He scowls. “Why are you fucking with me right now? What’s wrong with you?”

Older Leon steps in front of you. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Fuck you dude-”

“Can you shut the fuck up?”

“I’m not taking this-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Older Leon yells and the room falls into a silence once again. It’s awkward. It’s fucking uncomfortable. You could cut the tension with a knife. Just any sort of cheesy phrase that could be used to describe this shit, insert that here. 

Everything feels so unnatural. How could a conversation ever flow under these conditions? In these circumstances? How are you supposed to act, supposed to talk?

“Do you want her to die?” Older Leon gestures toward you. Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t answer. “Well. Do you?”

“Obviously not.”

“She will. And there won’t be anything we can do to stop it if you don’t get it together.”

“You gonna kill her?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing! You’re talking out your ass right now. I’m not doing this shit.”

“Really?” Older Leon asks in a monotone voice that has chills running down your spine. Leon nods in response, causing older Leon to suddenly snap.

He closes the gap between the two of them, grabbing Leon by his collar and pushing him towards the giant vat of liquid again.

Chris follows after them. “Leon, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to show him.”

“We don’t even know if that’ll work.”

“Don’t care.”

“Just think for a minute.”

“No.” The men fight the entire way to the top of the vat of liquid, but older Leon manages to get the younger man up there.

“Fuck,” Luis calls out as he runs to the control panel slamming down some buttons. “Okay. Okay! Be careful Leon-” He isn’t able to finish his warning before older Leon is pulling both of the men into the liquid.

“Oh my god!” You gasp out as you watch the Leon’s floating in the water, electrical currents surrounding them, looking like they’re shooting straight into them. Older Leon grips Leon by his shoulders, both their heads falling back weightlessly as they go still in the liquid. 

Water swirls all around them and you can do nothing but watch. It’s like they’re the calm in the storm, so still as a whirlpool rages on around them. 

As quickly as they entered their comatose states, they’re snapping out of it. Breaking through the top of the liquid and gasping for air. 

Older Leon pulls himself up on the platform first, offering Leon a hand that he ignores as he pulls himself out of the liquid as well. They sit on the platform in complete silence, both staring off into space.

A ringing cuts through the silence and Luis picks up a small phone sitting on the control panel. 

“Leon,” both men's attention dart to Luis, but he gestures the phone towards the younger of the two. “It’s yours.”

Leon hurries down the ladder and grabs the phone, answering quickly. “Hello?... Now?... Can it wait?...Alright, fine… Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone and turns to face you. “I have to go. Urgent request by the president.”

“Be safe?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He nods his head, scanning the room before heading for the door.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Rookie, who’s been standing off to the side, staying out of the way this whole time. But he quickly shakes his head and continues, slamming the door shut behind him.

You look over at Rookie and he shrugs at you. “I didn’t think seeing me would help.”

You didn’t think of it that way. Of course Leon would instantly recognize his younger self, it’s what he used to look at in the mirror every day.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask no one in particular. Your eyes scan the room, waiting for someone, anyone, to answer you. 

“He’ll get there,” Chris finally speaks up. “But we got work to do. We knew he’d be pulled away for that mission, so we knew he wouldn’t be around.” Chris’ hand meets your shoulder and he squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we start Operation Save Your Life? Or whatever you’d like to call it.”

Chris heads out the same door Leon did and your gaze falls to the floor. You doubt you’ll be able to sleep after everything that just happened, but you’d be lying if sleep wasn’t calling out to you.

[runninriot]

written for @steddie-week day 4

and the @steddiesongfics july prompt

Easy

prompts: trade, body swap & song: Nik Kershaw (Wouldn't It Be Good) | wc: ~1.2k | rated t | cw: recreational drug use | tags: steve has a bad relationship with his parents, good uncle wayne appreciation, repressed feelings, steve has a crush on eddie, friends to lovers | also on ao3

They’re lying on Eddie’s floor, sharing a joint like they often do. Hanging out, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company.

Eddie’s been rambling for the past ten minutes, talks about how he’d like to swap bodies with Steve for a day, how he’d want to experience a day in Steve’s life first-hand.

   “Why the hell would you want that?”

   “You got it easy,” Eddie says matter-of-factly and Steve snorts at this very untrue claim.

   “Yeah right, I wish.”

   “What could possibly make Mr popular rich boy’s life hard, huh?” Eddie teases and Steve knows he doesn’t mean it in a hurtful way but it still stings.

   “You don’t know a thing bout it,” he answers simply, before snatching the joint from Eddie’s fingers and taking a long drag.

Steve doesn’t want to open up that box. He came here to forget, not to talk about what’s keeping him up at night.

   “So? Tell me then. I wanna know. Because- and don’t take this the wrong way, Stevie – but I really can’t see it. I mean, look at me. I’m certified trailer trash. I know what it’s like to live on nothing but toast and peanut butter for weeks because the washing machine broke and the next pay check isn’t yet due.” Eddie laughs but Steve can’t find it in him to join in on it.

He hates when Eddie calls himself that, trailer trash. As if living in a trailer park makes him less of a person. It doesn’t! It just means that Eddie and his uncle are less fortunate than others.

Steve didn’t do shit to earn the comfort of growing up in a big house, was just... lucky to be born into the Harrington family.

Wayne on the other hand is doing his best, is giving his all to make their life as good as possible.

Steve envies that.

Wayne is an honest and hard-working man, and even if Eddie likes to joke around and belittle himself for their situation, Steve knows he cherishes everything Wayne has done for him. Steve knows Eddie will do everything to make him proud. To repay him for taking him in when he needed a place to stay. For always being there for him, for supporting him. For loving him unconditionally.

They might not have much but they have each other. It’s something Steve would trade everything he owns for without hesitation.

In a heartbeat, he’d give up his inheritance for a relationship with his parents that is as respectful and loving as the one between Eddie and his uncle.

Because Steve might have a nice car, a pool in the backyard, and a name that can open doors for him but- at home, he feels lonely, unloved. He’s a failure, his father keeps reminding him. And worst of all, he’s afraid to be his true self around them because they’d never accept it, would never understand.

   “Steve? You with me?” Eddie pushes himself up on one arm, his face hovering over Steve’s. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to-“

   “Nah, you’re good. Just got a little lost in my thoughts.” Steve offers a weak smile but he can sense that Eddie doesn’t buy it.

He knows him too well.

Has this annoying ability to read Steve like an open book.

It’s like he can see right through him, can see right through Steve’s little white lies whenever he tries to talk himself out of something.

There’s only one thing Eddie doesn’t know about him and never will. It’s Steve’s best kept secret; not even Robin knows. Because he can’t risk his parents finding out about it.

If Eddie knew, maybe he’d understand and take back what he said earlier because yeah, sure, Steve’s life might seem easy from an outsider’s point of view, someone who only sees the shiny exterior of his golden cage.

It’s a false illusion, because contrary to Steve, Eddie does not have to hide a certain part of himself out of fear of the consequences.

Wayne loves him regardless, accepts all of him. Wayne knows, and he’d put up a fight with anyone who doesn’t agree with Eddie’s... choices.

Steve’s father would kill him if he ever found out that his son is-

   “Alriiight, enough for you!” Eddie sits up and reaches for the joint that’s slowly burning down in Steve’s hand.

Their fingers brush and it feels like the world stops for a second. Steve finds Eddie’s gaze, can’t look away, slowly loses himself in Eddie’s dark brown eyes. The air is crackling between them and Steve feels tiny electric shocks prickle on his skin when Eddie lifts his free hand and cups his face.

The hand doesn’t linger, unfortunately, moves up his temple to brush a strand of hair back from Steve’s forehead. It’s a kind gesture and Steve wishes he could lean into the gentle touch.

But he can’t. He can’t let the wall crumble because Eddie would instantly know what it means.

Would know that, behind layers of pretentious confidence, Steve hides this vulnerable part of himself.

That there, locked away in his fragile heart, burns a small flame. A flame he tried to smother, that keeps flickering unrelenting.

Because every time Eddie looks at him, every time he smiles, every time they touch – it’s like gasoline to the flame, setting his insides ablaze.

Eddie’s hand retreats but the sensation on Steve’s face remains, hot and red. He knows he’s blushing, hopes he can blame it on the buzz from the weed.

   “Sometimes I wish-“ Steve realises too late that he said it out loud.

   “Wish what?” Eddie asks, curiously waiting for Steve to continue.

   “Sometimes I wish things were different.”

   “What would you change?”

    This right here, Steve thinks. You being so close but not close enough.

   “I’d change who I am.”

   “Who would you want to be, if you could choose?”

    Yours.

   “I’d want to be someone who’s brave.”

   “Pff, you’re literally the bravest person I know.” Eddie scoffs affectionately.

   “If I’m so brave, then why I am so scared?” Steve knows it’s more than he should confess, too much for Eddie not to keep digging.

   “Scared of what?” Eddie looks at him like he’s searching for the answer in Steve’s eyes, intense and pensive. And then he smiles, bright and warm and fond in a way that makes Steve’s heart stutter.

Inside him, the flame flares up, spreads heat from his heart through his veins and Steve knows, in that moment, this might be his only chance.

   “Scared of my feelings for you.”

Eddie kisses him and suddenly, everything does seem easy.

Kissing Eddie back is easy.

Leaning into his touch and holding him tight is easy.

Loving Eddie is easy.

Because it feels right.

It doesn’t matter what his parents will think of him if they know – this is right and it’s all he wants.

This is who he is underneath.

This is who he wants to be, openly and unafraid.

   “You don’t have to change, Stevie. You don't have to be anyone else. I love you just the way you are.”

And that, Steve realises, is more than enough.

[theomencometh]

Anthony's Realization

Fandom: Smosh Pairing: Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla, Anthony Padilla & Dan Howell, implied phan Rating: T Key Tags: Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers Word Count: 5,275 Read on AO3

Summary:

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths. The second thing that he does is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths.  He closes his eyes, inhales, and tells himself that it isn’t a big deal.  And it truly isn’t, not really.  The thing about this realization is that it's not a surprise.  He may not have been aware enough to name what was happening, but by the time he becomes conscious of his feelings, he’s been living with them for long enough that it’s a natural part of him, nothing to be done.  He doesn’t want to fight it, it’s silly to deny it, and there are definitely worse fates in the world.  Still, it’s a huge fucking realization to have, and he takes a second to re-center himself in the middle of the office so he doesn’t do something stupid, like have a panic attack or grab Ian by the lapels of his jacket or start laughing hysterically.

The second thing that he does when he finally has his realization is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

There’s no way that he can talk about this with anyone he works with.  Not only are there sometimes complicated boundaries with him being one of the owners, but if this got leaked it would spread around Smosh like wildfire, and he’s absolutely not ready for that.  In that instance, might as well stay away from everyone in the general LA area, just in case it manages to get back to anyone on staff.  Actually, there are too many people who know Smosh members in the entire country, so it’s best to discard everyone in the United States–no, everyone in all of North America entirely.

The answer is obvious.  There’s one other person who is uniquely positioned to understand what he’s going through and who would be willing to talk him through it, and that person doesn’t live in the country and talks more to him than anyone else at Smosh.

Anthony: hey, any chance you’re free to chat soon? could use your advice. nothing bad

He only has to wait a few seconds, which is impressive, because he didn’t consider calculating the time difference before he texted.

Dan Howell (youtube): oh hell

you’re not dying right

30 minutes sound good?

Anthony: no death, 30 min is good. Ttyl

Anthony grabs his jacket and heads out the door, calling a very general goodbye to the office at large so no one thinks he has just been burdened with self-knowledge that he will be obsessing over for the foreseeable future.

Anthony makes it home with no memory of the drive.  He barely has time to kick off his shoes and settle on the couch before Dan’s call comes through.  It’s a video call, but Anthony is still met by a dark screen, only half of Dan’s face illuminated with white light.  He’s probably in his room in the dark even though he’s wide awake, which feels so quintessentially Dan that it eases Anthony a little.

“Hey, thanks for calling,” Anthony says.  Dan squints at him suspiciously from the tiny phone screen.

“Of course,” he replies.  “Not every day I get to talk to my good friend Anthony Padilla.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, because Dan has been busier than him lately and they do send each other memes and funny messages sometimes.  It’s not like they’ve had no contact in the past few months.

“What’s up?” Dan asks, steamrolling past any reply Anthony might come up with.  Anthony likes that about him.  It may be hard to lock Dan into a genuine conversation when he doesn’t want one, but once he’s there he has single-minded focus and doesn’t let Anthony beat around the bush or procrastinate.  Anthony would be almost offended that it seems like Dan wants to get it over with if it wasn’t for the fact that small talk right now would be excruciating.

“I’ve, uh, had a bit of a realization recently, and I don’t really want to talk to anyone in the office about it.”

Dan levels him with a flat look.

“Are you fucking in love with Ian?”

Anthony groans, leaning back against his couch and giving himself a moment to cover his face.

He didn’t expect Dan to clock him so easily.  Can everyone tell?  Was Anthony himself the last person to know?  Does he have a flashing neon sign saying IN LOVE WITH IAN HECOX hanging above his head?

“How the fuck did you know?” he asks incredulously.  Dan laughs at him, loud and bright.

“Because if it wasn’t about Ian, you’d be talking through whatever it is with him as part of your “healthy communication” pact, and my largest skill set is navigating how to be a gay youtuber in love with your best friend and business partner. Also, I’m probably the closest gay person you know who isn’t associated with your company.”

Anthony laughs.

“Is it really that obvious?” he asks.  Dan shrugs.

“I know what I’m about,” he replies.  “Now, is it the gayness that’s a crisis or the Ian-ness that’s a crisis?”

“Ian-ness,” he responds immediately.  “Wait, actually…”

Dan waits while Anthony takes a moment, because that’s not right, not really.

He isn’t worried about his sexuality.  He came to the conclusion a few years ago that he would keep himself open to other possibilities, and he’s always been able to appreciate other guys.  The fact that Ian has a dick isn’t a problem.  Sure, he hasn’t felt particularly motivated to give someone a blowjob before, but he’s not bothered by the idea at all.  He’d like to have the chance, frankly, even if he’s bad at it and needs to practice a bit, especially if Ian is the one he’s practicing with.  But the Ian of it all isn’t a crisis, either.

“It’s not–” he starts, then stops.  Dan hums encouragingly.  “It’s not a crisis, really?  It’s Ian, you know?  This is probably the best case scenario for my first time falling in love with a man.”

“Fair,” Dan says.  “So what do you need me for, then?”

Anthony snorts.

“If I didn’t talk this through with someone, I’d probably end up blurting it out in a meeting tomorrow in front of everyone.”

Dan hums.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the most professional moment, even for you,” he says.  “I take it this means you’re down bad.”

“Oh yeah,” Anthony confirms.  “Hit me like a truck.  Nothing even prompted it!  I was wrapping up for the day and wondering if I should ask Ian to grab dinner like usual and the idea made me so happy I thought something was wrong.”

“That’s fucking gay, Anthony,” Dan says.

“I know!” he groans.  “That was the problem, because that’s how I feel about him all the time.  This is how I’ve felt for months, and I’m just now realizing.  What the fuck?  How does that happen?”

“You were too caught up in the euphoria of being around him again to tell it was a proper crush.  Like a frog in boiling water,” Dan says, nodding sagely.  Anthony mirrors him, grateful that he doesn’t need to elaborate further.  Reuniting with Ian felt like finding a part of himself that had been missing since before he left Smosh.  He had no way of knowing that the rush he felt every time they hung out or the elation when he managed to say something that made Ian laugh was a symptom of something bigger.  It felt like it used to, except better because they’d both grown as people and weren’t emotionally stunted children anymore.  He didn’t realize that love had anything to do with it, at least not romantic love.  Then, once they’d stabilized properly, they bought Smosh and he had more things to distract himself with.  He loved being around Ian, he loved being at Smosh, he loved the fact that he could have both when he had missed them for years.  He didn’t feel the need to examine things closer than that.

“What am I supposed to do?” Anthony asks.  Dan snorts.

“Don’t do what I did, which was stalk the other person to the point where we were friends and then make him do all the romantic heavy lifting,” he says.  “The way I see it, you can either repress it so hard it disappears and you’re miserable, or you tell him in a private moment that you both can escape if it goes badly.”

Anthony frowns.

“Will it go badly?”

Dan shrugs.

“You know Ian better than I do.  What do you think?”

Anthony makes himself stop and genuinely consider the question, rather than respond with knee-jerk fears or defensiveness.  There’s decades of history including their friendship completely unraveling to consider, and Anthony doesn’t think he’ll survive losing Ian a second time.  But Ian has never run away because Anthony wanted too much from him.  He might not respond the way that Anthony wants, and he might not give Anthony the same openness and vulnerability that Anthony would be giving him during a confession, but he can’t see this being the thing that pushes Ian away for good.  It might be awkward for a bit, but they’re both adults.  Anthony can figure out how to manage his feelings, and Ian historically has been great at ignoring elephants in rooms and pretending like things are fine.

“I think it’ll be okay,” he says slowly.  “If he doesn’t feel the same or is weirded out, I think we’ll be able to move past it.  He’ll probably make some bad jokes to deflect, but I don’t think he’ll hate me, or ask me to leave the company or anything.”

“You think he doesn’t feel the same?” Dan asks.  Anthony shrugs.

“Who knows, with Ian.  I know he loves me, but that’s different than being in love with me, and he was repressing the shit out of his emotions for a while there.  I don’t know.  It’s been–things have been really good with us, recently.  And I think he’s in the same place as me, with the sexuality thing.  But that doesn’t mean that he’s in the same place as me with his feelings, too.”

Dan hums.

Anthony tries to imagine Ian smiling at him in that new, soft way he sometimes does, saying something like “don’t be stupid, Anthony, of course I love you, too”.  His heart speeds up at just the thought, feeling like it’s about to skip out of his chest, and he slams that door shut immediately.  No use in getting his hopes up or catastrophizing, not before he knows the actual outcome.  Better not borrow the joy or anxiety of the future, right?

“When are you going to tell him?” Dan asks.

“What happened to maybe repressing it and being miserable?”  Anthony replies.

Even though he can barely see anything from Dan’s side of the screen, he can see the look that Dan gives him.  At least it makes him snort.

“As your friend, I can’t in good conscience actually recommend that route to you,” Dan says.  “Especially because you’d be shit at it and would tell him anyway, but it’d probably be at the worst possible moment.”

Anthony can’t argue with that.  He’s not great at keeping things inside.  If he tries to repress this, it’ll bubble up before exploding, like a soda that’s been shaken then cracked open, spilling his feelings all over the place.

“I should probably tell him soon, then,” Anthony says.  Dan nods.

“Better to get it over with.  Rip off the bandaid.”

“Opposite of what you did.”

“Fuck off,” Dan says, voice high with indignation.  “I’ve been in a happy relationship for over a decade.  You asked me for help.”

“I did,” Anthony concedes.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan says, smarmy and pompous in a way that makes Anthony laugh.

He directs the conversation away from his realization and toward normal topics, taking his time to catch up with Dan properly.  It’s good to talk to him, just like it always is.  As allergic as they are to phone calls, it’s nice to be able to chat in real time, rather than allowing text messages to get lost in a flurry of notifications.  More time has passed than Anthony realized when another notification pops up at the top of his screen.  He trails off mid-sentence when he sees who it’s from.

Ian: you ok? you left the office pret…

While he’s reading, another banner appears.

Ian: dinner?

“What’s up, what just happened?  Why are you ignoring me?” Dan asks.

“Sorry,” Anthony says, shaking his head to bring himself back to the moment.  “Ian just texted.  He wants to have dinner.”

“The thing that started it all,” Dan says ominously.  “Sounds like the perfect opportunity.”

Anthony feels a dash of panic surge through him before it fades, leaving the hint of a bitter aftertaste.

“Already?” he winces.

“Why, do you need to let things settle?” Dan asks.  “You seemed pretty secure with everything earlier.  Do you think your feelings are going to change?”

Anthony shakes his head immediately.

“I have never been more sure of my feelings,” he affirms.  “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Dan holds his hand up in a there you go gesture.

“Right,” Anthony says.  “Pulling off a bandaid.”

“Guess I’ll let you go get your man,” Dan sighs dramatically.  “Text me what happens.  Whether it’s a celebration or you want someone to listen to emo music and cry with you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony says earnestly.  Dan rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.  Welcome to the gay disaster club.  Have fun.”

“Thanks for having me,” Anthony laughs.  “Talk to you later.”

Dan says a quick goodbye and signs off with a wave, and Anthony navigates over to Ian’s messages before he can second-guess himself.

Ian Hecox: you ok? you left the office pretty quick today

dinner?

Anthony’s thumbs hover over the buttons, not wanting to lie to Ian, but also not wanting to confess his feelings over text.  If he says he wants to talk to Ian about something, Ian might think it’s worse than it is, and Anthony doesn’t want to turn this into a big deal for him if it doesn’t have to be, but if he ignores Ian’s initial question and just asks him to come over with takeout, he’ll still think something is wrong, and he’ll think that Anthony doesn’t want to talk about it with him and therefore it’s something terrible.

His phone buzzes with another notification.

Dan Howell (youtube): you better be replying to him and not PROCRASTINATING like a LOSER

Anthony sends him the middle finger emoji, but it’s the encouragement that he needs.

Anthony: had something on my mind i wanted to think through, nothing bad

wanna come over? bring thai pls

Ian’s reply comes in immediately.

Ian: be there in 20

Anthony locks his phone and sets it down, letting out a long breath.  He scrubs his hands over his face, then through his hair, blinking at the blank tv across from him while he tries to organize his thoughts.

He can’t sit here for 20 minutes spiraling until Ian gets here.  He wants to smoke to offset the nerves thrumming through him, but he doesn’t want to overdo it and lose his sense of urgency, then decide to put the confession off because of it.  He needs to tell Ian tonight.

“Like ripping off a bandaid,” he says aloud, slapping his thighs and standing.  He spots a candle and lights that, at least, then busies himself tidying up.  His home isn’t messy by any means, but rearranging things and breaking out the duster to run along his bookshelves gives him something to keep his hands busy while he repeats a mantra of affirmations in his mind, not allowing any room for the negative and anxious thoughts to permeate.

A sharp knock on his door breaks him out of his thoughts while he’s unloading the dishwasher, immediately followed by his door opening and Ian’s voice calling “Honey, I’m home!”

Anthony’s heart flutters.  If this continues, he’s going to need to see a cardiologist.

“In the kitchen!” he calls back.  “Want a drink?”

“Water for now,” Ian calls back, no doubt setting their take-out up on the coffee table in the living room.  “We’ll see about later.”

Anthony grabs two glasses for them and fills them from the filter in the fridge, adding ice for himself but none for Ian because he says it gets too cold for his teeth these days.  They’re getting older.  Anthony is grateful that he’s present to see it.

“I got you your usual,” Ian says, gesturing to the container while Anthony carefully sets the glass in front of him.  He changed since the office, dressing down in sweatpants and an older Smosh hoodie that they discontinued before Anthony left.  He looks tired and comfortable, like he belongs on Anthony’s couch shoveling rice into his mouth, and Anthony swallows around the lump in his throat.

Yeah, he needs to tell Ian tonight.  He can’t keep living like this.  Self-awareness is a gift, because you can’t change things if you don’t know there’s a problem, but Anthony wishes the problem wasn’t being in love with his best friend in a way that’s overwhelmingly impossible to ignore.

They don’t talk about anything important while they eat, just chatting casually about whatever crosses their minds, from a weird squirrel that Ian saw yesterday to an artist that Anthony found on Instagram and really likes.  It’s easy and comfortable, and Anthony finds himself relaxing with every little joke Ian says that makes him laugh.  Ian doesn’t try to be funny outside of work, but he naturally has Anthony in stitches more than anyone else he’s ever met.  Anthony has laughed more in the two years they’ve been reunited than he did in the entire six years they were apart.

Eventually, the laughter fades away, Ian setting his plastic fork down and leaning back against the cushions, wiggling a bit to get in the most comfortable position possible with a content sigh.  He’s such an old man that way, but Anthony is right there with him, knees cracking when he stretches out.

“So,” Ian says, lolling his head to the side so he can see Anthony fully. “What were you thinking so hard about earlier?”

Anthony sighs.  He crosses his arms, but he doesn’t like how that makes him feel like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, so he rubs his hands against his jeans instead.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ian offers.  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Anthony says before Ian can get the wrong idea.  “It’s not–I wanted to tell you, anyway.”

“Okay,” Ian says slowly.  Anthony takes a deep breath, then another one.

“I’m bi,” he blurts.

Not quite what he wanted to say, but baby steps.

“Officially,” he adds.  “I know we’ve kind of talked about it before, but I wasn’t really sure, and now I am.  I’m bisexual.  I like dudes, too.”

“Nice,” Ian says with a grin, leaning forward to give him a high five.  Anthony obediently slaps their palms together, and Ian’s fingers curl around Anthony’s hand, shaking him.  “Let’s go!  Solidarity!”

Anthony laughs, letting Ian break the tension like he usually does.  Their hands fall back against the couch, still clasped together, and part of the laughter dies in Anthony’s throat.

“Thanks for telling me, dude,” Ian says.  “I am, too, since we’re sharing sexualities.”

Ian’s thumb swipes over the back of Anthony’s hand and goosebumps erupt across his arms, thankfully hidden by his sweater.

“Cool,” he manages to say.  Ian smiles at him, open and joyful, and Anthony doesn’t know what emotion is playing across his face, but it makes Ian soften.

“Are you going to get emo on me?” he asks, light and teasing.  Anthony chuckles, but it comes out a little wet.

“I didn’t think I would,” he says honestly, blinking up at the ceiling and letting out a shaky breath.  Ian squeezes his hand, just a quick pressure and release, and Anthony returns it.  When he’s centered himself enough to look back at Ian, his best friend is still smiling at him.  It’s a smile that has no pretenses or expectations, just gentle acceptance.  He’s so much more open than Anthony ever expected him to be, even since they reconciled.  They both had to relearn how to read each other in these heavy moments, and Anthony now knows when Ian puts his walls up and why, and when he can give Anthony more of the vulnerability that he always craves.  Now, though, he doesn’t feel like Ian is hiding, despite the jokes and teasing.  He’s just here with Anthony, ready to take whatever confession he gives.

“That’s not all of it,” Anthony says.  Ian shifts, tucking a foot under him so he can face Anthony fully.  He still hasn’t let go of his hand, but Anthony doesn’t want to watch him do so later, so he does it himself, twisting one of his rings around to distract his hands from the sudden emptiness.

“I, uh,” he starts.  Ian’s steady focus on him is distracting, and it’s making his throat close up again.  He clears it, an incongruous sound in the otherwise quiet space.

“I realized I have feelings for someone,” he finally brings himself to say. Ian’s expression doesn’t change, maintaining a careful neutrality that Anthony is all too familiar with.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks eventually, when too much time has passed for Anthony to fill in the blanks.

“No,” Anthony says quickly.  “No, it’s not– I’m not upset about it.  It’s just… scary.  But I can handle it.”

Ian’s eyebrows twitch with an aborted frown.

Damn, he’s botching this.

“It’s– if I had to fall in love with anyone, it’s best that it’s him,” he tries to explain.  “He’s– this is the best case scenario.”

Ian does frown this time.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna let me down easy.”

Ian stares at him.  Anthony replays those words in his head and heat floods his face, everything burning.  He blinks a few times, but time doesn’t rewind and let him take those words back to tell Ian in a better way.  He’s always been shit at improv; he should’ve scripted this in those 20 minutes while Ian was grabbing them dinner and instead he’s making a mess of things.

“What,” Ian asks, no inflection.  Anthony opens his mouth, can’t get any actual words out, and closes it again.

“Deep breath, Anthony,” Ian commands.  Even though the inflection is still strangely empty, Anthony forces in a breath, then another one.

“Sorry,” he says.  Ian shakes his head.

“It’s fine.  But you need to use words, because I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now.”

Anthony gestures helplessly.

“I love you?” he says.  “In a gay way?”

Ian nods slowly.  Anthony wants the ground to open up and swallow him.  Maybe he can go stay with Dan and Phil for a few weeks or forever, since Dan’s advice got him in this situation in the first place, except he knows that he’s being irrational and everything should be fine once it stops sucking so bad.

He should’ve done this at Ian’s house so he could run away, rather than having Ian come to him and having to kick him out.

“You think I’m going to let you down easy?” Ian asks.  Anthony laughs, a high pitched, hysteric noise that he immediately hates and never wants to make again.

“Are you really going to be mean to me about it?” he asks.  His pulse is racing.  He’s going to die.  He’s actually going to die from confessing his gay love for his best friend.  This is pathetic.  This is terrible.  He’s almost 40 years old and it feels like he’s 15 and getting rejected for the first time, except worse.  Dan owes him so many drinks.

“Anthony,” Ian says, reaching towards him.  Anthony isn’t fast enough to lean away, and Ian’s hands cup his jaw, curling around his neck and threading through his hair to keep him in place.

“Stop freaking out,” he says, thumb swiping across Anthony’s jaw.  “Don’t be stupid.”

Anthony can’t even begin to formulate a response, because Ian leans forward and kisses him.  His brain completely short circuits at the gentle contact, even though it only lasts for a second before Ian is leaning back, carefully eyeing him.

“Huh?” he says.  Ian cracks a smile.

“I love you, too, you idiot.”

All of the tension leaves Anthony in a rush that makes him dizzy.  It’s a good thing that Ian is still holding him, hands anchoring him in the present while Ian gives him that new smile, the one that makes Anthony feel like Ian doesn’t want to be anywhere else if Anthony isn’t with him.

“Huh?” he asks again.  Ian chuckles, but it isn’t malicious, and Anthony smiles with him.

“Dude, did you really not know?” Ian asks.  “Courtney staged an intervention for me weeks ago.  Apparently she and Shayne have been making little bets since you came back.”

“Since I came back?” Anthony asks.  “No way.”

“They were delusional,” Ian agrees.  “I was not in touch with my feelings enough at that point.  I was just happy to have my best friend back.”

“And now?” Anthony asks.  Ian grins.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.  What happened to you being in tune with your mind and spirit, bro?  Why’d it take you so long to get here?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Anthony laughs, hands coming up to circle Ian’s wrists.  “I’ve never fallen in love with my best friend before.  I thought it was just you.”

Ian snorts, ducking his head and finally letting his hands fall from Anthony’s face, tangling their fingers together instead.

“That’s so fucking cheesy,” he says, but he sounds pleased.  Anthony flushes.

“We’re basically a friends to lovers fanfiction, Ian.  This was always going to be cheesy.”

Ian rolls his eyes.  When he looks at Anthony again, it’s through his lashes with a fond smile, like he’s taking pages out of Seduction 101.  Anthony is actually embarrassed at how well it works on him, face heating and breath catching.  His eyes wander down to Ian’s lips, and he forces them back to his eyes in a panic before he remembers that he’s allowed to do that.  Ian made that clear.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.  “I wasn’t ready when you did it.”

“I don’t know, can you?” Ian replies automatically, then grimaces.  Anthony gives him a look, even if Ian’s immediate regret is clear.  At least they’re on the same page there.

“Yes,” Ian corrects.  “Actually, if you don’t I’m going to be upset.”

That’s all the encouragement that Anthony needs to lean in.  He takes his time, letting their noses brush and settling his hands on Ian’s waist before Ian gets impatient and closes the gap.  It feels entirely different than their first kiss.  Anthony goes into it with intention, pressing as close as he can without Ian's glasses getting in the way, and Ian responds in kind, hands snaking over Anthony's shoulders.  The scratch of Ian's stubble against his mouth sends shivers down his spine, much more addictive than Anthony would've guessed, and he fists Ian's hoodie tighter in response, shifting to try to get even closer.  Ian breaks the kiss before Anthony is ready, but all he does is take off his glasses and dive right back in, matching Anthony step for step.

Being this close is causing Anthony's head to spin, each change in angle and point of contact simultaneously making every nerve in him stand at attention and glaze over.  He can smell Ian's aftershave under the leftover Thai food and burned down remnants of the candle permeating through the living room, and Ian's hands feel incredibly warm through his sweater, even more so when one of them slides up his neck to dig into his hair.  The gentle scratch of nails against his scalp pulls the start of a whine out of his throat unbidden, and Ian immediately deepens the kiss, coaxing Anthony to open his mouth with a brush of his tongue.

Anthony wants to keep kissing him all night.  He could stay kissing him for the rest of his life and be perfectly happy, whether he keels over in a few minutes or a few decades.  This is their first time kissing with intent, the first time where it actually means something, but there's something so familiar about it anyway, the easy way that they move together and around each other, the compatible pressure and comfortable motions.  He pulls at Ian again, wanting to get even closer, and Ian shifts without breaking contact, pushing Anthony back against the arm of the couch and following him down.  It puts their bodies flush together, and Anthony wraps his arms around Ian's back, pinning him there, a warm line along his front.

A vibration in his pocket startles him enough that he breaks the kiss, blinking up at Ian in surprise.  He's haloed by the overhead light, mouth red and cheeks flushed, and he has never looked more beautiful.

"What's wrong?" he asks.  Anthony blinks at him, processing.

The phone in his back pocket vibrates again, loud enough that Anthony can hear it now that he's not distracted.  He forces one of his hands to release Ian's sweatshirt, lifting his hips to access the pocket and inhaling sharply when the motion makes him brush against Ian.

"Anthony..." Ian says, voice thick.  Anthony's phone vibrates again in his hand, drawing Ian's attention to it.  He sits back on his heels, finally giving Anthony room to catch a full breath.

Dan Howell (youtube): how are things?  have you told him yet?

celebration or crying

maybe silence is a good sign??

“Who is it?” Ian asks, tugging on the bottom of his hoodie.

“Dan,” Anthony says.  Then, for clarification, “Howell.  I called him earlier.  He wants to know how the love confession went.”

Ian plucks the phone from his hand in the middle of typing his reply.

“Hey,” Anthony protests halfheartedly while Ian swipes to the camera app.  Any additional bitching dies in his throat when Ian presses his lips to the corner of Anthony’s mouth, taking a selfie at the exact moment.

It isn’t the best picture.  They’re off-center and Anthony’s face equal parts enamored and very clearly caught off-guard, but Anthony doesn’t protest while Ian attaches the picture to Anthony’s message thread with Dan and sends it.  He locks the phone and discards it off to the side, something that Anthony is very okay with once Ian turns his full attention back to him.

“I know we need to talk about this soon, but I kinda want to save that conversation for later tonight and go back to making out right now,” Ian states.

“I’m fine with that,” Anthony says, already reaching for him.  He kisses Ian’s grin off his face.

Somewhere on Anthony’s coffee table, nestled among empty takeout containers and a stack of napkins, Anthony’s phone buzzes again.  Neither of them hear it.  When Anthony finally checks his phone the next morning, he’ll have a litany of text messages, equal parts sincerely happy and playfully disgusted.  For now, he’s more than satisfied to kiss Ian silly, everything else fading away until the world consists of just the two of them.

[mcufan72]

Hello everyone. I wish you a Happy New Year and only the best for 2025 🎆🍀🎉

As a little gift, I have two more snippets for you. I hope they're to your liking. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always welcome, and please let me know if you want to be tagged!

The Scars You Can Not See 🌸

Loki x female reader (non canon AU)

Preview here

Unedited, not proofread, out of context... and some sexual tension this time 😏. Enjoy!

Snippet one:

"Bad news?” Loki wanted to know. He tried to hide his curiosity and also his concern. You looked so sad and lost. And no, he definitely shouldn't care about you. He hated you, and you hated him. Irrevocably and to the core.

“Are you eavesdropping on me?” you asked annoyed, turning around and looking at him.

“Surely not. I just came in to get something to drink from the fridge. I just wanted to be polite.” Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“ I don't need your politeness, Laufeyson, thank you. Mind your own business, okay? Where's your chick of the week? Haven't seen her for quite a while. Is she bored of you already?” You asked him provocatively and side-eyed him. You placed your phone on the kitchen counter and walked past him to take your mug from the cupboard. ‘Gosh, why does he always have to smell that good’ you thought. It didn't help to keep on hating him.

“Now you better mind your own business, poison ivy. Don't call her ‘chick’, she was a lovely person,” Loki said. You really pissed him off sometimes.

“Was? So, my assumption is right. Well, I'll get to see you on the hunt again. How lovely!” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, and a devilish smile curled your lips.

“I don't need to hunt, little apple blossom. They all come willingly, and contrary to you, other women appreciate my features and skills," Loki answered, a self-righteous tone in his voice. How much he enjoyed riling you up.

A faked noise of puking left your mouth. He was really so in love with himself and self-confident, wasn't he?

“The only feature they appreciate is the package between your legs and what you're able to do with it. At least I hope you know what to do with it, because many men don't. Are you really that blind, Laufeyson? They're not interested in you or your heart…ohhh…I totally forgot…you don't have one!” You spat, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with your eyes on him, your arms crossed over your chest. You were absolutely aware of how hurtful your words were, but like always, they left your mouth quicker than you could think about it.

“You might not understand it, but I've needs sometimes, and yes, I need them to get satisfied. Maybe you like it, but I don't like to be alone all the time. By the way, don't you have needs? What are you doing with them? Sweat them out?” Loki laughed condescendingly.

“Oh, surely I've needs but I'm not whoring around like you. I want more than just… senseless fucking. I need feelings and a heart as well. And if physical lust gets too much I prefer my battery-provided friend… if you know what I mean. No feelings, no commitment, just satisfaction,” you smirked, raising one eyebrow and licking over your lower lip. How you loved to provoke him. Men were such cavemen and such simple beings.

‘Gosh, this woman’ Loki thought. The liplicking and the imagination of you, smelling lovely like the prettiest spring flower he could think of, and your ‘ battery-provided friend’ made him instantly hard, and he just laughed lightly and shook his head. How much he wanted to fuck you senseless, how much he wanted to kiss you and get a taste of you. Hopefully, you didn't recognise the growing bulge in his sweatpants. Maybe he should fuck you out of his system. Maybe then he could finally stop thinking about you permanently. At the same time he wanted more. More of you, and so much more than just sex. “Ahh, yes and I don't have a heart. Sorry, I forgot about that, grumpy little daisy, ” he countered harshly, tilting his head and grinning sarcastically.

“Finally you got it, and by the way, what benefits do I have from a perfect, beautiful outer shell if there's no heart involved, hm, Laufeyson?” You regretted your words as soon as they had left your mouth, and you swallowed hard. Deep down in your gut, you knew that Loki wasn't the heartless jerk and playboy you'd like to see in him. But you couldn't let him get any closer to your heart and into your life. Not physically, and definitely not emotionally. No, never. He deserved better. He deserved someone better than all those chicks, and he definitely deserves someone better than you. Period. You saw him swallowing hard, and besides recognising something else, you also recognised how much your words had hit him.

“The benefit you could have might be lustful, satisfying sex and several wonderful orgasms. To get that stick out of your pretty ass, you know. I happily offer my services to you, sweet peach flower.” Oops…Did he really just offer himself to you? How pathetic of him, and definitely absolutely inappropriate and presuming. You were an absolutely great woman with class and decency, hard to get, and always keeping him at a distance and rightly so. If you wouldn't already hate him, now you definitely would.

“Besides that, yes, you're absolutely right. My shell doesn't contain a heart. See you later, in the club, my charming prickly cactus”, was the only thing he said, his eyes slightly filled with tears.

For a second, you didn't know what to reply, and you just stood there with your mouth agape. Who did he think he was? Pretty ass? Did you hear him correctly? You didn't have a stick in your ass. Not really. Your stiffness, physically and mentally, was nothing of his concern. If only he knew the reason for that. But he'd never be the one to share this problem with. You had to get along with it, not him. Also, you had to do this alone. And why would he wonder about your orgasms? How dare he! And, was there something growing in his sweatpants? Did you really have that effect on him? Would he really like to spend a night with you? You, the broken soul, the not overly attractive girl with that destroyed heart, and an injured body. He would never like what would lie next to him in his bed. Neither your physicality nor your skills in the bedroom department would live up to his expectations. Why, just… why? You didn't want to like him, you didn't want to want him. And you didn't want him to like or want you either. But maybe, just maybe he was right and all you needed was a good fuck. What's the big deal? Probably it might be a good idea to fuck him out of your system. But then you weren't any better than his party chicks and like them just another notch in his bed post. And for that you weren't desperate enough. You still had some pride. Arghh, this guy drove you crazy. As soon as you found your composure again, you fired the next words at him.

“I'll give that a miss, Laufeyson, thanks! No to all of this. And don't always give me those stupid flower names. Idiot.” you answered coldhearted and snappishly.

You placed your unused mug back in the cupboard, turned around and stormed off the kitchen in frustration. You couldn't stand it anymore. Not today.

‘Will you ever have a nice word for me?’ Loki thought when he saw you storming off. Probably not, but one thing was for sure. With mean, cold words, you were as good as he was. If this didn't go well together, then nothing did.

Snippet two:

“What was I supposed to do, hm?” Loki asked you angrily.

“Leaving me alone? Minding your own business, perhaps? I'm a big girl, I could've handled myself, jerk!” you complained.

“Yes, of course,” he spat ironically. “It has been pretty obvious that you couldn't handle it yourself anymore. This asshole touched you, and you…you…you didn't even notice it!” He sounded angry, disappointed and…Concerned?

“Of course, I noticed it. I…I..” You stammered unsurely but utterly upset.

“No, you did not! You just told me you can't remember what happened last night. So what do you think was I supposed to do? Should I've left you to yourself? Let this guy abuse you and take advantage of your situation? If that's what you want! Okay then, next time I won't help you. I'm going to turn around then, ignore you, and leave you simply to fate! No problem, you stubborn wildflower” Loki said, staring at you with his death stare. If looks could kill.

You stayed silent and swallowed hard, lowering your gaze to the floor. Maybe he was right. Maybe you had underrated last night's situation. But you would never tell him, also that you appreciated his caring side. You didn't deserve his care because you brought last night's situation to yourself. But there was one question that occupied you, and you definitely had to ask him even though you were afraid of his answer.

“Did we…did we have…sex last night? I mean…you and I?” you asked him with a shaky voice. Your head throbbed heavily, your throat was dry like a desert. You felt so embarrassed.

Loki just huffed in annoyance, feeling exhausted by the ongoing arguments. He shook his head in disbelief before he spoke again. “No!” he stated convincingly and seemingly emotionless.

Was there also some disappointment audible? Certainly not, you surely imagined it.

‘You better get a grip again, girl’, you told yourself.

“Why did you bring me here?” You asked him quietly and less upset and wondered which answer he'd give you.

**********************

I hope you liked it and that you would like to read more about my new 'dreamcouple' and their story. I already love them so much🥹

Tags:

@faesimps @gruftiela @foxherder @depressedpolishgirl @some-distant-star @lokisprettygirl @anukulee @sheris532

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love chapter four

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter five ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: n/a ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: i'm catholic and it tends to come through in my writing so uhh there's a scene where reader quotes a verse with the catholic bible version (ignore the fucking obvious era inconsistency idc) and alastor finishes the quote with kjv and i think i'm so sexy for that srry. ♥ no tag list rn :3

Your day with Alastor couldn't have been more distinct, and that's due to three specific reasons.

First, he took his time to wake you up. He stood in the doorway of your room, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight before him. Your usually elegant form was a sprawl of limbs and frizzy hair, the covers knotted around you in a way that suggested you had often shifted your legs while sleeping. He strode into the room, the heels of his boots clicking on the polished floorboards. There was a hint of voice in the tune of your music. He stepped closer, bending at the waist to put his ear closer. It flickered at the almost familiar sound of somebody speaking, a voice strangely soft and feminine; with a few seconds of concentration, he determined it could have been yours even though he'd only heard your voice a handful of times past your laughing. But the voice does not match your reputation's ambiance.

"Rise and shine, my dear," Alastor whispered under his breath. He puts his hands over his microphone, lifting and tapping it against the bottom wood of your bed. You stirred, rolling over with a grunt, knowing within the second that it was him.

With a chuckle and a shake of the head he admired that for a demon of your stature, you were surprisingly vulnerable when asleep. He reached out to gently shake your shoulder. "Up, up, my little overlord," he coaxed into your deaf ears, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

You put your hand on his fingers and turn to him, eyes unfocused at first. The sleepiness on your face... well, it was a memory he would forever cherish. But as you took in his grinning face, a scowl twisted your features. Buzz off, waved him away.

"Good morning!" Alastor signed, his smile undeterred. He held up a small, leather-bound book before tossing it in front of him on the bed. "I've taken the liberty of scheduling out your day. Thought it best to get a head start."

You groaned again, hands still lazy. "A schedule? I haven't kept to one of those in centuries."

"Precisely," Alastor signed, his red eyes glinting. "You've been holed up in that dank, depressing castle of yours for far too long. It's time you rejoined the land of the living, my dear."

You definitely didn't live in a castle, but the idea made you smile. You sat up, running a hand up your tense cheeks. Alastor could see the faintest glimmer of determination in your eyes, and he squinted, knowing he could massage your jaw much better than you could. "Very well," you gestured. "But if this schedule of yours includes a single 'self-improvement' seminar, don't think I'm afraid to turn my back on the princess."

Alastor laughed, clapping his hands together. "I promise you, there is nothing quite so... tedious. Now, shall we get started? We've a busy day of... communing ahead of us."

Second, he cleared his own schedule; you were unsure whether this was common or not. One would view Alastor as the demonic presence he is on the surface, while others like you can find charm in his smile and the kind affection he offers. He still has a push-and-pull game of tug-of-war between him and those who deem themselves close to him (whether it also be the other way around).

Last night, before you returned from the roof, you spotted Alastor out on his balcony, looking out to the city the same way you were. From this angle, he looked so small. His hair covered his eyes and hid his smile, giving him a more humanistic appearance despite his still visible hellish features. What a beautiful man.

By the time you started walking back towards the stairwell, he had looked up.

And third, he made you breakfast. With Alastor, you have either gone out to eat or just had tea at yours. But here, he moved with the practiced ease of one who knew their way around a stove, another humanistic part of him. As you watched, you sat perched on a stool, a cup of steaming tea cradled in your hands with comforting warmth. He spent his time in the kitchen, summoning an apron to make you laugh, and he gave you a prideful smirk before returning to the stove. That look, his charming eyes, and the handsome shapes of his face drove you insane.

You tapped on his shoulder the second you deemed him done. "For all your flaws, Alastor, you must be lovely in the home."

Alastor flashed you a grin, his red eyes sparkling with good humor. "I find I have a bit of a knack for this cooking business."

You snorted, taking a sip of your tea. "I didn't know that."

"Ah, but you see, there is a lot you don't know, my darling," Alastor said, sliding a plate piled with food in front of you on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow, picking up your fork to study the offerings. It had been ages since you'd had a proper meal, instead subsisting on whatever stale rations you could scrounge, ingredients you could torture campers into giving you.

"Amazing," you said, impaling a piece of meat on your fork. "Do not work for the food that perishes."

His ears hit the back of his head faster than any of his snaps. His eyes glistened, roaming back and forth between your hands, frantically scavenging through his living memories for where he'd recognized that. 

When you looked back at him, he was beaming, summoning a plate with a pile of arteries that twisted together like spaghetti. He finishes, "But for that meat which endures everlasting life."

With a put-upon sigh, you shove your smile by continuing to eat. Alastor watched you intensely. It was the little things, he knew, that would truly ruin your sensitive heart.

Therefore, due to those reasons, you have been on edge. 

Alastor leans back in his plush armchair, swirling the amber liquid of his drink with a passive tilt of the glass. The hotel lobby's dim, golden glow casts long shadows across his sharp features.

"I fear the days will end soon," he signs with one hand, his palm flicking with smooth motions, each word piercing together. It sends a smooth purr shivering down your spine, you clench your own drink. He doesn't exactly address you but keeps his eye on you to see if you respond. You tilt your head to your left, otherwise unmoving.

He takes a sip of his drink, savoring the burn of the fine scotch, and then places it down. "Decades upon decades... the years start to blend together, though everything still appears to be getting worse. The angels come and go, overlords rise and fall, and I remain through it all."

His eyes flicker across the candlelight, following the flame with his chin in his palm. You cross and then uncross your legs, darting a glance at the floor, contemplating making a run for it. Alastor's full lips curl into a wry smile. He recognizes that look, straightening. Overlords rise and fall.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, sweetheart," he signs, his smile taking on a glimmer of amusement. "I suppose you've been rather... soft today. Would you like to go do something? Though, I much prefer conversation to carnage... usually, at any rate."

You meet his eyes, and when he recognizes the look on your face, his chin lifts a bit. You stare at him with stone-cold eyes like you wore years before.

"Have you been messing with me?"

"What do you mean?" If he were to have spoken verbally, his voice effect would have been missing. Your astounding boldness starts with that blunt sentence. He had only responded with what first came to mind, no matter how dishonest. 

"I know you're doing it on purpose, the…" 

Even with your fluency, you need help with words and how to describe what you mean. He's been pulling away, spending hours without touching you and giving you small instances of affection. It has only been a few days, and you're already getting whip-lash because of how offputting he has been. Maybe this is due to his absence or the decade he spent away. Or it's because he got mad you pulled away from his touch while walking to the hotel. The real reason is out of your realm of possibilities.

"The what?"

"The pulling away."

"I have not been pulling away. We've spent all day together!"

"But, I suppose I mean the… affection." Here you go, sounding like a teenage girl again.

His head tilts. He knows what you mean, but he's trying to delay such an awkward conversation. "My dear, I hope you understand that yesterday… I fed you cake for your comfortability, not mine."

"Which I'm grateful for," you lean forward, getting a bit too passionate in your signing for his liking. Your desperation for discernment is uncomfortable. You swallow. "You're doing the thing where you're acting stupid, aren't you?"

When his smile grows, you sink back. "Alastor, that's unfair."

His signing is whimsical. "You've changed so much."

Your music screeches, his ears twitch a bit at the noise. The more he spends time with you, the more he notices your differences. For your generation, you're acting like someone Velvette's age. It's despicable. 

Of course, this isn't why his lack of affection started. Because honestly, while still despicable, your new personality is a bit charming. This hyper-sensitive, docile side of you is something he never knew you could harvest, and seeing a deadly overlord turn into a soft, almost human woman again is delightful. He wishes he was the one who caused it.

.

"Why would you want to talk to me?" You signed when the two of you spoke for the first time. "Or are you going to kill me?"

Alastor put a single claw against your collarbone, somewhere above the start of your speaker, before pulling back. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong," he purred, glinting with a knowing light. "Everyone has a story, my dear. And I, you see, am a collector of stories. A connoisseur, if you will."

It was just before exiting the alley next to Carmilla's estate. He was prepared to grab your arm to stop you from leaving, so he continued before you could turn away.

"My name is Alastor, I offer Hell its very own radio show."

He held out his hand for you to shake. You focused on the rise and fall of his chest, steady breaths. If he was breathing heavily, that would be suspicious, and breathing fast would still make you weary. He was calm, and he was smiling.

With a grimace, you shook his hand but slipped your fingers away before he could even try to kiss them.

He leaned forward due to the lack of response. "Tell me, what's your name, my dear? What brings you to this place, what destined you to have this damned thing? Was it pain, desperation... or perhaps something else entirely?"

You hesitated, eyebrows furrowed. For a long moment, Alastor thought you wouldn't answer. But then, haltingly at first, but with what could only be offered as boredom, you started to sign.

That was when he knew he should keep you around. The intrigue of you was a slow creeping addiction.

Because you had purposely signed as fast as possible, sometimes using home signs and signing so lazily that you'd go to one hand. At the same time, the other would touch your speaker. You spent the time purposely making it impossible for a hearing person to understand.

His smile tightened, and his eyes darted in every direction to try to grasp any word. He could see it, the spark in you, the flicker of potential that had not yet been extinguished by the cruel hand of fate. Would offering you a premature deal be more fun than waiting a while to develop an elaborate one? Through that smile, between trying to read between your lines, he ran your future through his brain.

You and him could not have been more different in terms of power. One of you viewed souls as a thing to collect, and the other viewed them as things to pity. When you first walked the streets of Pentagram City, you spent most of your days analyzing people. You made eye contact with every person who looked your way. You'd stand on the sidewalk like a statue, your music making people grimace at you, and you'd just smile at them with those same empty eyes. It's an entirely different outlook than you have now; years of avoidance, hate, and fear would affect anybody, even monsters. Because a few decades later, Alastor changed Hell. Overlords became threats and not just leaders. 

Once that happened, people wouldn't glare but run away.

At first, it was fun, and then it became humiliating.

If you just stayed in your big home in the forest, then you'd turn into a tale, something that still kept you in power. That's where you were the happiest, eventually.

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “But.. Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You teasingly laughed while lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“Would you rather hear me romanticize, or would you rather hear me be realistic?” You asked of him.

Miles took a moment to think. “I think it’d be nice to hear what’chu think is romantic.”

You leaned in a bit towards his side. “You really think so? What if I end up soundin’ childish?”

Placing a gentle hand over your arm, he simply replied. “You’re young, ma. It’s okay to be a child.”

Turning more towards him, you begin to flit your fingers up toward his jaw. “Then…” Your eyes trailed away from his. “In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nuthin, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

[shima-draws]

Please share your thoughts on Kieran/Ash

GRINDS MY TEETH OKAY ALRIGHT WE’RE DOING THIS

-Ash arrives in Kitakami and immediately butts heads with Carmine. Needless to say this leaves a strong first impression on Kieran who has never really seen someone stand up to Carmine before

-Carmine challenges Ash to a battle. Ash whoops her ass. Kieran is enthralled. Kieran proceeds to laugh to himself saying “It’s not like I lie awake thinking about him at night or anything” cut to Kieran lying in bed thinking about Ash going AW MAN

-Ash and Kieran get paired up together for the little interactive tour. Kieran is a hot mess. How do you not act like a total oddball in front of the really cool foreign trainer who was able to beat your sister in a Pokemon battle.

-Kieran’s a nervous ball of anxiety the ENTIRE time until they get to the first signboard. Then his autism kicks in and he tells Ash about Ogerpon. Ash notices how passionate Kieran seems to be about Kitakami’s history and is like whoa that’s really neat 😳

-Ash agrees with Kieran and says whoa yeah the ogre actually sounds really cool!! Aw man now I really want to meet it!

Kieran: Oh no I think I’m in love with him

-Kieran is inwardly having a mental gay breakdown and wonders what to do. How does he handle this. How can he impress Ash, who is already so impressive. Maybe a Pokemon battle? But there’s no way he could beat Ash after seeing how strong he was yesterday…

-Kieran decides to battle Ash anyway. Unsurprisingly, he loses. He’s about to go into a self-deprecating spiral when Ash comes over and is like WOW that was AWESOME!! Your Pokemon were so great, that was such a good battle!! Man battles are really really fun huh ^^

-Huh. Kieran’s never really thought about it that way before. At least with his background, battles have always been about power and proving yourself the strongest and winning. Maybe Ash is onto something? Kieran doesn’t feel the sort of disappointment he usually feels when losing a battle. He actually feels…satisfied?

-They continue on to the second signpost, and then to the Dreaded Den. Kieran infodumps about Ogerpon again. Ash listens to every word with a dreamy look on his face. Is nobody else seeing this?? Okay. Alright

-The Festival of Masks is ready to start. Kieran’s grandparents let Ash borrow an extra set of jinbei. Kieran sees Ash all dressed up and tries not to let his gay show too much. (He fails.) Kieran’s grandparents watch them awkwardly flirt with each other and do that eyebrow raise thing.

-THEY GO TO THE FESTIVAL! With Carmine tagging along. Carmine is her usual snarky self and unintentionally insults Kieran. Ash gets angry on Kieran’s behalf. Kieran manages to calm both of them down and he and Ash split from Carmine for a little while.

-Ash: I don’t like how your sister treats you >:(

Kieran: O-oh 😳

ASH CARES ABOUT HIM. He wants to cry. This is the best festival ever.

-I actually considered having Ash and Carmine being the ones to have a run-in with Ogerpon, and then Ash refusing to keep it a secret from Kieran, but. I like to think that Ash would change the narrative so much that he and Kieran would encounter Ogerpon from the get-go. This is the Good End route.

-Ash is able to start befriending Ogerpon with his Protag Powers and Kieran is stupidly impressed. And very very gay.

-Ash, freaking out: Was that the ogre?!! OH MAN

Kieran, freaking out: OH WOWZERS

Ash cares about him AND they met the ogre. This is DEFINITELY the best festival ever.

-Since Ash is bad at keeping secrets they’ll probably end up telling Carmine about Ogerpon anyway. Lmao

-The next morning the three of them find out the Real Story behind the Loyal Three and Ogerpon’s past. Carmine is furious. Ash is also furious but to a lesser degree. Kieran is just heartbroken that Ogerpon’s had to live this way for so long. And Ash is like holy CRAP Kieran was right the entire time!! Kieran you’re amazing!! How did you know Ogerpon wasn’t the bad guy?? You’re so cool Kieran 😤

Kieran: (A cute boy is complimenting me I think I’m going to explode)

-They aren’t sure what to do about changing the townspeople’s minds. Carmine says they should probably keep it a secret like her grandfather told them to. Ash refuses. Kieran also refuses. Carmine gets angry that Kieran is taking Ash’s side. Kieran actually snaps back at her and Ash is VERY proud Kieran’s standing up for himself

-They split up for the time being. Ash and Kieran decide to go tackle the last signpost. Along the way Kieran’s p dang quiet. Ash asks him what’s wrong when they get there and Kieran asks him for another battle.

-This time it’s CLOSE. And both of them get REALLY into it. Kieran realizes he’s never had this much fun battling someone before. Along this crazy adventure he’s learned so many things. And Ash has inspired him so much. Kieran’s always wanted to get stronger. But the way he’s been going about it has been all wrong.

-Kieran has an epiphany of sorts. Battling with Ash made him realize it’s not about winning or showing off. It’s about having fun!! And this whole time Kieran’s gotten stronger without even realizing it.

-Ash runs at him after the battle ends and he’s like “That was AMAZING did you see the way those moves collided?!! And when Furret dodged Pikachu’s attack like that I was like WHOA and then they were like WHAM and I was like YOOO!!” And Kieran’s gushing right along with him. The tism LEAPS out

-Ash makes Kieran develop a true passion and love for battling and he’s so thankful 🤧 Bc before he never could really grasp why he wasn’t improving at all. Focusing on strength kinda blinded him to what was really important.

-Kieran: Let’s battle again soon! I’m feeling really pumped up now, battling you and watching you strategize has given me some good ideas :’D

Ash gets the DOKI DOKIS and he’s like uh yeah okay! Definitely! (I don’t know why my heart jumped just now.) Pikachu looks at him like homie I think you’re catching SOMETHIN but it’s not a Pokemon 👀

Obviously there’s the rest of the DLC plot to finish but you can probably guess the direction it’s going in. Kieran’s obviously overcome his weird thing about strength so he doesn’t spiral and become unhinged over Ogerpon like in canon. Lol

Oh and this

-Kieran: You’re the WORLD CHAMPION???

Ash: Oh yeah did I not mention that?

Kieran: *Proceeds to have a heart attack*

Anyway I love them thanks bye

[illicien]

What drew you to winterbaron as a ship? What kind of content do you read? Is it different from the kind of content you write? Would you like to rec a few winterbaron works? My friend is into the ship and I'm trying to see if it's something I might like but all the fics they've recked me are kind of the same in tone so I'm looking for others opinions for some variety.

Hmm! I've sort of answered some of this in the past so sorry to my moots getting this rehash.

A friend of mine dragged me into WinterBaron (kicking and screaming!!!) rather simply, actually, though what kept me here was the more grand implications of her simple origins. I'm kind of a sucker for a true power bottom, and fanart my friend kept sending me implied the fandom saw Zemo as such, and I was at least a little bit intrigued there. Enough to take a deeper look, at least.

The better discovery wasn't that the fandom had decided he was a power bottom, but that there was a strong push and pull of power in their dynamic. Bucky has all the physical power between them, it's a big thing, he's strong as hell. On the other hand, Zemo is just a guy, and yet despite that Bucky should logically have all the power between them, Zemo's intelligence and knowledge tend to leave him with an edge. That continues to be the fascinating concept about Zemo to me, but that's a different matter.

So for me, it's the manipulation, the push and pull of power, it's Bucky trying to break free of being the Winter Soldier and Zemo trying to decide if Bucky's just like every other super soldier. But it's also about understanding that Zemo knows Bucky in ways most people alive don't. He knows and understands Bucky's history as the Winter Soldier both through his research, and as a man who did horrific things on behalf of his country. And that thought can sometimes lead to softer moments of understanding, I think, that can be enjoyable in fic.

As for content I read vs write: I generally gravitate towards dark fic with these two, though there's plenty of really good stuff that isn't. There are some excellent explorations of kink in the fandom for them which is refreshing. I don't really write them as dark as I read them, since I enjoy writing the power dynamics more than the overt manipulation, but if you're looking for more tonal variety I'm sure I can make some recommendations! (Under the cut!)

** Please make sure you read all of the tags thoroughly. What I enjoy in fiction may not be to your taste, and I respect that, but the best I can do is to link to the site with the tags. 💜

Recs (under 20k words)

Just A Little More by @six-demon-bag epitomizes a lot of what I've said above, and if I didn't start out with it on the list here I'd be doing myself a disservice for how often I reread this.

Bucky goes into a painful rut and Zemo seizes the opportunity to sink newer, more subtle hooks into him.

Breathless by @zsparz is one I like to return to whenever I'm looking to feel sad but don't have a lot of time to read. I can't explain why this one hits me so hard but holy smokes does it make me weepy. Sparz is great at making me cry, though, so like - anyway.

The water kept rising. Bucky could hold his breath a long time underwater, and he remembered vividly how he’d acquired that knowledge. Sam might find him in time.

But Zemo would be long dead by then.

Past Indiscretions by @sagegarnish makes me laugh, genuinely. The whole idea of it brings me a lot of joy, and the execution is delightful.

Bucky and Zemo are trapped in 1941.

Unfortunately Bucky's past self is the only one who might know where the missing Pym Particles are that they need to get home.

When young!Bucky pulls Zemo into an alley, Bucky is forced to watch as a drunken forgotten night from his past becomes a lot clearer.

Recs (20k+ words)

That Which You Fear by @spintwinwb is a trilogy that starts off feeling like an AU and turns into something really fascinating imo. Lots of extra goodies here for comics fans, too.

Instead of freeing the people of Westview, Wanda pushed out across multiverses to get her brother back, and the entire world was caught in the crossfire. Cast in a new, peaceful life in upstate New York in a world with mutants, no Avengers, and no HYDRA, Bucky Barnes struggles to reconcile memories and dreams that no longer make sense with what he thinks he knows about himself.

One Two Many by @six-demon-bag is sweet and fun and complicated, and I really did try not to double-up on authors here but agh. What am I supposed to do??

Bucky and Zemo meet on an anonymous dating app and find a deep connection in each other. In the meantime, they grow closer in person without realizing they’re falling in love online too.

Too Good To Be True by AnadoraBlack is really one of those fics where the tropes are used so well, imo. A very enjoyable read.

Bucky wakes up with no recollection of where he is, how he found himself there, and what the heck is going on. There's also a ring on his finger, and time lost. What the living FUCK?!

The Original Sin by @zsparz because I might as well completely fail at the "only one per author" in spectacular fashion. This sits here because it sits on a very peculiar line between canon and AU and just... like I said. Sparz makes me cry. This isn't a departure from that fact.

Bucky and Zemo keep meeting over the course of several lifetimes. Zemo remembers everything. Bucky doesn’t, but there’s an eerie impression of familiarity he can’t shake — an old pain he can’t explain, with roots too deep for him to reach.

AU Recs

Removing Bucky and Zemo from the context of their complicated history in the MCU can highlight different aspects of their characters that are really interesting to explore, as someone who finds their unique characters quite interesting as well, though I also know it isn't for everyone. Neither of these recs are short so if you don't mind an AU, set some time aside for these ones.

It Started Out With a Curse by Thorny is a fun AU I never really expected to find in this fandom. I personally have a history of writing in fantasy settings so this one has a special place in my heart.

What happens when the King and Queen of a human kingdom slight a powerful fae Lord known only as "The Baron"?

Enter a world of FairyTale/Fantasy Shenanigans as Prince James navigates his deadly curse and his confusing feelings for one (seemingly) cold and untouchable fae Lord. Meanwhile, something sinister is afoot trying to gouge a rift between the feywilds and the human kingdoms...

A Gentleman and a Scholar by EternalBeta is a no powers exploration of their dynamic that's... Beautiful. It also tackles a lot of things about kink that it feels like most fic and stories generally seem to ignore. There's also an amazing sequel series.

(this series doesn't have an easy summary available so I uh... I'll give it a go here: college student Bucky has a thing for his professor, and a whole series of bad decisions behind him. The trouble is, Bucky is impatient, and Professor Zemo doesn't fuck students. So Bucky better hurry up and graduate.)

Many of the writers above have at least a few WinterBaron fics, and I do highly recommend checking out their collections. Sparz and Six-Demon in particular have some really widely varied concepts and stories they tackle, and if you're curious at all I'd also recommend checking out Sholio who has some excellent Sam/Bucky/Zemo fics! I didn't toss recs here because they weren't the heart of the ask, but I gobbled those up easily for some very sweet treaties.