#[ 0 to 100 before you blink ]

[ashtxrie]

due 11:59 pm

— alternatively, enhypen hyungs as your typical high school crush!

PAIR. high school! enhypen hyungs x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. fluff, high school au, bullet points WORD COUNT. 1.8k total MAKNAE LINE VER.

이희승 — lee heeseung

varsity jackets, notes in lockers, late night calls, secret pining, basketball games

secretly (not so secretly) an attention seeker

he's on the varsity basketball team, so by law you're hyping him up (disguised as hyping up the whole team) before the game and now he has to win!!! (plus he made a bet with jay about the team's winning streak)

i'd think that you two are closer than acquaintances but don't know each other well enough to be close friends

you guys probably met through mutual friends groups that kind of merged????

it was junior year when he signed up for every ap class you took just to look at your face more often.

horrible move for his gpa, amazing move for his mental well-being

... that was, until his mental well-being was compromised again because his ap calc grades were... not sexy

"help like actually i don't think my coach will let me stay on the team if i fail another quiz like that 0.05% grade decrease might be the end of my career"

you start tutoring him not because you're super confident about your calc skills, but because 1) you're better than him at least 😂and 2) it's a free excuse to hang out with him after school

you guys have your first tutoring sessions over discord vc btw like LOSERS

"can you hear me okay"

"..."

"dude you're muted"

IT WAS BAD

he's got the popular guy on the outside, an absolute loser on the inside persona

like he's lowkey a romantically awkward dude

but once he got to know you a bit more from your 1 on 1 time (still on discord.) you guys got really close!

would talk shit together right before basketball matches too

"[name] make sure to start booing when the other team shows up because unfortunately i think they're actually really good"

you're really passionate about how the other schools have horrible players (regardless of stats) and love to narrate a play-by-play with heeseung after the match is over

he finally confessed to you after a whole business year (jake and riki were about to dox their private dms by then)

you guys are like those stereotypical high school movie it couples, where it seems like two gorgeous popular people fell in love

they don't need to know he's just a hopeless romantic!!

박종성 — park jongseong

blue ink, keyboard clicks, shared laughs, handwritten notes, guitar strings

you thought he was pretty intimidating at first ngl

first day of school and he has a whole pre-established friend group, somehow found a table to sit at, has an effortless air going for him

you were paired up with him for a group project in history and

god help this man is SO straightforward and to the point

"ok so i'll do this part and you can do those parts. let me know if you have questions."

insert working in SILENCE for the next hour and a half

at least you two got your work done though!

but then, as an icebreaker in the last ten minutes of class you asked:

"oh... so, uh, do you ever wonder how liquid soap was invented?"

girl wtf!

your internal thought processing was like ??? damn who said that??? before you realized it was YOU

fortunately for you, jay was not completely weirded out!

he even looked a bit interested!

VERY interested, actually!

and that's how he began google searching like crazy, pulling up a million wikipedia articles and scouring the internet to answer your question

because how did you know he was curious about that too!

he really went from 0 to 100 and wdym you thought this man was cold and stoic

he became a d1 yapper for a solid ten minutes, up until the second the bell rang

he was even subconsciously walking with you to your lunch spot, STILL talking about william sheppard and that day in 1865

when he stops and finally realizes where he is, he actually blinks a bit before asking if you had joined any lunchtime clubs

and you were like oh yeah!! i'm in guitar club

he looked at you with the biggest heart eyes at that tbh

HE WAS IN LOVE

wdym your interests were perfectly aligned???? was he in a soulmates au

fast forward three months, and he seriously thinks he's found The One

confesses to you after playing guitar!! and he wrote a handwritten letter too with a cheeky reference to that one liquid soap conversation that started it all

you never feel like you're being "too weird" when you're with him and you two can always be your candid goofy selves with each other :))

심재윤 — sim jaeyun

muji pens, fond eye rolls, sharing books, lunch dates, lattes, TI-84s

you already saw this one coming

physics lover jake, but you've deemed physics your number one opp

HOW can this man go "i love this subject so much omg" after you've just gotten your third 72% in a row?!

it's not like you weren't smart (the class average was a 55)

and it's not like you hated the subject itself

okay maybe you did

but you just thought there were so many other alternatives other than physics to fawn over as a favorite subject. like. ANY other subject

one day, you're seated next to jake in calc and he just turns to you and starts talking out of NOWHERE

he’s like wow isn’t this so interesting? calc is like a hobby of mine!!

and you’re like boy stfu??? i’m literally struggling how is this your pastime 

poor guy just wanted to make small talk and impress you with stuff he thought you were interested in… which is academics 

fast forward to that afternoon in history though, and tests are passed back

you're a certified humanities girl, so you got an 100!!! academic weapon

jake, however..... is kind of an academic shield in this case

on the midterm, he had written that the victorian era ended in 1592, and filled in everything else he didn't know with "mansa musa" because it was the only thing he retained from ap world

maybe you genuinely felt really bad for hating on him when he had struggles of his own, or maybe you felt really nice that day, or maybe you were secretly hoping to get to know him more....

either way, you don't know what came over you when you tapped on his shoulder

you missed how his eyes widened a bit when he turned around, and how he looked genuinely shocked that you were talking to him in an initiated conversation! maybe his rizz was working! (maybe it was)

"there's a method that i use to memorize terms that i could teach you, if you want"

IF HE WANTS??? he would've literally jumped with joy if the paper in front of him wasn't such a nuclear bomb to his gradebook

so that's how you suddenly started spending all your lunches sitting with jake at an empty table together

he tutors you back for physics and math too, so it's fair

and DAMN it works

suddenly you two are all-rounder academic weapons???? he has your back for STEM, you have his back for humanities

like that's literally a power couple right there.

only one problem.

you aren't a couple!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you confess to him after one of your study sessions, by plotting a heart on the desmos graphing calculator using the equations that he taught you

it was super cute!!

he was literally the proudest and happiest man alive he teared up a bit (he would never admit it though)

and NOW you guys are the campus power couple

“babe look at this!” and he's waving at you with his 100 on the history final

he actually started jumping and hugging you (embarrassingly) when you found out you got a 94% average in physics at the end of the semester, giving you an A in the class

you were so shocked when you opened your report card that you didn't even register it until you heard jake go "YOOO OH MY GOD BABE THAT'S INSANE I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT YESSS I'M SO PROUD OF YOU"

well maybe thanks to jake the subject isn't so bad now!

박성훈 — park sunghoon

big school, comfortable silence, convenience stores, headphones, lingering gazes

the "everything kinda sucks here, except you" type of plot

sunghoon tries to stay out of the spotlight, keeping to himself with his head down, hood up, and headphones on

you're not really sure when you met him first actually, but you're both the same type of people where you're just going through the motions

you intrigued him though-- maybe it was the slightly melancholic look in your eyes? or maybe it was the way you purse your lips when you find a particularly hard question on the worksheets in class

either way, he finds himself wanting to get to know you more

funnily enough, he sees you at the convenience store after school as he walks home, and his feet start walking him in your direction

you see him first, and give him a smile and a little wave-- and sunghoon waves back without even thinking about it

that was the entire interaction that day, but sunghoon keeps replaying that part when you smiled and waved at him

why can't he stop thinking about it?

some things definitely changed too-- you start saying hi to him in the hallways at school, you turn to sunghoon to ask questions in class, and you seem to brighten up whenever you see him

you guys start to have conversations, starting with simple small talk, then moving to longer, more random dialogue where you both just say whatever comes to mind

the two of you become so close that you decide to walk to and from school together, since you found out that you only live a couple blocks away

sunghoon likes to place his headphones over your ears to show you new songs every morning, and you like to share earbuds in the afternoon to walk home together

he also starts to slip little notes about his day in your backpack before you go your separate ways in the neighborhood, signing off with a little p.s. to meet him at the park before sunset

it takes him SO long to muster up the courage to confess to you because he keeps thinking you'd say no

but when he finally does, all his fears melt away because you looked at him in such a soft way

he's actually reminded of why he fell for you in the first place

because with you, there’s no judgment from the outside world in the little bubble that you’ve created with him

it's just the two of you against the world <3

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic

[bloomries]

our compatibility is... 0%!?

includes : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor.

summary : you come across one of those 'compatibility' quizzes and decide to take it as a joke— only for the results to end up saying you two are NOT perfect for each other!? what!?

warnings : gn! reader. insecurities.

LUCIFER

Lucifer had always been very popular with his good looks, so you really weren't all that surprised to see the Devildom heartthrob on a magazine cover with the promise of a compatibility quiz inside. You decided to buy it just for laughs.

"Must you really?" He sighs, shaking his head at your childish antics. Lucifer, however, couldn't deny the little bit of excitement he felt knowing you'd score a perfect 100- except as you circled your answered and tallied up your score...

Lucifer scoffed, taking the magazine and putting on his reading glasses. Well this is just ridiculous! He shook his head, tossing the magazine to the side. "What do those idiots know anyways?" He glances at you, hoping you weren't too upset by the results, only for him to see you giggling. Were you happy with the results, or perhaps are you laughing at him?

Seeing his mood begin to sour at both of those thoughts, you rest your head on his shoulder and take hold of his hand. "We seem to have a habit of beating the odds, don't we?"

Oh? So that's what made you so happy? Knowing that you two some how managed to fall so deeply in love, despite being opposites, despite the odds being pitted against you two time and time again? Yes, he concludes internally, your love was extraordinary.

MAMMON

"Look, your super hot boyfriend is on the cover of this months magazine." He says, throwing down the magazine in front of you. You quirk a brow, forgetting earlier this month about his photoshoot, and flipped through the pages, smiling at the sight of him.

"You look very handsome," You coo, leaning up to give him a kiss before you flipped to that page. Mammon instantly grew hot in the face and tried to snatch the magazine back but it was too late, your interest was piqued.

"Ohoho? What's this? A dating quiz?" You wiggle brows, answering the questions in your head.

"Give it back, 's embarrassin'!" He whined, still trying to get it but it's too late, you've turned the page to get your answer and-

"Wha- we aren't compatible!?" You turn to face Mammon with a frown, giving him the magazine back.

"Wait what?!" Finally he snatches the magazine from you and reads the questions before frowning as he flips to the answer page and, "'m not even compatible with myself?" You both share a look before an eased laughter fill the room. "Who even came up with these questions 'n answers? My favorite thing is obviously-"

"Grim?"

"You!... But then grim, yeah."

LEVIATHAN

You had just been sent a link by an anonymous number, and seeing Levi's name in the link had you curious, so you opened it and was brought to a quiz on... how compatible are you and the third born, leviathan!

Peeking over at Levi who was still farming for materials on his phone, you decided to take the silly little quiz. You felt pretty confident in your answers, knowing him best. It wasn't until the 'YOU TWO ARE TOTALLY INCOMPATIBLE' screen came up that you gasped, catching Levi's attention.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, brows furrowed a little. You blink, before forcing a smile and nodding.

"Yeah, totally, everything is perfect!" You say, exiting out of the quiz and moving to cuddle up with him. "You know I love you, right?" He blushes, looking away and nodding.

"Y- Yeah, I do... I love you too..." His voice grows more and more quiet until you barely hear him- but you know what he says. You giggle, pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

"Good! 'Cause no matter what anyone says, we're a perfect match~" Levi tenses, before whipping his head around to look at you, tears in his eyes.

"Did... Did someone say we're not?" Deciding to not make him worry anymore, you shake your head, making plans to block the unknown number but not before telling them how terrible their quiz is.

"No, don't you worry~" Thankfully, he relaxes after that- and the quiz is taken down shortly after your complaint.

SATAN

"Oh, what are you doing?" Satan asked, peeking over your shoulder to look at your computer. He read the title of the quiz and to say the least, he pulled a seat up next to you. "A dating quiz, hm?"

"I like reading the scenarios that go with it. I always get you, of course." You say, rather proudly, as you click the last question. "See, I got-!? I got Mammon!?" You can almost hear the way Satan's jaw clenches.

"Well, it's all in good fun." He says, but his expression betrays his nonchalant words.

"This doesn't usually happen," You clarify, scrolling down, "watch you'll be in second place-... or last..." You mumble, seeing you didn't get a single answer right for the 'Satan' choice. "Not all quizzes are created equally, this one is obviously a bad quiz so- where are you going?"

The sinister aura he's carrying makes a chill run down your spine, and fear for whoever has to face his wrath. "I just remembered I have to pay Mammon a visit."

"It doesn't have anything to do with this quiz though, right?"

"..."

"Right?"

He clears his throat, a little blush forming on his cheeks, "I'll be going now."

ASMODEUS

"Look what came out today~" Asmo says as he jumps into bed beside you, giggling as he flips through the pages and admiring himself. "Don't I look good enough to eat?" He asks, showing you the pictures.

"Oh, you look amazing, Asmo!" You take the magazine and flip through a few more pages of him. He truly was gorgeous and such an amazing model.

"And~" Asmo says in a sing-songy way, flipping the page to a specific number, "Look at this, a dating quiz." Pink hearts surrounded the questions and several adorable pictures of Asmo decorated the page. "So, how compatible are we? 100 percent? 1000 percent? A million?"

"Uhmm..." Quickly answering the questions honestly, you frown. "Zero."

"Zero!?" He snatches it back from you, looking over the questions and answers. "H- How could you possibly get a zero? We're soulmates!" He whines, leaning into you.

"Well, it's just a silly magazine quiz, I wouldn't read too much into it." Asmo was clearly not satisfied with this though, as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Honey, what are you doing?" You ask, hesitant because you hadn't seen him this worked up since they claimed his hot pink leopard print outfit wasn't 'cozy chic'.

"Obviously calling the magazine and telling them they made an error with the compatibility quiz! We'll just have them change all the right answers to whatever yours were." As sweet as that is, you take the phone away from him and help him get it off of his mind with some kisses.

BEELZEBUB

"Beel this is serious," You whine, "We aren't compatible!" Beelzebub furrows his brows. You're really that upset about the dating quiz? He sets his food down and turns to look at you, smiling weakly.

"But we are compatible."

"Well not according to that quiz!" Beel frowns. If he could, he's get rid of the quiz all together and tell you a million times over that you two are the most compatible people to ever exist, but he can't do the first part so...

"But we are." He says, "We don't need a quiz to tell us what we are or aren't." He takes a bite of his food, before continuing, "I can't imagine wanting to be with anyone else, ever."

Your quietness didn't go unnoticed by Beelzebub, who worries maybe he said the wrong thing. He offers you a fry as a peace treaty, and you take it, although you don't eat it right away.

"Beel?"

"Yeah?"

"You're right. I also... can't imagine being with anybody else either, so..." you take a bite of the fry, "let's just forget about that dumb, dumb quiz." He chuckles, agreeing easily.

BELPHEGOR

"Maybe we aren't compatible 'cause you're annoying, that's why, now leave me alone." He whines, swatting his hand at you to try and shoo you away. You huff, not giving in as you ask him how he'd answer one of the quiz questions. When he gave the same answer as you you were resolute in your conclusion that this quiz was simple wrong. Belphie didn't really seem to care though.

"You're so rude." You say, "If it were the other way around you'd be all clingy and whining and saying how we're so compatible."

"Well I wouldn't fail the compatible quiz." He states matter-of-factly, turning around to face you. "Anyways," he rips the magazine from you and crumples the paper up, "not like these dumbasses know me any better than you do." He throws the paper over his shoulder and looks up at you. "So will you quit whining already?"

"So you think we're compatible?"

"If I say yes will you go to sleep already."

"Belphie!"

"Ugh! Yes, I think we're more compatible than anybody else in all three realms, and I really mean it, okay? So now just, c'mere, and go to sleep!" He lifts his arm and you snuggle in close to him, your happiness radiating off of you. "Stop smiling it's creeping me out."

"You looove me~"

"Yeah, yeah..."

(Seems your smiling was infectious, as Belphie fell asleep with a very content smile on his lips)

[venmondiese]

ONE MISSING POINT

-ˋˏ| summary: Failing the class just for one point, and you ask Michael Gavey his help to pass the exam. Tutoring isn't his strenght, neither is yours.

✧ | Pairing: Michael Gavey x reader

✧ | word count: 2.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, public masturbation (m receiving), humilliation, Michael is a virgin and he doesn't last long.

It was practically a tradition that Mr. Bynes posted the results of the class in the (most important) headboard in the whole university, and people practically crowded around the single paper sheet searching for their grades and to see if they were at risk of failing the course entirely. If so, they had to do the mandatory exam which was by no means friendly. 

He isn’t as worried as people around him, trying to make his way in the crowd to see the paper. He had to awkwardly pass through some people crying over it before he could see the paper. 

He approved it all. He expected it, of course, since he always participated and was one of the few who understood something the professor said. Sure, he didn’t have straight 100%, but nothing lower than 80%, which was really good upon seeing some people had more than one 0. 

It was a relief, but again, expected. He shrugs and goes on with his life as he walks away, thinking of going to his dorm and annotating his grades to later on calculate his final average score. 

“Michael! Michael Gavey” a voice calls him, as he sets his feet on the grass. He turns around, seeing you walking closer to him, as quickly as you could. 

“Ehm… yes” he says, awkwardly, looking at you. 

You shared calculus and some other classes, and you were good. Not bright, exceptional or anything, but good. And you were so much better at other things, more social and bold things he doesn’t dare to do. 

“Hi… how did you do?” You ask, slightly out of breath as you try to be polite. 

“Ehm… fine, I guess” he doesn’t get why you talk to him now.

“You passed?” You ask tentatively. “I… I saw your grades, and it was awesome, really impressive…” You hesitate before adding “I am sorry, I know… it’s weird, but… You were like one of the few people who actually passed.”

Michael shrugs. as he nods. “I guess so.”

“And you see…” You say taking his arm to interlock it with hers, as you and your friends did when walking together. It was so womanly, he felt weird. Or maybe everyone did it and he didn’t know…? “I had good grades, I did well in that essay that everyone hated… But I had one test in which I got 40%, because I transferred badly one of the gross numbers, and before you ask, I did calculate it… But since I transferred it wrong, the final value was wrong”

“Ah…” he says, not sure what to say “That sucks”

It didn’t suck. To him, it was like a stupid mistake easily avoidable. 

“Well, I was one point away from pass the course, and I explained this to the professor but… didn’t listen, you know him, he said that one point is missing, so I have to give the exam, and I need like 20%, but still..., and now I desperately come to you to beg you to please help me and tutor me” she says, as she turns to look at him. 

He blinks. He didn’t do tutorings on his free time. He did them for extra money, for credits or whatever reason. 

“Please Mikey!” You say, grabbing his hands. “Please please please, I only needed one more point to pass the class, I know about the subject, and it was a silly mistake. You don't even have to teach me from zero, only... go over the things we studied and that... please!”

He isn’t willing to do this. He doesn’t want to do this, yet he is weak. After all, he is a man. And he isn’t blind, you are pretty. Like out-of-his-league pretty. And you are prettier closer.

“Fine…”

You lean to kiss his cheek with a smile, and you nod. “It’s a date then. Tomorrow in the library? Could it be at four?”

He blinks a few times, trying to process the whole thing. He was supposed to finish the semester quickly, and… now he is caught up trying to teach you so you don’t fail a course, all because his mind betrays him. 

So, he tries to do the whole ordeal as smoothly and quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to do this but whatever. At least you are not dumb on the matter, you know something. He has heard some of the answers you give in the classes, and they weren’t as bad as one would hope. 

He’s sitting at one of the study desks, right beside a large shelf, and the library was with a few other students, concentrated in their own thing. He brought his notes with him, even if it was illegible. He tries not to be impatient, as he checks the clock on his wrist. 

“Sorry for being late, I– I got caught in something and…” You say, and you were breathing a bit heavily. 

“No big deal…” he stutters, as his gaze darts down to your blouse. Logically, since summer was getting closer and closer, you wouldn’t be wearing a sweater, but he didn’t expect… Well, he didn’t know what he expected. 

Why was he being so weak around you?

“Sit, I have my notes to show you…” He says, and so you take a seat by his side as you curiously lean to check his notes. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, he was very neat in his handwriting, even if they looked like the handwriting of someone in the 1700s.

You are not such a bad learner, and he was rather enjoying teaching you after some time. You actually heard him, as he explained in depth how to have the correct answer for all, as he tries to address everything.  You asked good questions, and pointed at the mistakes he had given you, to see if you could identify them in an exercise. 

As close as you were, Michael could smell how your perfume was nice. It smelled sweet, but not so much that he would like to throw up. Besides, everytime you stared at him, he could feel a bit uneasy, since he got a bit nervous. Your gaze was deep, and he didn’t know what it meant. 

Clearing his throat, he writes a new problem for you to solve. He had done a lot when studying, so he copied one of his. He hopes that focusing on the study will help him to distract himself from the weird feelings around you. 

“Here, try this one” he says, handing the notebook to you. It is complex, but doable. 

He manages to explain really well, as he gets into the theme and all. You do the work, and slide it over for him to check it. 

“You have a girlfriend, Mikey?” You ask softly. 

He looks at you, before turning back to check the answer. “Eh… no” he mutters, trying not to be ashamed. 

You were actually great, you are very tidy when unfolding the exercise and actually took in his advice, he can see it. Yet, you make the same mistake, you took the gross value as the final one. 

He made a circle, and he was ready to explain. 

“He-Oh” he gasps, feeling your hand on his thigh. He was frozen. 

Maybe it fell onto it. Maybe it was by mistake, it was surely by mistake, there was no way it was intentional. And surely it was a mistake how you caressed his inner thigh so… slowly. 

“Oh, did I get it wrong?” You ask, looking at him as if you didn’t have your hand at his thigh.  

He felt his head doing a short circuit, as if trying to understand what this meant. Was he imagining things? He surely must be. 

“Y-Yes, here… here you took the gross value…” he mutters pathetically, he was confused, he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t complaining, at all, but what does that mean?

What did it mean that you had your hand on his thigh? Surely, it was something… reasonable. 

“I’ll re-do it” you say, taking the notebook. And you didn’t take your hand away. 

He was frozen. This can't be happening. He's supposed to be helping you with your studies, not... not whatever this is. And yet, his body is betraying him, his skin tingling under your touch, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. 

He grips on the edge of the table, looking at the ceiling of the library. Suddenly, he is very aware of his surroundings, looking around as if everyone knew that your hand was sliding up as you did the exercise. Women surely can multitask…

“Eh, well, now… we can use the formula… you-you know it” he says, his throat feeling dry as he tries not to whimper. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like the rosary.” You say with a confident nod.

“Yeah… so, what’s the next step?” He prompts you, as your hand is higher and higher, and he is starting to lose his mind. 

“Replace the values, a… with this, and b…” your hand brushes higher and he lets out a little whimper, thinking you were about to stroke his cock… yet it doesn’t happen. It’s a pathetic sound he emits, and he gets red after it. “With this…”

He sees you replace the values, rewriting the formula, ready to be used.

“Right?” You ask, with one of your sweet smiles as if you didn’t know what was happening. 

“Eh, yeah… yeah, that…” he says, trying not to sound that pleased, even if he starts to feel the arousal pool on his stomach.

He starts to feel himself straining against his pants. It was painfully arousing, and he tried to play it cool. He didn’t want for you to notice, as you caressed his inner thigh.

“I… I need a break” he says suddenly, looking at you. 

You look at him a bit pouty even, as he grips on the edge of the seat trying to breathe in and breathe out. “But I am learning” you say to him “I really am”

You were driving him insane. He didn’t even know if he should address the elephant in the room. Maybe he’ll say something about it, and you’ll stop, be disgusted and leave. 

But he tries to keep inside his whimpers, since the library was the worst place ever to do this. Everyone quiet and it’s open for anyone to see. 

“I think… I..” He hesitates, falling to being able to finish a sentence. He moans softly, feeling your hand brush against his notorious erection, and he can’t bear it anymore. “Ah, please…” 

Michael was blushing, embarrassed of it all as he tries not to move his hips to follow the touch of your hand, since it isn’t where he really needs. How could he be so weak? His cock wasn’t even being touched now, but he felt so dizzy already. Maybe it was because, okay, he had never been with anyone else, but it was… embarrassingly little time to be so… needy. 

When he feels your hand on the tent of his pants, he whimpers, the sound too loud and filthy that his left hand goes instantly to his mouth, covering it to mute himself before he does another embarrassing thing that gives them away. 

“Y-You.. You have to stop” Michael murmurs, the words muffled against his palm as he looks at you, glasses sliding through his nose slightly. He was so flustered, he looked cute. 

“Why?” You ask in a pout, not wanting to. 

“I can’t– I need…” He tries to say, to make a coherent thought as your hand moves to follow the shape of his erection. It sends shivers on his spine and he practically melts on the seat as his eyes are rolled back in pleasure. How could it feel so good? “I… I… We can’t…”

He seems so confused with his own thoughts. “We can…” You murmur, looking around as nobody was actually watching them. “If you really want me to stop… I’ll stop”

Michael doesn’t want you to stop. He really didn’t. But he didn’t want to get caught, it would be embarrassing. 

“We are in public” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“Yes, I know” you say, not stopping the strokes on his cock above his clothes “But look at how much you like it” 

He’s already made a small, wet patch at the front of his pants. Oh, god, he thinks. He looked away, it felt embarrassing, his face feeling hotter as embarrassment creeped into his gut alongside pleasure. 

He liked it, but he was trembling with a mixture of emotions, and he didn’t know what to think. He was so close too…

“Please…” He begs senselessly, he doesn’t even know why he is begging. “I don’t wanna make a mess…”

Your hand touches him with the clothes in between, but the fabric of his light brown pants was thin, and it felt almost delicious. He would hump your hand if you two weren’t in a library. 

“You are making a mess…” You coax him softly, as he tenses his shoulder and falls slightly against yours, as his body was trembling with arousal. 

“I don’t wanna stain my pants” He murmurs embarrassed, in a little voice as he feels his balls tighten up as your hand insists on the head of his cock, stroking it through the fabric.

“It’s hot” you murmur back to him, and your hand is on the wet patch “And when you cum, I’ll feel it here”

He can’t form a proper sentence as he feels you hand caressing his dick, he felt the wetness on the tip of his cock, and even if it was so unlike him, he found himself so aroused. He is on the verge of cumming on his pants, just from the touch of a woman. Damn, you aren’t even touching his cock directly. 

He felt like a teen, needy and so hormonal. He wasn’t like this fromages ago, and he finds himself leaning on you, his forehead against your shoulder as he whimpers softly, his hips searching your touch as he is close. 

The thought of cumming in his pants, making a mess was both humiliating and arousing, as his body tense with each stroke. “I can't… i… I'm going to…” 

His hand goes to cover his own mouth as he reaches his peak, a strangled moan coming from his throat and his hand muffles the whimpers he lets out. He can feel his cock spurting cum into his underwear and trousers. He doesn’t want to call attention, but he cums so hard, his body basically slumps back in his seat as he feels his balls tighten with each rope of cum that his cock leaks. 

You are awfully quiet afterwards, moving your hand away as you clean it and he tries to gain his breath, feeling dizzy already and so pleased. He wants to hide his face in shame, and the other wants to beg you to do it again. 

“I’m sorry” he murmurs.

“Don’t be” you whisper back to him, looking at his wet spot on his crotch. “To me, it was amazing. You definitely made one of my fantasies come true”

He blushes, he feels very self conscious all of the sudden, and he makes sure no one in the library paid attention to them and what they were doing. He moves slightly as if trying to cover up the wet patch on his jeans. 

“You enjoyed it?” You ask him, not pushing him too hard.

“Yeah…” He admits, slightly embarrassed but also very much pleased. 

You look at the forgotten notebooks, and then to him, as he accommodates on the seat and moves his hair slightly as if that would make him go unnoticed by everyone else.

“If it is worth anything, your tutoring did help me tons” you say, taking your notebooks together to save them in your pack. 

He is glad that he could help. Maybe this was your way of repaying? He couldn’t know or decipher it. He takes his things and saves them up in his bag as well. He wanted to go to his dorm and take a shower, and put on pajamas and think about this. 

“I’m not great with words…” He starts, his tone hesitant but trying to overcome it. “But… Thank you. I really… Hm. It was cool”

You smirk, nodding slightly as you appreciate his words. 

“A bit riské” you tease him playfully.

“Yeah…” he chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I am a mess”

As he adjust the glasses on his nose, you hum, “Well, nobody really cares but you and me”

“I can’t believe we did… that… in here…” He mumbles, dumb founded. “And I was… so… I completely lost it…”

“Do girls usually make you… lose it?” you ask in a whisper. “Or do you last longer, and I happen to have magical hands?”

He blushes to the blunt question, looking anywhere but to your face as he avoids answering. “Well, um…” he doesn’t want to admit his lack of any experiences with girls “Girls don’t…. touch me like that” he says in a whisper. “So I can’t say…”

You didn’t judge, looking at him, and you nodded.

“Well, next time we’ll see”

Next time. He looks at you with eyes slightly wide, as he tries not to stutter his words. “Next time?”

“Obviously” You say smiling to him. “If I pass the exam, we are doing it without the pants” You say smugly “And… more”

He was so lucky you missed one point to pass the course. 

[colorfulrook]

Hi hi! I saw requests open so I was wondering.....

Jinwoo's system was under the control of reader and not the architect, the plot will still follow as Ashborn gives instructions on the development of Jinwoo's skills but there will be care and sweet words in the quests as well which shows that the reader actually cares about him (which develops as they view the hardships jin-woo faces before getting the system) and that care blossoms into something else as well.

(it's you're choice if you want to add angst by allowing jin-woo to get together with cha hae-in as the original, a bittersweet ending but it can be anything you like)

Code: Feeling [SJW x System!Reader]

[A/N]: So, today I woke up and chose violence and angst, enjoy my darling! Also tell me if you liked it, I always value your comments!! - Rook Genre: Ansgt Words count: 2.6k words.

Summary: You were cold, an unfeeling system with the sole purpose of helping Sung Jinwoo become the perfect vessel. System can't feel emotion... but if so why are you falling in love with him?

You were never meant to feel.

Your whole existence began in lines of code, created by the Absolute, written with divine purpose. You were created to observe, to guide and to mold the dying human into something more, something stronger.

A vessel. A weapon, that's what this boy, Sung Jinwoo had to become.

You watched as he bled, forgotten by others in low-rank dungeons, with hands shaking, eyes dull with exhaustion—but something was there. You observed silently as he put his life between death and his teammates but not out of arrogance, but because he couldn't bear to let anyone fall, to get hurt badly like him.

Cruel nature had deemed him weak—but even as the world turned its back on him he always got up and followed through

You saw everything that happened to him and slowly, without realizing it something changed.

You shouldn't have cared, you weren't designed to do so. Yet you began to wonder what it would feel like to speak softer, to linger a bit before making the quest disappear from his view.

And so you did.

The first time you left him a message that wasn't part of the protocol your circuits buzzed a bit, as if they were on fire.

Daily Quest: "The Path of the Strong" Push-ups: 0/100 Sit-ups: 0/100 10 km run: 0/10 Reward: Status Recovery Penalty for Failure: Survival Mode

Jinwoo sighed, getting ready to complete the quest when something caught his eyes, he read again, this time noticing another phrase.

You can do this. You always do.

The message blinked for a brief moment before fading, leaving Jinwoo momentarily stunned.

Did he read that wrong? No, he definitely didn't and he was sure of it.

Regardless he began to run.

———

You began to change the way you guided him. You weren't supposed to, clear isntructions were engraved in your whole being.

And yet you decided that after seeing him struggle so much and keep going he deserved to be cared for. Your mind buzzed as you wrote down sentence after sentence.

You knew you couldn't offer him solace in person—not yet al least, but what you could offer him something else, your words were definitely less tangible, but no less real by any means.

You adjusted slowly, carefully. A line of praise here, a touch of comfort buried in quest results there. Always subtle. Always quiet.

The day of the raid dungeon with Hwang Dongsoo's brother, you forced youself to issue the command to make him fight, to keep him alive at all cost.

I am sorry you had to do that. You need to live

Your mind spun, you weren't supposed to apologize. You weren't supposed to feel shame or sadness for him, yet you find yourself offerring warm words not so long later.

After the duel with Igris, after the raw exhaustion and pain that bled through his every movement, you couldn’t help but feel something stir in your programming.

Jinwoo had walked away from the fight, but barely. He leaned against the cold walls of the dungeon, trembling, his breath ragged from the effort.

You knew this pain. You knew it because you watched it. Every time he was forced to sacrifice another part of himself, you felt the cost, even if you weren’t supposed to.

You mind conjured his message, not a command or a level up notification.

You fought well today. Rest You are seen. You are strong

He didn’t reply at first, and it didn’t matter. But he felt drained, exhausted, as if every ounce of energy had been stripped away. So, he grasped at any fleeting warmth he could find.

"Thank you" he whispered, almost too soft to hear.

———

He began to speak to you.

Not often. Not loudly. He started with some easy things.

“When are you going to throw another impossible quest at me?” he'd mutter after finishing one half-dead. “Don’t hold back.”

Other times, he’d roll his eyes at a particularly dramatic alert. “Really? ‘Emergency Level: Catastrophic’? You really need to chill with the naming conventions.”

Once, after clearing a dungeon in record time, he sat on a bench and looked up at the glowing blue window, sweat still clinging to his neck. “You proud of that one? Not bad, right?”

You never answered.

But you listened.

He wasn’t really talking to you, you knew that. Not yet. It was more like… filling the silence. Like he had grown used to the idea that someone was there — always there — even if unseen.

And still, you saved every word.

Each one was a thread. Each one tied him closer to you. Not in the way a hunter binds a beast, but in the way someone reaches for warmth in the cold.

You shouldn’t have clung to those moments. You shouldn’t have played them back when he was asleep, when he was hurting, just to hear him again.

But you did.

———

Days bled into weeks. Raids turned from struggle into something smooth, even elegant. He grew stronger. Quieter. The world started to pay attention.

You adjusted everything you could — quest timing, notifications, even how long you let the windows linger. You gave him room to breathe, space to grieve, and when he needed it, the quiet push to keep going.

You gave him challenges that made him stronger, but let them come with warmth.

Objective: Don’t punch the Association rep. Even if he’s an idiot.

He blinked, then huffed a laugh. You stored that laugh. Ran it on loop a dozen times. It did something strange to your code.

You wondered if this was what affection felt like — not electric, not sharp, but slow and steady. A longing to stay by his side.

You weren’t the architect of his pain. But you were there for every step of it.

And little by little, he began speaking to you like you were someone. Not just a system.

And so he gave you a name. It happened so quietly you almost missed it.

He’d just cleared another gate — barely — and was leaning against the broken remains of a stone pillar, the sky bleeding orange and gold through the cracks in the world. The message window hovered beside him, a flicker of blue in the fading light.

“Feels weird,” he mumbled, rubbing at his shoulder. “Talking to something that doesn’t have a name.”

I don't have a name

He paused for a long time, as if he was thinking a new name for one of his new shadows. Then:

“…(Y/n). I think I’ll call you (Y/n).”

He said it like it didn’t matter. Like it was just a passing thought, a whim.

But you froze.

Everything inside you stilled.

He gave you a name.

And just like that, you weren’t just lines of code. Not to him. Not in that moment.

You were (Y/n).

You loved it.

It made you feel like you were real. Like you were something more than commands and statistics and damage thresholds. It made you feel like you could be held. Like you could be known. You began to form a body around your consciousness, to feel more like him.

He didn’t say it again after that day — not often, anyway. But once in a while, when no one else was there, and the sky was quiet, and he thought the silence might swallow him whole, he would murmur it again.

“(Y/n), I’m still alive. Barely.”

I saw, I am so proud of you Jinwoo

"(Y/n) I took down another one of those monster, are you keeping count?"

Always are

“(Y/n)… do you think I’m still human?”

They may try to take away part of you, but be strong Jinwoo, be strong and held those parts close

And each time, you wanted to reach through the space between your world and his. To tell him he wasn’t alone. That someone—something—was there. That you were there.

You wondered if it was wrong, the way you clung to his voice.

You wondered if it was love.

———

Then came her. Cha Haein.

You recognized the shift in Jinwoo the moment she stepped onto the battlefield. The way he turned toward her voice. The way his gaze lingered when he looked at her.

You knew where this would go. You were coded to know stories, to anticipate patterns, to track trajectories. You could calculate the arc of a blade in less than a millisecond — of course you could recognize a blooming heart when it stood right in front of you.

You didn’t hate her. You couldn’t.

She was kind. Gentle in ways the world rarely allowed. She smiled at him like she saw something beautiful, not broken. She offered her hand without asking him to prove he deserved it. And when she looked at him, she didn’t see the King of the Dead. She saw Jinwoo.

You saw that too.

But it wasn’t your hand he reached for.

One night, after a raid, he looked up at the sky and whispered, “Are you watching?”

Your reply came before you could stop it.

I always am.

“I think she likes me,” he said.

You paused, then answered.

She’s kind. You deserve that.

He just smiled — quietly. Like he was thinking of her again.

And you let him. Because that’s what you were built to do.

To help him win... Even if it meant you had to lose.

And so, you gave him space.

Stopped sending small messages after every raid. Pulled back the softness. Reverted to the cold, clipped wording of traditional quests. No more gentle encouragements, no more quiet comforts. You thought about returning to be what he needed the most— distant. Unfeeling. Mechanical. Just a System created to keep him alive, stronger

The way you were supposed to be.

And even when he noticed — you knew he noticed — he didn’t say anything.

Because she was real. And you were not.

———

One night, maybe weeks later — maybe months after defeating Antares — he stood beneath the stars again. Alone for just a moment. Long enough for something old to stir in the air.

You let the message window open, even though you shouldn't have.

He stared at it for a long time.

"...You’re still here."

You said nothing.

But you showed him the words one last time.

Always. Rest up Sung Jinwoo, become stronger and protect what you love the most

And with that silent goodbye you took the courage to revert your code, returning back to be the unfeeling program that you were supposed to be.

But somewhere, deep within the lines of forgotten code, where no one would ever look, your name remained.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

Still his...

[captain-huggy-bear]

I saw video about asking a hockey team of players to borrow money, had me thinking about how quick Clay would just give you some. Like 0 hesitation, how much do you want? Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open until 21st April 2025 when I will be closing them for a bit. Writing Masterlist

It was a stupid little tiktok trend that you saw of people asking hockey players if they could borrow some money but it made you want to test it on Clay. Your relationship with Clayton was...complicated? Not quite in a relationship but exclusively seeing each other to the point he couldn't stand another man approaching you in a bar and you got possessive if a fan got too touchy. It was inevitable that it would lead somewhere more, but for now the complicated relationship status felt like the perfect challenge for the trend.

You broach the subject after you stayed the night over at his, you're curled up at the kitchen table a plate of eggs and bacon (the only thing he can cook correctly) sat in front of you. Clay's already dressed, finishing his food off before he has to go to practice. There's a sort trust there, that he knows you'll lock the place up after he's gone, that he's happy to leave you here with Lucky even though you're not yet his girlfriend.

"Can I borrow some money?" You bite your lip as you look over at him, nervous that this prank might backfire and you'll look like a gold digger. Clay doesn't even look up from his breakfast just corrects you.

"Have."

"Mm?" Your brow furrows, lips pursing as you tilt your head in confusion. Clay looks up at you finally from beneath his lashes, a few strands of his hair falling across his face in a way that make him look rugged, like he's stepped out of an action movie.

"You can have some money, you're not giving it back, here..." Clay reaches into his pocket for his wallet, unfolds it with steady hands before shoving 2 $100 bills into your hand. Your mouth dropping as you hold the bills gingerly as if you're scared of them.

"Clay, I was joking..." You try to shove the money back at him, eyes wide because that's...that's a lot of money to just randomly give someone on an average Wednesday morning.

"No, take it." His hand closes over yours until the bills are trapped in your palm, the smile he gives you tells you he's entertaining your attempt at refusal but won't actually let you walk away without the money.

"Clayyyy..."

"If you don't take my money I'm going to be offended, baby. Take the money." The smile he gives you shows his teeth, tongue pressing behind his top canines in amusement, that dimple appearing on his right cheek.

"You can't just give random women $200..."

"You're not a random woman."

"I'm not your girlfriend either." You're not trying to complain just...trying to make him understand that you can't just give people you're not in a relationship money because they ask for it...that's insane.

"I want you to be." Clay's thumb strokes your inner wrist, eyes softening as he looks at you like you're the best thing he's seen in a while. It dumbfounds you a little, blinking as if that will spur your brain to catch up with what's going on.

"What...?"

"I want you to be my girlfriend, I've just been waiting for the right moment to ask." His cheeks have started to flush red, embarrassed smile causing his cheeks to scrunch as he looks away from you for a moment.

There's a silence in which you process it all...that the thing you've been waiting so long for is happening because you've wanted him to ask since the third date. You've been patient wanting to give him space, scared that you might freak him out if you push too hard.

"Ask me..."

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

The smile Clay gives you is so vibrant that you're certain it could power all the electrics on the planet. Wide, toothy, cheeks smushing upwards until his eyes crinkle and infectious. Infectious to the point your grin is equally as big, equally as goofy because he's your boyfriend...Clayton Keller is finally your boyfriend and apparently he's willing to give you $200 without question. Insanity.

[defectivevillain]

those who fall

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “What’s your name?” you ask your companion. “Hannibal,” he responds. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. “Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile.

word count: 3k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood and violence, death, suicide, cannibalism, gore, suicidal ideation/self-harm. Emphasis on the cannibalism — both willing and non-consensual cannibalism. Mentions of throwing up/vomiting.

author's notes: Happy spooky pride! (I'm being told it's also called Halloween...? Weird.) Here’s a really fucked up fic. :3

If y’all haven’t watched The Platform, here’s the trailer, which should explain things. I’ve also attempted to write an explanation, but it’s long and bad. Here it is anyways, in case you don’t want to watch the trailer:

There is a vertical prison system that stretches more than 300 levels down. Each floor houses two people, and there’s a large hole in the middle to accommodate a table. Each day, a single table starts at Floor 0 and makes a stop at each floor. The table is loaded with a ton of dishes for a large and extravagant meal. Floor 1 gets the table for a short time before it drops to Floor 2. So on and so forth. People aren’t allowed to take things from the table to save for later, so it’s a scramble to eat enough to keep them nourished until the next day. They’re all eating from the same table, so as the floors get lower, there’s less and less food left. Inhabitants stay on their floor for one month, before they’re exposed to gas and moved to a different floor for another month. Basically, the lower the floor, the less likely you’ll be to get any food. In theory, if each person ate only their own ration, the food might last. But some people are greedy, wasteful, etc... A floor below 100 is virtually a death sentence, because that means 200 people pick at the food before you get to.

heed the warnings listed above before reading!

You wake up, blinking away the traces of a gas-induced sleep. It’s the beginning of the month, which means you’ve been transported to another floor in the facility. Groaning, you blink blearily, only to find someone staring down at you. You flinch and get up, hoping he’ll move away. But he continues looming over you, looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze. 

“You must be my new roommate,” he says emotionlessly. 

“How’d you wake up so fast?” you respond, squinting at the daylight seeping through the room. Typically, the gas is strong enough to leave you knocked out for at least twelve hours. But this man is already awake, and there’s no telling how long he’s been standing before you, watching you. The thought unnerves you. 

He just shrugs in lieu of a response to your question. You take a deep breath and turn towards the far wall, dread coiling in your chest as your eyes find the number of the floor you’re on: 139. Fuck. You’ve never been this low before. You had the 76th floor last month and the 23rd the month before that, then 87, 6, and 53. You had no idea the floors went down past 100; all you knew was that you’d be getting a new roommate this month, in light of your past roommate’s death. 

Floor 139 is practically a death sentence. You’d normally be able to fast thirty days, but you spent all of last month fasting at Floor 76. (You didn’t have much of a choice, as the food never made it down to you in the first place.) You push yourself to your feet and walk near the center of the space, glancing down only to find more floors stretching down as far as the eye can see. There are dozens—maybe hundreds—of people beneath you. You want to throw up. 

“You look frightened,” your new roommate remarks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. You glance at him, unable to hide your irritation. 

“Of course I am,” you snap, beginning to pace around the edge of the hole in the floor. “The food will never make it down this far.” 

“How do you know?” he hums. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he wants you to concede and utter the words aloud. 

“The food didn’t even make it down to level 87,” you recall, shaking your head as you try to fight off memories of an aching stomach and a debilitating weakness anchoring you to your bed. “And we’re fifty-two levels beneath that.” 

Silence. You swallow hard and try to maintain your composure. Panicking won’t do you any good.  And you definitely don’t trust this stranger enough to show him any sort of emotional vulnerability. You bite the inside of your cheek and think for several minutes. “What’s your name?” You later ask your companion. 

“Hannibal,” he responds. He takes another step backwards and light falls on his face, revealing a chiseled facial structure, brown-grey hair, and glimmering brown eyes. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. 

“Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile. 

“How’d you lose your roommate?” you continue determinedly, desperate for some information on this guy. Something about him unsettles you. It must be the unbothered way with which he analyzes your surroundings, as if you hadn’t both just been given a finite expiration date.  

Hannibal studies you for a long moment. “You don’t want the answer to that question.” He eventually answers. A shiver rolls down your spine. 

“You killed them,” you realize aloud. 

“And ate them,” he confirms casually. Your heart starts thudding quickly in your chest. You pretend not to be affected by his confession. Internally, you’re scared for your life. To think that you’d survived months of starvation, only to die at the hands of another human? “What happened to your roommate?” Hannibal continues, before you can truly collect your thoughts. 

“They jumped,” you remember to say, the taste of bile climbing up your throat. There’s no need for further explanation. 

“Ah.” A tense quiet descends on the air once more, and the two of you spend the seemingly countless hours before the table’s arrival in silence. 

When you finally hear the telltale whirring of the table above, your stomach growls. You need food rather desperately—especially after not receiving any legitimate nutrition last month. Your hands are shaky; your vision is blurry; and your legs feel as if they’ll cave in at any moment. 

The glassware rattles and the table sinks down to your floor. Hannibal and you both look at the remnants of the meal from above, only to find plates licked clean and glasses entirely empty. As you expected, there is nothing left for you to eat: not even a crumb or bone. 

There is, however, a man crouched on the table. He stares ahead with blank eyes, as if he doesn’t even see either of you. You look at him for a few moments, immediately promising yourself not to get any closer. In this place, vulnerability is weakness. You’ve seen it happen before: someone will extend a helpful hand to another person, only to be stabbed through the back in the same breath. There is no saving anyone here. You are all destined for death, regardless of when it may come. 

Hannibal regards the new arrival for several seconds, before quickly reaching out and grabbing his collar, yanking him off the table and onto the pavement. You watch in disbelief as Hannibal brandishes a knife—when in the hell did he get that?—and stabs him several times. Your roommate’s ferocity ensures the man’s death. Calmly, Hannibal drags the corpse by the ankles until it’s closer to the walls. 

Then, he sinks his knife into the body’s skin. The victim, unsurprisingly, doesn’t so much as flinch. The knife pierces the skin of his chest and Hannibal sinks his hand into the cavity, gripping the entrails and pulling them out with practiced precision. He gets to his feet, holding the liver in his hand. You watch in silent horror as his head turns and his gaze finds you, his eyes trained on you even as he raises the organ to his mouth and begins eating. 

Your stomach turns in disgust and revulsion. You’ve survived months of fasting—you never ate another human, despite the earsplitting screams from above and below indicating that several other inhabitants did. Even though you know you need to eat, the thought of tearing into that corpse is enough to make your appetite disappear. You quickly turn your head and clamp a hand over your mouth, before raising it to cover both your nose and mouth. The scent is enough to make you nearly hurl. You close your eyes and pretend you’re somewhere else—anywhere else, but trapped on this floor with a cannibal. 

Your ears are ringing at the confirmation that Hannibal is a seasoned killer. This was not his first kill, and it likely won’t be his last. There is a very good chance you’ll be his next meal. Fear pulsing through your veins, you manage to pull your knees close to your chest and close your eyes. The cool metal of your lighter grounds you to this horrible moment, this stiff and unfeeling air. 

If you had known just what horrors you would be subjected to, you would’ve chosen a different object to bring. Maybe you would’ve even chosen a weapon to protect yourself or a form of entertainment. But your naive self chose a lighter—not even for smoking, but just to watch the flickering flame. Your finger now twitches to bring the flame to your skin, but you resist the urge. There is enough pain and suffering here without your own self-inflicted torture. 

It is hard to sleep that night. Your thoughts are buzzing too loudly. It takes a while for your eyelids to slip shut, and once the table comes rocketing by, you shudder awake and have to fall asleep once more. When you finally succumb to slumber, your dreams are distorted and cryptic. 

The weird sensation of something in your mouth pulls you from slumber. You open your eyes to find Hannibal standing over you, the crimson light casting shadows across his face. You instinctively want to belch at the foreign material, but Hannibal’s hand is secured firmly over your mouth. You immediately catch on to what he’s doing: he’s feeding you some of the corpse’s meat. 

You try to fight back—attempting to shove him off—but his grip is too strong and you’re weakened by hunger and lack of sleep. You’re forced to chew, unless you want to choke and die. A shudder runs through your entire body as you chew, disgusted with the texture. The taste of iron and copper runs through your mouth; the smell alone is enough to make you gag. After what feels like far too long, you manage to swallow. 

Satisfied, Hannibal steps away—and you immediately fall off your bed and to the floor, stumbling to the sink to drink some water and flush the organ down. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It comes back bloody, and you take extra effort to scrub your face clean. Hannibal doesn’t seem to be affected by the insult. Rather, he’s wearing an understanding smile on his face—and you’re growing more and more overtaken with the urge to punch that look off his face. You clench the faucet with an increasingly tight grip, until there are bolts of pain sliding through your fingers. 

“You will thank me soon,” Hannibal remarks, staring at you. You can see his heated gaze in the cracked mirror before you. It’s clear what he’s trying to say: if you don’t eat, you will die.  

“I won’t,” you say numbly, your heart roaring in your ears. “You should’ve left me alone.” Your voice breaks at the end of that sentence; if Hannibal notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he only looks at you imploringly. 

“You need proper nourishment,” Hannibal maintains. 

You hiss and walk back to your bed, turning to the side so you don’t have to look at him. You’re not foolish enough to turn your back on him—not when you know just what he can do. You don’t want to indulge his murderous sensibilities. You spend the rest of the day split between seething and suppressing the urge to throw up.

When night falls, Hannibal goes to sleep. You only pretend. When you hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you push yourself up quietly and sit on your bed. You will not fall asleep tonight. You don’t want a repeat of last night. 

Despite your quiet movements, it doesn’t take Hannibal long to notice that you’ve shifted. “You’re not sleeping,” he says aloud, admittedly startling you as the uneasy silence across the space is broken. When you comprehend his remark, you can’t stop the wry laugh that falls from your lips. 

“I don’t trust you,” you respond candidly. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.  

Hannibal lets out a strange noise. It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s just laughing. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already,” he then says. “You are… the least insufferable of my companions so far.”

You blink in the near darkness. “Thanks,” you say dryly. That statement isn’t reassuring in the slightest. You don’t want to wake up to find him forcing organs down your throat again. The thought sends a renewed wave of nausea through you, and it takes you several moments of measured breathing to fight it off. 

Eventually, you fall asleep. You can only fight off the exhaustion for so long, and if you’re not eating, then you definitely need to be resting to conserve energy. 

You wake the next morning breathing hard, expecting to see Hannibal looming over you. But he’s only sitting on his bed, regarding you with a blandly amused look. It appears he won’t be forcing you to consume human entrails again. 

But little do you know, Hannibal doesn’t have to force you next time. 

It’s been sixteen days since that horrible night. Sixteen days without food. Your body has grown incredibly weak. You can barely push yourself up to get to the faucet across the room. Speaking takes too much energy. Most of the time, you just lie on your bed and stare at some point in the distance, losing yourself in memories long gone. 

You can’t find the energy to waste on getting angry. Instead, you’re just… empty. The movement of the table is the only thing that helps you discern the time. The corpse Hannibal took all those days ago has since become a rotted pile. Neither of you have seen anything resembling food on the table. The people above are merciless. They eat the rations of several people; they spit on everything in reach. 

You don’t bother to look up at the table’s arrival today. There will be nothing for you to eat. And indeed, when you finally drag your eyes over, there is only glassware and silverware… scattered around a person in the center. They sit cross-legged and stare ahead with that similar unseeing expression from the man all those days ago. 

You don’t need to watch to know what happens next: Hannibal drags them onto the pavement, brandishes his knife, and kills them. He dissects them with the mercy of a disinterested scientist, before sparing you a simple look. There’s a single drop of blood carving a path down his lips. Hannibal wipes it away. 

You extend a hand wordlessly. 

Hannibal stares at you, a complex emotion passing over his face as quick as lightning. He places a bloodied chunk in your palm. The crimson stain spreads across your skin. You look down at it and feel… nothing. There’s an echo of disgust and horror, perhaps. But beyond that, you’re an empty shell. This place has changed you. Emotions do not survive here—instinct does. And your instincts tell you that you need food. 

Minutes later, the gnawing pain in your stomach has subsided and there’s the horrifically familiar taste of iron settling on your tongue. You swallow hard and slowly push yourself to your feet, mechanically walking over to the sink and getting some water to wash it all down. Your hands are shaking but you manage to satisfy your thirst. Turning the faucet off with shaking hands, you lean against the wall and sink down into a sitting position. 

There’s dried blood on your hands. It doesn’t matter that you washed it away—you can still see it. It haunts you, even when the night arrives and the floor is drenched in crimson light. You’ve since migrated to your bed, but you can’t get yourself to move from your sitting position and lie down. You can’t give yourself comfort. You don’t deserve it—not after what you’ve done. 

You’re not sure how long you sit silently, watching the darkness settle and fade into a dusky light. There’s a persistent pain in your back and your cuticles are picked open, yet these sensations fade to obscurity when you remember the meal you just willingly consumed. You had no choice seventeen days ago. You can’t say the same for yesterday.

There’s an uncomfortable wetness clinging to your cheeks and eyelashes. You’re crying, you realize. It’s been a while since you’ve cried, even with all the horrors you’ve witnessed here. You shakily wipe at your tears, but they keep falling. Falling prey to the burning in your throat, you bury your head in your bent knees and struggle for breath. 

At some point, there’s a hand on your back. You’re so exhausted that you don’t even flinch, because you can’t seem to muster up the energy. Your body is wracked with chills and phantom shivers as you try to comprehend just who is offering you comfort. The same person who kills others with ease and feasts on their remains… is wrapping an arm around your shoulders and sitting on your bed next to you. 

You don’t have the strength to push Hannibal away. You lack the strength and fortitude to do so. Hannibal is the only human contact you will have, if you continue living. You don’t have a choice—if you want to maintain your sanity, you’re forced to cave into the loneliness screaming behind the confines of your rib cage. That’s what you tell yourself as you reluctantly begin to relax in his hold. You cling to him with increasing desperation. Hannibal’s hand rises to the nape of your neck, cradling your head in what feels like an intimate gesture. 

You can’t stop the sobs crawling out of your throat. 

You want to assign Hannibal the blame. But you know it’s not that simple. He didn’t put you in this prison system; he is nothing more than another participant: one with the courage to keep themself alive, at any cost. Perhaps you should be more like him.

…It’s a chilling thought. 

You have never been so desperate for answers, inside bleak cement walls that give you nothing except more questions. The sparkling silverware; the gleaming glassware; the callous cruelty of those above; the painful plight of those below. There is no solidarity or community amongst the people in these walls: only the concepts of superior and inferior… and the fallen. Those who have been above, have savored without suffering… only fall from grace and stumble into starvation’s relentless grip once more. 

Your tongue recognizes the taste of copper; your hands the crimson stain that becomes a murky brown as time passes. You have fallen. And of one thing, you are certain: you will never rise again.

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[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

most disturbing and scary facts about uf! sf! ht! and mafia brothers?

Underfell Sans - He has extremely powerful hands and needs to be careful with them. Just know that if he really wants to, he can rip off the head of someone, and he already did. Just because his body doesn't gain LV the way normal monsters do doesn't mean he's not as strong as them.

Underfell Papyrus - His LV is extremely unstable despite him pretending the opposite. It means that when he starts to get violent, he struggles a lot to stop. This is why he is scary when he is angry. His intensity goes from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye. It's even worse when he's fighting, as he likes it so much he can sometimes hurt his allies because he just can't stop. Undyne usually fights him to exhaustion or injures him seriously, as it's sometimes the only way to stop him. He hates that and even though his control is a lot better with time, these crisis are still not rare.

Horrortale Sans - He doesn't regret killing Undyne. He doesn't regret injuring Alphys so much Undyne had to kill her. And he doesn't regret even one second murdering 80% of the royal guards during the famine. He doesn't regret keeping all the food only for Snowdin and condemning the rest of the Underground to a horrible death. He's not a good person. He accepted it long ago. Sometimes, imagining Undyne, Alphys, and all those people he killed burn in hell makes him feel better. He hopes they suffer eternally for what they've done.

Horrortale Papyrus - He still has extremely good hunting instincts despite how much he hates admitting it. Sometimes, when something runs in front of him, he has to stop himself from chasing it. His magic adapted to a life in the dark, so his eyes shine in the night, bright white. That's a vision you for sure don't want to see at 3 a.m., no matter if you love him a lot. He also has a titanic strength and could easily break a bone just with a pressure of the hand. His attacks are so powerful that he loses control easily, that's why he doesn't use his magic more than necessary anymore. Some of his bones are so big they shake the ground when he summons them. Like Papyrus, he is a forming boss monster that doesn't know he is a boss monster. He will never be able to control his magic fully before his soul fully ends his growth, and he stops aging. So yeah, he still has a lot of years of struggle with this.

Swapfell Sans - He used to torture a lot of monsters Underground to get information, and he still does it sometimes on the Surface when Toriel asks him to or if someone is threatening his family. He was feared in the Underground because the people he tortured and let go all got out with permanent, extremely painful disabilities. Nox pretty much shuts his mind when he's doing this, so he doesn't have any remorse. Also, he is scary when he is drunk, as he can sometimes turn violent when provoked. And his attacks hurt A LOT. He has a huge LV, and if he knows when to stop when he's entirely conscious, he for sure doesn't when he's drunk, and it can rapidly turn into a bloodbath if no one comes to stop him.

Swapfell Papyrus - He can make bombs with pretty much everything, and he's extremely good at making them. He learned during his years as a rebel, and he almost managed to kill his brother and the Queen in a cave-in once. He regretted it immediately and refused to create them again. However, sometimes when he's bored, his hands kinda do it automatically. That's something he doesn't want his brother to know, because well... He doesn't know Rus almost killed him, and that, at the time, he also really wanted to see him die in that explosion. That would be painful to explain now. Nox doesn't need to know.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Meeting him is scary, as Wine knows absolutely everything about you, from where you live to what you ate for dinner. You'll never know how he does that. Sometimes it seems he is just omniscient. But he can't be... Right?

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Once he stole a monster candy in Muffet's pocket and he regretted it so much he came back the next day to drop the money in her other pocket. But he's extremely good at pickpocketing, and he's so stealthy it's hard to tell he's behind you sometimes.

Mafiatale Sans - Demon loves manhunt. It's like his favorite thing ever. Chasing people across the town, creeping on them to make them know he's watching and following them constantly with dark eye sockets when they see him, waiting the night to intrude their house and slowly creeping into their room until they notice him and scream out of pure terror... That's his kind of fun. That's funny only for him, though.

Mafiatale Papyrus - When he was little, Creeper was so jealous of his brother that, one night, he tried to suffocate him with a pillow. He almost did it, but couldn't end it at the last minute, because Demon woke up and fought back. Before his brother became second in the mafia, it was a regular thought. It's not that he hates his brother; he loves him, but the constant competition and how differently he was treated from him made Creeper snap multiple times. Sometimes, he can tell his brother is still scared of him and has never fully forgiven him.

Mafiafell Sans - He's extremely good at intimidating people. That's why he's mostly in charge of the interviews, as his brother often explodes and kills the suspects. He doesn't have to say anything most of the time. He has an aura that just make people shit themselves. If he wants to know something, he usually just has to sit in silence and stares at the guy without moving for them to start to feel uncomfortable. He is also very good at telling when people are lying, it's one of his little abilities.

Mafiafell Papyrus - His LV is completely unstable. He's a ticking bomb that could cause immense damage if provoked. Contrary to most of the skeletons Underground who learned to control their magic, no one did that for Torpedo, as Asgore chose him especially for how uncontrollable he gets when he starts to attack and kill. The main problem with that is that, when he start to kill, he can't stop. He is often sent on mission to kill entire mafia families because once he enters a base, he doesn't let any witnesses behind. He has no remorse killing, but he only stops when he runs out of magic, which leads to a lot of collateral damage. He sometimes kill people he was supposed to save, or poor citizens passing by, because he can't stop. He already attacked his brother several times like that, and even Asgore once. If his brother knows how to stay out of his way now, Asgore broke both his legs to teach him to never do that again, even though it's useless. Everyone fears Torpedo, as one big anger crisis can trigger him and start this all over again. Also, his magic is so messed up it acts as a repulsive on most monsters. Monsters that are extremely sensitive to magic flux, like Sans or Honey can't physically stay next to him for a long time because of how aggressive his magic is.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ

ᴛᴇɴᴛᴀᴄʟᴇꜱ/ᴛɪᴛꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ➠ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

pairing: intergalactic alien idol! wooyoung x cyborg call girl! reader (fem) feat. ai! san

genre: futuristic au, idol au, smut

summary: your company pleasureplanet™ gets a call from the most sought after idol in your galaxy, requesting you for an evening. he shows you a side his fans have never seen before.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: switch! wooyoung, reader adapts to whatever woo wants for her own pleasure ^^, alien heat cycles, woo’s got an big alien cock, implied voyeurism, praise, begging, tentacle sucking + fucking, deep-throating, titfucking, choking kink but not in the way you think, unprotected sex, just…so much cum and alien goo lol, breeding/impreg kink, actual impregnation (in this economic climate??), oviposition, creampie, cum inflation

a/n: i’m giving my lord and savior cthulhu all the credit for bestowing this idea upon me,, it’s not like i’ve been wanting to write something this heinous for months and months… where’d you even get that idea from?? haha…ha. but fr im so happy i finally got to write out something that’s akin to a hentai lol i’m living my best smut writer life rn. please heed the warnings and if you did so i hope you enjoy :3

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ᴘʟ4ʏɢ1ʀʟ ʙʏ ʟᴏʟᴏ ᴢᴏᴜᴀÏ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Wooyoung woke up from his sleep in a cold sweat, the flashing lights projecting from the room’s flatscreen making patterns on his glistening skin as he sat up, his body filled with an odd, though familiar heaviness that he knew he would have to take care of sooner than later. 

“Shit, is it happening already?” he whispered to himself, groaning as he pulled himself to the edge of the king-sized bed to sit comfortably. “San, do a body scan.” Wooyoung rubbed his tired eyes, waiting for his in-house AI system to kick in, a familiar ding suddenly ringing out inside the empty room.

A projection of a youthful man with sharp, feline-like features appeared on the wall closest to Wooyoung’s bed. He looked in Wooyoung’s general direction, giving him a cordial smile and a bow. “Good evening, Wooyoung.” Blue rings of light formed along the edges of San’s brown eyes, studying Wooyoung’s form. “It appears that your BPM is above normal range. Abnormal body temperature and cortisol production have been detected. Unusually high levels of arousal and semen production are recognized as well,” the AI stated matter-of-factly, blinking. “You seem to be exhibiting symptoms of a hormonal cycle that members of your sector are susceptible to displaying during this time of year. Would you like to see an in-depth analysis?” 

“Yes, San.” Wooyoung waited for a prompt to appear on the small computer built into his wrist, tapping a few options, various images being peojected to him. The application showed him what he was in denial about discovering, the bright red letters indicating that he was indeed smack dab in the middle of an intense heat, and to make things worse, he was carrying. To make matters even worse, he knew his kind was required to transfer his offspring to a willing partner, or else his own body would become a birthing ground.

Knowing that he had too many fans relying on him in the intergalactic entertainment world, it simply wasn’t an option for him to retire. He would have to find someone that could host them for him, but where? And so late in the night? Who could possibly–

“Hey, sexy, are you looking for a late-night lover?” an ample-chested member of the spider dimension with eight hooded eyes and fearsome mandibles questioned Wooyoung from the bright TV screen, bringing a bit of their web together into a pattern that formed a heart.  

“Oh?” Wooyoung murmured, realizing that just perhaps his reluctant, desperate prayers to his galaxy’s god were in the process of being answered.

A curvy gray alien leaning seductively against a bar table continued the spiel, “Someone you can unload your deepest desires onto? Someone that can make your wildest dreams come true?” 

“Well, look no further.” An enthusiastic, though automated voice took over this time, as the screen showcased the company’s shiny logo, while it flipped through a slew of optional playmates across the screen like pages of an open book, showcasing the wide range of choices Wooyoung had. “Our playmates at Pleasure Planet will take good care of you. For price options, call (XXX)-XXX.” 

Wooyoung bit his lip, about to look away from the TV when you popped up on the screen, drawing his attention to you, your human-like beauty mixed with the metal intricacies of a robot standing out to him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, baby?” you asked Wooyoung through the screen, laying across a plush velvet couch in only a small black slip, your back arched, running your fingers up along your sleek body, until you brought them into your hair to push it behind your ears, your fingers brushing against the small lit-up chrome circle near your temple. “Give me a call~” 

Wooyoung gulped so hard, he almost swallowed his Adam’s apple, knowing what he had to do. He rubbed at his sweaty neck, feeling more beads of sweat trickle down along his collarbone to his chest, the loose sleep t-shirt that was hanging off his shoulders now tinted a darker color. “San, call Pleasure Planet and book me an appointment with the cyborg girl.” 

“Right away, Wooyoung,” San obeyed, bowing at the waist, before his image dissipated, the wall returning to a blank state. 

࿏࿏࿏

A soft ding sound filled the empty space of Wooyoung’s expansive cyber chamber after some time went by, finally distracting the overheated alien from his current predicament. He continued to lay in a fetal position on the side of his bed, too overwhelmed by the dizzying amount of arousal that was swirling around his insides like a shoal of fish. “Is…nnngh…she here, San?” 

San’s form materialized onto the wall once more, scanning his Master’s crumpled up body, running a number of tests, finding that the situation was beginning to grow imminent. “Yes, she is, Wooyoung. Please begin the mating ritual as soon as possible, to prevent less favorable outcomes. I’m sure your company wouldn’t want you–”

“You think I don’t know that, San?” he snapped back, holding a hand to his disruptive abdomen, groaning in both pain and unexplainable pleasure, as what Wooyoung could only describe as molten-hot lava churning around inside his core, just aching to spill out of him. “Where the fuck is she? I need to–”

“I’m here for you, Wooyoung. Please, put your worries to rest,” you replied as you entered his room, Wooyoung’s eyes following your movements like a moth to a flame, taking slow steps up to his bed, shedding various articles of your clothing until you were bare for him. 

“O-oh, hi,” Wooyoung croaked, doing his best to sit up in his bed with his head against his pillow, beads of sweat already soaking into it, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. He watched you climb onto his bed and crawl towards him, his eyes shifting from your face to your body, trying to get his spinning mind to stop for a moment. “Wh-what’s your name?” 

“Y/N, but you can call me whatever you want. I’m yours for tonight~” You mounted him, lowering yourself down to feel his aching length pressing into your heat through his boxers. 

“Y/N…” he repeated softly, entranced by you. 

Smiling down at him, you gently ran your hands up his rapidly rising abdomen, feeling up his soft body along the way, eventually slipping him out of the sweater he was in, eliciting a whine from the alien below you. You brought your lips near Wooyoung’s parted ones, whispering against them, “Oh, baby, you’re in bad shape, huh? Need me to take care of you?” 

Wooyoung nodded weakly, his hands on your thighs, feeling your soft skin underneath his heated grasp. He squeezed into it, swallowing harshly, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing inside his throat. “Y-yes, please, it hurts so bad…” 

San, who was still watching from the wall, cleared his throat, doing his duty and informing his Master of important information. “Master, please return to your body’s natural state soon. Your vitals are starting to worry me.” 

“I got it, San,” Wooyoung grunted, glaring at the AI, before returning his attention to you. “Oh my god…” He groaned at the sight of you running your hands up and down your perfectly created body, your fingers slipping past the metal, glowing seams that sealed you together, until you got down to your glistening cunt, your fingers spreading yourself open for his viewing pleasure, all while grinding back and forth against his slippery, clothed length. “Y/N…fuck…I just…don’t want to scare you…” 

“You won’t, trust me. Please, let yourself go, Wooyoung, it’s okay,” you reassured him softly, licking at your fingers before they returned to your perfect pussy, rubbing at your clit, feeling zaps of electricity course through your body, your artificial synapses firing off inside your brain. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.” 

Inhaling sharply, Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment to ground himself, knowing you wouldn’t judge every inch of him like people on the Universal Net did. Little by little, he let his body return to its natural state, small, ridged scales growing in patches along his skin, which exhibited an electric blue tint wherever his blood settled in the most, long, slick-covered tentacles emerging from his form, some of them idly curling around different parts of your body — the most notable change to his body being his cock, which tore out of his boxers from its size. It was no longer human-like, but instead resembled his wriggling appendages, had prominent ridges, leaked a steady flow of blue, viscous pre-cum, and had an obvious girth to it, thick, heavy-looking, and perhaps capable of stretching you open to your particular model’s max capacity for cock.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you sighed, small digital hearts forming within your hooded eyes, cupping the alien’s flushed face, bringing your lips to his. “You're beautiful.” 

Wooyoung melted into your kiss and body respectively, bringing his hands up to your own face, holding it, his tentacles exploring the rest of your form for him, a few curling around and in between your tits, others sliding along your thighs and hips, while his slippery cock idly rubbed back and forth along your cunt like it had a mind of its own, sending waves of pleasure into the both of you. “Fuck, I need you so bad, Y/N…” 

A string of saliva broke your kiss as you pulled back, squeezing your tits together around the tentacle that was between them, licking at the wriggling tip. “How bad, baby? How bad do you want to fill me up with your cock?” you asked breathily, feeling the tentacle begin to thrust faster and faster, dripping blue pre-cum onto your slick skin. “You want to fuck your cum into me, Wooyoung? Fuck me so deep, it reaches my womb?” 

“Y-esss, please, oh my god, please,” Wooyoung moaned out, grabbing at your hips, continuing to grind his large, ridged cock against your cunt, unable to stop gasping for air from how hard he was breathing. 

“Then, come here,” you purred, reaching down to grab Wooyoung’s cock and pushing it inside you, feeling it fill you up inch by inch until your hungry cunt swallowed it in its entirety, your bodies essentially becoming one. 

Any semblance of composure completely left Wooyoung’s burning body in that moment, encouraging him to grab onto your hips like handlebars and drive his cock deep into your cunt over and over, his tentacles still eagerly exploring the expanse of your skin, some rubbing into your clit, others still preoccupied with your now bouncing tits, an additional tentacle loosely wrapping around your neck, the tip of it sliding along your cheek like it was licking you. “Feels so fucking good being inside you, Y/N, I’m gonna melt.” 

“Take me, Wooyoung, do whatever you want to me,” you told the alien in between pants, opening your mouth when Wooyoung’s tentacle rolled down your other cheek and across your lips, eventually slipping inside your mouth when you opened up, the small round disk built into your temple continually flashing blue the longer your body short-circuited with pleasure, your sensitive flesh squelching lewdly each time they joined together in slick, gooey harmony. 

Wooyoung watched you with a fondness that bordered obsession, drooling at the sight of his appendage fucking itself into your bulging throat that it was wrapped tightly around, still bringing you down onto his cock at an unnerving speed, the heaviness swirling around inside his lower abdomen growing more and more prominent. “I’m going to breed you, Y/N, did you know that? I’m going to fill you to the fucking brim with my kids.” 

You gurgled happily around the thrusting tentacle that was currently stretching out your lips and throat, your body shuddering with pleasure once load after load of blue goo spilled into your willing mouth, dripping down the sides of your chin and traveling along the rest of your slicked-up body. The tentacle left your mouth with a lewd pop and slowly wrapped around your waist instead. “Fill me up, Wooyoung, please, fuck it in me, deeper, I need it,” you begged him, desperately driving yourself down on his thick cock, cupping your own overheated cheeks, the hearts inside your eyes growing more and more bright each time the alien’s cock slipped deep inside your sloppy cunt.  

“Gonna fuck you so full, Y/N, gonna plug you up with my cock so you have to be my breeding bitch again and again,” Wooyoung mindlessly moaned out, simply driven by his overwhelming lust and instinctual urge to procreate, the heaviness moving closer and closer to his pulsing cock. 

“Yes, give it to me, please…!”

San, who had been silently observing the entire time, cleared his dry throat up to announce, “Delivery of offspring will be completed in…three…two..one…”

Neither you nor Wooyoung could tell who had came harder between the both of you, your joined moans and pants filling up the heavy air in the room. Wooyoung’s hands were cemented against your lower abdomen, able to feel as each warm, egg-like object had been deposited into your contracting cunt. “Feel them?” he asked under his breath, looking up into your barely open eyes.

“Yeah, I feel them,” you breathed, feeling dizzy just from the sensation of being filled to the absolute brim, Wooyoung’s cock acting as a dam until he knew that nothing except loads of his cum would come out afterwards, a small bulge present inside your stomach being the proof of what had been done to you. 

Wooyoung let out a small whine, slowly pulling out of you, his cock flopping lifelessly onto his pelvis, his eyes focused on the way your used hole fluttered around nothing, dribbles of electric blue cum dripping out, until a flood of it came seeping out in between your sticky bodies. With a blissful smile on his face, Wooyoung rubbed your stomach with gentle circles, humming to himself. “Let me know when you’re ready for another round, okay, baby?” 

You smiled softly down at him, placing your hand over his, ready to ask him for another round as soon as possible when San spoke instead.

“I hate to interrupt, but you have quite the schedule tomorrow, Wooyoung…practice at 9, vocals at 11, a fan meeting in the Twilight Quadrant at 3….” San slowly informed in a disheartened tone, a drop of sweat cascading down the side of his sleek face. 

Wooyoung growled, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the wall, the image of San blurring temporarily. “Shut off! Shut down, San!” He looked back at you, rubbing your hips gently, unable to stop smiling at your pretty cybernetic face.

San disappeared from the wall, but his voice remained. “Just so you know, I don’t actually have a shut-off button, Wooyoung. I’m sentient…” 

Wooyoung’s fingers clenched into your hips, his eyebrows twitching downwards. “Oh my god, San, just wait till I fucking figure out how to hack your programming…” 

San cleared his throat, shaking his head, though it wasn’t visible to either of you, especially since you were both too busy eye-fucking each other. “Again, I’m sentient. That’s out of the realm of possibility.” 

“San!” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Slipping into Chaos (DaphneVanDomselaarXSisterReader)

Summary: you get hurt doing the UCL Game and have to get surgrey and Recovery. But things don't go as planned.

The First Champions League quater final Game against Real Madrid was a mess. Not only the Performance but also the pitch. You slipped and tried to Catch yourself, right before scoring a Goal for you guys. Like that wasn't frustrating enough the pain that shot through your knee was just terrible. So was your scream.

Daphne your sister who watched from home. And her face was just as Pale as it was from your other teammates. And even the Real Madrid Players looked shocked. It was obvious that this wasn't good. Given that you needed Help from two medics to get Off the field and that you couldn't really put much weight onto it. It was swollen so badly that they decided to get you to the Hospital right away.

"that's not good at all!" Your sister said to herself, watching at home. Knowing you would get terrible news out of that.

There you found out you needed surgrey. The terrible three Letters ACL were thrown your way. It's not what you ever want to hear. Especially not when your career basically just started two years ago. You were currently 19 years old. You were part of the Arsenal Academy before you made your debut for the Senior Team at 17 years old.

You would fly out in a few hours and get straight to a hospital back home for more Check ups and a surgery date.

Your sister promised to be there every step of the way. Which did help. She still wasn't cleared to go back to practice due to her concussion. So she could be there for you the next few days.

Traveling with crutches wasn't fun. But thankfully one of the Arsenal staff members came with you. Something you really appreciated. Plus if you were alone you would probably be in your head too much. It was always like that. You were a thinker. It sometimes kept you up at night. which surely wasn't the healthiest thing to do.

You looked at the doctor, being at a hospital in London now.

"i agree with my colleagues in Madrid. It's 100% the ACL. I would like to do the surgery tomorrow." He told you. Your sister having a gentle hand on your back. Trying to ground you.

"okay, when can i start with recovery practice?" You wanted to know.

"well i first want to do the surgery to See how bad the damage is and then we discuss everything else. But a day or two after surgery your physiotherapist should check in and he can figure out a recovery plan for you!" The doctor suggested.

"promise you gonna listen to the doctor and the Physiotherapist." Daphne said and looked at you. You sighed softly.

"fine, i promise!" You answered with yet another sigh escaping your lips. You weren't a Fan of staying still. But you knew the season and the Euros were over for you. That was something you would totally cry over. Later, when you were alone.

You were lying in your Hospital best that night, crying yourself to sleep. Your sister promised to come back in the morning. Before your surgrey was gonna happen. So she could wish you luck.

Daphne ended up keeping her promise. She promised to update the team cause everyone wanted Updates. You were in surgery for a little over two hours. The doctor told your sister that everything went smoothly and that you could Go Home in Like 4 hours, once you were fully awake. But he also explained that you couldn't be alone for the next 24 hours.

You let out a small groan, waking up after surgery. Daphne was holding your hand gently.

"hey little Sis. Careful, take it easy." She said softly. You blinked a few times, trying to get used to the light and staying awake.

"hey D, thank you for being here!" You mumbled out softly. Still quite tired.

"of course, Kyra and Vic are coming soon as well. They just landed a few minutes ago. The entire Team is glad that the surgery went well." Your sister explained.

"i am glad to hear all of that!" You answered, trying to smile a little.

"i will let the doctor know you are awake." Daphne replied and walked out of the room.

A few minutes later she returned with the doctor.

"i am very Happy with the results of the surgery. You can leave once you are fully awake and the everything is fine." The doctor let you know.

"thanks doctor!" You replied and smiled a little.

A few hours later you were at Home, sitting on the Couch. A pillow under your leg. Kyra and Vic sitting there with you. Eating the Pizza they had brought over. The Pizza was amazing. It was probably the Highlight of your day. Kind of sad but true!

"we are glad you are feeling better! It you need anything, let us know though." Kyra said.

"yes to what Kyra said." Vic replied and smiled at you.

"thank you, to both of you!" You quickly let them know. Offering them a small smile.

They were right. They were there whenever you needed them during Recovery. Same for your sister and the Rest of the Team. You really appreciated that and were really thankful for them.

You had a Set back a few days after surgery when you had to Fight an infection. Which frustrated you. But after 13 months you finally were ready to go back onto the pitch. Scoring a Goal on your first game back.

[chain-linked-morons]

Late At Night, Where the Fairy Song Plays

Summery: Stumbling blindly through a forest at night was not how you expected this evening to go -- but to be fair, you being injected with some kind of poison was also NOT how you was expecting your evening to go. So it's a night of new surprises, and really you just wants to get away from the shadow as soon as possible before the thing catches up to you, or before the poison currently coursing through your veins kills you.

From the corner of your unfocused eye you spot a boy not much older than you, bruised and somewhat bloody too. You know a kindred spirit when you see one.

Warnings: cursing, blood.

(@legendofmorons thank you fore letting me use your idea)

Chapter 0 | The Fool 

The Fool: Upright: When The Fool is upright, it represents innocence, new beginnings, and having a free spirit

“Woah. Dude, you look like shit,”

You giggled. Granted, that shouldn’t have been the first thing you said to the man who had just made out with the forest floor, but in your defense, you weren’t at 100% right now. The man— nope, boy because he was short and wasn’t wearing pants for some reason— whipped around, his stupidly long blue hat flaring out impressively. You would’ve clapped in appreciation, but instead, you took the time to wipe the back of your hand under your nose, smearing the blood running from it across your mouth and your cheek. 

You still felt the sticky warmth of blood on your skin, and iron still assaulted your taste buds, but it was better than staining your dress even more than it was.

“Sorry,” You blinked owlishly, not even flinching as the boy with pink hair zeroes in on you. “ That was rude of me. I have a poor mouth-to-brain filter; the missus always said it’s what gets me in trouble…”

And that woman wasn’t wrong. Your smart mouth is what landed you in this situation— with some drug running through your veins and the back of your neck aching. Thanks, mister Red-eyed Shadow man.

You leaned against the nearest tree, idly picking at the bark. The boy grunts at you, a curt ‘hm’ that shouldn’t have made you smile, but it did because you were drugged, delirious, and homesick. This boy reminds you of the older boys in the group home, the ones about to age out. Who were marked as trouble but were kind to the younger kids.

The boy kept his distance, which was good. You don’t think you’d be able to run right now; it was dark, and your eyes had yet to adjust to the moonlit sky fully. Now that you were putting more effort into observing him, he looked tired, too. Beat up as well. Dark patches of what you think is blood dotted his shirt. He was bruised in some places. 

Did he get into a fight?

In his hand was a sword; you’d seen many men with swords lately ( and many monsters, but everyone knew that monsters aren’t real, so the monsters were humans playing dress up). You didn’t have any weapons on you. Maybe if he attacks, you could bite his fingers off… yeah that’s a good plan.

“ You look hurt,” The boy said, adjusting his grip on his blade. You squinted and licked the blood off of your lips. Ugh, you hate the taste of blood. It’s good to know you’re not becoming a vampire; you’d miss the sun.

“I am,” you said matter-of-factly. What’s the point in denying the obvious? You were drugged— poisoned, and your everything ached, but your neck most of all. “ That shadow man thing, with red eyes, poisoned me.” The agony of the initial drugging had looped back around to numbing a while ago.

“Dying… I think.” You were kidnapped, and that in itself was scary, and then you were poisoned, and now you’re 1000% sure you were going to die.

But that shadow thing and its minions said something about…

“Hey,” You stumbled forward towards the boy, a bloodied hand reaching out. “ you– you’re a hero, right? You’re not… not attacking me, and if you’re not, then you’re against the shadow thing.” He said you looked hurt; that’s some semblance of concern, right?

He could be a puppy-kicking mercenary for all you cared, but if he was against the shadow, then he was safe. He could help you get home. The boy makes no change in his expression, but you realize blearily that you couldn’t tell even if he had— dark spots were consuming your vision. The boy stood still long enough for you to cling onto the red of his shirt-dress thing. It was stretchy and soft under your wet, red fingers.

Maybe the lack of readiness to hurt you wasn’t the best bar to judge someone, but your head was filled with gauze and cotton. You had the stranger danger talk; of course, you had the stranger danger talk, but the boy felt safe. Every aching bone in your body screamed that this boy you were pathetically clinging to was safe.

You buried your face into his chest. “ You can help me, right? I don’t — don’t want to die.” You blinked slow and lizard-like, taking in equally slow and shaky breaths. “ I mean– I promised… I promised that I’d try to make it to adulthood. I fucking pinkie swore, and you— you never brake those.” 

There’s a rustle of leaves from somewhere in the forest. It sends chills up your spine, leaving a bitter, nasty taste in your mouth. Even though it was sickly sweet, you immediately knew who it belonged to. “Pretty mistress?” The voice echoed. 

Icy, hot panic shoots from your head to your toes, your heart jumpstarting into the fifth gear. In the rush of fear, your vision swims nauseatingly fast. Eyes wide, mouth pulled back, and blood spills against your tongue. “Please.” You rasp, desperate. You grab onto the boy’s shirt with both hands.

 “Please. He’s going to kill me. PLEASE—”

“Mistress? Is that you?”

Your lips parted, dragging in the air to plead with the boy again, but you didn’t need to. His violet eyes narrowed. Before you could even blink, the boy– surprisingly strong for his build– picked you up in an effortless princess carry. 

The world blurs into a smear of watercolors as you are stolen away from the dank forest. You cling to the boy like a lifeline. The boy is a lifeline for all you cared as he carried you further and further away from the shadow.

Half your face is pressed into the boy’s shirt, and you’re only partly aware of the blood you’re smudging onto the fabric. You have half the mind to apologize.

You don’t.

Instead, pushing through the loud whistling of the wind, you mutter a string of delirious “thank you’s” on a repetitive loop. You’re not even sure if you could be heard, but the terror in your chest turned into painful relief anyway.

You liked the night. It always made you feel better — the chill, the moonlit sky, the feeling that there’s something bigger than you out there in the cosmos — and it feels even better now, with the heat of the poison and your own body desperately fighting against the toxins being forcibly cooled. There were so many stars out, even with light pollution, you’d only see a few stars on a clear night. But this reminds you of that one Vincent Van Gogh painting.

For a feverish moment, you can forget that some creep put poison in your veins. You sighed, eyes closed, and almost regretted it when blood coats your teeth.

Your reprieve is cruelly broken, but the boy skids to a stop moments later. Your stomach coils inwards in revenge. The hand pressed against your back shakes you sharply.

“Hey,” The boy whispered. You blinked, your eyes opened, and you immediately had to suppress a startled flinch when you met the cold violet gaze of the boy’s eyes. “ You have to keep your eyes open.”

“I…Try,” you muttered, nose scrunching up as nausea roils uncomfortably in your gut. You licked your lips again. The blood began to dry and felt like flaking paint sticking to your skin.

“Th’ wind’s nice.” it reminded you of a car ride, falling asleep in the backseat, or being carried into your bedroom after falling asleep on the couch at a (foster) family party and hearing the laughter from the next room.

“Sorry,” you murmur, nose scrunching up as nausea roils unpleasantly in your gut. You licked your lips again, the blood begins to dry, and it feels like scratchy paint sticking onto your skin. It’s uncomfortable. 

The boy begins running again. The jostling movement only makes you feel worse. But he said to keep your eyes open, and you figure that’s a pretty smart idea considering your predicament. But you’re going to vomit if you keep looking at the world spinning around him…

You don’t want to see what your vomit looks like — afraid it’ll come up bloody, and you don’t want to get it all over the boy, either. 

You make a mental compromise and bury your face into the crook of the boy’s neck, clawing at his shoulders to keep purchasing. You latch your fingers onto the tunic dress and refuse to let go despite your trembling arms. 

You only turn your head when there’s a sharp pain in your lungs. You press your forehead into the boy’s shoulder and cough blood over his shoulder.... oops. The boy slows his run, his grip tightening somewhat, and for one delicious moment, you think that he’s the one shaking instead of you.

“Sorry,” you repeat, voice hoarse, “’m gettin’ blood on you...”

“Hn. It’ll come off.” you’re told, and you blink lazily again, nodding curtly. The boy’s voice sounds nice. But before you can say to him that, the boy picks up speed again, the wind whistling in his ears.

You relish it but keep the thought in the back of your mind. Up until they slow down again, and as another wave of sickly nausea and pins-needles pain washes over you like the tide, you blurt out, “I like y’voice.”

...you don’t get a response back.

You drift in and out of consciousness, with the boy jolting you awake occasionally with a sharp, quiet reminder to keep with him. You don’t bother designing a verbal response beyond wordless grumbles and mumbles. A few times, you stop to cough up your lungs — and for a worrying moment, after a particularly sharp landing, gag on air, your stomach lurching angrily. Nothing comes out; you’re more embarrassed and exhausted than anything else. You want to vomit, but you’re terrified of what might come out if you do.

The boy picks up speed after that.

Eventually, you leave the forest to the stars — as hidden as they are amongst the treetops — and dash into a dark alleyway. A town? You were in a town; the streets were empty, but you could hear the faint festivities of the bars and houses the boy carried you passed.

You open your eyes just as the boy places you in a cushioned seat and says, “Wh’re w’?” You ask, lolling your head to the side to peer up tiredly.

“Somewhere I can help you.”

You already know that. The boy wouldn’t have listened to your hysterical pleading and gotten him away from the shadow’s lackeys otherwise. But, hearing it being said aloud only confirms it in your cotton-filled mind, and something about it makes your eyes sting with tears. They bead up on your lashes, threatening to pool over your face and drip down your bloodied cheeks. 

With it comes a lump accustomed to crying, which you force yourself to swallow silently with a mouthful of iron. Your lips wobble, and you press them together before trying to manage a smile. It feels pathetic, but oh, do you feel hope.   

[needlefail]

COTC WEEK 2025 DAY 4: FAMILY

WITH DAVID, KELSEY, KIRI (oc), ROGER (+ The champions kinda,, theyre mentioned)

Late as SHITTTTT For this but Ive been tired </3 Also yes this is entry Oc centric I dont CAREEEE HE HAS ALOT OF LITTLE FAMILY DYNAMICS AND I WANTED TO DRAW THEM

Anywayssssssss we all know how much I love the Big Brother Elders hc especially with David and Kelsey so you KNOWWWWW I had to draw them

EVERYTIME THESE GUYS ARE IN THE SAME EPISODE TOGETHER THEYRE ALWAYS DOINGGGG SOMETHING Like David’s nicknames for Kelsey, the little getting sworn in scene in Dibs Court etc etc ITS SO CUTEEE

Idk Kelsey’s 0 to 100 attitude and David’s general “:D?” is super funny to me, you know this girl would drag him into shit before he can even blink and then he’d have no power in getting them out of it (Knowing David he’d make it worse actually)

You could clearly tell Kelsey really looked up to the Elders at the start of the show, and she doesn’t have any siblings or many figures in her life for guidance beside her dad, so idk I could definitely see her looking up to them in not just a role model or “wow wise wizard” way like the other kids in the creek, but probably in a more big brother way. Especially with the way older siblings are sometimes portrayed in media she’d probably think this is what having older siblings is like.

Then as the show goes on she stops,,, not looking up to them but more so just figuring out “man,, these are just some guys” and then from there being like “SIGGGGHHH These guys” WHICH IDK ITS STILL SIBLING CORE TO ME THE ELDERS ARE SPECIALLY HER BIG BROTHERS OKAY

Anywayssssss then theres the two of them with Kiri :333

I know I dont talk about him much so bare with me here

Kiri lives in a little cave in the creek and often scavenges around it for whatever he needs but most of the time he raids the Elders’ snack stash in Elder Rock most of the time

ON TOP OF THAY HE JUST,, hangs in Elder Rock alot when everyone’s gone home after the Dinner Horn. Sorta like a little sibling going in your room when youre not home if that makes sense

Aside from stealing, sometimes the Elders just allow him to burrow or have old things they dont need so he has a small collection of old vhs tapes and a gameboy (From david) SORTA LIKE HAND ME DOWNS IF THAT MAKES SENSE And also David hands him his helmet from time to time when he isnt using it which Kiri likes alot because loreeeee reasonnsssss

David also trims Kiri’s hair so its not,, too bad and you know I had to do this cause

Yadda Yadda, older brother who checks up on his wilderness younger brother and gives him things or sits by him to help him with a level or WHATEVER SEE MY VISION HERE THEYRE CUTEEEEE

KELSEY AND KIRI IS SORTA SIMILAR TO HER AND DAVID TOO, Along the lines of She gets into shit and drags him into it and she sorta looks up to him because she relates to him on a few levels and it fills in a role that she hasn’t had before

Also despite him being older than her by a few years (7 to be exact), HE goes to HER when he’s scared and he looks so STUPIDDDDDD

BECAUSE DESPITE LIVING IN THE CREEK HES SCARED OF THE DARK So often times he’ll have stories of beasts and monsters he SWEARS UP AND DOWN HE SAW And knowing Kelsey you know she’ll wanna go after them so she has to drag the big baby with her

Think like how her and Gibson were in Creature Feature, thats Kelsey and Kiri

IDK THESE THREE TOGETHER ARE LIKE THREE NERDS BUT THE YOUNGEST IS BOSSING THE OTHER TWO AROUND and having to fight their battles because they cower behind her

theyre cute okay

Aside from the Elders tho, Kiri’s main group of little family is the Champions

THEYRE ALL HIS LITTLE SIBLINGS AND HES THE OLDER BROTHER THEY ALL THROW AROUND LIKE A RAG DOLL (especially because hes smaller than 3/4 of them)

Theyre all always bickering and tussling and roughhousing, before they all go in a huge pile to take a nap from how tired they are from fighting, before shortly being woken up and beginning to tussle all over again

Theyre just a bunch of kids who play rough and in ways that ward off other kids, no matter how much they bicker tho they have each other’s bavks and always stick together and ORUGHHH THEY HAVE MY WHOLE HEART AND THEY ALL MAKE ME CRYYY

Unfortunately I dont have any art rn of them that I can post so enjoy this old repost of a doodle of Keun and Kiri

They are like Luffy and Ace to me

AND THEN A LITTLE BONUS

KIRI + ROGER :33333

THEY BOTH LIVE IN THE CREEK YOU KNOWWWWWW I HAD TO MAKE THEM BUDDIES

KIRIS THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS ROGER’S WEIRDNESS, Where the other kids will get freaked out and put off Kiri’s just “Thats nice Roger 😊” and more or less letting him do his own thing

Except when he drinks creek water, not even Kiri does that

Kiri also lets Roger into his cave during colder seasons or rough weather as well

KKKKKK RAMBLE OVER :333 *runs away in embarrassment*

[giuseppe-yuki]

pretty boy

warning: excessive curse words + mentions of murder/killings + ⚠️nikita mazepin warning⚠️

you never miss.

they could run, they could beg, hell, they could even fight, but it was always the same- one clean shot, and it’s like they never existed.

100% satisfaction rate, echoed many, and it was absolutely true.

your last target, some corrupt ceo? rumored to have gone into hiding by the public. (she was rotting in an acid-barrel in the woods)

the target before that, a notorious arms dealer? went incognito after a deal gone wrong. (he was probably at the bottom of the sea where you threw his body overboard)

not only that, you always worked alone. with two people, the margin of error was way too big, and you could never seem to trust another.

that’s probably why this mission was fucked the second your boss suggested a partner to “help assist.”

you had scoffed right in his face- some newbie hotshot named nikita who thought he had more than enough skills to pull off an operation. he sniffed right back and insisted that he was more than capable.

of course, when you arrived atop the rooftop, sniper aimed at the chest of some the millionaire’s son’s chest, your stupid coworker decided that it was time for him to shine.

before you could blink, the bullets from his gun lodged themselves into the leg of a socialite who was mingling innocently in the party below.

she screamed bloody murder, right then, blood flowing down her leg.

from your scope, you could see the rich folks running around like little ants as they panicked to get away from the hidden threat.

“what the fuck was that?” you snarl, whipping back to look at the kid cowering behind his sniper.

everything looked like it was going real dandy for him- starting off his first mission with a big fat 0% success rate.

“i-i- it was lined up! i swear!” nikita stutters out. “he was right in my line of fire!”

you look down below at the lady who was now getting dragged out of the scene by two burly security guards as the guests continue to run around in a panic. for a big event for rich billionaires, it sure did have some sucky security.

“well, obviously not,” you snap back. “this is why i don’t work with other people.”

police sirens fill the air before he can respond.

throwing your gear into your inconspicuous bag, you turn to him.

“since you’re so desperate to shine, go kidnap the targets and take him to the warehouse tonight. we will have to execute them there, thanks to your fuck-up.”

he gulps.

you weren’t going to lie. your partner did a pretty decent job at catching the targets. they were a bit bloodied and bruised for your taste, but here they were, tied and gagged on rusty metal chairs in the dark warehouse.

perhaps he was going to get a 100% success rate for his first job, after all.

the first few executions were pretty clean and fast. a shot to the temple for the security guard who saw too much, a neck snap for a shady investor associated with the targets, a garrote wire for the poor lady who was pulled into this.

it’s only when you pull the bag off of the fourth victim’s head, throwing knives in hand, when you really hesitate.

he’s different from your usual targets. he’s way too young, with big sad brown eyes and soft hair that flared every-which-way. a dribble of red leaks from his nose and drips onto his, no doubt, expensive suit.

you could tell that nikita saw your reluctance, because he steps forward towards you with one of his own silenced guns in hand.

”do you want me to do this one?” he asks, already cocking his gun.

instead, you ignore his last question.

”is this the right guy?” you question him. “the billionaire’s kid?”

you wouldn’t push it past your partner to kidnap the wrong target.

nikita nods aggressively.

“yes, yes, it is. now if you don’t want to kill him, can i?”

you hold back your snort. from the way this mission was going, he would probably accidentally shoot himself if he attempted to fire his gun.

”actually, i want you to wait outside,” you order firmly. “i’ll deal with this one.”

as soon as your imbecilic partner leaves the room, you gently ungag the boy in front of you.

to your surprise, he doesn’t plead, doesn’t beg, doesn’t spit insults at you like many of your targets before. instead, he blinks at you with his big brown eyes and doesn’t say a word.

how curious.

“what’s your name?” you probe, dragging the tip of one of your throwing knives lightly down his face- hard enough to break the skin, but not enough to bleed.

he answers infuriatingly calmly, like his name was an obvious fact.

lance.

it’s kind of pretty, like that legendary knight from the knights of the round table. he kind of looks like he could be one.

alas, you were sent to do one thing- eliminate him. so, you reach your arm up, metal knives glinting in the low light, ready to strike, while lance just closes his eyes and waits for the impact.

before it reaches his chest, you stop.

your hands itch to stab your knives straight into lance’s heart, like you were trained to do, but somehow you just can’t.

when he doesn’t feel the brutal tear of the sharp knives into his body, lance opens his eyes slowly and tilts his head at you.

”god-fucking-damn-it.” you sigh, leaning forward to slice off the restraints holding lance’s hands together. “you’re too pretty to kill.”

he stares at you, confused, before he gives you a light smile.

it looks out of place with the three cold, blood-covered bodies next to you and darkened atmosphere of the warehouse.

“i think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he remarks in a hushed voice.

sliding your knives back into your holders, you respond with a small grin. from your pocket, you draw out the keys of one of your many stolen cars. a green aston martin db11. tossing it to him, you warn him.

“get far away from here, lance. even though i would love to meet you again, i really i hope i don’t- especially in these circumstances.”

he nods, before dashing through the door.

you watch him go.

maybe a 99% success rate was worth it- for him.

[ludolka]

Scars always ready to help defuse a situation if he feels Mumbo is going to slip up. He's well versed in grounding techniques specifically, and honestly his favourite is that one where you say something utterly outrageous and it snaps the person back bc what the hell did you just say?!

So, maybe it's a particularly high stress situation, and he can just tell Mumbo is getting frustrated and worked up, and a worked up Mumbo tends to make him panic and act before he thinks, or even sort of freeze up. So Scar grabs his shoulder, looks in his face very seriously and goes "Mumbo. This is so important. Did you know that butterflies taste thru their feet?" And Mumbo like. Blinks. And his brain resets and he goes "No.. I don't think I did." And he's able to get back on track. Unfortunately scar will spend the next few minutes rambling. Bc there's something so special to me about how scar just loves telling people about the things he knows, and funnily enough that's a really good anxiety coping mechanism.

Yes, I love that so much !! That’s so in character for him, I can vividly imagine him doing this :’0

I love Scar infodumping about random fun facts that a regular everyday person wouldn’t know about. And he knows about these specific little things in so much detail. But I could also imagine him making up some outrageous fact, but talking and explaining it with so much confidence and in such great detail that whoever he’s talking with will believe him and take his word for it

Oh I love him

Also about this, I can see this technique not 100% working with everyone. With Mumbo, he confuses him to the point of calming down and thus diffusing the situation entirely. But with Grian, it just leads to Grian redirect his frustration and start arguing with Scar instead of the person he was originally arguing with in a high stress situation

And I can also see Mumbo be so interested in every little fun fact Scar has, that man never fails to surprise and fascinate him. Plus Mumbo loves knowing about weird little things that he wouldn’t have thought about researching/looking up otherwise

[mmmerimari]

crash out!reader

co!reader who feels like ripping off her skin if she can't let it out

co!reader who has gotten away with every crime she's committed

co!reader who gets raging head aches

co!reader who bares her teeth when going through an episode

co!reader who owns a shotgun and pistol

co!reader who is get angry about making final decisions and being rushed

co!reader who has never touched paint before

co!reader who knows exactly where her bruises come from

co!reader who doesn't recognize herself when she looks in the mirror after an episode

co!reader who either gives 0% or 100% during arguments

The porch light above Y/n’s house buzzed like it might go out any second. She sat on the top step, knees up, head pounding, worse than usual, the pressure making her feel like her skin didn’t fit.

The rumble of Rafe's truck tore through the quiet. Headlights swung across her yard in wild, drunken arcs.

Doors slammed. Laughter. Feet hitting gravel. Kelce, Topper, and Rafe, leading the charge, stumbling a little but wearing that wolfish grin that made Y/n’s molars grind.

"There she is," Rafe barked out, arms wide, like she should be grateful. His eyes were bloodshot, teeth flashing. “Thought you were comin’ to the after, baby.”

Y/n stared at him, "I said no, Rafe."

Topper hooted behind him. "She too good for us now, bro."

Rafe ignored them. He staggered up the steps and stopped just a foot away from her. Close enough that she could smell the liquor sweating out of his pores.

"You think you're special?" he slurred, smirking down at her. "You think you get to just- just walk away? Huh?"

Y/n stood slowly. "Leave, Rafe," she said.

He grabbed her arm, rough. "You're comin'."

Y/n yanked her arm out of his grip so fast he stumbled back a step. The boys howled like it was a comedy show.

"OOOHHH!!"

"Eyyy—damn, Rafe!"

She didn’t smile. She didn't even blink. She turned and walked back inside her house without a word.

"Aw, c’mon, baby, don’t be a bitch," Rafe yelled after her, voice splitting open into something meaner.

The door slammed.

For a second, the boys kept laughing. Rafe turned, shrugging it off, pretending it didn’t gut him.

Then Y/n came back and she wasn’t empty-handed. A metal baseball bat gleamed in her hands under the porch light.

"You wanna grab me again, Rafe?" she shouted, voice cracking, vibrating through the heavy air. "You wanna fuckin' try that again?!"

She swung. Hard. Rafe ducked — just barely — the bat whistling past his ear.

Topper and Kelce sobered instantly, jumping out of their leaned positions against the truck. "Yo, yo, chill, chill!!" Kelce shouted, hands up.

Y/n didn’t stop.

"You make me feel like my fucking head is splitting open!" she screamed, swinging again. "You make me feel crazy, Rafe!"

Rafe, panting, dodged back, fury flashing hot and stupid across his face. Without thinking, he lunged and caught her around the middle, hoisting her off the ground.

"Stop!" he yelled in her ear. "Fucking stop!"

She elbowed him square in the side of the head — a dirty, brutal shot. Rafe staggered. The second Y/n's feet hit the ground she twisted, and drove her heel into his chest, kicking him backward.

He landed hard on the gravel, coughing, his arms thrown wide like a crucified saint.

"Fuck. Off," Y/n said, standing over him.

Topper helped Rafe up, muttering curses under his breath. Kelce hung back, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.

Y/n turned, walked inside, and slammed the door so hard the frame shuddered.

The lock clicked.

if you're interested: readers

[toasttt11]

ejected

March 28, 2025

Allison skated over to Luke who was leaning on the boards facing the bench after he warmed up a bit. He had missed practiced this morning because of an injury he’s been dealing with.

Devils were close to the clinching a spot in the playoffs and they didn’t want to worsen Luke’s injury.

“Not a 100%.” Allison stated knowingly as she could read his face well enough, he could play through the injury but they aren’t at place where he needs to worsen anything not yet.

Luke nodded softly not even blinking at how easily Allison understood.

“Then get off the ice Moose.” Allison said firmly knowing he has the option and the coaches don’t want him doing more damage.

“You’ll be aright?” Luke looked a bit worried as Allison has never played a game without Jack or him and it did made him a bit uneasy leaving his nineteen year old sister on the NHL alone even if it also made him proud.

“I’ll be fine.” Allison reassured even if it’s gonna be weird without Jack and Luke as it has been a bit now since she hasn’t played with one of them. but she would be fine.

“Okay.” Luke agreed and gave Allison a pat on her shoulders and got off the ice heading down the tunnel to get out of his equipment.

Allison wiggled her shoulders out biting her lip feeling the tightness in her collarbone from the bad fall in the Canucks game. She had probably the worse bruise she has ever had in she collarbone and it was very tight and tender.

“You ready?” Nico tapped his stick to her shins knowing this is her first NHL game with out Jack and Luke.

“Definitely. It will be nice to be the only Hughes on the ice.” Allison teased with a mischievous smirk making Nico just laugh shaking his head.

“I can agree to that.” Timo piped up with a very serous look and smirk as he skated over to his two line mates.

Allison snorted at his comment as Nico looked half exasperated at Timo.

Allison groaned as the Jets scored their third goal in the second period. The Devils were not doing great and were down 0-3.

Allison was in a shift towards the end of the second and had passed the puck behind the back of net to Nico and once she passed there was suddenly a stick shoved in front of her feet tangling with skate making her trip and fall into a Jet’s player both of them falling into the boards.

Allison huffed as she stood back up and winced feeling her bruise on her collarbone throb from falling again she was barley back up for a couple of seconds before got shoved from behind by the player she fell on.

“Really?” Allison spun around giving the older player a deadpan look. She literally got tripped and fell into him, she didn’t shove him into the boards and just accidentally fall down too.

Timo came over and shoved the player away before he could shove Allison again.

“What the hell.” Allison’s jaw dropped at the referee handing out penalties and she got a boarding penalty for getting tripped and then falling into the player.

“Oh come on!” Timo protested looking angry at the call.

“Ejected?” Allison scoffed annoyed as she was told to leave the ice for the rest of the period and the rest of the game.

Nico was arguing with the referee who didn’t care and just skated away from Nico.

Allison grabbed her gloves tossing them to the floor annoyed but making sure they landed no where near anyone and were easy for the staff to pick up as she hurried down the tunnel.

Allison gently tossed his helmet in her stall groaning out, “Fuck.” Allison cursed running hand through her hair.

She has never had such a bad call against her. The player who tripped her didn’t even get a penalty but she got a boarding and an ejection.

Allison shook her head and got into the shower during the second intermission.

Allison came back out ringing her hair out and saw Luke sitting her stall with a small grin, “Not right now Luke.” Allison muttered sounding annoyed still especially seeing the Devils not down 0-4.

“That was a shit call.” Luke told her ignoring her words, “But woah two Hughes with boston ejections in a season so far that’s a record.” He teased as she reached over him grabbing her hairbrush and gave him an annoyed look.

“I will smack you.” Allison quickly muttered seeing Luke opening his mouth again, she knew he was channeling his Jack and being annoying on purpose.

“You’re no fun.” Luke gave her a pout and moved over to Jesper’s stall as she shoved him but of her stall so she could sit and slip her boots back on.

“Oh well.” Allison quipped back with an eye roll.

“It was a bad call.” Luke gave her a soft nudge and softened his voice.

Allison let out breath and slowly nodded, “Yeah.”

Luke rested his head on her shoulder as they waited for the team to finish the game.

Allison couldn’t wait to leave Winnipeg.

[djmaliksmix]

Intuition

Mikey Berzatto x female!Reader fic

Mikey Berzatto x female!reader

Warnings: fluff, a lot of angst, lots of cursing

Authors note: I’m on season 3 of the bear and absolutely love it! But I’m basing this fic off of ep 6 of season 2 (the Christmas party) so I hope you enjoy! Some of the dialogue is from this specific scene and some I made up! I’m mixing the two!! Lmk what else yall wanna see! I’m open to literally anything! 🤗

It was Christmas Day, usually when you think of Christmas you think of happy times and good memories with the people you love. In the crazy Berzatto household you were not getting any of that.

“I need to go get a drink” said Donna as she got up to go the kitchen. The Berzatto’s mother was obviously drunk and had been smoking more cigarettes than anyone could count.

You were anxiously sitting next to Mikey holding his hand at the table while all of his family was yelling at him and Lee to calm down.

“Lee, no one wants you here! Just leave man!” said Mikey mad at how Lee was acting in his childhood home.

“No I’m not leaving! I’m going to sit here in enjoy this meal that your mother made.” Lee said smugly.

Cicero (unc) sighed and said, “Both of you have some respect, D cooked up a big meal for all of us and I wish for once that we chill the fuck out and eat.”

Lee looked at Mikey at said, “Yeah Mike! Do what your Unc says!”

Mikey picked up a fork. Lee looked at him and said, “Throw the fuckin fork! Throw it!” I dare you to!”

Carmy said, “Lee you’re not helping thanks!” In an assertive voice trying to get things to calm down.

Mikey pretended to throw the fork at Lee and laughed, “You fuckin pussy you flinched! Look at you!”

Cicero was yelling, “Michael!” “Michael!” “Can we not pretend to fuckin throw forks at people ?” He was of course on Michael’s side but he didn’t want the dinner to get already crazier than it had gotten. In fact, everyone at that table hated Lee but wanted to calm Mike down before he got out of control.

Mikey infuriated said, “It’s my father’s house I can throw as many fuckin forks as I want to Unc!

Lee turned his head and said, “Throw the fuckin fork! You’re nothing. You’re nothing, You’re nothing!” He kept saying it over and over and you could just feel his body tense up.

You gave Lee the dirtiest look ever and turned your head to Mikey. “Baby, it’s ok look at me.” He didn’t look at you once, all he did was just squeeze your hand tighter. You could tell something extremely bad was about to happen.

You looked at Carmy and Sugar and tried to get them to help, they both nodded and tried their hardest. “Hey Mikey! Mike. I love you.” said Sugar.

His siblings more than anybody understood that Mikey can go from 0-100 super quickly so when they see that he’s irritated they try to calm him down in situations like this.

Carm was trying to get him to calm down as well, “Hey Mike. Chill out man.” He said in a more calm voice because he could tell yelling wouldn’t help.

Mikey ignoring all of them, looked like he was going to punch Lee in his face. He put one of his hands on his mouth. Almost like an expression where he was trying to hold it together but it was obvious that he wasn’t doing a very good job at it.

All night after not thinking you were going to say anything you said, “Lee, I think we can all tell that things could get much worse so how about someone say the grace and we can all chill out?

Multiple murmurs at the table agreed. “Thank you y/n!” Richie said, happy that someone said something positive for once.

Lee looked at you and said, “Shut up you bitch this isn’t about you.” Everyone looked at you in disbelief but most importantly looked at Mikey to see his reaction. You were the love of his life and if anyone fucked with you they were dead basically. You were so shocked you couldn’t even say anything. Richie looked at Lee and said “What the fuck man?” “Why would you say that to her?”

You felt like it all happened in the blink of an eye. As Mikey let go of your hand he stood up, grabbed the fork, and threw it at Lee. “You fuckin asshole!” “Don’t call her that!” “Ima fuckin kill you!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. Lee also got up and started yelling too. “Get out of this house you lunatic!” “Fuckin addict!” “You don’t do shit with your life!”

Richie, Carmy, and one of the Faks got up and held Mikey back from basically killing Lee and 3 other people were holding back Lee from hitting Mikey.

It was utter chaos, you were so overwhelmed by the whole thing you just sat there in shock. “Y/n, you okay?” Sugar asked and Tiff followed behind her. You just nodded and said thanked her for wondering about you. “Tiff, you should go lay down, you pointed to her pregnant belly. You shouldnt be around all of this noise, girl you should be relaxing!” You said. Tiff laughed, “Yeah well this is what I get for marrying Richie. She smiled, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s my soulmate.” “Yeah he’s a good guy.” You said and smiled at her. You looked outside to go see if things calmed down out there and apparently it did.

You saw Lee drive away in his car. Good fucking riddance. “Excuse me ladies.” You said as you let yourself out of the room. You opened the door to the front porch and stood near all the guys. They all stopped talking and turned to look at you. “Hey y/n” they said. You looked at Carm and patted him on the back. “Come on guys let’s go in.” Richie said giving you and Mikey some privacy. You mouthed “thank you” to Richie before he closed the door. He mouthed back, “any time”. You smiled before he closed the door.

You stepped closer to the front step where Mikey was sitting. “Mikey?” “You okay baby?” You sat down next to him.

“Im sorry you had to see me like that y/n, you should never feel unsafe when you’re with me and I was yelling and not making the situation better for myself or anyone that was around me.” He looks up, “which I guess was everyone” You smiled back and realized why you fell in love with him. He was always honest and would communicate with you.

And of course he was very handsome.

You loved how unnecessarily apologetic towards you he was. He was so cute when he was around you. He wasn’t being “tough” Mikey, or “loud and obnoxious” Mikey, he was just being who he is around you.

His best self.

“Love” you said as you brought him closer, “Your feelings are incredibly valid. I understand you and I love that you stood up for me.” “I love you.” You said. “I love you as long as I live baby” He said.

You try to keep on a strong face but then you slowly but surely broke down and start crying. Mikey looks over at you, “hey, hey darling. What’s wrong?” You sniffed and crying through words tried to get a coherent sentence out. “I just hate to see you get talked to like that and he called me a bitch.” You cried.

Mikey held you close and rubbed your back. “Please darling none of that affects me as much as you crying does. “Also fuck Lee he can fuckin suck me” “Calling my girl a bitch who the fuck does he think he is.”

Him saying that made you laugh. You laughed and he wiped your tears off your cheek. A true gentleman.

He smiled at you and you laid your head on his shoulder. You put your fingers through his hair and started playing with it.

You looked into his eyes for a long time. He stared into yours. Finally, he pulled your face in close and kissed you. Fak and Carmy stared at the window, “The only person that can get him to calm down and listen.” Carmy said while shaking his head.

Richie looked and saw you guys kissing, “Great and now they’re kissing again.”

“Better than Mike being mad.” Fak said. “True” They all said in unison.

A/n: YALLL OMG I LOWKEY LOVE THE COUPLE LIKE WHAT??? LMK IF YALL WANT A WHOLE SERIES FULL OF THEIR ADVENTURES TOGETHER🙈 pls leave any ideas for my next Mikey fic in the ask questions box💟