#I just have a soft spot for this stuff…..

[djarindroid]

hi! I don’t know if you’re comfortable writing this (I didn’t see you say anything about it in your rules), but could I request a pregnant!reader x Thanos? Kinda like Jun-hee and Myung-Gi. I totally understand if this makes you uncomfortable, and feel free to decline if so! Thank you! <3

tysm for this request! 💕 Loved writing this, I hope you enjoy it!

Stay Behind Me

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: After walking out on Thanos, you never expected to see him again. But when he spots you in the games how will he react to the secret you’ve been hiding?

Warnings: Pregnancy. Usual Squid Game stuff - death, shooting.

Word Count: 1,162

The argument had been building for weeks, small drops of annoyance that had finally bubbled over.

‘You lost everything?!’ You shouted, voice raw. ‘What made you think you could just take my money and put it all into that stupid crypto thing!?’

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. ‘FUCK, you think I wanted to lose it?! I did it for us!’ He pointed at you as he yelled back. 

‘Well good job, you lost all of our money and now we have nothing,’ your chest heaved. ‘How are we gonna pay the bills?’ Your nostrils flared as you watched him reach for his necklace, taking out one of his pills. ‘Oh, this is fucking great! I can’t believe you're just gonna get high rather than talking this out.’

He scoffed, ‘what do you want me to say? That I ruined everything? You already know that!’

‘I want you to take responsibility, at least say sorry!’ You threw your hands in the air in frustration. ‘Don’t numb yourself with that shit. Talk to me. Please.’

His jaw clenched, for a moment he looked away, avoiding your eyes. ‘You just don’t get it,’ he muttered before popping the pill in his mouth.

Your stomach twisted, ‘no, I get it. I understand perfectly.’ You could feel your heart breaking as you watched the man you loved turn into a stranger before you. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Silence stretched between you both, for a moment you thought he might reach out for you but in the blink of an eye his expression hardened. ‘Fine. Get out then.’

Tears began to slip from your eyes, this was it, it was over just like that. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t. Not as you grabbed your bag, not as the door slammed shut behind you and not when, days later, you realised you were pregnant with his child.

Months later you found yourself in a numbered green tracksuit. After you’d left Thanos, life had been hard. You’d struggled to make ends meet, until you’d met a suited man on the subway who offered you an opportunity to make enough money to solve all your problems.

You were currently stood in a giant arena, listening to the first game being announced. Red light green light, sounds simple enough. A shout from the front of the crowd made you flinch. A player, number 456, had run to the front and was shouting about how the game was dangerous, that if you lost you’d be killed. He had to be crazy right? 

Murmurs rippled around you, some people shouting out that he was just trying to scare them. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself despite the tremor in your hands. Your attention turned to the large mechanical doll at the other end of the arena as it whirred around, facing its back to you. 

‘GREEN LIGHT.’

You began walking forward, going with the crowd. 

‘RED LIGHT.’ 

Everyone froze as the giant doll turned back to you with a soft whirring noise. It seemed that everyone was doing well as the first few rounds went by without incident.

Then, a scream split through the air. Your eyes flickered across the crowd to see a girl swatting at something near her face. You held your breath, waiting. Maybe player 456 was just paranoid..

Your thoughts were interrupted as a crack pierced through the air and the girl hit the ground.

Screams erupted as people realised what happened. Panic ensued and more gunshots rang out. You clenched your eyes shut and focused on staying still. The life growing inside of you had to be your main priority, nothing else mattered.

‘GREEN LIGHT!’ 

You couldn’t move, locked into place by terror. You weren’t alone, everyone around you was frozen with fear. A prickling sensation crept up your spine, followed by the uneasy feeling you were being watched. Shakily, you took the opportunity to turn your head.

Thanos.

All the air left your lungs. He was here. His eyes widened as yours met his. 

‘RED LIGHT!’

You watched as his gaze lowered to your belly. Taking in the undeniable swell that definitely hadn’t been there when you last saw him. 

It was his child, he had no doubt.

You hadn’t made any attempt to reach out to him, you don’t know why. You’d made excuses, telling yourself he wouldn’t be interested, that he’d have turned you away at the door. But now, with him looking at you all of those excuses felt weak. It could just be your emotional state, or the situation you found yourself in but you wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you.

It seemed that he had the same thought because the second the doll turned away again, he moved. Not forwards to the finish line, but towards you. He hurried, stepping over bodies, until he stood in front of you, blocking you from view. He didn’t hesitate before placing a shaky hand on your belly. His touch was soft, gentle - everything that you’d missed.

There was so much you wanted to say but before you could the doll whirled back around and you froze. You stared into his eyes, desperate to read his expression. He looked determined. The moment green light was called again he grabbed your hand, ‘stay behind me.’ 

You didn’t argue. As the game continued he guided you carefully, always making sure to shield you with his broad frame. Other gunshots rang out but his grip was unyielding, never letting you go. Despite everything, being close to him again felt right. A part of you had been aching for it, even if you never wanted to admit it.

As the finish line drew nearer you felt the weight of everything pressing down on you. The stress of the game, disbelief that Thanos was here, guilt that you hadn’t told him, fear for your unborn baby - it was almost overwhelming. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes but you forced yourself to keep moving.

Finally you crossed the line, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as relief washed over you. Thanos turned to you, his dark eyes searched yours but before you could say anything he pulled you into him. You melted into his warmth, his arms familiar and steady - home. 

‘Stay with me,’ he spoke quietly as he held you. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he pulled away slightly and glanced down at your bump. ‘I won’t let anything happen to either of you.’

Your tears brimmed over as you replied, ‘Thanos I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell–’

‘No need,’ he interrupted gently. ‘I fucked up, I get it now,’ he cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears. His voice dropped to a low whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m not gonna let you go again.’

For the first time since walking out on him, despite the horror surrounding you, you felt hope.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘤��𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

phone sex, angst, loneliness, mental health struggles, sub!chris?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship

word count - 1.9k

The lecture hall hummed with the usual mid-morning buzz. She sat in her usual spot up the back, the dim lighting above her making the world feel like it was happening just a little too far out of reach. Her pen danced across the notebook as the professor spoke, but her thoughts kept wandering. She let her gaze wander too, getting distracted by a group a couple rows in front of her, talking amongst themselves, laughing. One guy in particular stood out, the messy brown hair, the posture and his laugh. It was almost familiar. The boy turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Too many emotions hit her all at once as she recognised him.

Chris Sturniolo. 

She hadn’t expected to see him at university. He had only been a year ahead of her, part of a different crowd back in their small town. They weren’t exactly close back then, but she noticed him. Too much, probably. He was handsome, loved by all, a star athlete, and someone she had quietly admired from afar back. She remembered how often she would find herself stealing glances at him in the hallways, her heart fluttering whenever he passed by.

She almost told him once. That one moment, standing at the edge of the bleachers after the final game of his senior season, watching him laugh with his friends. She’d almost spoken up. Almost told him everything. How she felt. But then, she chickened out. The moment passed, and she convinced herself that it was better left unsaid.

And here he was, sitting just a few rows ahead in this university lecture hall, surrounded by friends, completely unaware of the secret she’d carried all those years. She couldn’t stop staring, even if she was doing everything she could to pretend she wasn’t.

She quickly looked down at her notebook, heart pounding in her chest. No way he remembers me, she thought. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.

Later that night, Chris sat in his dimly lit dorm room.

The weight of the day had settled over him like a heavy fog. The typical distractions weren’t helping. Parties? He wasn’t interested. Chasing some girl? Didn’t feel right. He hadn’t felt truly good in a while, not with anything, with anyone. The last few months at university had been lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

He didn’t really know how to be close to anyone anymore, so overwhelmed by the difference between suburban and city life. He found himself longing for stuff but lacking the conviction to make it happen. There were nights where his own hands weren’t enough. Porn lost its appeal months ago.

That’s when he stumbled across it. A hotline. Anonymous, safe, and just what he needed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship or something serious. He just wanted to feel close to someone, even if only for a few minutes. To have a connection without having to expose himself in the ways he wasn’t ready to.

He hesitated, but figured he didn’t have much to lose. With a few quick taps, he dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” came the soft voice on the other end, smooth and soothing. Something about it made his pulse pick up.

Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Uh… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just… needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy’s voice was calm, welcoming. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you need.”

Chris swallowed, the easy familiarity of her tone loosening something inside him. “I don’t know… I just feel so... empty, you know? Like there’s something missing.”

There was a brief silence. Chris wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she actually understood. But then her voice came back, gentle yet firm.

“Loneliness is tough to carry. But you don’t have to do it alone, not tonight.”

Chris exhaled sharply. She was saying exactly what he needed to hear, and the calm in her voice made him feel like he could let his guard down a little. He felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth.

“Yeah... I don’t know. I just feel like I can’t really... be with anyone. Like I can’t get close. But I need it. I need to feel something.”

“You deserve to feel close to someone. It’s okay to want that, baby.”

The words, followed by the pet name, hit him harder than he expected. Something inside him cracked open, and before he knew it, he was saying things he hadn’t intended. 

“I just... I want to feel like I’m... wanted. Like someone’s here with me. Not just... in the usual way, but like I’m actually... seen. You know?”

Her voice was soft but firm. It was like she could sense the vulnerability behind his words, even though they were both hidden behind the veil of anonymity. 

“I see you. And I can make you feel seen, if you’ll let me.”

Something about that promise stirred something deep inside Chris. It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore; it was the pull of wanting her, wanting to connect in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling at the same time. It stirred something deep in him, and before he knew it, his body was reacting, an instinctual response he couldn’t control.

“Please.” he found himself whining, a bulge already forming. 

“Are you hard, baby?” Daisy’s voice was quieter now, almost teasing.

Chris let out a strained breath. “Mhm.”

“Good.” She let the word hang there, a subtle promise in her voice. “I want you to trace your pretty cock with your fingers. Just the outline of it, on top of your boxers. Lightly, softly. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Chris murmured, following her instructions. His pulse quickened, and he hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, the action feeling foreign yet somehow natural in the moment.

“Now, take it out.” Chris groans at Daisy’s words, the soft, teasing lilt to her voice. 

“Just like that,” Daisy’s voice continued, cool and soft. “Lightly, just enough to feel it. I want to hear from you.”

She noticed the way his breaths were picking up, and there was something different in her voice now. The usual professionalism slipped a little, the edge of something more... real, slipping through.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, her words softer. “Say it. Let me take care of you.”

She tried to keep herself focused, tried to not to let the rush of unexpected arousal cloud her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this, not for a stranger, not over the phone, and especially not when it was just another job.

She could hear Chris’s breaths, sharp and uneven. He was close, she could tell by the way his words faltered.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Daisy asked softly, the pet name slipping out almost automatically.

Chris’s voice crackled back. “Yeah… just... god, it feels so good.”

Her pulse quickened. It was supposed to be just a call, just a transaction. But his words, the way his voice wavered with need, felt different. Too real. She couldn’t deny the heat creeping up her neck as her mind raced. She had never let herself get this affected before. But there was something about him that stirred her. Something about the rawness in his voice made her wonder what it would be like to have this kind of closeness, not for money, not for a role.

“Good boy,” she whispered again. “Now, keep going. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. I want to hear from you. Let me know how it feels.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, the sound of him following her direction ringing in Daisy’s ears. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay professional, to keep the distance that was usually so easy for her when other lonely men called.

But tonight, tonight was different. Her chest tightened with the strange, unfamiliar emotion twisting in her stomach. Maybe it was her loneliness, maybe it was the isolation of the job, or maybe it was just him. His voice, so lost in his own desire, so vulnerable in ways he didn’t realise. 

She bit her lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to slip out. This was supposed to be about the money.

She had to remind herself of that.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something more commanding. It was easier to stay detached when she was in control, when the power was hers. But her pulse raced against her will. “Say it. Let me hear what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched. “I. God, I just want to feel you. I want to...”

His words trailed off into a groan, and Daisy's breath faltered. She pushed herself to maintain control, to keep the rhythm of the moment. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she felt the heat in her own body building, her hand edging closer to where she felt the need the most. Unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

Her pulse quickened, but she tried to keep it in check. “You’re close, aren’t you? Let go for me, baby. Let it happen. You’ve earned it, sweet boy.”

Chris let out a groan, his hand moving faster as she encouraged him. He was almost there, and in that moment, it felt like everything in the world was narrowing down to just this. Her voice, his need, the warmth of the call.

When he finally reached his release, it wasn’t just the physical relief. There was something else, something deeper that he didn’t know he was craving. He could hear her breath, soft and steady, as she guided him through it.

Chris’s response came in a guttural groan, and the sound of his release sent a jolt of heat through Daisy’s chest. She instructed him to slow down, to catch his breath, her own chest tightening as she focused on keeping everything in check. She reminded herself that this was just her job, just another call.

But, as she released a breath of her own, something stirred inside her that shouldn’t have. Something warm and soft. She quickly shut it down. She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him. She had been called by dozens of men, heard dozens of voices, and she’d never felt this way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, not even realizing how tender her voice had become. “You did so well.”

There was a quiet pause as Chris caught his breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t know that Daisy, in some strange way, felt just as affected as he did. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing if he was thanking her for the physical release or for something else. But Daisy didn’t reply right away. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

When she spoke again, her voice was back to its professional calm. “Of course, baby. Take care of yourself tonight.”

But as he hung up, a strange ache settled in her chest. The kind that hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had let slip. Or maybe it was just her own insecurities creeping in. 

As their conversation ended, Chris felt lighter, more peaceful than he had in months. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her, Daisy, the girl that had made him feel so good.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers !!! <3

a/n: gahhhh i made this too long but whatever! hope u enjoy!

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @ishasturnz @sweetshuga @snoopychris comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist !!

till next time!

[evenyvn]

Full of Love

himeko, welt, pom-pom x gn!reader [platonic]

summary : people always say you're so full of love, especially for the astral express family.

cw : gn!reader, sfw, fluff, found family troupe, reader is a nameless, mention of ptsd, reader have bad past before joining astral express, word vomit tbh.

i really adore astral express family, they're my roman empire. i might write for the trailblazer trio + sunday after this. also fyi i rarely write for platonic relationship so please don't expect me to write more platonic stuff 🙏

masterlist

Many people say that you're a person full of love, especially for the Astral Express family. And you never deny it—because they're not wrong. The Express has been your haven, your safe place, a place you call home.

Before you boarded the Express, life had always been hard on your 'home' planet. In fact, you're not even sure if you could call that hellhole of a place a home. Not once did you feel safe since the day you were born.

But now, that's all in the past. You've healed, you've made peace with yourself and your past, and all you can do is share your love with the other crew members.

Starting with Himeko. The red haired navigator has been your savior—since the day she welcomed you with open arms, guided you out of your darkest times, and became the first person you could truly trust.

Her gentle smile makes your heart flutter with happiness that you couldn't explain. Her presence makes you feel safe. She always stands by your side, supporting your decisions with an open mind.

You're always grateful for her, and you can tell she's grateful for you too.

"You're a blessing that not even an Aeon can give,"

She once said on a night when your body trembled from the weight of nightmares from the past. She held you in her arms, her hands running soothingly along your back as she whispered soft words of comfort. She handled you with pure kindness—never she treats you like you were some kind of a scared animal, but as an equal. She treated you like a human being.

People always say you're full of love for Himeko, and it's true. Every morning, you never failed to brew her a cup of coffee just the way she likes it, even if her preferences were odd, even if you dislike the strong smell of the coffee beans. You do it for her. And every time, she never failed to send you a grateful smile and a few words of praise as she takes a sip. You wouldn't trade the world for the smile she gives you.

You're always full of love for Welt, the man who mysteriously boarded the Express one day. At first, you were skeptical of him. Before he arrived, it had always been just you, Himeko, and Pom-Pom. Your skepticism were justified, and Welt never took offense.

He was patient. He earned your trust slowly but surely.

At night when the nightmares became too much to bear, when sleep felt impossible, you'd wander the halls of the Express. Some nights, you didn't have the heart to wake Himeko, even though you knew she wouldn't mind comforting you like always.

You'd drift through the dimly lit corridors before finding yourself in the Parlor Car. There, you’d often spot Welt, sitting on the red couch in front of one of the tables. He would acknowledge your presence with a small glance before a slight smile pulled at his lips.

"Having trouble sleeping too?"

He never pried, never forced you to talk. He simply welcomed you to sit beside him, allowing you both to exist in silence as you gazed at the endless stars through the glass panels. And so, your little habit began.

Some nights, when neither of you could sleep, you'd sit together in comfortable silence. Other nights, one of you would open up, little by little. Welt would tell you stories of his late home, and in return, you'd share yours. It became a quiet, unspoken secret between the two of you.

People say you're full of love for Welt, and it’s evident in the way you'll sketch countless pictures of his characters from the animations he’s shown you before.

In fact, he's the one who taught you how to draw, sharing his little joys with you as you eagerly followed his lessons. You'll proudly show him your sketches, even when the lines were wobbly and imperfect. But no matter what, he always praises you.

His little smile says it all. He’s proud of you and it's evident in the way he secretly pins your sketches above his monitor. so he can look at them fondly while he animates.

You're full of love for Pom-Pom too.

The fluffy conductor’s constant scolding has become one of your favorite things. It might sound odd, but you find comfort in their slightly agitated voice whenever they reprimand you for forgetting your cleaning duties. Your punishment is always the same—scrubbing down the entire Express for the day.

"Pom-Pom is only doing this because Pom-Pom is worried about you!"

Yet, at the end of the day, when you're exhausted and wiping the sweat off your forehead, you always find a plate of your favorite food waiting for you in your room. When you ask Pom-Pom about it, they avoid eye contact, flustered, before lying and running away.

Everyone on the Express knows the truth—Pom-Pom has a soft spot for you. And you have a soft spot for them too. It's an open secret that you're their favorite passenger, even if they deny it every time.

You will always be full of love for the Astral Express, your family.

And you will never stop giving them your love.

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated ♡

[mrswrightreal]

Um, would you mind like writing something with Masky/Tim and a virgin reader? Or at least something softer(?) and lots of praise and stuff like that. I dont see a lot of fics with that, and I would like to see it.

Also, this is my first time requesting anything on anyone's blog, so sorry if it doesn't make sense; I'm kinda nervous

yesss!! I love tim sm omg omg I love soft sex grahhhhh and yessss!!!!

tim wright/masky x fem!virgin!reader

warnings: explicit content sexually, nsfw, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f!recieving), vaginal fingering, lowk corruption, soft sex, praise kink

cloud nine.

you and tim were the power couple, the "it" couple. everyone admired you two, the way you two got along so easily and were still able to keep up with each others teasing. and tim made sure everyone knew you two were together, always publicly holding your hand and kissing your forehead. he always made sure to introduce you as "his girlfriend" or "love of my life". always made sure you had fresh flowers on the dining room table kind of guy.

loves everything about you, wants to marry you officially and make it official. so exactly was his plan; take you to dinner, a nice one at that, shower you with affection, drive you to a secluded spot with a nice view of the stars, and pop the question.

he was so nervous, fingers drumming against his thigh as he waited for your food, giving you an occasional smile every time you asked what was wrong. he gripped your hand over the center console when driving, rubbing his thumb slowly across your skin. when youd ask why he was sweating so much, he would brush it off like the car was warm.

your suspicious laugh made his stomach flutter, pulling you out of the car and dragging you into the grass next to a few trees and a picnic table. when you questioned him, he just shook his head slowly. he took out a camera, telling you to pose with this distant city lights behind you. you knew he was a sucker for having your photos with him everywhere, so it wasnt out of the odd.

but when you turned around and saw him on one knee, sparkly ring on display under the moonlight. oh you swooned, covering your mouth and already crying. he didnt even get through the whole speech before you tackled him with a million yess'. he placed a kiss on every inch of your face while sliding the ring onto your finger, trying his hardest not to cry just at the sight of your glossy eyes.

the drive back was pure bliss, the same question falling from both of your lips after the other: 'is this really happening?' 'of course it is'. oh you two, young love. tims job made it a bit difficult, always gone and returning grim, but when he explained, you denied any risk it was to you. you loved him, and youd do anything to keep him.

he lifted you bridal style from your spot in the car, carrying you into your shared home. you couldnt even get both of your shoes off before his lips smashed into yours, hungry and feeding for you. you two stumbled through the hallway, tims jacket and shirt left somewhere on the tile a ways away.

now youre in bed, laying beneath him in that long and silky dress, hands hands gliding over every seam and fold that hugged you. he slipped the straps down your shoulders, your smile making him intoxicated. he helped you out of he suffocating fabric, leaving your supple skin on display for his eyes.

"I cant believe youre mine" he whispered, holding your hand and kissing the fresh new ring.

your eyes sparkled up into his, outshining every star and diamond that he saw that night. "oh, tim" you smiled softly, sucking in a shaky breath.

he kissed up your arm, peppering his lips all the way up to to the corner of your jaw. his hands roamed down your sides, resting softly on the fat of your hips. he worked his fingers into the fabric of your panties, pulling them slowly down to your ankles. you kicked them off somewhere else around the room, not caring about finding them if this was the circumstance they got lost in.

his hands worked their way back up, head dipping down to capture your lips with his once more. this time it was soft, no rush or hurry. it was pure love feeding from him and into you. his hands dug beneath your back, blindly unclipping the material of your bra and allowing you to remove it. now you were completely bare underneath him, the rooms air nipping at your curves.

tim backed away slowly, eyes looking you up and down. he drank in the sight of you, all his and only his. to keep, to touch, to love. he ravished you, like you were the last thing on earth to him. you were his oxygen, his heart, his soul. there would be no him without you.

"you are so beautiful, like a goddess" he praised, before kissing down your neck and to your breast.

his lips were soft, well taken care of thanks to your chapstick he always seemed to steal. the way he kissed you so softly, like you would crack if he went to hard. you were porcelain in his eyes, holding you so still to not break you. his lips wrapped around one of your perky nipples, tongue drawing slow circles around the bud.

your hands ran through his hair, tugging slightly in pleasure. you whined a bit, the noise rumbling in your chest beneath him. he let go, but continued kissing down your stomach. he rested his knees against the hardwood floor of your room, hands sliding smoothly to separate your thighs.

his breath ghosted over the slick of your cunt, making you shudder. he chuckled a bit, bringing one finger up and sliding it between your puffy folds.

"look so good baby" he hummed, prodding his digit at your entrance and moving his face closer between our thighs. he pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your leg, then moved to lick a stripe up your sex.

"tim!" you gasped, settling yourself up on your elbows and watching the way his head ducked under, face completely buried in your warmth.

his tongue pushed deeper into your flesh, forming sweet and slow circles around your clit. the swollen and aching nub heightening every one of your senses. his finger slowly pushed into you hole, curling upwards and pressing into the spongey spot within. he groaned against your skin at the way you pulsed around him, your slick gushing out around his knuckles.

"taste too good, sweetheart" he muttered, removing his finger and slipping his tongue down into your cunt.

"fuck- tim !" you moaned, back arching at the way his muscle fucked its way into you.

he drank every last drop you spilt, nose bumping into your clit every movement or so. if he went any longer, he would be stuck there for the rest of his life, so he came back up, sucking in a breath. he climbed over you once more, pressing his moistened lips against yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, eyes closing softly and allowing yourself to rest back into the bed.

you hear tim messing with the buckle of his belt, causing your to press against his chest and look up at him, "shouldnt it be fair if i repay you?" you asked curiously, tilting your head.

"no hun, this night is about you" he whispered back, finally undoing his belt and chucking his pants down to the ground.

you rested once more, butterflies taking flight in your stomach at the way he spoke to you. he was so kind, so understanding. no matter if you two argued or you were too mad to speak, he touched you in a way no one else could ever obtain. you were the luckiest girl in the world, having someone as sweet as tim.

he pulled his boxers down, allowing his half hardened cock to slap against his stomach. he crawled over you, arms bracing at either side of your head. he pressed a quick kiss between your eyebrows, watching the way you pleaded for him. his cock lined itself up with your entrance, tip kissing your slick.

"ready baby?" he asked quietly, pushing in slowly.

your mouth fell agape, the stretch burning in the best way possible. he finally pushed all the way in, cock aching as you clenched around him. he completely bottomed out, small whimpers falling from his mouth at the way you gripped him like a glove. it was like you two were made for each other, built for one another. you two fit like a puzzle piece, quite literally filling you so perfectly.

"feel so good, love, can I move?" he asked, kissing your cheek and nuzzling his face into the side of your neck.

"mh-mhm!" you croaked out, hands wrapping around his back and bracing for him.

he pulled out slowly, before sliding back into you. he was careful, not wanting to hurt you on this beautiful night. your noises were sweet, falling into his ears like honey. you were so tender, so warm and felt delectable. he continued his fluid motions, sliding in and out slowly before speeding up a bit.

"oh- tim! feel so- mhm right there!" you babbled into his shoulder, nails digging into his pale skin of his back.

"shh, ive got you, baby" he murmured, pulling all the way back out and slamming into you.

you gasped, breath hitching and whining squeezing barely through your vocal chords. you tightened around him, making him bite down on his lip and push harder into you. one of his hands picked up and reached for yours, placing it down on the bed and intertwining his fingers with yours while he fucked into you.

the bed creaked with every motion, following your sweet moans. he grunted slightly, your ear picking up on when you tightened a little too good around him. your hips met with his thrusts, wanting more as the heat in your gut pooled. he could tell how close you were by the way you fluttered around his cock, and the way your moans quickened.

"close- tim im-" you begged, hand squeezing his and back arching slightly.

"i know baby, let go, im right here, youre doing so good" he cooed, rubbing soothing circles around your thumb with his own.

thats all it took from you to release around him, gasps and moans flying out of your mouth without even registering what was happening. he kissed your sweating neck, using your new slick to pick up his pace and chase after his own orgasm. your body wracked with little sobs and begs from the overstimulation, clawing at his skin and pleading with him to stop

"i know i know, just a second baby- fuck gonna- gonna look so pretty so full of me" he groaned, spilling his seed into your sobbing hole, "feel so good baby, youre so amazing, love you so much." he muttered, licking around your jaw to calm himself down.

you two stilled against eachother momentarily, soaking in the embrace of your love. two souls, tied so tight together there wasnt a single force strong enough to tear apart. tim leaned back, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling out of your cunt with a groan. he watched the way his cum dribbled out of you, smiling down at your fucked out body.

"wanna bath? warm?" he asked, already knowing your answer.

"with the-"

"with the lilac soap because the rose one makes you itch, ive got it baby" he cut you off, kissing you softly and picking you up.

he carried you to the bathroom, setting you in the unfilled tub before sitting at the edge of it. he reached over your body and turned the water on, letting the warmth flood over your body. you closed your eyes, relaxing into the water. he flicked he soap bottle open and poured it into the running water, allowing the suds to form around your skin.

he stood up after shutting the water off, running a hand over your hair, "ill be right back" he promised, walking out of view of the door.

he put his clothes back on, picking out a new shirt and panties for you and grabbing a towel. he walked back into the bathroom and folded the clothing onto the sink counter, and set the towel on the shelf. he knelt down by your head once more, grabbing the shampoo and rubbing it into his hands.

"gonna let me take care of you?" he asked, smiling and scrubbing his fingers into your scalp softly.

you relaxed back, lifting your hand out of the water and letting your ring rest over the tub ledge. you looked over at your finger, then at tims eyes.

"thank you" you whispered, picking up your hand and placing it over his bicep that stretched out towards you.

"anything for my wife" he hummed, making your heart flutter at the new name.

you could get used to hearing that.

[twinkunhater]

JUST Ours

AESPA x M! Reader

Sub Reader, Dom Aespa, GB, Str*p-on, 5way

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"N-Noona... P-Please! S-Stop!" I pleaded, crying.

"Oh Y/N you feel so good..." Karina spoke.

"Y/N... You taste so good..." Winter whispered.

"Spread your legs a little, I'm not done yet..." Ning bit the back of my neck playfully.

"P-Please N-Noona it hurts..."

"Shut up! Your legs can hold it, ok?! Be a good slut and take Noona's pussy good, hehe" Giselle continued to straddle on my cock with her unrelenting stamina.

5 hours later

"N-Noona... Ngghh, I-I cant f-feel my legs..."

"Shhh... Just keep up ok? We're not done, yet."

5 Hours Earlier

Y/N POV

"N-Noona! H-Hey! Stop it!" I pushed Karina a little bit as she was getting a bit too close to me. "C'mon Y/N just this once we'll be gentle I promise..." Karina pleaded as her hand was gripping my arm harder and harder. " Yeah we promise, we'll be gentle" Giselle said with false innocence and hunger. "I-I can't! I have some stuff to do, didn't you tell me last week it would be the last?" I said trying to find a way to get out of this situation... As I tried to move past the two, Winter pushed me on the locker. "Dont even think of running away from us" Winter looked at you so disgustingly as her hands were pinning you on the locker.

"Oohh, are we gonna peg him?" Ning blurted out. "H-Hell n-" I was cut off as Giselles hands were on my mouth covering it. "Stop screaming, you're so annoying" Winter chuckled as she gave me a wet kiss on the cheek, "Maybe I should peg him, how does that sound?" Ning out of nowhere blurted out. "Stop with the pegging, please..." I hastily replied with a soft voice. "C'mon just this once, Y/N, I need it" Ning begged, as she was kneeling on the tile floors. "I'm not doing that and that's fina-"

Those were the last comprehensible sentences you said after they dragged you to a nearby bathroom, "Fuck... You feel so good" Ning playfully fingering your ass. "F-fuck au- gcck!"my voice was muffled, as her fingers played with my ass she was hitting a spot that usually sends you to a vulnerable state. The rest on the other hand gathered the items they needed to use on you, well more like experiment on. Karina bought vibrators, 10 specifically. Ning asked Giselle to get her 9 inch strap-on, of course Giselle bought a high concentrated aphrodisiac, 'This will come in handy soon enough' Giselle told herself, smirking as she arrived at the bathroom. Winter on the other hand bought enough baby oil so that each of them can use the Strap-on Ning owns. As they started to get you all riled up, Giselle forced you to drink the aphrodisiac. You tried to push it away, but none prevailed. You drank the aphrodisiac, influenced by it. You got weakened as the effects came so strong, your face turned red and your cock throbbing. Your juices oozed out as Karina and Giselle licked you off, savoring your essence. "Nnghh, s-sto... Auugghh" You moaned in ecstasy, Ning slowly penetrated you as Winter was making you eat her glistening pussy. All of them used you like a toy that somehow was too cheap to be played safely, Karina fucked you like whore. As her hips drive your cock roughly, she was oozing with her juices across your stomach dripping down to your back, still she continued. As you were about to cum, Karina noticed. As she fastened her movements, she also was near. "Cum for me, Y/N. Knock me up!" Karina ordered you and finally it arrived. "NGGHH?! GGUK!!" You came inside her, your tip was still sensitive. She continued to ride you slowly, agonizingly slow and precise. Your sensitivity leads you to roll your eyes back and arch you back, as this feeling was too much for you. You started drooling out of this too much pleasure, at the same time Ning was constantly hitting your prostate. Sending you jolts across your spine, "Love that bitch?" Ning spoke with a breathy tone... "N-nggghhh shto-" You tried fighting back but your mouth was occupied by Winter grinding herself, cumming multiple times already. She was technically drowning you with her cum, as both Ning and Winter use you like a cheap toy meant to be played roughly, Giselle pushed Karina off your cock. "H-Hey I-I wasn't d-done!" Karina shouted as her legs were already trembling. "Oh yeah? It's my turn, you've been using him for 2 hours straight with no break. Now? I'm gonna fuck him 3 hours straight!" Giselle laughed as she quickly slammed herself on me. "AUUGGHH!! G-Go- p-please... N-Noona??!!" I groaned as my legs were at their limit as her hands were pushing them to spread even more, as my legs in her entrance were tight and slobbering. A hand grabbed my hair even tighter, Winter was being aggressive as her 10th orgasm was coming. Her breath shaking, as her hands and legs tremble. While Ning was holding my waist, her hard and slow thrust came in faster, rougher... It felt so hard to breathe in, as Winter, Ning, Giselle was on me using me like a toy. Karina is knocked as she slept the tile floors soundly...

End of This lil smut😆

[miss-bloomies-science-class]

★🧪Intro!!🧪★

This is a roleplay blog for everyone's favorite science teacher, Miss Bloomie!

(though it used to be a tadc blog-)

Miss Bloomie is a very kind and helpful lady, but be careful! She hates having her time wasted and is very strict at times.

If you fail her class, then she most definitely won't be happy with you! So always study hard and pay attention!

...You wanna survive here, don't you..?

🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪

Headcanons for Miss Bloomie ★

• Despite her serious demeanor, she has a soft spot for some students.

• She enjoys teaching science, and takes her class very seriously.

• Her favorite students are Claire and Edward.

• She does not tolerate slacking of any kind.

• She may have a crush on Miss Circle-

• Acts like a motherly figure towards Skell and Lizzy.

• She's Asexual and Demiromantic.

• Her favorite snack is coffee flavored stuff :P

• Obviously extremely fast.

• Ticklish (Back of her neck, hips, and thighs are her worst spots-)

• She's also very cat-like.

🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪

Rules

• Nsfw obviously isn't allowed. I'm aware that Miss Bloomie is an adult, but mod is still uncomfortable with it.

• Tickle asks are allowed, just don't make it weird.

• Magic anons are allowed also.

• Asks for donations will be deleted.

• Be kind to me and the people I interact with.

• You will be blocked if you harass me for my headcanons.

• Don't try to hurt/kill Miss Bloomie, even though she won't be fazed by your attempts at all.

• Just be good in general-

"Miss Bloomie will talk like this"

[Mod will talk in red]

🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪

School Staff!

@math-teacher-who-loves-oreos @wendigo-language-teacher @pansexual-music-teacher @lesbian-history-teacher @best-art-teacher-miss-sasha @ask-principal-grace @kitkatlovingalgebrateacher @best-social-studies-teacher @ask-mister-barrel @mister-hotchkiss-craft-teacher @janitor-mister-broomire @mrbasils-cookies

Students!

@engels-ask-blog @claire-the-silly @askclairefpe @ask-lesbian-bubble @lana-and-her-sockpuppets @abbie-appleboy @oliversoapeater-official @zip-the-chaos-child @3dward-th3-s1lly @ask-edward-fpe @sk3ll-em0-k1tty @rabies-infested-riley @riley-crazy-kid @ruby-the-pansexual-robot @asklizzyfpe @ask-silly-rabbit @ask-amy

Alice...

@alice-monstrous-princess

Non-fpe

@official-crazie @viviansmagicshop @askskary @ask-miller @agethath3silly

Danger au

@danger-abbie @danger-zipster @danger-oliverrr @danger-bloomie

Not sure what else to put here, but enjoy this blog!

Mod is @zeni-the-silly

[undiagnosedcruelty]

A One Point Difference

Pairing: AcademicRival!k.seugmin x GenderNeutral!reader

Genre: slow-burn romance

Summary: Your reign at the top of the leaderboard is shattered by Kim Seungmin, an infuriatingly effortless genius. What starts as a battle of wits soon spirals into a bet that changes everything.

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Content Warning: Academic Rivalry, Enemies to Lovers, Competitive Tension, Mutual Pining, Slow-Burn, Sarcasm & Banter, Bet-Making, Flirting Disguised as Insults, Study Sessions Gone Wrong, Accidental Confessions, Smug Seungmin, Second Place spiral, and One Stupid Point That Ruins Everything.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I was very much enjoying this, but unfortunately for me, the academic rivals trope will never be real. Because 1; i emotionally cannot feel attraction to people outside writing and 2; I am no weapon in terms of academics🔥

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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION ─── NOTHING DIRECTLY RELATES TO ANY REAL LIFE EVENTS.

It started with a test. One stupid, insignificant test.

Your name had always been at the top of the leaderboard—unshaken, untouchable. Every exam, every essay, every competition, you dominated. You poured hours into studying, sacrificed your social life, willingly endured exhaustion just to keep that number one spot.

And then, one day, your name wasn’t there.

Kim Seungmin.

The first time you saw it, your stomach twisted in sheer disbelief. He had beaten you by one point. One miserable, mocking point.

And it only got worse from there.

Seungmin wasn’t just smart—he was effortlessly smart. He barely took notes, rarely studied in public, and had the audacity to nap during lectures. And yet, his test papers always came back perfect.

The worst part? He didn’t even seem to care.

You worked for it. He just existed, and it infuriated you.

At first, it was silent competition—subtle glares across the classroom, racing to turn in tests first, tallying up who received the most praise from professors. Then it became sharper—taunts, sarcastic remarks, full-blown arguments in the hallway that had to be broken up by your friends.

Your rivalry was the stuff of legend.

And yet, no matter how much you claimed to hate him, somehow, you always ended up next to him.

Even now.

The only open seat in the library is across from him.

It’s almost poetic, really. Like the universe itself is conspiring against you.

You linger by the entrance, clutching your books so tightly your fingers ache. The library is packed, midterms looming over every student like an impending storm. The long wooden tables are occupied by clusters of classmates whispering over textbooks, the soft hum of study groups blending with the occasional clatter of keyboards. Lamps cast warm golden halos over the pages of open notebooks, and the faint scent of old parchment and brewed coffee lingers in the air.

And there he is, right in the center of it all, completely at ease.

Kim Seungmin reclines in his chair, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other twirling a pen between his fingers. His books are open but untouched, as if their mere presence is enough for him to absorb the material. A half-empty cup of coffee sits beside him, undoubtedly cold by now, abandoned in favor of something far more entertaining—watching you.

He meets your gaze and smirks. Your stomach twists, though this time, it has nothing to do with disbelief.

You glance around one last time, hoping for a miracle, but every other seat remains occupied. You have no choice. With a resigned sigh, you march forward and drop into the chair across from him, avoiding eye contact as you slam your books onto the table.

"Charming as always," Seungmin muses, propping his chin on his hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Shut up."

He chuckles but says nothing more, turning his attention back to his notes—or at least pretending to. You try to ignore him, flipping open your textbook and willing yourself to focus.

It doesn’t work.

Minutes tick by, and every fiber of your being is hyper-aware of his presence. The steady rise and fall of his breath. The way his fingers drum idly against the table. The occasional rustle of his sleeves as he shifts in his seat.

It���s maddening.

You slam your textbook shut with a sharp thud, barely resisting the urge to scream. Across the table, Seungmin lounges back, looking completely unfazed. "What now?" he asks, twirling his pen effortlessly.

"You're distracting me," you mutter through clenched teeth.

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Am I breathing too loudly again?"

You shoot him a deadly glare. Last time you accused him of existing too obnoxiously, he had spent a full hour over-exaggerating every breath just to irritate you.

"You're insufferable," you hiss.

"And you're predictable," he counters, not even looking up from his notes. "Let me guess—you got stuck, then got frustrated, then decided to blame me for it."

Your eye twitches. "I am not frustrated."

"Sure," Seungmin hums, still twirling his pen. "That's why you're gripping your pencil so hard it's about to snap in half?"

You immediately drop it, scowling. He’s too observant. It drives you insane. Seungmin leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, watching you with a lazy smirk. "Let me help you."

Your jaw tightens. "I don't need your help."

"Right. You’d rather suffer than accept help from me." He tilts his head, voice turning teasing. "Remind me again who's ranked second right now?"

That’s it. You grab your pen and chuck it at him.

Seungmin dodges effortlessly, laughing as the pen bounces off the table. "Wow. Violence? Someone's desperate."

You groan, burying your face in your arms. "I hate you."

And then—so softly you almost miss it—he murmurs, "Mm. Sure you do."

You freeze. There's something off about the way he says it. It's not teasing, not mocking—just quiet. When you lift your head, he's watching you. Not smirking. Not laughing. Just watching.

And for some reason, that unsettles you more than anything.

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The next few days pass in a blur of studying, tension, and lingering frustration.

The rivalry between you and Seungmin only intensifies as the upcoming exam looms closer. Every interaction, every glance exchanged in the classroom, every minor victory and defeat adds fuel to the fire. The pressure is suffocating, and neither of you is willing to back down.

The library becomes a battleground, filled with not-so-subtle glares exchanged over stacks of textbooks. The lecture hall turns into a silent warzone where every question the professor poses feels like another opportunity to one-up each other.

Which is why, against your better judgment, you make a bet.

It happens after class, the two of you lingering outside the lecture hall long after the rest of your classmates have trickled out. The overhead fluorescents buzz faintly, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Students shuffle past, their voices blending into the background as you and Seungmin stand a few feet apart, locked in yet another argument—this time over a particularly tricky problem from the professor’s review session.

“I was right,” you insist, arms crossed as you glare at him. “You didn’t account for the variable shift in the second part of the equation.”

Seungmin lets out a dry laugh, adjusting the strap of his backpack. “Oh, please. The variable shift was negligible. You’re just mad you didn’t catch my reasoning first.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not mad.”

“Sure,” he drawls, the corner of his lips twitching. “You’re just turning red for no reason, then?”

Your jaw clenches. You’re not turning red. At least, you don’t think so. But the smug way he’s looking at you, like he already knows exactly how to get under your skin, makes your blood boil.

"Fine," you snap, stepping closer. "Let’s settle this once and for all."

Seungmin raises a brow, intrigued.

"If I score higher than you on the exam," you declare, chin lifted defiantly, "you have to admit—out loud, in front of everyone—that I’m smarter than you."

He doesn’t even flinch. If anything, his expression darkens with amusement, like he’s just been handed the most entertaining challenge of his life.

"And if I score higher?" he asks, voice deceptively casual.

You scoff. "That’s not going to happen."

"Humor me," he says, tilting his head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

You hesitate, tapping your foot against the floor, considering your options. You could walk away now, pretend this conversation never happened. But that would mean letting him think he got the last word, and you’re not about to give him that satisfaction.

"Fine," you say at last. "If you score higher, I’ll..." You falter, suddenly aware of the way he’s watching you—like a predator waiting for its prey to slip up.

"Go on," he prompts, leaning in slightly.

You huff. "I’ll do whatever you say for a day."

There’s a beat of silence. Then—his lips curve into the most smug, devilish grin you’ve ever seen.

"Deal."

For some reason, your stomach flips.

Not in fear, exactly. Not even in regret. Just... a strange, twisting anticipation.

Because suddenly, it feels like you’ve walked straight into a trap. And worse? Seungmin knows it, too.

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It happens so slowly, you don’t notice it at first.

Seungmin is still annoying. Still cocky. Still your biggest rival. That much hasn’t changed. He still argues with you over the smallest things, still shoots you that infuriating smirk whenever he thinks he’s won, still makes your blood boil with his unbearable confidence.

But between the constant fighting—the daily battles of debates—you start noticing other things.

Like the way his sleeves are always rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, the faint lines of muscle shifting when he crosses his arms in thought. The way his hair is always a little messy, strands falling over his forehead no matter how many times he runs a hand through it. The way his eyes narrow in focus when he’s solving a problem, his lips pressing together in concentration.

The worst part? You start noticing the way he listens.

You’d never paid attention before—too caught up in outwitting him, in trying to win every argument—but now, it’s impossible to ignore. When you speak, he lingers, even when he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t just listen; he absorbs—eyes locked onto you like he’s committing every word to memory. And when he responds, it’s not just some offhand remark, but something precise, something that makes it clear he’s been paying attention all along.

And then—disaster strikes.

Because one day, you catch yourself watching him too long.

And liking it.

No. No, no. Absolutely not.

It’s just the bet. That’s all this is. It’s the tension, the competition, the high stakes—it’s the pressure messing with your head.

And yet—

Your mind betrays you. It replays moments you shouldn’t be thinking about. The way he leans back in his chair, one hand lazily twirling his pen as he listens to the professor. The way his fingers brush against yours when he hands you a paper. The way he laughs—not his usual sarcastic, teasing chuckle, but his real laugh, the one you heard once when a classmate made a joke during a study session.

And suddenly, you can’t focus on anything.

You try to study. You really do.

You sit at your desk, textbooks open, highlighter in hand. But the words blur together. Your notes are a mess, half-written sentences trailing off into nothing. Every time you try to focus on the formulas in front of you, your brain supplies an unwanted image instead—Seungmin, rolling his sleeves up with an absentminded tug. Seungmin, smirking at you in that insufferable way, like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.

You grit your teeth, flipping to a new page.

Focus.

The derivative of—

But then, your mind wanders again.

What if he wins the bet? What will he make you do? He had that look when he agreed, like he already had something planned. Something terrible. Something—

You shake your head, pressing your palms against your eyes. Stop thinking about him.

You groan, shoving your textbook aside and dropping your head onto the desk. The wood is cool against your forehead, but it does nothing to stop the heat rising in your cheeks.

This is bad.

This is really bad.

Because if you can’t even get through one study session without thinking about him—without wondering what he’s doing, without replaying every glance, every moment—then maybe, just maybe…

You don’t hate him as much as you thought.

And that? That was enough to send you into a full-blown spiral.

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 You plummet. Your entire academic pride plummets into the depths of the earth's crust.

It happens in the worst way possible.

And yet again, it’s all because of another stupid point. Oh the irony of it all.

You stare at the exam results pinned to the bulletin board, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and pure, unfiltered rage.

Seungmin: 98.

You: 97.

One. Stupid. Point.

Your eyes scan the numbers over and over again, as if willing them to change, as if maybe—just maybe—the universe will decide to correct its cruel mistake and add a point to your score. But the ink doesn’t shift, the digits don’t rearrange, and the truth remains exactly as it is: he won.

Your stomach twists violently, and it’s not just because of the loss itself. It’s because you know why this happened.

You should have destroyed him. Should have left him in the dust, made him eat his words, rubbed your victory in his smug, overconfident face.

But no.

Because every time you tried to study, every time you needed to focus, he was there. Not physically—but somehow, some way, he had taken up residence in your brain, completely rent-free.

You couldn’t get through a single study session without your thoughts drifting back to him.

First, it was frustration—the memory of his smirk, his relentless teasing, his over-the-top confidence grating at your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Then, it was distraction—the way he rolled his sleeves up without thinking, the way his hair fell over his forehead when he concentrated, the way he lingered when you spoke, like he actually cared about what you had to say.

And then—then it was something worse.

It was the way your heart had started reacting to him. The way your stomach twisted when he looked at you a second too long. The way a casual brush of his hand against yours sent electricity up your spine.

You failed yourself.

And now, you’re paying the price.

A shadow falls over you before you even turn around. You don’t need to turn around—you know who it is.

Seungmin.

You hear the soft exhale, the telltale pause before he speaks—the moment he takes just to soak it in, to savor the win before rubbing it in your face.

Then, his voice, light and taunting: "Oh, would you look at that," he drawls, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leans against the board beside you. "Looks like I win."

You inhale sharply, pressing your nails into your palms. "One point," you grit out. ”One. "

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "A win is a win, sweetheart." Your entire body locks up. He hums, tilting his head. "Weird how that works, huh?"

Your eye twitches. "Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, you conniving little—"

"Careful," he interrupts, smirk widening. "Sounds like someone’s a sore loser."

You whip around to glare at him. "I am not a sore loser."

"Really?" Seungmin tilts his head, pretending to think. "Because I’m seeing a lot of loser energy right now. The crossed arms? The clenched jaw? The whole ‘staring at the board like you’re trying to change reality with your mind’ thing? Yeah, classic loser behavior."

Your nostrils flare. Once again glaring at him like he had personally murdered your future. "You act like you dominated me. You barely won."

He grins. "Still a win."

"Don’t get all smug over one point," you snap, crossing your arms. "If I had gotten one more question right, you’d be the loser right now."

"But you didn’t," Seungmin says, voice dripping with amusement. "And now? You’re mine for a day."

Your stomach flips. You shove past him, heat rising to your face. "Don't say it like that."

"What?" He follows you easily, his steps light, casual—like this isn’t the worst moment of your life. " if I recall correctly, you have to do whatever I say for an entire day."

You whirl back around. "What are you even going to make me do? Be your personal servant? Carry your books? Call you ‘Seungmin-oppa’ all day?"

He bursts into laughter, loud and unrestrained, and for a second—just a second—you forget you’re supposed to be furious. "Would you, though?" he teases. "If I asked?"

You gape at him, scandalized. "I would rather throw myself into traffic."

"Ah, and now you’re just—what? Embarrassed?" His voice dips, teasing but smooth, like he’s peeling back layers you don’t want him to see.

Your heartbeat stutters. "I am not embarrassed."

Seungmin watches you for a second, gaze sharp—too knowing. "You are," he says slowly, "because deep down, you knew I was going to win."

That—That is it. That is the final straw.

Before you can stop yourself, before your brain has time to process the absolute catastrophe about to occur, you snap.

You whip your head toward him, eyes blazing, fury bubbling up in your chest like an active volcano. "The only reason you won is because I couldn’t get through a single study session without thinking about you!"

The words spill out before you can stop them.

And just like that—

The world comes to a screeching halt.

The bustling hallway fades into static. Students chatter, lockers slam shut, footsteps echo down the corridor—but in this moment, in this exact second, the only thing you can focus on is the absolute horror settling in your gut.

Because you just said that.

Out loud.

To Seungmin.

Slowly—so, so slowly—he turns to face you, his eyes widening slightly, the usual cocky amusement flickering into something else.

You see the moment the words register.

The second he understands.

His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that answer, like he had been prepared for an insult, not an admission. And then—oh no. Oh no no no.

The shock melts away.

And in its place—

A grin.

The kind of grin that makes your stomach drop, that sets off alarms in your brain, that tells you you have just made the biggest mistake of your life. "What," he says, voice dangerously light, "was that?"

Your mouth opens—closes—opens again. Panic. Pure, undiluted panic surges through your veins.

"Nothing!" you blurt out, too fast, too desperate.

Seungmin lets out a soft, knowing laugh, tilting his head at you. His eyes are dangerous—not because they’re sharp, but because they’re gleaming. Because he knows.

"No, no, no," he muses, stepping closer, his tone practically dripping with amusement. "Say it again. You couldn’t study because you were—what? Thinking about me?"

You feel heat crawl up your neck, every cell in your body screaming at you to run.

"Shut up," you mutter, turning away, but he doesn’t let you off the hook that easily.

"You were, weren’t you?" His voice is teasing, but there’s something underneath it—something genuine, something warm. "You were so distracted by me that you lost."

"Shut. Up."

He chuckles, the sound soft but entirely too pleased with himself.

"Wow," he exhales, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I knew I was distracting, but I didn’t realize I was that distracting."

You groan, throwing your head back before marching away, anywhere that isn’t here.

But Seungmin? Seungmin just grins.

Because this time?He knows.

And now? You are completely screwed.

[the-elder-lifter]

random lil pieces of 🏋️ advice

🏵️bring stuff with you - at a makeup store, bring your "empties" so you "know what you need to buy", at a craft store it depends what specifically you're there for but i crochet, so i'd bring like a lil ball of yarn that i'm trying to "color match", you get the idea, it's a very normal thing to do and gives you a great excuse to be rummaging in your bag/pockets

🏵️talk on the phone - people on the phone tend to pace, wander, fiddle with things, pick things up, etc, and the SAs wont be paying attention to you.

🏵️if you're going to carry hooks or magnets, conceal them on your body. if you get caught, having tools makes it planned instead of spontaneous

🏵️building on that, if you ever get caught, always always say it was an impulse, you don't know why you did it, it was stupid, you saw your friends do it, etc.

🏵️wear sweatbands on your arms, like halfway up your forearm. you can tuck pencil/lipstick size items into it.

🏵️easily forgotten detail, remember to put something soft at the bottom of your bag if you're going to drop things into it 😉

🏵️if you're planning to return things, always pay with cash and use a fake phone/email if they ask for one. honestly, pay with cash as often as possible in general. the last thing you want is a store building a case against you and getting your info from your credit card

🏵️sometimes when doing returns, stores will ask for your ID. say you forgot it at home/recently lost it. if they give you any grief, just offer to come back another time. this is how stores track you in their system and potentially flag you for suspicious activity.

🏵️you should have a fake name, phone number, address, and email address memorized and ready to rattle off.

🏵️wintertime special: wear too many warm things. hat & scarf. be holding a few items in your hand, set most of them down, take off your hat/scarf and shove it in your bag along with 1-2 items.

(can y'all tell i like sleight of hand better than finding a blind spot to conceal? looking for cameras is the most sus thing you can do, imho)

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere Fem Villain X Hero Reader (G/N)

Damn! At it again with another non male Yandere 🙏 Ik they don't get as many likes but I like them and my blog is just a lil bit fun for me! I'm just being silly fr :3 But the next two fics will be ones requested!!!! A little bit of a clue but ones a pt2 🤫

Trigger warnings! Violence, Obsessive behaviour, Yandere behaviour, Rather specific but Reader thinks the Yandere is their responsibility. I don't condone toxic behaviour irl!

💥Yandere Villain who's always hated Heros. From a young age the system let her down and she'll never forgive them.

💥Yandere Villain who was beaten half to death by a hero, only surviving because he got distracted. (Yandere Hero crossover, anyone?:>)Her face was completely numb from pain. She was slipping in and out of consciousness and fully didn't expect to wake back up. That was fine, she'd accepted that death was going to be the only thing that was kind to her so she embraces with open arms.

💥 What Yandere Villain didn't expect was for you to turn up. Her archenemies! You had some great battles over the years, you must be there to see her last moments. Hero's and their dramatic behaviour.

💥Yandere Villain Who didn't expect you to drag her to safety and do your best to patch her up.

"What are you doing hero?" She groans trying to push you away. "Stop moving you're going to swallow blood just lean forward!" You say trying to remain calm. "Why...why are you doing this?" "I can't loose you! I hate everyone! I hate other heros, I hate villains, they all think the same! You're the only one who seems to have a shred of morals and you're blowing stuff up!" You let out a sigh, not realising you had so much pent up emotions. What you didn't know is Yandere Villain saw this as a confession. I mean you hate everyone but saved her, you must love her right!

💥Yandere Villain who refused to let you fight others anymore. You didn't like them anyway! It doesn't matter heros, hell even other villains she'll take on anyone for your sake.

💥Yandere Villain who even finds you out of the costume. Don't even worry about it! She's just here for you!

"Why are you here?" You say trying to close your curtains as quick as possible. "Can I not be?" "You keep protecting me, I've got people breathing down my neck because of this! They think we're together!" "Are we not?" "..." "..."

💥Yandere Villain who thought you guys were together! She was absolutely distraught when she realised they aren't.

"What!? Why not!? Please, please, please give me a shot!" You had been looking for a reason to retire but dating a villain isn't exactly the reason you wanted.

💥Yandere Villain who refused to give up on you. She even killed off petty criminals to make your job easier! Isn't she considerate? That's a great trait in a partner!

💥Yandere Villain who wanted to be a photographer before everything went down so now she takes photos of you all the time! When you think you see a flash in your home, you're not dumb. You know it's her but at least she's not being destructive.You feel like you owe it to society to keep her distracted.

💥Yandere Villain who sees this as you liking her and maybe you do have a soft spot for her a little.

💥Yandere Villain who bought all your merch! Listen a villain with connections can be quite wealthy and she used to spend that on weapons but now it's all on you! She even got you guys matching knifes! (You had to convince her that matching scars were a bad idea)

💥Yandere Villain who was furious when she saw you on the news fighting some newbie villain! Not only fighting her hero but trying to take her spot as the top villain in the city!

💥Yandere Villain who hadn't committed much crime in a while but soon made up for it. It doesn't matter how much power that Villain had it wasn't anything compared to her rage.

💥Yandere Villain who steps closer to you , absolute covered in blood.

"Are you okay? That filth didn't hurt you ,right? I should of broken more of their bones..." She holds your shoulders and keeps asking you if you're okay but you don't respond. Completely stunned you just stare at the blood on the floor. Maybe you shouldn't of let get so bad?

[rylem33]

Please Enjoy Responsibly

SABRINA

Damien guides me into the suite, his hand warm against my lower back. The Grand Fontaine is even more extravagant than I expected with plush velvet furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

“Damn,” Damien exhales, dropping our overnight bag near the minibar. “They really know how to do luxury.”

I hum in agreement, my fingers drifting over the satin bedding before moving toward the sleek marble vanity. The soft lighting is perfect, making everything look expensive.

I spot a crisp black placard, neatly placed beside a bottle of chilled champagne. The gold lettering catches the light as I pick it up.

“All indulgences have a price. Please enjoy responsibly.”

I smirk, holding it up. “Think this is their way of warning us not to trash the place?”

Damien chuckles, already loosening his tie. “More like a reminder that we’re paying out the ass for everything in here. But if I’m gonna splurge, it’s tonight.”

He gestures toward the small round table near the window, where the champagne sits waiting in its ice bucket. Two delicate flutes rest beside it, perfectly arranged.

I grab the chilled bottle, expertly peeling back the foil. “It is free, right?”

Damien gestures toward the placard. “Nope. Probably costs as much as a car payment, but who cares?”

I grin, my fingers wrapping around the cork. “That’s my big spender.”

With a satisfying pop, I uncork the bottle and pour myself a glass. The liquid is pale gold, bubbles rising in an elegant, never-ending stream.

Damien never liked champagne so he fills a cup of what I’m sure is equally expensive wine. He lifts his glass. “To us.”

“To us,” I echo, bringing the glass to my lips.

The first sip is light, crisp, with a faint floral undertone.

The second is better. Warmer. Richer.

I sigh, tilting my head back slightly, letting the bubbles linger on my tongue. A strange warmth spreads through me.

“Damn,” I murmur. “That’s really good.”

Damien takes a sip of his wine, nodding approvingly. “Yeah? Better than the cheap stuff we had at our wedding?”

I laugh, swirling the champagne in my glass. “You had to go there.”

“Hey, I loved our wedding.” He grins, stepping closer, brushing his free hand over my hip. “And I love you.”

I smile back, soft and genuine. Then I take another sip. I roll my shoulders, smoothing my hands over my sides. I let out a slow breath. “God, I needed that.”

A warm tingle runs down my spine, and I shiver. But it’s not from the cold. I set my glass down and move toward the mirror, tilting my head slightly as I study my reflection.

My fingers trail along my collarbone, almost absentmindedly. Then down my arms, smoothing over my own skin. I’m savoring the sensation. God, I feel good.

Damien went all out for this night. The hotel, the champagne, the little details. I can see the effort. And I love him for it.

I want to give him something just as special in return so I exhale, slow and deliberate, turning my gaze back to him.

Then I smirk.

“Tell me something, sweetheart,” I murmur, my voice silkier than before. “What kind of girl do you really want tonight?”

DAMIEN

I recognize that look in her eyes, the playful glint, the teasing smirk.

Sabrina doesn’t let go often. She’s usually tightly wound.  But sometimes, on special occasions she will. It was rare, but God, when she leaned into it, it was hot as hell.

I grin, deciding to play along. “Oh, I don’t know,” I say, leaning back against the minibar. “Maybe someone sexy. Flirtatious. Needy.”

Sabrina raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

I step closer, my voice dropping lower. “Someone who wants me. Who can’t get enough of me. Who’s so desperate to please me, she’d do anything.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, pressing a finger to her lips in mock thought. “That does sound like a fun girl.”

She giggles softly, swaying on her feet before brushing her hands over her hips. 

“Would a girl like that…” She bites her lip, stepping closer, running her fingers over my chest. “Maybe need something in return?”

I exhale sharply, my hands already itching to grab her. “And what would that be?”

She hums, dragging a nail down my shirt buttons. “I don’t know… compensation?”

It’s playful. A joke. But the way she says it makes my pulse pound. It’s her tone, or maybe the way she flutters her lashes at me.

I chuckle, sliding a hand around her waist. “You charging me now, baby?”

She lets out a breathy little laugh. “Mmm… maybe just a little.”

She’s being a bit over-the-top, but I Iove the fantasy of it. The longer we play, the more confident she gets.

Her hands roam my body more boldly. She leans into me more naturally.

And when I run my fingers down her back, she shudders like someone who really needs me.

She looks up at me, biting her lip. “So, sweetheart… what do you want to buy?”

Fuck.

That was good.

I smirk, deciding to push it further. “That depends,” I murmur, tilting her chin up. “What’s on the menu?”

SABRINA

I let out a soft, breathy laugh, twirling a strand of hair around my finger as I sway my hips just a little.

I love when Damien plays with me like this. I want to give him this. I want to make this night perfect.

I take another sip of champagne, licking a stray drop from my lips. Then I tilt my head, my voice dripping with playful curiosity. “Mmm… what’s on the menu?” I echo, letting the words roll off my tongue.

I press a finger to my lips, pretending to think. “Well,” I murmur, shifting my weight onto one hip, running a slow hand down my side, “I suppose that depends on what you’re in the mood for, sweetheart.”

Damien’s jaw clenches just slightly, and God, that reaction is hot.

I step closer, my fingers trailing down the buttons of his shirt. “Are you looking for something quick? Something dirty?” I breathe. “Or maybe…” I let the pause hang between us, my lips curling as I watch his expression, “you want the full experience?”

His grip tightens on my waist, and I can feel the heat rolling off him. “What’s the difference?” he asks, voice rough.

I giggle, swirling the champagne in my glass. This is fun and I’m feeling confident. I’m going to really sell this.

I press my body against his, my lips brushing against his ear. “A little something…” I whisper, letting my fingers skim lower, lower, “would be one thousand.”

I pull back just enough to see the lust in his eyes. He likes this.

So I keep going.

“But,” I purr, dragging a nail down his chest, “for ten thousand? You get all of me.”

The words slip out smooth and effortless. Like it was a real offer.

Damien lets out a slow exhale, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “Damn,” he mutters, half-laughing. “You really are expensive.”

I giggle again, brushing my lips along his jaw. “Quality always is.”

I take another sip of champagne, and warmth blooms in my chest. My limbs feel lighter, my body looser. This champagne is really hitting me.

And Damien? He’s eating it up. I like that.

No, I love that. I love the power I’m feeling. Usually Damien takes the lead but right now I have the ability to make him react with every word. 

I’m loving being in control.

DAMIEN

She’s pushing every button I have, and fuck, she knows it.

The way she moves, the way she sells it. It’s like she’s done this a hundred times before. I can’t stop watching her, can’t stop wanting her.

I smirk, sliding a hand down her back, gripping her ass. “Fine,” I murmur. “I’ll take the full experience.”

Sabrina’s smile is slow, satisfied. “A very good choice,” she purrs.

It almost catches me off guard how fast she goes from playful teasing to action. One moment, she’s smirking up at me, trailing her fingers down my chest, and the next, she’s on me.

Her lips are everywhere.  She’s kissing, biting, sucking at my skin like she’s starving for it. She moves fast, pushing me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me, her hands roaming like she already knows exactly how to please me.

It’s… intense.

Her body grinds against mine, her moans soft, breathy, but… practiced. Like she’s following some routine.

I don’t care. She’s so good at this.

And yet… something nags at me.

Her eyes don’t match the rest of her. Everything about her is hot, hungry, needy, but her gaze is… distant. Not cold, exactly, but disconnected.

I push the thought aside, reaching down to cup her cheek, tilting her face up to mine. “You having a good time, baby?”

She pauses just for a second. Barely a heartbeat.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she purrs. Her voice drips with honey, smooth and effortless. “I love making you feel good.”

She presses a soft kiss to my lips, then trails lower, whispering against my skin. “And you are making me feel so, so good.”

I smirk, satisfied. That’s my girl.

She giggles softly, sliding her hands down my body, taking me back under her control.

SABRINA

I move slow and teasing, the way I know he wants me to. Making him need me more.

My hands roam his body, my nails dragging lightly over his chest, my lips following the path of my fingers. I grind against him, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body reacts to mine.

Every sound I make is soft, breathy. I flick my tongue against his chest and roll my hips, feeling him inside me. His hands grip my thighs, his breaths come faster, his body tightening beneath me. I can feel how much he needs me, how completely lost he is in this moment.

I love the way I can make him feel. I love the power I have over Damien. That thought lingers for a moment.

But as I grind against him, as I watch his jaw go slack with pleasure, my mind wanders. 

I start thinking about what it would be like to do this with someone else. Not because I want to cheat, but because…

Why stop with just him?

A thrill courses through me. A real thrill.

I’m here, fucking this man. Grinding on top of him and I can’t help but get a thrill from the idea of more. Of new men, new clients, each one paying for the privilege of having me for a night like this.

I could make a fortune doing this. The thought came and I couldn’t let it go.  

The way he’s reacting to me, I could do this with other men… to other men. I could make them desire me, my touch, my body. I could turn it into power. Into money.

God, that’s such a hot thought. I cum immediately. Screaming it ecstasy. Damien thinks it’s him.  I let him. It’s good that he feels like he’s doing a good job.  

Damien groans beneath me, gripping my hips tighter. I can feel that he’s about to cum, but I don’t really care.  I just need him to get it over with so I can collect my money.

Ten thousand dollars for a night with me. 

I almost laugh, but catch myself. That wouldn’t be good for his ego and I’ll want him as a repeat customer. 

God, I’m good.

I let out a needy little whimper, just the way I know men like. I grip his wrists and press them into the sheets, taking full control, riding him in the perfect rhythm.

His moans grow louder as his body tenses in orgasm. He looks at me and I give him a sly smile.  Poor sucker.  He loves me, I can see it in his eyes. 

I fake another orgasm, just to close out the moment. It’s easy. A little breathy moan, a sharp gasp, my body tensing just right.

I watch as the tension drains from his body, his grip on my hips loosening, his breathing slowing. He’s coming down, basking in the afterglow, completely spent.

He looks up at me with lazy satisfaction, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion.

I force a warm, sultry smile, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Mmm,” I purr, my tone smooth and practiced. “It was great, baby.”

I roll off him, stretching my limbs lazily before slipping out of bed. Damien hums in contentment, already drifting.

I grab my champagne flute, lifting it to my lips as I watch him. And just like that, he’s out.

Typical. Men always crash after they get what they want.

I sip the last of the champagne, savoring the warmth that spreads through me. Then I set the glass down, standing and making my way to the bathroom. I really need a shower. I need to wash him off of me.

I step into the steamy heat, letting the water cascade over my skin, washing away the remnants of the night. My fingers trail down my stomach, my body still humming.

DAMIEN

I wake to the rustling of fabric.

My body is heavy, spent, my mind still hazy from sleep. The lingering scent of sex clings to the sheets, the warmth of the night still wrapped around me.

I blink the sleep from my eyes, pushing up onto my elbows. Sabrina is fully dressed and by the vanity, adjusting her earrings.

A form-fitting white dress clings to her curves, accentuating every inch of her body. Her heels are sleek, elegant. Her dark hair cascades down her back in silky waves, her makeup flawless, sultry, refined.

I sit up. “Where are you going?”

She turns, giving me a slow, amused smile.

“Home,” she says simply, reaching for her clutch.

I frown. “Home? Baby, we have this room for another night. It’s our anniversary, remember?”

She chuckles, the sound low and light, like I just said something ridiculous. I watch as she checks her reflection one last time, completely unbothered by my confusion.

“You only paid for one night,” she declared. “I’ve transferred the funds already.  I know you don’t have enough for another night.”

“Alright,” I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face. “Game’s over, okay? You win. You were amazing, seriously. Best roleplay we’ve ever done.” I chuckle, trying to ease the tension creeping up my spine. “But you don’t have to stay in character anymore.”

She turns to face me fully, her smirk playful, teasing.

“Sweetheart,” she says smoothly, crossing the room toward me. She leans down, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing over my jawline. 

“I’m not playing…” Her lips brush against my ear. “…unless you’re paying.”

I let out a strained laugh, shaking my head. “Alright. Very funny. Just come back to bed.”

She straightens, grabbing her clutch. “I am funny, aren’t I?” she hums. “But I already told you. You can’t afford me.”

This isn’t funny anymore.

“Stop it,” I snap, throwing the card onto the bed. “This isn’t a joke, Sabrina.”

She tilts her head, brow arching slightly.

“You’re right,” she says smoothly, stepping toward the door. “It’s business.”

I scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over myself as I grab her wrist. “Baby, don’t go. Just… just come back to bed. We’ll talk. We’ll…”

Her gaze drops to where I’m holding her.

“Let me go,” she says coldly.

My hand drops away and she quickly exits the room.

I stand there, staring at the door, my breath shallow. My entire body is tense, like I’m trapped in some kind of nightmare I can’t wake up from.

I turn in a daze, my eyes landing on the bottle of champagne still sitting on the nightstand.

The label catches the light, gold lettering gleaming back at me.

5LUT WINES: Limited Edition – Escort Champagne

I finally understand. I’d heard the stories and I knew Sabrina was changed.

I didn’t just lose my wife tonight. I paid to have her taken from me.

And there’s nothing I can do to get her back.

[jjanuaryrain]

Spideypool and The Case of The Backup Suits

a quick story I started but never ended up doing more with. I like it enough that I might add it to my ongoing ao3 Spideypool fic tho. More below the cut.

     Spider-Man lands on the roof next to Deadpool with a soft thud, gravel scattering under his red and blue booties. It’s not particularly unusual for him to be late for patrol, but it is unusual for him to have a knife sticking out of his ribs. That’s kinda Deadpool’s thing.

     “Going for a new look, baby boy?” Deadpool asks appraisingly. He’s leaned against the wall of the roof-access door so he can have a good view of the city without leaving his back exposed. “It looks nice on you, all gross and bloody and stuff. I’ll tell you, red is really your color.”

     Spidey wheezes menacingly and glares at him, holding his side with the knife in it. “Will you shut up and get this thing out of me?” He huffs. “I think it’s barbed and I couldn’t manage to do it myself.”

     It does look like a pretty gnarly wound. Deadpool’s pretty sure if a non-super had a knife sticking out of them like that, they wouldn’t be alive to verbally abuse Deadpool about removing it.

     “Depends,” he hums, not moving from his lounging spot. “Do I get to keep it?”

     Spider-Man growls and then immediately winces. “Yes, you can keep the knife, whatever,” he hisses and Deadpool grins and pushes off the wall. “Just get it out of my fucking body.”

     “Such a mouth on you, baby boy,” he tuts, crouching down so he’s eye level with Spider-Man’s side. “Better keep that under wraps or you'll disappoint all the little old ladies you help with their groceries.”

     “Deadpool.”

     He gently lays a hand on Spider-Man’s side and inspects the injury. “I know, baby boy, just assessing what I’m working with. Don’t wanna cause more damage than necessary. Your healing factor might be keeping you alive right now but it’s still pretty shit, comparatively.” He tugs off a glove with his teeth and gently prods at the wound. Spidey hisses out a string of curses but doesn’t pull away. He likes to pretend he doesn’t like or trust Deadpool, but when it comes down to it he’s more than willing to come to the mercenary for help.

{Yeah, after Daredevil turns him down.}

[As if Spidey trusts that clown more than us. What’s a blind man gonna do about his stab wound?]

     “Oh, great, I was wondering when you two were gonna join the party,” Deadpool mutters to himself. The boxes don’t usually bother him on good brain days unless Spidey’s around.

{What can we say, Spidey interests us.}

[And arouses! Don’t forget arouses]

     “Yeah, well, just don’t go talking shit about Daredevil so close to Hell’s Kitchen. I’ve got enough repressed emotions to last me a lifetime, I don’t need him rubbing his Catholic guilt all over me, too.” Spidey snickers and flinches again, and Wade’s mouth tugs up slightly under his mask.

     Webs has gotten eerily good at clocking when Deadpool’s talking to him versus the boxes, and he only interrupts their conversations to make small comments, as if the hallucinations are actually there. It’s pretty fucking endearing.

{I’ll have you know hallucination is a derogatory term.}

[Yeah, we won’t be thought of this way in our own head!]

     Deadpool finishes his inspection of the wound and taps him on the hip. “Alright Spider-babe, this is gonna hurt like a bitch but it won’t kill ya. You ready?”

     Spider-Man lets out a shaky sigh and nods. “Yeah, just make sure to- Mother fucking god fuck!”

     “Kiss your mother with that mouth?” Deadpool asks blithely, wiping off his newly acquired blade with a baby pink handkerchief. Before Spidey can catch his breath, he presses the cloth to the weeping wound and Spidey begins a round of cursing anew. The wound manages to weep an alarming amount of blood before Spider-Man regains the presence of mind to spray at it with his web fluid to staunch the bleeding.

     Deadpool flips the knife in the air and catches it in one of his open pouches while Spidey wheezes like he’s run a marathon. On closer inspection, his finger is trembling on the trigger of his web shooter, too. Deadpool frowns. He always forgets what pain and blood loss can do to a person who hasn’t been tortured to the brink of insanity before. It’s a little disturbing to see his baby boy so shaky from one little stab wound.

[Brink??]

{You fell off that cliff years ago, bud. Why do you think we’re here?}

     “Jeez Webs, what happened to the days when you could get stuck and keep plowing through villains like it’s nothing? You losing your touch?”

     Spidey growls at him from where he’s bent over a few steps away, lenses slanted in a glare. “Not all of us can have a healing factor that runs on fucking unicorns and daydreams. Some of us need sleep and food to keep up with our injuries,” he hisses. Deadpool’s frown deepens.

     “You haven’t been sleeping?” There’s iron in his tone, but he can’t help it. How many times has he told this stupid, self-sacrificing stick bug that he needs to take care of himself. “You skipping meals?” He stands from his crouch and stalks toward Spider-Man, who manages to straighten up even as he still clutches his side. “The fuck did I tell you about skipping meals?”

     “Christ, ’Pool, relax! It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.” He raises the one hand that’s not trying to hold his body together in surrender, and Deadpool crosses his arms, unmoved.

     “No excuses, baby boy. I told you last time that if you didn’t start taking care of yourself I was gonna do it for you.”

     “’Pool,” Webs complains, and Deadpool zips open one of his pouches and roots around for his wallet. What he comes up with is a handful of hundred dollar bills that he thrusts at Spidey.

     “Here. Go find yourself something to eat so you can pass out in a food coma at home. You’re not patrolling tonight.”

     “What?!” Spider-Man squawks. He shoves Deadpool’s hand away and straightens up further as his skin starts to stitch itself back together. “I’m not going home! And I’m not taking your money either. I’m- I’m fine.”

     Deadpool puts his hands on his hips, a few hundreds fluttering from his fist and onto the gravel of the roof. “I’d be more inclined to believe you if you sounded at all like you believe it yourself.” He thrusts out his hand again. “Take it.”

     “No,” Spidey says more firmly, familiar stubbornness creeping into his tone, and steps back. “I don’t want your money. I’m doing perfectly fine on my own.”

     “I didn’t ask what you wanted,” Deadpools growls, closing the distance between them again. “I told you what you’re going to do.” He smacks his hand on Spidey’s chest, making him rock back slightly. “Take. The. Fucking. Money.”

     Spidey goes unnaturally still for a moment and Deadpool mentally preps himself to tackle a fleeing spider and stuff the hundreds down his suit, but then Spidey relaxes and slowly slides a hand over Deadpool’s on his chest. Deadpool relaxes with him and lets go of where he was grasping the front of his suit through the bills.

     “I appreciate the concern, Deadpool,” Spidey says sincerely and Deadpool nods. He goes to step back but in the next second Spidey’s form blurs with familiar spider speed and Deadpool finds himself on the ground. Spider-man coats him in a generous layer of webs and lands in a crouch beside him from where he’d catapulted himself up on the wall. “But it really isn’t necessary,” he finishes. He places the pile of crumpled bills by Deadpool’s head.

[Crafty little bastard!]

     “That might have been really fucking cool, not to mention sexy as all fuck,” Deadpool praises from the ground as Spidey stands. “But I know you’re not stupid enough to think this’ll stop me.” Spidey crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side, looking Deadpool’s cocooned form up and down. From Deadpool’s position on the ground, his legs look a mile long and his head blocks out the sun, creating a stunning halo around him. It’s fucking angelic.

     “Those webs have the tensile strength of steel,” he says haughtily and damn if Deadpool isn’t a slut for cocky assholes. “They’re made to stop speeding trains and juiced up idiots like the Rhino. I don’t think you’ll be getting out of there for a good long while.” He reaches down and pats Deadpool on the head.

{Good cow.}

     Deadpool considers for a moment. He could totally break out of these webs with the spring-loaded adamantium knives he has concealed in the forearms of his suit, but he’s a lady of mystery. You can’t reveal your hand too early, even to The Amazing Spider-Man.

{I think you’re missing a ™ there, big guy.}

     “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

     “Try not to die before the webbing dissolves, okay?” Spider-Man tells him, straightening [hah, gay!] up from his crouch. “I know you have a weird knack for dying in the most unlikely situations but I’d feel a little guilty if you do, so knock it off.”

     “Are you seriously trying to guilt me out of dying?”

     Spidey gives him an imperious look from above. “Just do what I say, ok?”

     “Aww, you do care!”

     “Uh huh, sure. Just don’t be a corpse the next time I see you, or we’ll have a problem.” Spidey latches a web onto an adjacent building and is off and swinging before Deadpool can even start to squeal and kick his tightly bound legs like a lovesick schoolgirl. Spidey cares about him.

{Is that seriously what you gleaned from that conversation?}

[He totally cares whether we live or die!]

{Pretty sure that’s his duty as a superhero}

[No one cares if we live or die! Stark used a flamethrower to get us to stop climbing his building last month. Spidey wants us to try not to die!]

{This is pathetic.}

・　・　・

     The next time Deadpool catches up with Spider-Man, he’s robbing a bank. Or, at least, that’s what the news alert he has on his phone for all things Spidey-related tells him. It doesn’t sound like his baby boy but, hey, everybody’s gotta eat. And if Spidey won’t take Deadpool’s money at least he’s taking measures to keep himself fed.

     Deadpool is very disappointed when he realizes the man in the Spider-Man suit is an imposter. He looks enough like him that most people will probably be bamboozled, but Deadpool is not most people. He knows Spider-Man’s body like the back of his hand, for gay and not-gay reasons alike.

[Name one not gay reason]

     For one, Spider-Man’s ass simply doesn’t quit. This guy’s ass though… Deadpool tilts his head, trying to calculate the curvature.

{You’re not calculating shit.}

[That is most definitely a gay reason]

     “Yeah, that ass is definitely quitting,” he decides. “No bounce to it at all. Hey, Fake Spidey! Who are you and what have you done with Spider-Man?”

     The imposter whirls around from where he’d been threatening the poor bank teller. Which is a good choice in that Deadpool is absolutely a threat that you should never put your back to, but a stupid choice in the sense that Deadpool’s not a threat you wanna face head-on, either. 

     “What the fuck?” The robber wheels his sorry excuse for a gun around [sloppy handling!] and aims it at Deadpool. Really, who actually uses a sawed off shotgun in this day and age? “Get lost, freak!” The guy shouts at him, voice breaking slightly. “This is my hit!”

     “Ooh, using ‘freak’, too? Definitely not Spidey’s MO.” Deadpool flutters his fingers over the twin Berettas on his hips, like a cowboy gearing up for a quickdraw. “Why don’t you go ahead and give little missy her money back and we can all walk away from this in one piece.” He dips his voice into a slow southern drawl and Fake Spidey’s lenses aren’t quite as expressive as the real ones, but Deadpool somehow gets the impression that the robber isn’t impressed. He hefts his sawed off shotgun and aims for Deadpool’s head.

{Welp, so much for the peaceful route.}

[Spidey’s gonna be sooooo pissed]

     Deadpool doesn’t even have to dodge the first shot; Fake Spidey clearly isn’t expecting the kick back from the gun and the bullets shatter the windows a half-foot above Deadpool’s head.

     “Hah! You couldn’t shoot fish in a barrel!” The second shot catches him in the shoulder and tears through his suit, taking chunks of skin and flesh with it. The impact of it knocks him on his ass. Deadpool’s breath punches out of him, but his skin is already knitting itself back together when he groans and sits up. “Aw man, I just patched that!”

[Kill the fucker before he ruins any more of your handiwork]

{Yeah, kill the man in the Spider-Man suit. Spidey will just love that.}

     Deadpool grumbles and staggers to his feet as the robber scrambles to reload. He’d clearly expected that shot to keep Deadpool down, but Wade’s not one to just lie there and let the other person do all the work. He’s considerate like that.

     “Hate to break it to you,” he grunts as he stalks forward and yanks the shotgun out of Fake Spidey’s hands. It splinters easily in half when he snaps it over his knee. What shoddy craftsmanship. “But I’m not a one and done kinda girl. I’m more into multiple rounds, if you catch my drift.”

     Deadpool winks and pistol whips Fake Spidey with the butt of the splintered gun. He drops like a sack of rice.

{That was anticlimactic.}

[Booooooo! This is a Deadpool fanfic, where’s the gore??]

     “Men just finish so quickly these days,” Deadpool sighs. The remains of the shotgun fall out of his hands and hit the floor with a thud that makes the woman cowering behind the counter flinch and whimper. Deadpool scratches the back of his head and looks around. “Huh. Somehow I imagined there’d be a lot more cheering than this.”

[Spider-Man gets way more cheers than this]

{If by ‘cheers’ you mean ‘dirty looks and death threats’, then sure.}

     “You’d think saving lives would warrant at least a little bit of cheering,” Deadpool mutters to himself. Now that he’s no longer distracted by Fake Spidey’s fake ass, he can hear the muffled sounds of crying and talking drifting through the door to the bank vault. He raises his gun and aims it at the lock to the safe. “Oh good, more civilians to save! Maybe they’ll cheer for me.” Before he can pull the trigger though, there’s the familiar sound of a body cutting through the air behind him and then red-clad boots are slamming into his back. Deadpool goes down with a heavy oof and his gun is immediately webbed to the floor where it’d been knocked out of his hand. He grins.

     “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The love of his life asks him. Deadpool rolls over onto his back and folds his hands under his head.

     “Spidey, babe, you made it! I was starting to think I’d have to take care of this all by myself!” He props himself up onto his elbows and wipes imaginary sweat from his brow. “What a relief to have a real, bonafide superher-”

     “Do not finish that sentence,” Spidey orders from above him. Which, like, kinky. Deadpool dutifully snaps his mouth shut. “What’s going on here and why does it look like you’re robbing a bank?” He’s got his hands on his hips like an angry schoolteacher and Deadpool gives a long, low whistle.

     “I gotta say, Spidey, you looking down on me with that expression is really something. I had an ex who used to get that exact same look on her face when she was reaping the souls of the dead, and let me tell you–”

     A glob of webbing hits Deadpool in the mouth. “Just answer the damn question, ’Pool. Why did I get an alert that a man in a Spiderman costume was robbing Midtown Bank? And how did I just know that it was going to be you?”

[Wow, he’s in a mood]

     “Okay, first of all, I can hear you saying ‘Spiderman’ without a hyphen when you and I both know it’s ‘Spider-Man’ with a hyphen,” he says through the webbing because, hello, mask?? Spidey aims his web shooter at his face again. “And! Second of all…” Deadpool tilts his head toward where Fake Spidey is half hidden behind the reception desk. Spider-Man begrudgingly follows his gaze.

     “What are you…” His lenses widen comically when he sees his doppelganger crumpled on the ground. “What the fuck.” He immediately moves to check the man’s pulse like a good little superhero and Deadpool heaves himself off the ground, tugging at the webs on his face. All he manages to do is stick his glove to his mask.

     “What did you do to him?”

     “He’s fine, Webs. A little skull fracture never hurt anyone.” Deadpool joins him in a crouch beside the unconscious man. He pokes at the seams of his costume a little. “This shoddy craftsmanship, however, is truly painful. It’s like he didn’t even think to model it off one of your back up suits.”

     Spidey’s head snaps to him. “What.”

     “You know, the two suits you have for when your main one is out of commission?” Deadpool asks, flipping his free hand vaguely as he continues to inspect the suit. “One of them has a rip stitched up with black thread across the lower back and the other has a discolored patch under the right armpit?” He shakes his head, pulling his webbed hand along with it. “If this guy were a true Spidey fan, he’d know better than to use nylon of all things as the material. Mine is way more faithful to the real thing.”

{Now that’s just creepy.}

     There’s a long beat of silence in which Spider-Man just stares at him.“Wade,” he says slowly. Deadpool freezes where he's plucking at the fabric of Fake Spidey’s suit.

[Uh oh]

{Didn’t he kick us off a roof the last time he called us Wade?}

     “Um, yes?”

     “Are you telling me that you made a replica spidersuit? That’s based off of my backup suits that no one’s supposed to know about?”

{We made three, actually.}

     “Noooooo.”

     “Because if that’s what you’re telling me, I’m going to have to pick up this broken gun and beat you with it. Is that what you want?”

[God, yes]

     “...No?”

     “Then when we’re done here, I suggest you go find this imaginary spidersuit and burn it before I find out that it actually exists. Got it?”

     “But–”

     “Got it?”

     Deadpool’s head drops into an eager nod before he can stop himself. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

{Now that’s just pathetic.}

[I vaguely recall our S.H.I.E.L.D. dossier also mentioning that we have ‘no discernable ties to any known nation or agency’]

     “Pretty sure dat ass isn’t a nation or agency, so we’re all clear there,” Deadpool grumbles to himself. Spidey glares at him but doesn’t comment on what clearly wasn’t meant for him. Just another reason for Deadpool to adore him. 

     “So, are you gonna tell me what actually happened here?” He asks, standing from his crouch over his double. “And where all the civilians are? Surely there were people here when you were playing cops and robbers with…” He kicks lightly at Fake Spidey.

     “Well, I was trying to break open the vault they’re locked in when someone knocked me down. Oh, and there’s the bank teller.”

     “What bank teller?”

     “The one cowering behind the counter,” Deadpool says. He levers himself to his feet and moves to peer over the marble check in desk. “Hey, you can come out now. I totally took that guy out with my badass… Uh.” There’s no one there. All of the cash registers are open, though, and there’s a trail of loose bills leading to the emergency exit. “Well, that’s convenient.”

     “Pool,” Spider-Man grits out, taking in the scene behind the counter. “You let her get away?”

     “I didn’t know she was in on it! She looked all scared and shit, I totally thought she was being held up. That’s what I get for being sexist, I guess.”

     Spidey shakes his head and webs up all the loose bills into the bag the robber was using and webs said bag to the ceiling. “I’m going after her,” he tells Deadpool seriously as he replaces the cartridges in his webshooters. “Figure out how to get those guys out of the vault and make sure they see the paramedics outside.”

     “Sir, yes sir!” Deadpool salutes, a perfect replication from his time in the military. His CO would be proud.

     Spidey catapults himself back up toward the broken window he’d entered through and clings to the side. He’s just about to swing off when he pauses and looks back at Deadpool.

     “And Wade?”

     Deadpool gets a whole body shiver. “Yeah babe?”

     “Burn the fucking suit.”

・　・　・

     Deadpool does not, in fact, burn the fucking suit. Spider-Man might be his boo thang but he’s not actually his CO and Wade doesn’t have to do what he says. He never actually did what his real CO said, either, which is what earned him his shiny dishonorable discharge. If only they’d given him a badge for it like they do purple hearts and shit.

[We are so fucked in the head]

     Besides, he has plans for those suits. Good plans. Sexy plans. Especially since Spidey has expressed such a keen interest in seeing them destroyed.

{Remember what we said about not showing your hand too early?}

     The next alert he gets about Spider-Man is for realsies. Despite the fact that Spider-Man had caught the bank teller (who had been Fake Spidey’s inside woman, apparently) and recovered all of the stolen money, the media is still in a tizzy about the fact that ‘Spider-Man’ robbed a bank. They’re even more up his ass than usual, with The Bugle releasing a new article about him just about hourly. 

[The Bugle is this universe’s Buzzfeed, who coulda guessed]

     It’s thanks to this diligent and necessary reporting that Deadpool is able to track down Spidey when he takes his lunch break on top of the Flatiron Building in Manhattan. The clunk of Deadpool’s grappling hook catching on the ledge is familiar, as is the way Spidey twangs the line in recognition of his presence. Deadpool tucks the replica suit into his belt and begins his ascent.

     When he reaches the top, Spidey’s mask is already half raised and he’s rifling through a soggy brown paper bag with a smiling hoagie printed on the front. The ink is starting to run and it looks like the hoagie is crying.

     “Jesus, Webs, is that your lunch? I know your immune system’s pretty good but I’m not sure it’ll be able to withstand whatever new strain of botulism is almost definitely in there. Are you sure the guy who sold that to you wasn’t the Goblin in a mustache? Cause that’s the only guy I can think of who hates you enough to sell you an abomination like that. Here, let me–”

     “You got any mayo in your pouches?”

     “–show you what I… wait, mayo? You’re gonna further disgrace that sandwich with mayo? That’s just wrong, Webs. I’d expect this of Doc Ock, the freak, but I never thought you’d debase yourself to–”

     Spidey waves the sandwich in front of his face. “Mayo, Pool, yes or no?”

     Deadpool bats it out of his hand, knocking to the ground and halfway into a pool of water. “No mayo! And no botulism BLT either.”

     “What the hell! Do you know how much that cost??”

     “Far too fuckin’ much I’m sure, baby boy. Buuuuut not as much as these I bet!” Deadpool presents Spidey with the three bags of El Tako Nako he’d bought on his way over, swaying them in front of his face. “Oooooh, you want the tacos soooooo bad,” he croons in a mystical voice. Spidey glowers at him.

     “This does not count as me accepting handouts from you,” he says sternly and swipes one of the bags out of Deadpool’s hands. Wade grins. “This is just payback for fucking up my actual lunch.”

     “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t dream of trying to give you free food, that’s just wrong. Here, try one of the quesadillas. They’re to die for.” Spidey looks up from rifling through his pilfered bag and reaches for the quesadilla Wade’s offering. He freezes.

     “What is that.”

     “I told you, a chicken quesadilla. Best one on this side of the Appalach– AH!”

     Spidey lunges for the suit Wade has tucked into his belt but the merc dodges out of the way. “Ohhh, that that,” he says as he dances away. “Well, you see, I know you told me to burn it and everything but, like, I worked reaaaaally hard on getting all the details right and– Hey, no fair!”

     Wade’s foot is webbed to the roof and Spidey jumps for him. Wade shifts to take the impact to his side and lets the force of it rock him on his feet but doesn’t fall. Spidey’s strong but he’s also light, barely a buck ninety soaking wet; he can’t take Wade down with bodyweight alone, especially with one foot glued down.

     “Give me the goddamn suit!” Spidey shoots webbing at Wade’s free foot and yanks, taking them both down in a heavy tumble. They wrestle for a long moment but the fact of the matter is that Spider-Man is 10x stronger and Wade just isn’t trying that hard.

     Spidey gets him on his back [hah], straddled over Wade’s thighs with one hand pinning his arms and the other scrabbling for his belt [hah!]. Then he stops, just panting and staring at Wade’s crotch.

     “Cat got your tongue?” Wade asks blithely.

     Spidey looks up at him, teeth bared. “Fucking where?”

     “Mm, I dunno. I think you’re gonna have to strip search me, officer.” Wade punctuates his words with a roll of his hips that Spider-Man immediately puts a stop to by squeezing his thighs together so hard that Wade’s pelvic bone cracks. There’s that spider strength he was waiting for. Yummy.

     “I’m serious, Deadpool. How in the fuck did you manage to hide- Y’know what? Never mind. Give it to me!”

     “You want it that bad, Webs?”

     “Clearly!”

[HAH!!!]

     Wade leers and Spidey hisses out a breath. His neck is a lovely shade of pink. He pushes off of Deadpool and steps back, crossing his arms.

     “What’s it gonna take, Wade?” He spits, ignoring the innuendo entirely. [Boooooring] “Am I gonna have to beat it out of you?”

     “Well…”

     “Wade.”

     “Fine, fine! But if I tell you what I want in exchange for the suit, are you actually gonna do it? Cause I seem to recall the last time I asked you to do something, you webbed me to a roof and left me there.”

     Spidey scoffs. “You were fine. You didn’t even die.”

     “Exactly! I did exactly as you asked and what do I get? More demands with nothing in return. When is it my turn to demand things? What about what I want, huh?” It’s meant to be a stupid argument about a stupid situation but Spidey rounds on him. His expression is imperceptible through the mask, but his stare feels very intense.

[Erotic, some would say]

     “What, exactly, is it that you want, ’Pool?” Spider-Man asks lowly. Deadpool’s great at reading body language but his horny hindbrain is seriously messing with that skill right about now. He swallows.

     “A date.”

     The request rings out through the cool November air. Spidey stays just where he is, breath puffing out in little white clouds. After an agonizing few moments, he tips his head to the side. Calculating, like a mountain cat sizing up its prey. Deadpool suddenly feels very warm despite the cold.

     “A… date.” Spider-Man says slowly. He says the word like he’s rolling it around in his mouth, trying to decide if he likes the feel of it or not. If Deadpool weren’t so sure he’s hallucinating at least 60% of this interaction, he’d say Spidey sounds almost intrigued. In a tightly restrained sort of way, of course.

     “A date,” Deadpool confirms with a nod and far more confidence than he feels. “Could be whatever you want. Playing games at my apartment, throwing fries at pigeons in central park, Netflix and chi–”

     “What about dinner and a show?” Spidey interrupts. Deadpool pauses and Spidey gestures behind him. Deadpool turns around to see that the giant billboard across from them is replaying Spidey’s latest fight with the sinister six on a loop. J. Jonah Jameson’s voice blares from the tinny speakers, critiquing his moves and insisting that his son could have taken them down in half the time.

     Deadpool turns back around to find that Spidey has picked up the quesadilla he’d abandoned in order to tackle Deadpool to the ground. The bug gestures to the ground beside him, a challenging little smirk on his half-unmasked face. Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Spidey thinks he can just do what they always do and call it a date. Wait ‘til he learns Deadpool don’t play fair. No, he plays downright dirty.

Wade sits down.

[strawby-fields]

hehehe tagged by @rhaaclaws !!!

Last song listened to: Same Man I Was Before by Oingo Boingo ! It started playing randomly but I like the song so !!

Favourite place: Hmm... I’m awful at picking favourites so I guess the aquarium ?? If you take me to one I will stay there forever and ogle at the fish. I love aquariums.

Favourite book: The Little Prince, maybe? Its very near and dear to me! I reread my copy often :]

Currently reading: I’m reading so many things and I’ll probably finish them in 5 billion years… I’ve been working on reading Watership Down and Wings Of Fire: Dragonslayer! I enjoy xenofiction what can you say.

Favourite TV show: I don’t really watch a lot of TV? I’m going to choose the easy way out and say the JJBA anime because it changed my brain chemistry but I’m not a big TV guy.

Favourite movie: Another hard one because I’m awful at favourite picking… I’m going to say Meet The Robinsons just because I could rewatch that movie a billion times and never get tired of it (and I hate rewatching stuff!)

Favourite food: Hmmm…. Sushi…. So yummy. I do enjoy lots of sweets too ofc! Strawberries are my beloved and is it predictable for me to say that eating panna cotta changed my life?

Ouueerrmmm I’m gonna tag @love-comes-to-town @wowitsrohan @angeltownn and I guess anyone else who wants to do it is welcome to as well!

[fairyofshampgyu]

BASSIST BEOMGYU BASSIST BEOMGYU BASSIST BEOMGYU BASSIST BEOMGYU

[plush-rabbit]

Foggy Minds

Word Count: 4.7K A/N: I dont know his body!! So I tried to leave it ambiguous and yeah!! i also wrote this just for the ending bit

-

It’s a fucking joke. A cruel one. Angels- or at least Exterminators- are known for their cruelty. Raining down from above, a storm cloud that leaves red behind. Even after the destruction and death, the guts and gore that leave a lasting stench, the cruelty isn’t done. The angel Adam still has to bring torment down to Hell.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what he is. He can pretend he’s higher than the sinners down below, but he’s just as crude, if not more so than the worst of them here. It’s a tradition at this point for both you and him. He brings hell on hell, and a week later, he flies down once more, calling the club that you work at, demanding for you to be sent to the Heaven Embassy. However, as the next Extermination Day comes close, he’s called for your services once again. You wish you could say no, but he pays quite a lot for you, and you could always use the money.. 

You hate the walk there more than anything. It’s like everyone knows you’re off to go fuck the Exorcist. You look both ways before disappearing through the doors of the Embassy. Maybe they think you’re getting a meeting with- someone. 

The Embassy is empty, and every step you take echoes out in the room. You’re terrified. You always are. It never stops feeling like a trap. Even in the elevator on the way to the suite, you can only stare at the golden doors in front of you, your reflection distorted and twisted. 

If you’re going to be honest- you aren’t sure why it’s you who has to come up. It’s Adam- he’s bragged enough about how he can have anyone, and yet, he pays for a sinner’s cunt. You make sure to not feel special, to squash any pride down. Perhaps it’s too tedious to pay for another sinner or hellborn, and it’s best to just get what he knows will be a good fuck. You sigh and look away from your reflection and the glowing numbers. Still, you show up and do your job. You've taken better and worse clients. The angel is just someone in between. 

The doors open and you pass a few doors until you reach his suite. You don’t know why the Embassy has so many rooms, and when you tried to ask Adam, he made a comment about how you could have a fuck-a-thon, doing it in each room, and you sneered at the idea. 

Your suite- or rather his suite- is unlocked like always. You waste no time, stepping into the shimmering room. It’s livable. A kitchenette on one side, a bathroom with a wonderful shower tucked in the room, and a massive bed pushed to the end of the room. The room is bright, golds and blues, a deep dark wood carved into ornate decorations, and you feel out of place. It’s nice- far too nice for you to show up and defile it with what you’re going to do. The room never ceases to amaze you. There aren’t many places in Hell where the colors are bright and soft at the same time, where things look so pristine and untouched. When you once mentioned to Adam how nice the room was, he laughed and told you that there were far better rooms in Heaven. A part of you still wishes that he would have offered to show you- something, pictures, descriptions, anything. 

“Took you long enough!” The angel says, leaning back on the bed. “I pay for your entire time, ya know? From the walk from your whore house to the embassy, the least ya could do is hurry it up. I’m a very important angel, ya know?”

“You ordered me like last-”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want excuses.” His hand waves in the air, and he sits on the bed. “Come on, let’s get to it.” You roll your eyes at him as you walk closer. “Oi! Don’t roll your eyes at me,” his voice is laced with disgust, and you remember that he looks down on you- in more ways than you would care to admit. “Come on, strip.” Your hands go to unzip your skirt. “And make it good!”

You bite your tongue. Your shirt is the first to go. The action is slow, tantalizing as your fingers skim over your bare skin, and your skirt follows suit, pooling on the floor. You step out the fabric, and your heels click on the floor. Adam watches you, his hands scratching the bed covers. You spread your legs over his right, and grab his hands, letting them touch your ribs and then moving towards your back. 

You can feel the tips of his claws scratch at the clip of your bra. You press your cunt over his robe covered thigh, and grind over it softly. “Please, Adam,” you beg. “Take it off for me?” Your hands rest over his chest, and he watches as you grind yourself over him, your hands fisting over his robe, and you wonder for a moment if maybe you did a bad thing- if this was the wrong move. But then your bra straps fall down your shoulders, and it’s discarded somewhere in the room.

You hiss when his mouth suckles on a breast, the other breast being pinched and pulled at. He sucks so softly, letting his tongue roll over the swelling bud, teething at it so you hiss and arch yourself further into him. You can feel a wet spot grow, and you can’t help but rock yourself over your thigh. The other breast is manhandled, twisted and pinched that has you gasping and fisting holy fabric in your sinner hands. 

You're pushed off and his hands claw over your hip. You get the memo, and peel off your underwear, the wetness of it noticeable, and the only mention of it is when Adam pockets your underwear. You wish you bought another pair with you. The heels are tossed aside, and strong hands push you down from your shoulders. You fall onto your knees with a hiss, and you know what you have to do.

-

“And- And- Oh fuck, that’s it, baby-” He hisses, his head tilted back. The hand fisted into your hair tightens, sharp stinging encouraging you to swallow more so he could let go. “I’m just saying that why would you settle for anything less than-” A moan interrupts his monologue and you look at him through glossy eyes. “Oh fuck. It’s like a fucking gift to suck me off.”

A string of spit and pre-ejaculate connects to your lips as you pull away. It’s thick and white, and you’re gasping for hair, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and you push yourself to swallow his package, fitting the pair into your mouth as your hand pumps his length. He’s breathing heavily, and you know he's upset at the loss of contact with your mouth with the way that his hand tangles itself into your hair, but his mask is twisted, and you pop them out of your mouth. Your mouth feels dry despite the excess spit- you suppose it’s the salty taste that lingers. 

You take him back in your mouth, eager, and begging for him to just spill his seed already. Your cheeks hollow, and he’s heavy on your tongue. Your tongue swirls over a vein, and you can feel him twitching.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he hisses, his hands cradling your head. You hum, and brace yourself, your hands holding at his thighs, bracing yourself for him to thrust forward. His hands tighten, and he thrusts into your mouth. You gag around him, your throat constricting around him. It’s a horrid sound, loud and hollow, and acid threatens to bubble over. As he continues to pump himself into you, spit dribbles from the corner of your lips and you’re grateful that you were ordered to remove your clothes. 

“That’s right, take it. Oh fuck, fuck-” a string of curses fills the room, and he’s unrelenting, pushing deeper into your throat. A hand slips to grab at your breast, eyes squinting when you can feel the spit coat over your chest. Your other hand tightens around Adam’s thigh, your nails pinching into him.

Your fingers pinch over your nipple, rolling it over, desperate to take your mind off of the assault of your mouth. His thrusts get deeper and harsher, and he’s still in the back of your throat, holding you down. Curses mutter in the air, sharp and slurring together, and he keeps his eyes on you. The eye contact is far too much, the piercing eyes boring into your entire being, and it must be some type of power play for him. You choose to focus on the base of his cock. With your nose pressed into his pubic bone, you cough around him, and finally he pulls away, his seed laying thick on your tongue. Tears wet your face and mix with your spit and the drops of his seed. 

He grabs your chin and you open your mouth, showing the mess that he’s made. Letting go, you stay still, as he taps his cock on your face. It’s tacky with your spit and leaves you feeling much filthier than you would like to admit. You hold the seed in your mouth and he gives a nod, and you make a show of swallowing, and open your mouth to show him. “Did you want me to do a blessing before you swallow?”  He teases. “With my holy cum, I grant you the opportunity to fuck me.” He chuckles at his joke.

“Thank you, Adam,” you murmur, hoping that the soreness on your jaw will go away.

“You know, you could learn how to relax your throat. You’d think after doing this for a living, your gag reflex wouldn't be a thing.” You send him a dirty look, and his grin widens. “So fucking sensitive. What did you want me to tell you? That you were good?”

You aren’t sure what mood he’s in at the moment. Sometimes you can tell when he wants to fight with you- where he wants to punish you and call you a sinner as he ravages you, but then there are moments when he wants you to beg for him, to tell him how good he is, how you want his cock more than anything. But at the moment with your skull pounding and jaw sore, you spit out a simple, “Fuck you.” His grin widens, and he hoists you up onto the bed. The stickiness on your face ruins the soft comforter, and you feel too dirty to even touch something so nice.

“I was going to be nice and just fuck you, but shit, you had to talk back.” 

A hand grips at your rear, and a finger teases at your hole. You hiss at the contact, and you're glad you’re face down or else you’d never hear the end of it of how flustered you must look. As if reading your mind, he flips you over, your face exposed and your hands immediately cover the lower half. 

“Adam-” you squeal, instinctively trying to close your legs only to have them pried apart. 

“Don’t worry,” he says casually. “I just wanna look at how wet you got just from sucking on me.” A finger traces against your slick and you watch as he tastes the finger. “Damn, I should have let you keep your panties on if I knew you were going to get this wet.” A finger enters and you squirm, suckling the intrusion further into your softness. “You’re soaked. And all you had to do was suck me off. You know, if I could keep you, I would.” He enters another finger, pushing the two inside until he’s at the knuckles. “I’d give you a nice collar, a nice bed, and all you would have to do is be my little cocksleeve.” He pulls out, and thick strings of slick connect his fingers back to your cunt. He returns his fingers to your cunt, now with the addition of a third. It’s a wide stretch, a sharp pain being overridden with pleasure. “I bet you’d like that. You’d live a pampered life, and all you have to do is keep your pussy spread open for me.” 

With a yank, you’re pulled further into the bed. The comforters make a soft noise, but the bed itself doesn’t creak. You watch with half-lidded eyes, focused as he rests on his knees beside you, his cock growing, the scent of it enough to make you go dizzy. You brush your cheek against it, licking at the side of it when he thrusts his fingers into you.

You sit on the bed, his cock pressed against your face, and with a mind too delirious to think of anything else, you pull him into your mind, lazily bobbing his head, as his fingers scissor inside of you. 

You breathe heavily, your mind growing fuzzy with the stimulation. He’s slow and lazy, massaging the inside of your gummy walls as he looks down at you taking his cock once more. A hand brushes your hair away from your face, and you pull away, pecking at his cockhead, nuzzling the glistening head against your lips. It isn’t enough for you, and you swallow him once more, humping into his hand when he gives a smart smack to your cunt. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you scamper to do so. You don’t get a moment to prepare yourself, until he’s bullying himself inside of you. Your hands claw at the comforter, and with watery eyes, you see the fabric tear apart underneath your claws. “You’re clamping down hard around me,” he breathes out, and you buck your hips, trying to feel him deeper into you.

Above you, he's heavy, and selfish, pumping into you relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin is harmonized by your moans. He grunts above you, whispering strings of obscenities and few words of praise linger in the air.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts out, “so fucking good.” His breath is hot against you, fanning out into feathered tickles that touch at your body. He’s never been one for intimacy before reaching his peak, always preferring to be lustful, so you never expect him to actually kiss you, but in moments where he rights just at the right spot, you’d wish he do a little more to make it feel something other that whatever this all is.

His body is pressed against your back, hands squirming underneath to grab at your breasts. His hands are rough and unforgiving, pulling and pinching his nails into your soft skin, You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, puffing and huffing, murmurs about how you feel wrapped around him, and you bury your face into the comforter. Your mouth is slacked open, spit pooling down, as your moan helplessly around him, body taut and nerves feeling as if they’re on fire. 

“No fucking wonder you’re a sinner,” he seethes out, his thrusts harsh and deep, enough to have you see stars and think about how as selfish as he can, he feels so good. “With a pussy this good, I bet you had everyone lined up for just a taste.” You let out a low whine. “Yeah, I bet you did. No wonder you were hired at that sex joint. Did you have to fuck the owner to get in? Ha?” His tone is wicked, and you’re unsure if it’s his words or the fact that you’re so close as to what is making you tear up. His weight above you shifts, and by your hair, you’re yanked back. You yelp and tighten around him, tears slipping down. “I asked you a question.”

“I didn’t-” you yelp as he continues to bully himself inside of you- “I didn’t hear it, ’m sorry,” you mumble, your scalp stinging with pain. 

“Too fucked up on my dick to even think,” he hisses, pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls himself out, and you whimper, shaking your head and pushing yourself closer to him, your cunt weeping for more of him. “A cock hungry slut is all you are, huh?” His cock is pulled out, and he watches you whine, your cunt gaping and leaking slick that makes your thighs glisten. 

“Adam, please,” you moan, turning your head to look over your shoulder. You can feel the drool stick to the side of your lips. 

“Please what?” he spits out, his eyes flickering to yours, before returning to your ruined sex.

You let a whimper, high-pitched and desperate. You fall back to the bed, your eyes looking forward, and your hand slips underneath you, fingers peeking towards your cunt, feeling the warmth drip onto your fingertips. “I want more,” you tell him, your words muffled by the comforter. “I want you,” you tell him, hoping that he’d take pity on you for a moment.

The tip of his cock brushes itself against your opening, and you clench around it, your body aching for more. “Nah, you have to do better than that.” Your cries are shushed, brows furrowed and you’re turned over onto your back, “Come on, I’ve heard you beg before.” Two of his fingers enter you, thrusting in painfully slow. “You know what to say already.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers twisting the bed sheets into spirals. You shake your head, humping pathetically into his hand. “I promise to make ya feel real good.” 

“Adam,” you croak. He pulls his fingers out, and tears gluten over your lashes. “Please, I wanna be fucked.” Your legs tense when you feel the tip of his cock nestle itself inside of you. “I’m just a filthy sinner who needs-” you yelp when he thrusts himself inside of you, the entire lengths filling you nicely- “needs to be fucked by your holy dick.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softy over your skin. 

“A little more, honey, and I’ll ruin that demon pussy for you.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softly over your skin, his voice low and sweet for you.

“Adam,” you plead, your hands curving over your breasts, “I need you,” you whisper in a haze. “I need your cock in me, I wanna cum real bad. I need you. I need you to fuck my sinner pussy.”

He gives you a lazy smile, and gives a nonchalant shrug. “Good enough.” He pushes himself inside of you. Your stomach coils into a heat, and you suck in a harsh breath when his fingers slip to rub at the bundle of nerves between your legs. “You have a fucking grip on my dick. What is it? Are you close?” You let out a broken moan. Your legs kick up, and wrap around him. “If I cum in you, you’re dealing with it.” His grin is sharp and predatory, and it only makes you drag your hands down his arms.

Your hands reach up, and you hold the sides of his neck, your hands curving behind, and you just feel tufts of hair peek from underneath the mask. A hand reaches to grab your wrist, holding it tightly, and you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise afterward. “You fuckin’ slut,” he spits out. “You think just because you got my mask off last time, I’ll let you look at me again?”

“Adam,” you whimper out, scratching at the back of his neck with your free hand, “please. I just wanna look,” you slur out. You know you’ll regret saying those things when you’ve sobered from him, but sex always did make you softer, needier. You think that must be why he decided to continue to hire you- to see you pant for him and stroke his ego. “You’re so pretty, I wanna see,” you lament. “I wanna- I just- I wanna look at you when I cum,” you stumble over your words, your fingertips tapping against the bottom of the mask. The golden eyes narrow at you, and you can only look for so long until you turn your attention elsewhere.

His mask is tossed to the side, and his irises glow. The hand that holds your wrist loosens, and you cup over his cheek, the stubble on his chin scratching at your palm. “Fuck- Oh fuck,” you hiss out, your heart beating against your chest rapidly. “I’m gonna- Oh my- Adam! Fuck,” you hiss, the knot in your stomach tightening, a pressure building more and more until you’re sure that you’ll burst. 

Even as your body shakes, he doesn’t stop. He continues moving his hips, pushing all of himself inside of you, his breath coming out in pants above you, his smile sharp and face flushed. A hand wraps around your neck, and you arch yourself into it, whining and mumbling at how your cunt is still too sensitive, how he has to slow down, but he coos at you, and he tells you how good you’re benign for him, and you hold onto his wrist with your hands. 

Adam places his face close to yours, his lips and breath fanning above yours, and you’re stuck staring at his eyes, unable to look away from the gold in front of you. You lick your lips, and you brush against his. He stares at you, and your face burns. 

He gives shallow thrusts, and is still inside of you, and you can feel him. You can feel the heat, and the stickiness leaks out of you. He keeps himself there, and hides himself into the crook of your neck. After a moment, he slips out, and you can feel the heaviness of his seed weep out of you in slow and heavy drools. 

You lay in the afterglow, chest heaving and sweat and more sticking to your skin. Your body is on pins and needles, and laying on top of the soft bedding, you could fall asleep right then and there. Nestled into a pile of feathers and gold, you could die- again- and be happy with it. 

But then the man- the first man- groans and you remember that this isn't the time to play house. You have a job. Or rather, you had one, and now you have to return. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, and you stare at the bathroom. A part of you wants to take a shower, but you fear that if you even just tasted what luxury is, you’d have to be pried out of the embassy. 

With a sigh, you lift yourself off of the body and gather your clothes. The lack of underwear is something that you frown upon, but when you look back to the angel, with the demand for its return, you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. You’ve walked around without it before when customers got handsy, this is nothing. Your skirt is tight, and long enough that only a pervert would tell. 

“So,” he trails off, lying on his back, “do you wanna cuddle or something?”

Your eyes widen, and as you flatten your skirt, you thin your lips. “Uh, no. No thanks, Adam. I’m uh- I’m good.” You straighten your top, and tap your heels against the floor, the sharp click echoes in the chambers. 

“Whatever,” he huffs, “I was just gonna psych you out anyways.” He waves his hand, and cool air rushes around you. 

You let out a sigh, looking at the mirror where you stared at yourself just a bit ago. Your hands play with your hair, making sure that when you leave, it won’t look like you just slept with someone. You hum, and tilt your head from side to side, trying to find some sort of mark that would have to be hidden. However, the cool air- his own magic or blessing- has fixed any evidence of indecency on you.

“The extermination is next month,” Adam sighs. Your eyes flick up, and you catch him staring at you- golden eyes piercing into your own, unblinking and unbothered. 

“I’m aware,” you tell him, returning to look at yourself in the mirror. You stand straight and let out a sharp sigh. “I think some of the residents are already panicking.”

“Are you?”

Your stomach knots itself, and you remember when you were first bought by Adam- the nervousness, the disgust, the bile burning your throat. It’s all too familiar at this moment. You shrug. “I don’t think it’s set in yet,” you mumble. 

“I’ll come by the night before.” You look at the white tiles- the grout filled with shimmering gold, and the tiles patterned with silver and gold lines. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked like last time.” He doesn’t say the words nicely, it’s more like an afterthought, as if telling you this is a bother, but still, he tells you this, and one thing you've learned about Adam is that he hasn't lied to you yet. You fist the hem of your skirt in your hands, and nod. It’s silent, and then he starts again, annoyance laced into his words. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Adam,” you tell him in a beat. 

“Yeah, well, I can't have my favorite whore die.” His wings unfurl and stretch across the bed. The tips of the feathers reach just beyond the mattress, and you shrug. The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel small compared to him. In the mirror, you can see his reflection, his  mouth thinning, and his eyes narrowing. “I- uh- I still have you for ten more minutes.” You make eye contact with him in the mirror. “Get back here. I wanna suck on your tits.”

You stick your tongue out, and your hips sway as you walk towards him, your heels falling carelessly to the floor as you rest beside him. His hands are cold as they peel off your shirt and without a care, he tosses it to the foot of the grand bed. A hand cups at your breast, and you can feel his breath fan over your chest, and you wait to feel his teeth bite at you, but you never do. The wetness of his lips trace over the swell of your breast, a peck pressed against the bud, but never swallowing it. Your chest is heavy with his weight on top of you, and the hand on your breast unfurls and curves over your ribs. His wings expand, and they partially cover you, the softness of them akin to the finest blanket in what only money can buy. 

Realization as what he’s doing has your body heating, and you worry that he can tell with the way that he’s laid bare on your chest, and yet, he makes no snide comments. This is far more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before. With a harsh swallow, your arm wraps around him, your hand reaching upwards to scratch at the back of his head. Your hands knot into his hair, your nails dully scratching along his scalp. He lets out a low hum in response, nuzzling his cheek over your bare skin in approval. 

With a shaky breath, you break the silence. “You know, I was thinking, that maybe I’d uh, give that Hazbin Hotel a shot.” You feel his hands scratch over your ribs, straight, and piercing, and they cling to you as his breath hitches. “I’m not sure I believe in the whole redemption thing, but free housing is nice.” You feel him nod slowly, and you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger. He gives you a short answer, one that is mumbled into your skin and doesn't make its way to you, and his wings inch further up covering more of your body as he brushes his lips against the swell of your breast. You don’t look at the time even when you feel that he’s grown heavier on your body.

[beecreeper]

@sunflowergem has convinced me that Gortash doesn't necessarily *have* to die in Briar's good ending so now they're getting domesticated. Together.

Local aasimar believes "I can fix them" so strongly about everyone that it actually kinda works

[horseshoemybeloved]

And yknow what I do rag on my old art a lot and like, my old art is obviously worse than my new stuff cus of learned and improved but,,,this one,,,, soft spot for her,,