#I like almost forgot you can miss any kind of hint to him if you play the game normally

[chaos-storm]

introducing Undertale to my friend, playing through True Pacifist as close to my first playthrough as possible and not digging too hard into hidden things made me feel fucking delusional when we were at the end and I brought up WD Gaster, someone who had neither been mentioned nor hinted at in the entire playthrough

[maximotts]

♱ 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖒 ♱

♱ 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑: priest's daughter!Wanda Maximoff

I missed writing her and since it's been a year since @furys-eyepatch dropped this wonderful idea in my ask box, it felt right to start October off with one of my favorite squishies!

confessions of wanda maximoff AU. kinktober masterlist. 18+ only, minors dni. you don't need to add community labels, I've put adequate warnings below. wc: 3.9k. cw: innocent!Wanda/constantly horny!r. sex in a church. fingering. fucking from behind. strap-on use. begging. semi-public sex (no one is around). everything you shouldn't be doing in a place of worship. r thinks saying vulgar things to wanda and seeing her blush is peak entertainment.

“This is kinda the last place I want to be on Halloween, Wands..”

Wanda looked over her shoulder for the sole purpose of giving you an eye roll before continuing to tug you along through the back of the church. “I’m only picking up something for my dad, it’ll just take a second. I did say you could wait outside!”

“And hang around out there by myself? No way, it’s almost dark and there’s a cemetery!” You’d been sidetracked on the way to Natasha’s party, a texted errand from Wanda’s dad bringing you to his office in search of the large bags of candy he forgot to bring home with him. You didn’t mind honestly, the older man was always so kind it was hard to resist any of his requests— much like his daughter, the girl currently standing in front of you grinning.

She cooed at you in the confines of her father’s office, rubbing your cheeks while you swat at her hands. “Aww, are you afraid of ghosts? How cute..”

“Stop it, Wanda!” You scoffed, brushing her off and crossing your arms. So what if you were a little superstitious, who wasn’t? And you certainly didn’t need to let Wanda know; she’d hold it over you like she’d won the lottery. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here…”

Wanda kissed you quickly, soft and placating; an apology for teasing. She always saw you as someone fearless, it was nice to see a concept as harmless as ghosts rattle you. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything get us. If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen anything creepy and Pietro and I used to spend tons of time here when we were kids.” 

Trailing off as she went about searching, you leant back against the wall with a pout, opting to watch Wanda while you waited. She had yet to change into her costume, insisting it be strictly for the party, but part of you theorized it was just to keep her outfit from her dad. Instead, her bunny costume lay folded up in the backseat of your car and her dress remained on, teasing you a little more each time she bent over. 

With the cooler weather, Wanda added tights to her wardrobe rotation, sheer black nylon hugging every curve from her ankles to her hips. You didn’t know what it was, but something about them left you drooling whenever you thought about the extra layer on your girlfriend for too long. In the past few weeks, you found yourself running your hands over her legs whenever she was close enough, often ending up playfully chided when you eventually grew too grabby during your shared lectures. But now, alone together with Wanda bent so far over the large wooden desk that you could catch just the barest hint of her underwear, you found it terribly hard to control your urge to grab her.

Hesitation gave Wanda enough time to shoot upright, victorious with heavy plastic bags in her tight grasp, “Candy acquired!” 

She made her way back over to you by the door, pressing her lips to the corner of your mouth as she passed, “Now let's get out of here before some big bad ghostie bothers you.” 

“I don’t think any ghosts want to be anywhere near us right now…” Try as you might, you couldn’t help yourself, eyes glued to Wanda’s backside as she led you back through the dark corridors behind the sanctuary. These weren’t proper thoughts right now, especially here, but it was Halloween… what better day to do something a little sacreligious.

“And why is that-” The end of her sentence was punctuated with a surprised oof, the shock of being shoved sideways into the wall cutting her short. Strong hands gripped her hips, balling the bottom half of her dress in your fists as you buried your nose into her long, dark hair. Instinct begged her to let the moan caught in her throat loose, but someone had to be level-headed here… or at least try to be. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I could ask you the same question, wearing this dress with no shorts and showing off.” You palmed her ass while she wiggled, sandwiched helplessly between you and the carved wood. Maybe you’d hoped that a simple bit of groping would satisfy whatever just took over, but it’d been wishful thinking; the more you touched, the more you wanted. “Did you know every time you bend over I can see your underwear? It’s not very nice to tease like that.”

“I-I didn’t know…” Wanda’s head was spinning, your sudden turn of mood rendering her flustered. Having never thought of herself in much of a sexual way, today’s lack of shorts was more of convenience rather than to tease. No matter how far she got from being a virgin, the intricacies of attraction and desire remained partially lost to her, always forgetting not only were you insatiable at times, but you wanted her. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” 

“No need to apologize, Wands, I’m not mad.” The last thing you wanted was to embed shame to how your girlfriend decided to dress; if anything, the uncharacteristic choice made the surprise more enticing. 

She shivered as you nibbled the shell of her ear, trembling more every second your hands continued roaming, exploring, groping her so shamelessly. “But you can make it up to me by letting me touch you.”

“We’re in a church…” Even so, it was just the two of you in the building, a fact confirmed by one quick glance out into the main room through one of the wall’s cutouts. All alone in the quiet, sacred space. Wanda knew she should protest harder, the mere idea should’ve been off putting, but it wasn’t. Nor was it the first time this scenario crossed her mind.

You’d be lying if you said the setting didn’t turn you on that much more and if Wanda’s shudder as you palmed over her covered sex was any indication, she wasn’t completely put off. Curious fingers poked and prodded, pressing against her in earnest until Wanda was gasping. “Why not? No one would know and it’d be fun.” 

You could practically hear the cogs in Wanda’s brain turning, working overdrive to come up with some answer where she could do the ‘right’ thing and keep those all too good sensations flowing from between her legs. “Maybe in the car?”

She’d expected the proposition to sound more convincing than it was, your contemplative hum against the nape of her neck showing Wanda she probably hadn’t swayed you either. Enticing as the car might’ve been in the past, it wasn’t what she yearned for right now. If you led her out, she’d follow and most definitely enjoy herself, but she’d think about this and what it could’ve been until this very rare opportunity presented itself again, if ever.

“Oh, but I want you right here, sweetheart. What if someone drives by and sees you outside? You know I like to keep you all to myself.” Wanda didn’t stop the hand sliding past the top of her stockings, fingers stretching the thin fabric in search of her panties— the second your fingertips grazed the embroidered cotton you groaned. 

Occasionally you caught her wearing the days of the week underwear she’d splurged on from some online boutique shop, something she bought with the mindset that no one would ever see them, but oh how wrong she was. Initially embarrassed for you to catch her wearing them, she was so relieved when you’d written it off as just another precious thing to love about her. 

“How are you always so pretty, babygirl? Makes it so hard to keep my hands off you,” Two inches further down, you discovered the beginnings of a wet spot, Wanda’s body giving her away despite her meekly suggested location change. “Especially when you get wet so easily. It’s my job to take care of that, being a good girlfriend and all.”

“I can’t help it,” she breathed out, trying to keep her breathing even for as long as possible. It was true, Wanda often found her thighs pressed together after a few touches or too long of a kiss; a fact she only recently discovered upon dating you. 

“I know, poor thing, let me fix it.” With your free hand holding the front of her dress, fingers splayed over her stomach, you held your girlfriend still as you moved the last barrier aside, sliding through her already slick folds as shamelessly as you would if you were in the privacy of your apartment back at home, laser focused on watching the girl in your arms go limp. 

The physical embodiment of a devil on her shoulder as you nudged her sweater out of the way, Wanda couldn’t possibly deny either of you further; the longer you waited, the higher the chance that someone else would wander in. Her cheeks burned red hot, unable to tell how much was from being manhandled mere feet behind the altar or the humiliation of how badly she wanted you to continue. “Please…”

“Please what, Wanda? Take you to the car?” Circling her clit almost did her in, knees buckling, hall echoing with the sound of the bags falling from Wanda’s hand to the floor. You let up and she whined pitifully, hips bucking in search for more of the fleeting pleasure. But if you were doing this, you needed your favorite part: her confirmation. “Use your words and I’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”

“Take me, right here…” She was nearly dizzy with need as she spoke, but the struggle was so worth it once your fingers began working her purposely now, promptly rewarding her acceptance. It was all too easy to forget any lingering worries and focus on her rapidly building orgasm, head and hands falling forward to brace herself as you slid two fingers into her. “Oh god, yes-”

You tutted mockingly, grinning into the crook of her sweet-smelling neck. “Now you know that’s not proper language for where we are. Mind your manners.” 

It was terribly hypocritical considering how lewdly you were stretching her open on your digits, letting her drip down your palm. You could pretty much count on her making a mess, but no matter how familiar of a sensation, it was all you could do not to fall to your knees and see for yourself; Wanda was the only person you’d ever felt so inclined to worship. “You feel so good on my fingers, sweet thing. I wish you could feel how tight you’re squeezing them.”

The poor thing did her best to keep up, but you were so fast, so determined to watch her walls come down in the place she should be doing the exact opposite… The most she could do was moan out her pleasure, heavenly music to your ears. “Can I cum? I’m so close-!”

“Go on, I want to feel you.” Wanda finished with a cry, muffled into her arm, still too afraid to be loud no matter how alone you might be. She shivered and shook, thighs trapping your hand in place as she rode out her orgasm. Even from behind Wanda was a sight, long hair falling over her shoulders as she tossed, hands clamoring for purchase anywhere on the wall she’d never look at the same way again. 

Satisfied with your work, thought she’d be done and more than ready to get out of here, but to your surprise, her hand grabbed your wrist before you could pull out. “What’s wrong, Wanda?”

“Nothing, it’s just..” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was about to say, but it’d be a terrible missed opportunity if she didn’t ask. Rubbing her backside against your front confirmed what she’d felt for a few seconds before, the telltale bulge in your pants providing Wanda the perfect setup to make one of her deepest fantasies a reality. She’d gone this far; what was a little more for the whole way. That’s what she kept repeating to validate this next want. “Do you think we could maybe, um..”

“Maybe what?” Her actions only gave you an inkling into what Wanda was hinting at, but surely she couldn’t be thinking what you thought she was. 

When it came to risky scenarios, you were constantly on the propositioning end, finding creative ways to present your new ideas for Wanda’s approval. What you’d just gotten away with was a giant push of luck, never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine she’d ask for it. “The rules are you use your words. You have to say it.”

Of course you wouldn’t let her off easy, not when both of you were on the precipice of doing something so scandalous. She appreciated how dedicated you were to her enthusiastic consent, but if she thought about what she was asking too hard, she feared she might fizzle into nothingness. “I was thinking if you were up for it, we might go again?”

“Yeah? With my fingers?” You goaded her with a slow curl of your long digits, guiding her back until you could easily grind your clothed strap on against her, the sharpest squeak bubbling from Wanda’s chest. As you moved this time, you were slow, too slow, knowing as nice as it was, it wasn’t what she needed. Not when she remembered how mouthwateringly full she was a few days ago when you’d last had her in your lap.

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, mousy and bashful. Her one advantage was facing away from you, fully aware she’d never have the courage to speak up that way unless you forced it out of her. “I meant with your strap…”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if someone else said them; anyone but the person she knew herself to be. But you heard them in her sweet, sheepish voice and something feral inside you snapped. You tore away from her unceremoniously, only for a second, just long enough to bend her a little farther, slapping Wanda’s ass once. 

“Fuck, I wish I could keep you here all night, just to see what else I can get a naughty girl like you to tell me what they’ve been dreaming up.” Ignoring her shout, you ripped a hole in her stockings, tearing wide enough that you could play with her from behind, shallowly dipping your fingertips into the hole you’d so cruelly left empty. 

“You’re all I want,” Neck straining over her shoulder to catch glimpses of you undoing your pants, Wanda’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the thick dildo set on your hips, only fluttering closed as you nestled the toy between her thighs, sliding it back and forth in an effort to wet it for Wanda’s comfort. Eager as you were, this one was bigger than she’d taken before and you’d never forgive yourself if you caused her any pain. “Hurry up before someone comes in..”

“Look at you, so impatient,” The tip teased Wanda awfully, drawing low moaned out pleas that were much too pretty to deprive yourself of so quickly. It wasn’t long until her wetness coated your strap, slick and ready for her as soon as you were ready to deliver. “Does my sweet girl want me to fill her up with my cock? Would that make you happy?”

“Mhm..so happy..” Something about being fucked left Wanda’s brain so.. empty, always coaxing her into a blissful relaxation. She supposed it had something to do with not only touch, but your words, sneakily dumbing her down until her only thoughts rested on you and when you’d give her what she waited for. 

Being taken in church was an idea she only allowed to appear in her deepest dreams, shaming herself afterwards for even daring to create such a thought. If anyone was going to give it to her now, it had to be you and to her credit, you’d started this. But logistics were way too much for Wanda to think about presently and, in a mission to make this impromptu sex as good for her as it already was for you, clearing her of any fears was your highest priority. “All I want to do is make you happy, Wanda.”

She knew that was true from the very first time you’d told her, those words only ever given with the most sincere honesty. Combined with the gentle patterns you drew over the sensitive skin of her lower tummy, Wanda let herself be lulled, trusting you to take care of her in the vulnerable state she so loved to fall into. 

“Spread your legs for me a little, just like that…” Everyone would be wondering where you were soon, Wanda’s father waiting on his Halloween candy delivery and Natasha for the drinks she asked you to get, but for this, for her? You’d say screw it all without hesitation to take your time and make this happen however she pictured. “Now beg. Confess to me, little church mouse.”

As you pushed the tip in and stopped, Wanda erupted into a fit of pitiful noises, fighting against your hold to feel that ever lusted after stretch, but you were stronger than her and wouldn’t budge. Being made to beg was equal parts hot and degrading; unfortunately you’d come to love to hear it, discovered it turned her on to do it, and now demanded it whenever the chance presented itself. “I need your cock, need you to fuck me.. please please!”

“There’s my good girl,” With one long push, you filled her completely, overwhelming the needy girl in all the best ways. You gave her just enough time to adjust, rutting into her tight pussy hard and fast as soon as possible. If she was wet before, Wanda was absolutely drenched now, making it all too easy to fuck into her as deep as you dared. “You look so pretty all fucked out, Wanda, begging to be fucked just outside of your dad’s office.. in a church, no less..”

“I.. I didn’t…” She truly hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but she certainly hadn’t objected too heavily either, especially not to this. Each time your hips met Wanda thought she was done for, that coil in the pit of her stomach tighter than she could ever remember it being. Her entire body felt like a livewire, every touch you provided almost stinging. As soon as you found her neglected clit, Wanda was panting, chest heaving in the small, restricted space between her and the wall. 

She devolved into an incoherent mess, pathetic and helpless noises echoing throughout the otherwise silent halls. In a selfish act, you covered Wanda’s mouth, cementing the impossible to ignore wet sounds coming from your girlfriend to memory. “Do you hear how wet you are for me, baby? I would’ve fucked you earlier if I knew you needed me this much.”

Your teasing was too much for Wanda to bear; your crude words, being forced to listen to how aroused she was. Part of her still chalked this up to some insanely vivid dream. The moment your fingertips slid past her lips Wanda was sucking on them, albeit sloppy and lazily, reflecting how little focus she had as your strap hit her at the perfect angle. She was losing it fast, muscles threatening to give out the closer her second orgasm came. “P-Please, can I-”

“Of course you can. Poor thing, you just need to cum so badly,” Wanda’s pulse raced under your lips, but you kissed her there so sweetly it nearly felt like a joke. Below, your hips moved at a torturous pace, quick and brutal in time with the circles you rubbed into her almost too sensitive bud. If you could just see her come apart one more time- “Cum for me, I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s jaw fell open, spit covered fingers giving her slight reprieve while she bucked and twisted wildly, only managing to stay upright with the help of your strong arms. Fucking her through it all quickly became more for your pleasure, bottoming out to let you grind your own clit against the back of the toy at the join of your hips, clinging to Wanda’s trembling form as you came with a groan into the back of her hair. “I would’ve helped…”

“Trust me, you did more than enough,” you mumbled, nibbling the shell of her ear as you caught your breath. You’d never given much thought to the joys of a joint orgasm until Wanda, finding something special in sharing your highs. Always one to prove how useful she could be, Wanda loved being allowed to touch you, to see how good she could make you feel before you reached your end, but this time she was in no state to do so nor did you need it; watching her was more than you would’ve ever asked for. “You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda wanted to say something back, couldn’t remember if she’d actually spoken out loud or not, but also couldn’t focus hard enough to think that deeply at the moment. She felt like she spent an eternity there, swimming in some cloud high above the church while your touches turned gentle, stroking over her hips and stomach until Wanda finally started to settle down. 

Thankfully the church remained empty so you let her take her time, holding Wanda steady while you pulled out. Careful as you were, she still whimpered, body worn out and tired, “Shh, you’re okay, pretty girl.”

Turning around let Wanda slump against your front as you leaned into the wall, green eyes hazy and heavy. She drew you into an almost sleepy set of kisses, thanking you with sticky, lip gloss smudge marks along your jaw… until she remembered exactly where she was. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we just did that.. We have to get out of here now!” 

Fumbling terribly, your girlfriend snatched the fallen candy bags from the floor in one hand and your arm in the other, dragging you as fast as her strength would let her. “Be careful, Wanda, or you’ll trip!” 

“I’m fine, just open the car!” She didn’t know if she should be mortified or terrified, praying to every power in the universe no one ever found out about this. Wanda’d never sped out of church in such a flurry, as if the quicker she moved, the longer she could escape the anxiety gaining on her. 

Unfortunately for her, you had no such issues and her inner turmoil only made you laugh. “Don’t forget you liked it. I’m pretty sure you were the one begging loudest-”

“You made me!” To you, Wanda would deny her enjoyment for a while and she’d never think of doing it again, but as silence settled in the car and you turned your attention to the road, she struggled to keep still and not squirm too obviously as she replayed your Halloween havoc.

[aspenous]

As an absolute sucker for A/B/O Au's I love the idea of Kim Suho getting thrown into that kind of verse.

Imagine living your life, dying (?) And waking up to the concept of alpha, beta & omegas being the norm???

Plus the number of changes he'd have to deal with in his new body (omega!Lloyd hc).

This naturally brings only trouble for Javier (ノ^o^)ノ

It turned into a ramble more than anything tbh. Don't mind that <3 if there's anything plot vise I forgot/overlooked thru this it's cause my memory is A s s)

Javier POV lowkey:

Lloyd couldn't get any weirder. To add onto his sudden change in demeanor, he'd begun to get reckless with his scent as well. A scent similar to a Clementine or Tangerine that wafts in waves whenever Lloyd is particularly pleased with himself or got his way with another contract. Its a sharp contrast to the smell of booze everyone was used to, and it more often than not left a few townsmen sputtering when they spoke with him. Javier was left to deal with this change too, except he was beside his master 24/7. When that scent would hit him full force every morning, leave his nose twitching when Lloyd gets into the rhythms of his new work and when it calms into something comforting around noon; when the days almost gone and Lloyd decides to rest.

Javier first chokes up this lack of scent control to Lloyd's cold turkey sobriety. But it's been weeks now. Almost two months and Lloyd still hasn't tried to restrain his scent. Worse, others seem to be picking up on it as well. Loitering around the young master when they get the chance, chatting it up now that Lloyd wasn't defaulting to throwing chairs and yelling. Lloyd himself doesn't seem to enjoy it either; after a few minutes of chatter his lip would start to twitch and that scent of Tangerine (it was definitely closer to tangerines than clementines) would sour. Javier learns to take that as close enough a hint to pry his master away from the crowd, spill a white lie about how he's needed elsewhere and get Lloyd some air. He tries not to be pleased about how Lloyd visibly relaxes when it's just the two of them.

"Master Lloyd–" Javier is at his wits end. He's a patient man. Strong willed and resilient when it comes to most obstacles. His Master however? His loud , arragont, obnoxious at times master being this stupid? Javier is a patient man but he's a man nonetheless. A Knight who's had to deal with his masters turbulent scent that just doesn't want to leave him alone. And worse, Lloyd turns back to him with a genuine look of confusion (as genuine as it can be). Javier ends up questioning his master through a locked face and Lloyd in response looks bewildered. "The drinking must have hit me worse than I thought" is all he gets. Javier refuses the sleeping spell that night, throws a hand over his masters mouth before he can get a word in and declares to help him control his scent again. From then on they spend an hour every night before bed going through the motions, and Lloyd (after months) finally learns to control his own scent. Javier sighs in relief, and tries not to think about how he misses that familiar tangerine scent.

Master Lloyd seems to loose his filter as well. Not when around the staff, count or contracted men he's hired no. Only when it's just the two of them, in a moment of what Javier could've hoped was peace before his master opens his mouth. "You smell like mint." he says unabashed. "I'm safe when you're here aren't I?" He laughs with no shame. "I trust you." He declares. Javier understands this is comradery of some kind. A trust and faith in him that no one else has given him before. His master is far too good at feeding that quiet voice in the back of his mind, and Javier let's him. (Alpha instincts have low standards lmao)

It's after they get back to the estate that Lloyd gets his heat. It's not hard to notice. He asks for seconds during meals, sleeps late into the mornings, speaks more with his summons than with anyone outside the estate and avoids half the staff like the plague. It's rather obvious when that overripe scent of tangerine clings to his skin and his expressions screams dazed more than anything. The count had noticed, Javier had as well, but Lloyd hadn't. Despite being days into Pre-heat, his master still drags himself out of bed and goes about the motions, despite how miserable he looks. It ends up being Javier's job (once again) to pull him aside and question him. "My what-" is all he gets before Javier realizes he has more on his plate than he expected.

(+I like to think heats can be sexual and non-sexual given the circumstances!)

His pillow is missing. Javier turns his room inside out and still can't find it. He assumes he'd left it where he last slept; Lloyd's room. When he enters said room however, he doubts he would've found it if he tried. The beds drowned in pillows and blankets. The summons are jumping around in their own world until they notice Javier and greet him with small chirps and sounds. Javier ends up smelling Lloyd coming before the door opens. Sweet Tangerine and hints of earth that hit him when the door opens. He finds his pillow then, tucked under his masters arm as if it belonged there. Javier blanks out for a moment. "Ah Javier! Great timing. I was just looking for you." Lloyd smiles. Something often quiet in Javier's gut comes to life then and there. He doesn't end up on the chair that night. Lloyd doesn't let him. Spouts nonsense about how the chair isn't comfortable and how important sleeping positions are and only shuts up when Javier relents. He ends up in Lloyd's nest, the only barrier between him and the other being his own damned pillow. He falls asleep without the sleeping spell that night.

That's it for now? That's a lie my brains rattling with more HCs but I should stop here lmao. If people like this word vomit I'll make a part 2.

[ofmdrecaps]

09/10-17/2024 Daily OFMD Recap Pt 1

Hey all. Sorry about the format, and I even said this was coming yesterday and then some crazy shit happened ONCE AGAIN because life is crazy like that. Please bare with me as I get the different parts out -- and please let me know if I missed anything major!

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Kristian Nairn; Vico Ortiz; Con O'Neill; +

Part 2 / Part 3

== David Jenkins ==

David has been at it again, making us cry even more with admiration of our beloved Captain.

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

And David reached out regarding the other trailer drop anniversary!

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

Coming up in another section for Taika in part 2, as we know whenever Taika goes to any event, someone complains about him, so David sent a very sweet reminder about him (although the second one, I'm not sure if he's calling Taika old or not lol).

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

And just in case you weren't tearing up from Chaos Dad's kind words, he has some for the fans too.

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

And just a friendly reminder that fanfiction CAN help you go places. (Lincodega now works as a writing assistent for IWTV)

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

In related but news, Rhys did a cameo for Kitten Rescue LA! They constantly get so many kittens in that they can't take care of. This is a really sweet video of him endorsing, but as mentioned below, there's a CW you should be aware of.

CW: Mention of Pet Euthanasia

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kitten Rescue LA (@kittenrescuela)

Rhys is also giving us more Substack Content previews-- this time of Bill Napier from Short Poppies <3 Wanna subscribe to his substack? Check it out here!

Source: Rhys Instagram

Rhys has announced on his substack (the non-paid content) that he'll be touring next year!

Source: Rhys' Substack

If that isn't enough Rhys for you-- good news! He'll be in Los Angelos at the Largo at the Coronet at 8 PM on October 1! Get tickets here! (Special thanks to Sara for pointing this out!)

Source: Largo LA (found via Sara aka chaoticmulaney on Twitter)

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian's book has arrived at his house! He did an unboxing video for everyone to check out! Only a week or so left til release!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

Oh, Kristian mentioned he was going to be getting a tattoo while and Portland, and hey look, it's Kristian's New Tattoo!

Source: Kristian's Instagram

Need more of Kristian? Well look no further, he's got a new DJ Appearance happening Oct 4, 2024 at the Ministry of Sound Club in London!

Source: Kristian's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

So much news for Vico! First and foremost, Vico was voted a Fan Favorite Out LGBTQ+ Actor in the Autostraddle TV Awards!

Source: AutoStraddle TV Awards

Vico also has some exciting things coming up-- they mentioned an upcoming Momentus Event on their Patreon (free version)!

Source: Vico's Patreon

Looks like Momentus is excited ...and dropping hints!

Source: Be Momuntus Twitter

Vico also had some more pics from Rose City Comic Con they wanted to share--

Source: Vico's Instagram

Vico did some amazing work for Elder Scrolls Online and is seeing some love coming down the pipeline-- they have some BTS up for it on their Patreon if you're interested!

Oh I almost forgot to mention, Vico was featured on Dimelo Season 2 Episode one!

== Con O'Neill ==

Con's new short film, "The Men" is FINALLY coming out on October 25 at the AlnwickPlayhouse! Our friends over at @adoptourcrew were kind enough to let our UK Crew know where and when they could catch it before the rest of the world! Get tickets here!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

Continued in Part 2!

[apparentlytheproblem]

so, i was listening to lover by taylor swift and that made me create a fictional scenario in my head (again) well the part where taylor says "And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me" reminds me of george weasley 😭 😭😭 (I'm still in love with him 🤧)

I would be very excited if you wrote a one shot where the reader is a friend of hermaione and they spend all their time together with harry and ron. At one point fred notices this and befriends the reader (let's assume george was not there when fred approached the reader)

In short, the reader is someone quite funny and has a really charming laugh. At a time before one of snape's classes begins. Harry Ron and Mione next to the reader burst out laughing and as almost everyone was silent some turned to the group responsible for such a "rumble" the twins looked attentive and one of them (cofcofgeorgecofcof) was perplexed to see someone as cute and adorable as the reader will laugh like this, ""the most beautiful laugh you've ever heard""

As the days go by, George gets Fred to include him in a conversation with the reader to get to know each other more.

George and the reader become good friends and whenever George has the chance to be around the reader he doesn't miss it.

The reader is the type of person who also listens to everything the other says (and since the reader had a secret crush on georgie he was comfortable hearing him tell any bad joke or funny anecdote.)

Once in the great hall at howarts george and the reader were talking animatedly. Fred noticed how the reader smiled more and more every time George spoke to him and he also saw how her brother looked at her as if she were seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.

Anyway, at the Christmas ball, George stumbles over her words when he wants to invite the reader, which she ends up accepting.

They dance together, have fun and have their romantic moment when at that moment Fred enters throwing hints at her brother and her friend to confess her feelings.

When the party ends. On the way to the rooms. The reader and geoge end up confessing in a somewhat embarrassing way stumbling over their own words as well. (I love these cheesy 😭💗💗)

And the reader steals a kiss on the lips from George before going to sleep. Leaving georgie with a face the color of a tomato.

I would like the reader to be female if it is not so much to ask hehe.

I'm sorry if he is too dense to read, I hope you can understand what I wrote, my native language is not English and I'm literally translating this, I'm so sorry 😭😭

At first I was embarrassed to request this because of how corny it is but OH GOD HOW I LOVE THE FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

P.S. I love how you write, it's very beautiful 💓

s m i l e s

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- george weasley

a/n: tysm for requesting this with so much detail, im gonna attempt it to do it justice and thank you for taking the trouble to write this all out for me

p.s i love you and this literally has me giggling and smiling

requested- yes

warnings- none i hope

Fred Weasley was a trouble maker. He was a see it and do it kind of learner. His sense of eyesight has never failed him and it never will. So what he saw infront of his eyes must be true, dear Georgie was falling in love.

You were maybe two years younger than the Weasley twins when Fred came running behind you to return your quill you forgot in the great hall. This caused a freindship to blossom and set the path of when the both of you would be in laws.

Hermione Granger had spent all day teasing about the wrong twin who's going to fall head over heels for you.

the five times Fred Weasley took notice of Georgie falling in love:

(1) shared portion class-

There were many things you couldnt do that would get you in trouble in potions with snape. But the one that lost you 10 points from your house was your laugh.

Last period on a hot friday evening was potions, but not just any class but the infamous joined classes with your senior year used to finish shared portions much quicker and that was the time where snape was most insuferable.

Sitting next to the trio was trouble in all kind of ways. When you couldnt contain a smile and laughed at everything indiscriminatley. Ron had retorted to one of snape's remarks had you giggling.

And that was when a certain weasley came into view or you to his. Georgie's head turned to the adorable laugh that filled his ears to face the most adorable girl he'd ever seen. Her nose was scrunched and shoulders lightly shaking and the prettiest smile stretching her lips.

And for once in his life he was speachless at the prettiest thing he's seen for all he could think was how he'd get drunk on that laugh everyday if he could have poured it all into a bottle and kept for himself.

As slick as georgie tried to be, fred noticed hid brother asking around for you, creating very difficult methods to get your attention and making the dumbest possible excuses to talk to you. That was the day freddie decides to play match maker.

(2) corny jokes-

"What did the fish say when he swam into the wall?" asked georgie looking very proud of himself. Fred did not know if it was because he managed to convince harry to let him beside her or of his new horrible joke he thought of all night.

"What?" you replied, looking as curious to hear. You took your concentration off your notes and paid attention.

"Dam, get it?"

You had tour head tilted back laughing that same damn way you did the first time and holy god.

(3) the look-

It was a saturday evening and almost no one was in the great hall. most on their way back from hogsmedge while a few stayed back. George and you had found your place is the corner of the grand table with the most exiting extanges. Freddie was maybe a few feet far, they 2 could never stay apart too long was having a great laugh with his batchmates. Turning around to share the joke with George he noticed the two extanging smiles and laughs and the twinkle they had in their eyes.

her smile could'nt get any bigger

and he couldnt look at anything with so much love

(4) dates-

You were a woman of many admirers, so why were you turning everyone down? Fred was hurting his head wondering if this would increase Georgie's confidence or inflate it.

To speak for you, you had made up your mind. if it wasnt Georgie then why bother?As much as you tried not to lead yourself on like this, how could you imagine anyone but him beside you. he'd be the only one you'd want to talk to when you're sad, the first to tell when you were happy over something, the someone who'd you'd hug and dance and twirl with. how could any other man compare when he was infront of you.

But when it comes to him it leaves you to be the confident one while he's a stumbling mess

"so uh..like i know..ball-"

"you asking me to the ball weasley?"

"uhr, not like that-"

"then like what love?"

"i mean like as- just us-"

"yes darlin"

(5) dancing

Swaying and stepping on eachother's feet kept both of you to keep bursting up with fits of laughter, but the star of the night? Fred.

He was always looming around dropping his comments to both of you playing the double agent.

"she looks so pretty in that dress, makes u wanna oohlala"

"georgie's eyes are so gliterry, you could get lost in them"

"her lips are pretty nice eh, you keep wandering around there"

"georgie is more than a nice arse, he could be your nice arse"

His words of aproval kept looming over eachother's conciousness. was it time, would i regret it? one thing leading to another, both of you found yourselves at the end of the night and the both of you were ready to take a leap of faith in the all might merlin who watches over you

"so-uh you know that you were- i mean are-"

"before you say anything, i uh-"

"m trying really hard here woman, you're- I like-"

"me- you like me georgie"

and with that he was utterly confused. how did she know? who told her? and then hit his realization. you liked him back too.

"you like me back"

"no shit sherlock"

you were trying very hard to keep your cool but georgie looked so kissable didnt he? and why not take a chance, might as well

you pressed him to a wall with your palm flattened next to him, caging him even if he was towering over you. with the other, you pulled his tie, pulling him in to a kiss to last a few mere seconds and walked away, leaving georgie looking as similar to a tomato

holy shit she kissed me

she kissed me

i have just been kissed-

[runariya]

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 5

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: covering up of wounds, thoughts about past mud€r, awkward morning, lies, fluff, 700 in 3 Jungkook because I couldn't not write it, inner conflicts between good and bad, detailed description of inner autopsy, scalpel in thigh, blood, stitching without local anaesthesia, drinking, fluff, OC drops a hint to her dark side, Jungkook is oblivious in so many ways it physically hurts, smut, f!ngering, worshipping, oral (m. receiving), protected s€x, OC rides him (it's the way that you can ride~), pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 7.6K

a/n: I thought I'd upload tomorrow as a present for ✨ Jungkook Day ✨ but I’m going to be busy, so here’s the chapter a little early. It’s a bit of a treat, mostly fluff and smut, pushing the plot forward, so ENJOY! After this one, we’ll be spiralling fast and hard 🫢 Please don’t come at me!

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • masterlist • 06

The next morning, you stand in your small shared bathroom that after all these years still feels too small, the kind of tight space that seems to crowd you when you’re already feeling a little claustrophobic. You’re staring into the mirror, eyes a little distant, trying to assess the damage from last night, trying to make sense of everything that happened in the darkness of night. The faint bathroom light flickers once, just as if it’s mimicking the wavering thoughts in your head, and you finally focus on yourself again. 

Your neck isn’t much of a problem, the slight pinkish bruise barely visible when the light isn’t catching just right, so masking it with some make up isn’t much of a problem. You can make it disappear entirely, almost like nothing happened. Almost. What does concern you however is the little cut on your swollen, puffy bottom lip. The skin is stretching tight over the small cut that’s stubborn in its defiance, refusing to be ignored. It’s not big, nor is it deep, but it’s prominent in the way it catches the light, just enough that someone standing close to you might notice. Someone like Jungkook.

Brushing teeth only added to the inflammation, which you gladly don’t feel, but will be adding to the problem of covering up. You curse softly under your breath, wondering how you’ll manage to keep it truly hidden, to dodge any questions about why your lips look like you’ve been punched in the face, what you actually have been.

You rummage through your cosmetics bag, hands shaking a little more than you’d like to admit as you pull out a small tube of liquid plaster, dapping it accurately on it so it’s somehow a smoother surface. The rich plum balm next, gliding over your lips, darkening the pink flesh until it matches the colour of the bruised skin perfectly. The cut disappears, camouflaged, and for a moment, you feel satisfied like you’ve won some small, meaningless victory over your reflection. The mask is in place, or maybe just good enough as is it.

You sigh deeply, letting the air out of your lungs as if it could take away the heaviness that has settled in your chest, but it doesn’t. You look at yourself once more, turning your head side to side, searching for flaws you might have missed. You look…normal, more or less. Tired, though. There’s no hiding the shadows beneath your eyes, the slight droop to your shoulders. You haven’t slept well. Not because of the kill itself—strangely enough, that part almost brought a sense of clarity, like you’d purged something toxic from your system with a detox diet—but because of Pulse. 

The memory of his eyes haunts you still, the way they were full of devastation, that strange sadness that clung to him, lingered in your thoughts like a stain in your favourite shirt you can’t scrub out for the life of you. He shouldn’t bother you this much. He shouldn’t. You’ve done worse last night, seen worse in your entire life. But there’s something about him that keeps gnawing at you, lodged in your mind, needles that are too deep to pull out, and it’s irritating in a way you can’t quite describe.

Why does he have this power over you? It’s irrational, maddening if you think about it long enough. You find yourself asking over and over again if you’ve met him before, if maybe, in some way, he isn’t a stranger at all. You can’t pinpoint it, but there’s something. Something in the way his eyes looked at you, something in the way his presence affects you even now, long after the night has ended. You hate it. You hate him for making you feel this way. It’s like there’s a vice wrapped around your chest, and every time you think of him, it tightens, constricting just a little more until you go wild.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now. You push the thoughts away with a forceful shove, leaving them scattered behind you like you did yesterday with him standing there. No, today is not the day to think about him or anything that happened last night. You’ve got classes to get to, and you’re definitely running late right now. You take one last glance at the mirror, nod to yourself, and step out of the bathroom, trying to ignore this irritating feeling that’s settled over your head.

But of course, as soon as you open the door, the universe decides to throw you another curveball. Jennie is standing there, right outside the bathroom, completely oblivious to the concept of modesty, wearing nothing but Taehyung’s oversized shirt. Your brain freezes for a second, and all you can do is blink, trying to process the scene in front of you. Jennie looks just as startled, her wide eyes locked on yours, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights right before its doom. 

“No. Fucking. Way.” You mutter under your breath, the disbelief seeping out of your pores. This can’t be real. But it is, and the longer you stand there, the more awkward it becomes. Jennie doesn’t move. You don’t move. And then, because the universe apparently thinks this situation isn’t awkward enough already, Taehyung steps out of his room and stops dead in his tracks as well. His eyes flick from you to Jennie, then back to you, and you can see the exact moment his brain short-circuits.

It’s almost comical, the way the three of you are just standing there in this ridiculous triangle of shock and embarrassment. But then, you’re the first to break free from the spell. You grin, sidestepping Jennie and making a beeline for the front door. You toss a hand over your shoulder as you call back, “I didn’t see shit.” Your voice is light, teasing, and you can’t help but giggle as you slip out the door.

But of course, you did see something. And it’s enough to make you file this away for later, something to question Taehyung about when the time is right. You’ll have to sit him down and roast him properly for this—though, knowing yourself, the topic will eventually circle back to Jungkook, and how your friendship shifted too.

You’re walking down the usual pathway to your classes, when you spot Jungkook. He’s ahead of you, but even from a distance, you can tell something is off. He’s slouched, shoulders hunched forward, his usual confident stride replaced by something slower, heavier. Your heart skips a beat, but maybe you’re just imagining things, so, you jog the rest of the way to catch up to him.

“Kook! Wait!” you call out, breathless as you finally reach him. “You wouldn’t believe what I just walked in on!”

But the words die on your lips the moment you get a good look at him, and you’re painfully reminded that your first instinct is always right. He’s not the Jungkook you know. There’s something…different. His eyes are distant, unfocused, his expression hollow in a way that makes your stomach twist on itself, making the bright smile that had been on your face fade, replaced by a deepening worry as the seconds tick by.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You can see the sadness in his eyes, the exhaustion that drips from him like mud. It mirrors your own feelings, but his seem deeper, darker, like he’s sinking into something you can’t reach.

“Nothing,” he says, but the word is empty, devoid of meaning. “I might skip class today.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Skip class? You never skip class. Kook, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are red, bloodshot, like he hasn’t slept in days, his muscles tense, coiled like a spring that’s ready to snap any minute. The unease inside you grows tenfold, spreading through your veins like wildfire. You replay yesterday’s date in your mind, sifting through every moment, every word spoken, every touch shared, searching for any clue, something that might explain his sudden shift. But all you can think of is that maybe, somehow, he regrets it. Maybe he regrets being with you, and the thought alone drowns you more than any ocean could.

“If it’s about yesterday,” you start, your voice hesitant, your thoughts stumbling over each other in their desperation to make sense of it all, “if you regret the date, we can still be friends, you know?”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then, like a switch has been flipped, his whole demeanour changes to his usual self. His shoulders relax, his eyes lose some of that haunted distance, and he reaches out for you, pulling you into a tight embrace, squishing you against his firm pecs. His voice is firm when he speaks, simple and resolute. “No.”

“No?” you echo, stunned. You don’t know how to process the sudden shift, hell, even the last twenty-four hours.

“No,” he repeats, more gently this time. “It’s not about us, I promise.” His lips brush against your hair, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he’s trying to shield you from something you can’t see. “I want this. I want us.”

You feel yourself relax into him, the unease slowly seeping out of your body as naive relief floods in to take its place. “I want us too,” you murmur softly, leaning into his warmth even more.

Jungkook pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with something that feels so much like devotion it almost makes you tear up. “I forgot to ask you something,” he teases, his voice lighter now, almost playful. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

His smile is lazy, like he already knows the answer, which you have to admit he does. Your heart skips a beat again, but for a very different reason this time. “Of course,” you grin up at him despite yourself still not trusting his mood swing. 

“Good,” he winks with a playful smirk. “May your boyfriend kiss you then?”

You giggle, unable to help yourself, the sound is bright and airy in the morning light. It’s ridiculous, the whole situation is ridiculous, but it feels so right. So normal. So him. So you. “Yes, please,” you whisper, and when his perfect lips meet yours, it feels like coming home. It’s soft, warm, everything you didn’t know you needed until this very moment. He tastes like comfort, like safety, like love.

And for that moment, you allow yourself to forget the world. To forget Pulse. To forget the shadows that still linger on the edges of your mind. For now, it’s just you and Jungkook, and that’s all you need and have. 

When you finally pull apart, he’s smiling down at you with nothing but affection in his eyes. “You sure you won’t come to class?” you try softly, hoping maybe he’s changed his mind too. 

But the moment you say it, you regret it. You can see the switch begin to turn again, his expression slowly shifting back to that distant look, the one that makes you feel like you’re losing him to something you can’t fight. 

“Nah,” he says after a pause, his voice quieter now. “Or… unless you want to work on our project?”

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice light. “We can do it another day.”

He shakes his head slowly, but there’s still that wall between you, something that he won’t let you see. “I’ll come by later,” he says, his voice distant again. “We can work on it then.”

“You sure?” you ask again, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sure,” he says, leaning down to kiss you one last time before you part ways. And even though something inside you still feels unsettled, you hold onto that moment, to the warmth of his lips, the softness of his touch, and the hope that whatever is weighing him down, you’ll figure it out before it eats him alive. 

The day drags on after that like thick honey without Jungkook beside you, every class feeling like an endless void of monotony. You find yourself standing now alone outside the autopsy lab in the late afternoon, waiting for him, though you can’t help the quiet doubt creeping in—he's late, for the first time ever, and part of you wonders if he'll even show. To pass the time, you and your friends huddled mere minutes ago to plan a semi-surprise birthday party for Jungkook at the Italian restaurant, you volunteering to do the speech. It was light, fun, a bit distracting, a way to fill the gaps he’s left in your day, but somehow you couldn’t seem to fully join the excitement as you plotted out the details, even though it’s a way to celebrate the person who has become so important to you.

Across the courtyard, you see a couple stroll by, hand in hand, their laughter soft and intimate, and for a moment, a quiet contentment settles over you. You no longer feel that familiar twinge of sadness when you see couples like this, but are reminded of how lucky you really are, how someone as special as Jungkook has walked into your life. That warmth sits with you, and you think it permanently has settled within you by now, as you glance back down the path.

Then, you spot him. Jogging towards you in a black t-shirt, his hair tousled and damp with sweat, Jungkook’s muscular frame catches you completely off-guard. His late arrival suddenly makes sense. He must’ve lost track of time at the gym, and now, here he is, rushing to meet you with that apologetic smile. But your eyes can’t fixate on his face—his muscles are somehow more prominent than ever, veins tracing lines up his tattooed arm like rivers on a map, pulsing with every step. You’re not even sure when your mouth dropped open, but it stays that way as he finally reaches you, breathless and sweaty.

“Sorry I’m late,” he pants, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, his breath fanning your face with every exhale. He steps back but keeps his hand on the small of your back, his touch doing nothing more than searing where he touches you.

Your throat feels as if it’s turned to sandpaper, dry and useless, but through a miracle unknown, you manage to stammer out, “Did you work out since this morning?”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, his lips quirking with amusement. “Yeah, why?”

“Kook, it’s been over five hours,” you exclaim, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an undeniable glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what effect he’s having on you. “I’ve been hitting my new goal.”

“What goal?” you implore, your curiosity piqued, though your attention keeps slipping back to the way his shirt clings to his chest and shoulders, as though it might tear at any moment.

“700 in the big three,” he replies, smirking with that lazy arrogance that only makes him more irresistible.

“700 in the big three,” you echo, the words floating out of your mouth automatically as your brain struggles to catch up. You can’t even properly process what he’s saying; you’re far too busy ogling him like some kind of starstruck fool.

“700 in the big three,” Jungkook repeats, his tone teasing now, the humour barely concealed behind his smirk. He watches you with that glimmer in his eyes, this confident, playfully condescending glimmer you never seen before on him.

It takes you a second—a second too long, really—but the realisation hits you like a punch in the guts. “700 kilograms in the big three lifts,” you murmur, the numbers looping in your head over and over like a broken record, the image of him lifting so much weight making your knees useless. And with each repetition, your heart rate picks up, your mind spiralling in ways that are anything but clinical. 

Jungkook watches your reaction with an amused glint, his laughter barely contained as he steps closer. “You good?” he asks after a moment, his smile widening at the stunned look on your face.

You nod—well, more like a broken bobblehead—completely overwhelmed. There’s something primal about the way he’s standing there, his raw masculinity sending your hormones into overdrive. And then, just when you think you might be able to regain some sense of control, or rather sanity, he leans down, his breath hot and still slightly quick against your ear, and rasps, “Shall we head inside?”

The words are innocent, off topic, so simple, so ordinary, but coming from him, in this moment with this tone, they feel like a challenge, like a provocation. Your body practically trembles at the sound of his voice, and your brain, already hazy from his presence, finally surrenders with waving flags. You’re helpless—utterly defeated by the sheer being of Jeon Jungkook—and at this point, you’d happily surrender to him again and again, for as long as he wants you to.

“Yes,” you breathe out, the word barely audible, more of a moan than an answer. You’re not even sure if you say it aloud or if it’s simply a thought that escapes your lips. But Jungkook hears it, and the atmosphere between you shifts in an instant. His body tenses, his eyes darkening with a hunger you’ve never seen in him before. It’s utterly raw and intense, and for a split second, you think you might combust under the weight of his gaze. There’s no softness, no tenderness in his eyes now—only desire, pure and unfiltered.

„Another time, ___.“ He doesn’t say anything else, as if he just answered your unspoken conversation, and gently guides you inside the building, his hand never leaving the small of your back. When you and Jungkook step into the lab, the freezing air of it cools you both significantly down, and as the door closes behind you, you try to gather your scattered thoughts, reminding yourself that you’re here to work, to be somehow professional enough to do the project. But with Jungkook beside you, radiating power and confidence, you know it’s going to be an uphill battle to stay focused on anything other than him.

Around you, everyone is already deep into their work, carefully peeling back layers of skin and bone in their inner autopsies. The only ones lagging behind are Ben and Juan, still caught up in their external examinations, fumbling slightly as they try to catch up. You don’t let it slow you down, though—you’ve already lost enough time. Without a word, you and Jungkook move, quickly pulling your gloves on and retrieving your body from the cooler unit. And just like last time, you find yourselves standing across from each other at the autopsy table, the cold steel beneath your fingertips again triggering you demons to come out and play. 

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, kind and calm, and for a brief second, the darkness takes a step back, but it’s not enough when you look away, knowing better than to stand here with your emotions in overdrive. You can still feel the empathy radiating from him, a soft pressure against the walls you’ve carefully built around yourself, but you shut it out, wrapping yourself in the cold. It’s easier this way—safer.

And when that darkness within you finally consumes you fully, twisting its way through your thoughts, you feel the weight of your own hypocrisy. You’re the one who flips the switch now, pulls away, hides what lies beneath the surface. You realise then, slowly but oh so painfully, that it’s not just him keeping secrets. It’s you too, guarding those parts of yourself, refusing to let him in where it matters most. You shut him out, even as you crave his closeness, and in those moments, you know that the subtle divide between you isn’t just on him—it’s the walls you’ve built around your own heart, too.

“We should begin,” you note devoid of all the emotions it held before.

Jungkook nods, and so you reach for the scalpel, its cool handle familiar in your palm. You still feel his searching eyes on you, but you don’t look up, instead you slice the torso’s skin in the usual Y-shaped incision, down from the shoulders to the sternum, and meeting at the xiphoid process before extending down to the pubic symphysis. After peeling back the loose skin, muscle and tissue, you then begin cutting through the thin layers of fascia still clinging to the ribcage, exposing the pale white bones of the ribs.

Jungkook moves to the medical tool trolley, his gloved hands reaching for the rib shears. “Shall I...?”

“Yes,” you reply, stepping back slightly to give him room.

He carefully positions the rib shears between the ribs and begins clipping through the bones with a controlled strength, each snap of bone sending a soft vibration through the instrument. Jungkook works carefully, each snap of bone gentle, as if even now, he seeks to preserve some kind of dignity in death. It unnerves you a little, but as the sound echoes not only in the quiet room but inside your mind too—a crisp, definitive crack, similar to the thuds of Chulsoo as he hit the railings when he flew down the staircase, even though there’s no mess following the sound this time, only a slight shift in the body as the ribcage gives way under the pressure—you know there’s no chance for your emotions to be triggered.

With the ribcage removed, the torso opens before you like an unwelcome revelation, the organs lying in a strange, suspended silence, if waiting for you. The heart—the centre of all life, now still, now just another part of the anatomy to be examined—rests beneath the thin membrane of the pericardium, ready to be freed.

“The heart first?”

“Yes,” you nod with your voice sounding far away, almost hollow in your own ears. You reach for the scalpel again, making the first careful incision into the pericardium. The thin protective layer peels back, exposing the heart fully now, its grey, decayed mass sitting heavy in the cavity. And you wonder, if someone were to cut you open, would your heart, still beating, look the same? Rotten and past repair?

But you shake it off, “Forceps,” your tone more an automatic request than an engagement with him, the word just a tool to continue the work. Jungkook hands them to you, and for the briefest of moments, his fingers brush against yours, sending an unexpected jolt through you. You swallow it down with all your might, feeling utterly exhausted by now while you use the forceps to  gently peel back the rest of the pericardium.

Jungkook leans closer, his brow creased with concentration, his voice quiet as he observes the enlarged heart carefully. “It’s bigger than normal. Maybe hypertrophy.”

“Most likely. Possibly undiagnosed hypertension or cardiovascular disease,” you agree, letting the clinical words form a barrier between you and the moment. You trace your eyes over the heart’s pale surface, noting the thickened walls, the silent history of the body it once powered.

Jungkook nods, his hands moving carefully as he begins to sever the heart’s connections to the body, everything done tender, as though he’s cradling something fragile in his hands. When the heart is finally free, he lifts it with care, placing it in the tray. “We should weigh it,” he suggests, glancing at you with a gentle question in his eyes, one that lingers in the air between you, full of more than just the cold facts of death.

„Hm.“ You nod, watching as he places the heart on the scale. The weight flashes across the small digital display, confirming what you both already suspected.

“It must have strained him,” Jungkook sighs quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he’s speaking to the heart itself, or perhaps to the ghost of the person it belonged to.

“Yes,” you reply absently, your mind trying to ignore his empathy. You can’t afford to feel it, not here, not now.

“Next, the lungs?” 

But Jungkook’s suggestion hangs unanswered in the air, lost in the moment. There’s a sudden yelp behind you, and before you can react, Ben stumbles into your cart, knocking it violently over. A scalpel—thankfully still clean and sanitised—clatters off it and embeds itself in your thigh. The room goes still, breaths held, as everyone stares at the darkening spot of blood slowly spreading across your jeans. You feel the strange weight of the blade in your thigh, though there’s no pain. It’s just... uncomfortable, having a blade lodged in your leg. You sigh, long and heavy, while Jungkook exhales shocked, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply slightly angered, though the room remains frozen. “Tae, do you have your kit with you?” 

All eyes are on you, including the professor’s, who looks more pale than the body on the table. You limp to a chair at the back of the room, Taehyung already swapping his gloves before casually grabbing his first aid kit. Jungkook hovers nervously, while Ben, on the verge of fainting, stammers out apologies. You wave them off half-heartedly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. As Taehyung kneels before you and rips your jeans open around the scalpel, you say, “No worries, I can feel no pain. It’s no big deal.” But inside, you’re simmering with irritation at Ben’s incompetence.

Ben, looking horrified, blurts out, “What do you mean?! You’re hurt!”

Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat, yanking the scalpel out with not a care in the world, the metal clinking to the floor as you barely blink. He hums a soft tune as he begins cleaning the wound and stitching it up, while you explain, “NTRK1. I can’t feel pain. At all.”

Everyone is stunned to the core, everyone just able to stare as Taehyung works calmly, as if nothing unusual is happening. There’s a little bit of guilt within you, seeing Jungkook’s shocked expression, realising you should’ve probably told him and the others before now. But what’s done is done, and really, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not such a big deal.

When Taehyung finishes, he pats your good thigh with a small smile, „All done,“ and starts packing up his kit, leaving you sitting there, feeling more awkward than anything else.

„Could you all please just keep going?“ you try not to snap, but you know the irritation and exhaustion are clearly visible now.

“Let’s get drinks tonight,” you turn to Jungkook, knowing it’s no use, the weight of the day, hell the weight of the last few days, presses down on you too much, the accumulated stress leaving you wanting nothing more than to melt away in the comfort of something strong and cold.

“With the gang?” Jungkook asks still a bit shocked, but his eyes soften as they always do when you’re tired like this, as though he’s already prepared to do whatever it takes to lift your spirits.

You shrug, not really caring who tags along. “I don’t care. I just need a drink.”

Jungkook grins, nodding, and without missing a beat, he turns to the others. “Yo, we’re going out. You coming with?”

Everyone agrees with enthusiastic nods except for Hoseok, who’s laughing nervously as he looks at the clock. “This early?”

Jennie rolls her eyes at him and chimes in, “Oh come on, you can have your Sprite,” but then mutters under her breath with a mischievous smirk, “with vodka.”

You laugh softly, standing up and limping towards the locker room to change out of your scrubs. Jungkook is right there beside you after he put the cadaver into the cooler, his arm hovering protectively at your side, ready to catch you if you stumble. A line forms between his eyebrows out of concern, but you want to ease that worried look from his face, not wanting him to fret over something that feels so routine to you.

“Kook, I’m fine,” you reassure him, flashing a small smile. “I don’t feel anything; it’s just my muscle acting up.”

He shakes his head a little, his mouth pulling into a line as he watches your movements. “It’s still strange to me. All these years, I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply softly, not meeting his eyes for a second, afraid he’d discover more of what’s hidden. 

“Don’t be. It’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

After a few more steps, your leg starts to loosen up, and soon enough, you’re walking normally again. By the time you reach the familiar doors of your regular pub, it’s like nothing had ever happened.

The early evening moves swiftly, conversations flowing as easily as the drinks, everyone excepting your condition by the time food is served. The moment Jungkook and you announce that you’re dating, the group bursts into cheers and clapping, Yoongi muttering a sarcastic “about time” under his breath, though you don’t miss the glances Taehyung keeps casting in your direction, his brow creased with concern. You know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll have to talk to him, reassure him that everything’s okay—he just wants the best for you, after all. You’ll need to convince him that keeping certain things from Jungkook is still the right choice, for now at least.

Especially when Jennie, sitting beside Taehyung, is caught in the crosshairs of your teasing. Leaning back in your chair, you smirk over the rim of your drink and ask her slyly, “So, Jennie, seeing anyone lately?”

She shoots you a withering look, muttering a quick and firm “no,” while you catch the warning in her and Taehyung’s eyes. You hold back a laugh, already planning weeks of teasing them.

The night continues with light banter, and the worries and struggle of the past few days seem to dissolve into the air like the hot steam of your food. Being here with Jungkook and the rest of your friends, there’s a warmth that wraps around you, a kind of quiet contentment that settles deep in your bones. This, you think, is what you’ve needed. Just this—the laughter, the closeness, the easy way Jungkook drops his arm around your shoulder, always finding your free hand or brushing soft kisses on your temple and hair.

A few drinks in, after you and Jungkook have both had a couple of glasses, he leans in close, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “Let’s get out of here.”

It’s not a question, and there’s something in his eyes, something inviting that makes it impossible to say no. You smile, knowing full well you’re both about to become the subject of endless teasing from your friends, but you don’t care. You bid them goodnight, waving off their playful remarks, your mind already too focused on Jungkook’s big, callused hand wrapped around yours, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room and universe worth paying attention to.

When you step outside, the night air is refreshing, cutting through the slight buzz you’ve got going from the drinks, sobering you up until there’s nothing left but happiness. The two of you walk side by side, hands swinging between you, and there’s this lightness in your chest you haven’t felt in days. You’ve always known that Jungkook brings a certain calm to your life, a kind of peace you’ve never really had before, but tonight it feels especially strong.

He’s laughing as you mimic one of your professors, trying your best to imitate the man’s deep, grumbling voice and exaggerated gestures. Jungkook throws his head back, his laugh echoing down the quiet street, and the sound of it makes your heart feel even more lighter. His hand squeezes yours as you twirl around, your movements carefree and loose, your inhibitions melting away as you let yourself bask in this moment, in him.

You leave his hand, spin a few times around a lamppost nearby, feeling the gentle night breeze on your flushed face. You’re not drunk nor buzzed anymore, just pleasantly warm, and in the soft glow of the streetlights, everything feels almost dreamlike. You’re smiling, Jungkook is too, and for once, you’re allowing yourself to be fully in the moment, free from the shadows that usually cloud your mind.

You really want this to work, really want him to know, so you start “Will you still be with me when I’ve killed someone?” The words slip out of your mouth as you spin, a strange mix of jest and sincerity lacing your tone. You try to keep the smile on your face, but there’s an uncertainty in your eyes that betrays you.

Jungkook laughs, catching your hand mid-spin, pulling you into his chest. He holds you there, his strong arms wrapping around you, his warmth enveloping you. “We’re going to be doctors,” he states with a grin. “Of course we’re going to kill someone by accident.” He pauses, brushing his thumb gently over your cheekbone as he cradles your face in his hands, his voice lowering into something tender, intimate. “And when that time comes, I’ll still be right here, standing next to you.”

Jungkook’s words repeat in your mind, and part of you aches to believe him. But there’s that vile voice inside, always nagging, always spreading doubt, reminding you of what you are, what you hide beneath it all. If he knew, would he really stay? you wonder if his patience and kindness could stretch this far, past the monster you are. It’s hard to imagine, yet you can’t help but cling to the hope that he’ll love you enough someday to not walk away. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am, because there’s nothing you could do that can make me leave.��� And after a short pause, when his eyes drown you with their tenderness, he says the three words you didn’t expect. “I love you.” 

You’re floating, aren’t you? His eyes are so full of sincerity, it’s almost intoxicating, lifting you higher with every glance until you reach cloud nine where he awaits you. It’s too much, too good, but you let yourself get swept up in it, let the light of him fill you. The doubts are still there, of course, whispering their poison. But right now, you ignore them. You turn a blind eye to the darkness and deaf ears to the demon inside, because for once, you just want to feel this—this joy, this love—without the fear dragging you back down to the cold, hard floor.

„I love you too, Jeon Jungkook.“

And then he kisses you, a touch full of joy, soft with confidence and love. His lips meet yours, stealing your breath and offering his in return, and for now, everything fells right. You melt into his form, losing yourself as you gently suck on his plush bottom lip, and in that tender exchange, you feel whole.

When he parts, there’s a playful glint in his eyes „I think I forgot something.“

„Hm?“ you hum, still dazed from everything he is.

„Some weight for the 700.“ 

In one swift move, he sweeps you into his arms, cradling you effortlessly, and you can't help but laugh, breathless from the sudden rush. “You’re crazy,” you giggle, but the sound falters as you catch the predatory glint in his eyes. 

His gaze locks onto yours, and with each step he takes toward your dorm, your heart skips. “Oh, I am,” he murmurs, voice low. “Don’t think I forgot how you drooled over me.” 

Your laughter fades into silence, heat rising in your cheeks as wetness begins to pool between your thighs, his strength alone making your body respond instinctually.

When you finally make it back to the dorm and slip into your room, the space is drenched in darkness, save for the soft glow of light filtering in from the outside world. But you barely notice; all your attention is on Jungkook, his lips never leaving yours, hands roaming over each other’s clothed bodies with a heat that drowns out everything else. His breath is warm against your mouth, his tongue sliding over yours, and in each kiss, you taste him, feel him—everything he is, everything you crave.

His hands glide up your sides, fingers catching the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, and you do the same, your eyes falling on his bare torso. You always knew he was strong, but now, with the soft light catching the curve of his muscles, it’s like he’s carved from something divine—each breath making his body shift and flex with a power that steals your breath all over again. His gaze drops to your breasts, your lace bra pushing them up, but he doesn’t linger for long before kissing you again, guiding you backwards until your legs hit the edge of your bed. You fall together, crawling onto the mattress as if you’re made for this, made for each other.

He trails kisses down your body, his lips oblivious of the scars that litter your skin in the dim lighting, and there’s a tenderness in his touch that feels almost reverent as he carefully pulls your jeans off, mindful of the fresh wound on your thigh. His hands move over your skin as though he’s worshipping you, like you’re something fragile yet unbreakable, and it’s so unfamiliar it makes you nearly tear up.

You can’t take it anymore—you grab him by the neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him back to kiss you as you fumble with his belt, his trousers quickly discarded with a kick of his leg. His lips move to your neck, tiny love confessions brushing against your skin between kisses, and when he finds the sensitive spots that make you moan, his hand slips beneath your underwear, fingers sliding over your wetness, his middle finger slipping inside you with ease as his palm presses against your clit. Your moan spills into his mouth, and he responds with a deep grunt that vibrates through his chest and into you, making your head spin even more.

“You’re so drenched,” he whispers, voice rough with desire, his finger slowly pumping in and out, each word sending waves of bliss through your body.

Your hands wander down his strong body, both of you discarding the last of your clothing in no time. His cock is to die for, long and girth like you never seen before, pulsing with dark veins making it even bigger, the tip glistening with precum. The sight makes you dizzy with want, every coherent thought slipping away as you take in the sheer beauty of him, his body and mind utter perfection.

“I love you,” you breath, pushing him gently onto his back with your small hands on his firm chest, straddling his tiny middle. Your arousal drips onto him, making him moan beneath you, his hands gripping your hips as you lean down to kiss his neck, sliding lower until your tongue teases his small, dark nipples. He bucks his hips into the air, the soft groan from his lips music to your ears.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper as you kiss your way down his body, eyes locking onto his cock when you finally reach it. His gaze follows you, full of lust yet still brimming with undeniable love.

You wrap your tiny hand around him, biting your lip as you keep eye contact, waiting for his reaction. His hips buck involuntarily, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You take him into your mouth, the weight of him sliding over your tongue, hitting the back of your throat as you work the rest of him with your hand. His moan fills the room, deep and guttural, one of his hands gripping the sheet while the other’s gripping your hair as he gasps, “Oh my god.”

And oh my god indeed. He tastes like heaven, feels like a dream as you pick up the pace, sucking harder, giving him everything he deserves until his abs tense and his thighs tremble. He stops you then, pulling you up to his mouth, kissing you deeply as your hands fumble for the nightstand. You quickly hand him a condom, watching as he bites it open, his hands shaking slightly as he rolls it on.

“Shouldn’t I prepare you more? It might hurt,” he murmurs, concern painting his face.

But you shake your head, kissing him softly. “I’m good. I won’t feel it,” you say, positioning yourself over him.

He pauses, his hands gripping your shoulders, eyes wide. “You won’t feel it?” he’s nearly squeaking full of disbelieve.

You laugh softly, realising your wording was off and correcting yourself. “No, I’ll feel it, just not the pain. Remember?”

Realisation floods his features, and he chuckles lightly embarrassed. “Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry.” His eyes drift down to where your juices drip onto his pelvis. “Okay.”

With that, you slowly sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully nestled inside you. The moan that escapes both of you is loud, filling the room as the overwhelming sensation of being joined like this crashes over you, throwing both your heads back. He fits perfectly, filling you in a way that makes everything else fade away, and when you start to move, it’s like you’re floating, flying in heaven, each drop of your hips sending you higher.

Jungkook matches your rhythm, thrusting up into you with an unrelenting drive, his stamina pushing you further and further until the room seems to shimmer in all the colours of the rainbow. You watch him, mesmerised by the way his muscles flex, the sheen of sweat on his skin making him look like some otherworldly being. And then it hits you—your climax tearing through you with a long moan as your juices spill out around him, soaking everything in their path.

Jungkook’s eyes lock with yours, his pace quickening as he chases his own release, his voice hoarse as he gasps out, “I love you,” before his orgasm hits, spilling into the condom as you ride out the waves of your own high together. It takes what feels like forever to finally come down, and when you do, you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, hearts pounding in sync. No walls between you.

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • masterlist • 06

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like! please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕

a/n 4: The next chapter will have a time skip, so there won’t be scenes like Jungkook’s surprise b-day party. However, drabble requests and character asks are open, though it might take me some time to write them ☺️

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

taglist: @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @jksusawife, @jayhoneybeecomb, @kookienooki, @hagridshaircare 

[fineprintedsunsets]

CUPCAKE AFFAIRS

This Is For Haunted Hoedown Day 3! | My Haunted Hoedown Master-List | Bucky Barnes & Characters Master-List

 inspired by your favorite song +“you are mine, whether you agree or not.”

Synopsis: Your sugar daddy will make sure you get anything you want, even if it's another man.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: sugardaddy!maxburnett x nickfowler x f reader. daddy kink (I don't have one myself, but I hope I gave it justice) fingering. MMF. dirty talk. use of pet names (I got you fluffy whores). p in v sex. oral (male receiving)

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

Suga' Daddy - Inayah

1:35 ───ㅇ─────3:47

“Monarch” was beautiful, and flashy, and-

Are those cupcakes?

Those are definitely cupcakes.

You sigh with relief. This was nothing like the other events Max dragged you to. Last month it was a charity ball and after all the conversations about politics and the old ass man looking at your breast, you were over it real quick.

Max made up for it though, that was the best part about having a sugar daddy. The sex is fucking amazing. And Max had special skills when it came to that area.

“You alright, Princess?” He gruffs, leading you both inside the doors to the downtown bar that just opened up. Max was in business with its owner, Nick. So of course he had to celebrate the grand opening.

“Fine.” You smile, still eyeing those cupcakes. Sprinkles and icing atop a beautiful fluffy sponge cake. They sit leisurely placed on a rotating cake display. Max smiles, seeing what piqued your interest.

“Go get one baby, Meet me at the bar, alright?”

“Of course, Daddy.” Max’s brows shoot up as he smirks, landing a light tap on your ass. You have never called him daddy in public before, and now that you had, he was never letting you stop.

You yelp at the contact but agree as you smooth down the back of your dress. Max picked it out like he did all the others you wore during these events. The pink fabric fits you perfectly, hugging and even accentuating your curves.

Max finds his way to the bar top, probably to discuss business things with Nick. That’s what you called them anyway, “Business things”. You have eyes on the last pink cupcake with purple pearl sprinkles.

It looks heavenly, and mouth-watering, and-

You reach to grab the delectable dessert before another hand brushes your own, making you pull back suddenly.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey! Take it.” Your eyes meet with a fair-skinned man, his bright smile reaching his ears. You blush at his features, suddenly remembering your fingers just brushed.

“Are you sure?” Your voice squeaks, shy and acutely aware your breasts are on display, but the man doesn't look down once, he keeps his eyes up at your face. You never knew respect could be so hot.

“The beautiful girl deserves the prettiest cupcake, no?”

Your face is comparable to a tomato, but thank god the bar lights are just dim enough to hide it. You smile, reaching your hand to grab the cupcake. The man smiles as his hands slide into their suit pockets, you can see the slightest hint of his veins, his large fingers resting inside the pocket.

Is it hot in here?

“It matches your dress, after all.” He points, lifting his suit with him. God, he has muscles. Lots of them. You look down as if you’ve forgotten what you put on, with him, you kind of forgot you were wearing anything.

“It does.” You notice, pulling the wrapper off the frosted desert. As much as you’d love to keep admiring the man that is standing next to the delicious cupcakes, you have to try one.

You bring it up to your lips, biting into the icing and cake at once. You bring your hand up to catch any of the crumbs, allowing the icing to melt on your tongue. You could almost groan, it's so good.

You bring it away from your mouth, missing the taste of it already. He still stands there, a laugh emitting from his lips. “Come here.” You quirk your brow in question, still chewing the spongy cake as the man steps forward, bringing a gentle hand to swipe at your lips.

You freeze at his touch, feeling sparks emit through your skin. He brings his thumb to swipe over your bottom lip, gathering icing that must have stuck to the skin. He keeps your eyes locked as he brings the digit to his own pink lips, licking off the buttercream.

You almost choke as you swallow. Your knees are jelly, and your eyes can’t stay off of the man. Who is he? And why is he making you hot and bubbly inside?

“Nick Fowler” He puts his hand out, breaking the heated silence, but before you can reach to shake it, a voice pulls you back down to reality.

“I see you’ve met Nick.” Max joins you two at the cupcake stand, a bit of agitation in his tone. You almost smile, uh oh, daddy’s jealous.

You're aware now, this is the new owner of Monarch, Max’s business partner. Nick, as in the Nick. “Max, How you been man?” Nick’s eyes break away from you, switching his hand to shake Max’s

“Good” Max replies with a hint of accusation woven throughout his tone. The two men’s palms slide against each other. Now you can see both Max and Nick’s strong fingers and the recurring veins that mark Nick’s hand-

God. It definitely is hot in here.

Nick and Max both turn to you, and the intensity of their gazes, the remembrance of Nick’s fingers against your lip, and Max-

Max looked so angry, it made you want to rub your thighs together.

“Join me at the bar, Princess.”

Is it just you, or did Nick’s gaze just harden? Max was shooting daggers through your body, but he didn’t own you, he was your sugar daddy, not your boyfriend, although you can’t atone for the amount you hoped otherwise.

Max treated you like his little princess, always caring and soft when you needed him to be. But when you wanted to be put in your place?

Max knew how to do that too.

“Can Nick join us?” You ask, passing a small wink to Nick. Max sees it, you make sure he does.

You know he doesn't want you to see it, but it’s hard to ignore the way his finger flexes and curls into a tight fist at his sides. “Of course, Can I have a word with you first, baby?”

“Course.” You mutter, Max indicates for Nick to wait at the bar and he does so with an eager eye, taking a cupcake for the road. You finished yours while Nick and Max stared each other down during that way-to-long-hand shake.

Max joins you, placing a small kiss on your forehead. You know Nick is watching, Max is trying to make it seem as if he’s just giving you a kiss, but in reality, he’s doing much more.

“Does he make you wet, princess?”

“Max!” You attempt to pull away, but you can’t. Max won't let you.

“Answer me or I’ll stick my hand down those pretty pink panties your wearing and find out for myself.” Your thighs clench at your sugar daddy’s tone, jealousy and anger, and arousal mixing in this throat.

Embarrassment now clouds your cheeks as you dip your head “Yes.” You mutter in resentment, shrinking away just a bit from Max. His fingers graze your cheekbone gently, forcing you to look up at him.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, princess. Do you want him?”

“No, Max. I want you.” You whine, fiddling with your fingers as your eyes intertwine, heat sparking throughout your chest.

“I know, baby. But you know what I really mean.”

You did. You didn’t want to admit to that fact.

Max’s lips dip down to your ear-lobe, flicking his tongue out to trace the skin, You gasp as he places your chin at his shoulder, your eyes locking with Nick’s. He’s staring very intensely.

“Do you want his fingers? ‘Want to see how those veins feel stuffed inside of you?”

Your chest bubbles as air exits your lungs too quickly, making you winded. Max’s tongue at your ear, his filthy words, and Nick’s eyes from the bar…

It could make you cum right here and right now.

“Oh I know, Princess. I saw you eyeing him. Is that what you want?”

Fuck. Could you deny you were attracted to Nick? No. Did you want Max to know? Yes and no.

Yes, because Max could make it happen. He would do anything for you. But saying it allowed seemed like uncharted territory. Max seemed so jealous when you were eyeing Nick, or maybe he was just playing a part, knowing it would’ve turned you on.

It worked.

Too well.

“Answer me, Princess.”

“Yes! Fuck, Max.” He pulls away from your ear, the torture halting for a moment. He smiles, like he’s happy you confessed you want someone other than himself.

“You’ll get him then-” Max’s fingers pull at your chin, stroking the flesh of your cheek. “Just know, You're mine, whether you agree or not.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

🧁

Max had accomplished what he had promised. The bar’s grand opening celebration was far away as you sat in a leather booth with both men. The V.I.P. section was cleared immediately as Nick heard Max’s proposition. The booth walls are high enough so no one can see inside, and guards are stationed outside the doors which lead into the V.I.P. rooms.

But if you moan loud enough, which you are sure you will, the potential clients will hear. Max and Nick seemed to pay no mind to that fact, though.

“She’s so pretty, Max.” Nick runs his curled fingers across your cheek, sending sparks shooting through your body. Max presses into you from the right side, his hand tracing lazy circles on your thigh.

If only they would inch higher.

“You hear that princess, Daddy’s friend thinks you're pretty”. You nod, smiling, unable to speak as Nick's hand dips lower, exploring your curves, causing heat to bloom everywhere, turning your veins to molten lava.

“Tell him what you want, baby. Tell him what you told Daddy.”

You gulp, feeling both pairs of hands pause, robbing and taunting you at the same time. You swallow, the air sucking itself from your throat. “Want to feel Nick’s fingers, daddy.” You confess to Max, looking away from his partner.

Max smiles, grabbing your cheeks, forcing your head to turn the opposite way, your gaze colluding with Nick’s blue pupils. “Tell him.”

“Want your fingers inside me, Nick.” He shifts, his cock painfully straining against his pants, matching Max’s slacks.

“You gonna be good for me, sweet girl? Listen to what your daddy tells you?”

Your head sways quickly, showing Nick how eager you are, and Max how well you’ll listen to him. Max pulls your face back to his, bringing your lips to his own. It never gets old, feeling his lips devouring yours, letting you moan into his mouth.

You squirm, your pussy begging for Nick’s attention. His digits reach under your dress, trailing his fingers up your inner thigh. You groan into Max’s mouth, feeling both over and under-whelmed. Max lips break for air, a string of salvia still connecting your puffy lips.

Nick’s fingers reach higher, brushing right over your panties, resting at your navel. You whine, bucking your hips into Nick’s hand, acutely aware of your odd position in the booth, Your half twisted to Max, your legs dangling off the cushion.

“C’mere”. Max’s helps you get more comfortable, while his other hand reaches into his slacks, undoing his belt. You watch as his muscles flex at the action, pulling his belt out of the loops, and releasing himself.

His cock is hard and heavy, pre-cum dripping from its tip. You can feel both men’s gazes at your back, your hips are angled in the air, pressing into Nick’s side as your head is at eye-level with Max’s cock.

“Suck your daddy’s cock, baby” Nick’s hoarse voice echos, as his fingers slide down, rubbing a small circle against your clothed clit. You buck, your mouth closing around Max’s hard cock.

He moans, feeling your wet lips run against him, your tongue finding his veins, licking a stripe up the trail. Nick smiles, seeing Max throw his head back, his fingers engulfing your scalp. Nick’s fingers move your panties to the side, hiking your dress up with the other. You gasp as the cool hair hits your pussy, making your clit cry with sensitivity.

“Such a pretty pussy she has, Max.” You groan at the compliment, clenching down on air. Max smiles as he guides your head up and down his cock, his lips parting in a feral groan.

The more you suck Max’s cock, the more you buck into Nick’s fingers. Tired of the teasing. The crude sounds of your gagging and your arousal fill the air, Nick’s fingers hook your pink panties aside as he circles your clit.

You buck, moaning around Max’s cock, sending vibrations through him, making a guttural groan exit his mouth. Max couldn’t decide to look at you, to where your mouth wraps pretty around his cock, or to Nick who’s running your fingers over your slick folds.

“Mmm. How is she doing on your end?” Max teases watching Nick’s digits circle your entrance, collecting your arousal.

“She’s so wet for us.”

You groan, gagging as Max thrust into your throat, filling you up completely, salvia dripping from your chin. Max nods to Nick, giving him the okay, and before you can be warned, a single digit pushes into you.

Nick groans in approval, watching his finger sink like a rock in water, filling you just a bit. You clench around the digit, wincing at the intrusion, waiting for the relief of being filled up to fill your body.

Nick pushes another finger into you without warning. You moan, feeling Max’s thrust start to stutter.

“Doing so well for him, princess.” Max praises, slowing down your movements with his hand, not wanting to come too soon.

“You feel his veins, sweetheart? Can you feel them buried deep inside your sweet cunt?”

“Yes!” Your reply is muffled, sounding like inaudible hums as you buck your hips into Nick’s fingers, urging him to move. He looks at Max for approval, and he nods. His digits pump leisurely in and out of you, curling each time they re-enter.

“There, honey.” Nick praises as you continue the abuse on Max’s cock, licking his veins, bobbing your head up and down, urging him to come. Max’s fingers tighten around your strands, bucking his hips into your throat.

“Gonna swallow for me, princess? Show Nick how good you can be for your daddy?” The more Max talks, the wetter you get, and Nick seems to notice.

“Keep talking to her, she likes that.” He comments as he curls his digits, making you cry out. The feeling of Max’s cock filling your throat, a few more sporadic thrusts before he’s releasing, and Nick’s veins hitting every spot inside of you, it made you want to cry and scream and cum.

It was too much, but never enough.

“Just like that, princess. Mm. Feel Daddy’s cum filling your throat. Swallow it for me, pretty girl.” You do as he asks, swallowing the spurts of cum he’s released down your throat. You pull away with a pop, grateful for the air that fills your lungs. The taste circles your buds as you run his release over your tongue.

Max smiles, the flush of his orgasm still blessing his features. You can feel your own orgasm rise through you, threatening to burst. Before you can get yourself to the edge using your own thrust to meet Nick’s fingers, he stops, releasing his digits from your needy cunt.

“Need to have you on my cock, pretty girl. Ask your daddy for me, will you?”

You clench, and look up at Max through tear-stained cheeks and batted eyelashes. “Can I ride Nick’s cock, Daddy?”

“Hmm. I think you deserve it, you did so good sucking my cock.” A twinge of excitement and anticipation wrack through you, mirroring Nick’s own face.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Nick’s cock is already out of his pants, staining his suit with his own pre-cum. His cock isn’t as large as Max’s, but where he lacks in length he makes up in girth.

Just like his fingers, veins protrude from his cock, making your pussy clench. You straddle Nick’s lap, your back pressing against the table of the booth. Max slides closer, his eyes watching as Nick lines up his cock with your entrance.

“You like when daddy watches you take another man’s cock? You like that it makes me jealous, princess?” You nod, feeling Nick slide into your heat as you cry out from the intrusion, his fingers doing nothing to help you warm up.

“Not even shy about it anymore, either,” Max says, watching Nick’s hands guide your hips up and down as you ride his cock. The sight has Max getting hard all over again. Your orgasm is back and ready to burst as Nick thrust into you harder, each time his pace speeds up, pushing and pulsating inside you.

“So good, sweet girl! Mmph. Come on my cock, okay? Can you do that for me?” You close your eyes, leaning forward so your hands rest against the top of the booth seat, allowing Nick to slide in deeper.

“M’coming! Nick!” Nick smiles, giving you small words of encouragement as he nods his head, your breath colliding as you come over his cock, feeling Max’s gaze all over your body. Nick comes just moments after, pulling out to coat you both in his release. Max places a kiss against your temple, telling you how well you did.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, princess. And celebrate this bar opening, hmm?”

You laugh, your breath still unsteady. “That wasn’t enough celebration?”

“How about another cupcake?” Nick pitches in, smiling, flashing his dimples.

“Coming!”

[rats-agere]

hello I was wondering and it’s totally ok if not but could I maybe get a cg Nick Nelson and little reader headcanons? I love nick and wanted more writing for him thank u for ur consideration!

Of course!!

Caregiver Nick Nelson Headcanons

• He loves taking you to the beach! He’ll make sure to bring anything you could want or need at the beach, helping you pick out a comfy bathing suit and put on lots of sunscreen. You’d spend lots of days throughout summer having fun in the sun building sandcastles and going swimming • He’d keep a small bag of your agere stuff with him at school in case you end up regressed in class, making sure he mostly has more discreet things like cute stationary and your regression journal so you can doodle or write in it during class when you’re not busy.

• He wouldn’t be too strict with rules, but he’d definitely make sure that you didn’t do anything unsafe. If you were having a hard time with getting out of bed one day he’d help you by making it a fun game, if you were having trouble with eating he’d make sure you had whatever would be easiest for you to eat.

• He absolutely loves to spoil you, you go out to any store and even hint at liking something and it’s instantly in the shopping cart. He also loves to surprise you with gifts when he goes out without you, bringing you something small like a stuffie or a cute pen almost any time you see eachother.

• He loves taking you on play dates with other Littles you know, watching over you and getting to talk to other cg’s like the proud parent he is.

• When he first found out you were a little he already knew what age regression was and was more than happy to take care of you, he was very reassuring that you weren’t bothering him and he wasn’t upset.

• After he got used to what little you was like, he made a sage space for you in his closet, at first it wasn’t the most well decorated, mostly made up of his old childhood stuffed animals and blankets, but you loved it anyways because of the thought and as time went on it became more and more personalized to you. He had some colouring books of your favourite things/shows/movies/etc along with different kinds of stationary to use, he kept a backup journal in there for in case you forgot yours and a few Stuffies he bought and eventually he even found some cute star shaped fairy lights to hang up to make the closet more well lit.

• The first time you ended up small around him he grabbed one of his childhood plushies from under his bed and gave it to you to calm you down, he was a bit worried it would scare you being that it was missing one of its little button eyes but to his surprised it calmed you almost instantly and for the rest of the time you were small you refused to let it leave your side. Needless to say he let you keep it for when you were small and sad

[sserpente]

A/N: READY FOR CHRISTMAS? BECAUSE I AM! 🎄🎄🎄

Words: 1740 Warnings: almost drowning?

You rolled your eyes when you entered the warm indoor swimming pool of Hawkins, the penetrating smell of chlorine filling your nostrils. The sounds of children playing and water splashing drowned out the noises of your flip-flops marching forward on the wet tiles when you glanced into the hall only to spot Billy Hargrove of all people sitting on that damn high chair like he owned the place.

“Ugh, why did it have to be him on duty today?”

Your friend chuckled. “You really hate him, huh?”

“He’s insufferable. A flirt, a player… he’s the kind of guy who would lie the pie from the sky.”

“I’m not sure this idiom exists, love.”

You tore your gaze away from him before he could notice you staring and turned around. “Never mind. Let’s put up those decorations and get out of here before we get wet. I’m already sweating.”

The cardboard boxes you had brought were full of Christmas garlands, baubles and other knick-knacks. Nothing electric of course—you weren’t stupid after all—but the mayor had asked you to turn the swimming pool into a friendlier place for the upcoming holiday season. You weren’t opposed to it. Volunteering around the town gave you credits for college which you direly needed. Besides, decorating was fun, even if you had to do it around Billy Hargrove.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing here in your street clothes?” You rolled your eyes when his voice made its way over to you.

“Here we go…” You turned, arms akimbo, only to watch Billy strolling towards you already. His eyebrows were raised and you could tell he was chewing gum. At work. You shook your head slightly.

“The mayor asked us to put some decorations here,” you said coolly, pointing at the ladder your friend had brought.

“And why don’t I know of this?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re not in charge?” You offered with a sweet smile. Billy scoffed, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Alright, fine. Just watch your step. It’s slippery around here.”

“Duh.” You refused to give him another comment, especially when he eyed you up and down like a bloody piece of candy and then turned back around to make his way back to his chair.

“You gotta admit he’s hot,” your friend said once he was out of earshot. “I mean, look at that ass.”

“Hot doesn’t make up for a shitty personality. Let’s get this over with.”

“You know, I heard his father’s abusive,” she continued, handing you the first piece of the garland as you climbed up the ladder to reach the wooden bars near the roof. “Gives him a hard time. And his mum left him for another man, started a new family. I think he might just be misunderstood.” She shrugged, making you raise an eyebrow as you drove a nail into the bar with a hammer to fix the garland to it.

“That doesn’t excuse him from treating girls like that.”

“Oh, I also heard he’s treating girls very well,” she said with a grin. You rolled your eyes once more. “I’d give a lot for a night with him… if only to see if he really knows how to make a woman scream his name in under five minutes.”

“That sounds like a myth. I’ve never been with a man who can do it faster than my vibrator.”

“Hmm… well, in any case I think I’m not his type. You on the other hand…” Your friend wriggled her eyebrows.

“What about me?”

“Oh come on, didn’t you see the way he looked you up and down? He clearly finds you attractive.”

“Good for him.”

You sighed when she called your name to scold you. In response, you drove another nail into the wooden bar.

“Ah, shit, we forgot the tape,” your friend suddenly exclaimed. “I’ll be right back. You good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your friend nodded and left the pool area to retrieve the missing item. You let out another sigh. She wasn’t wrong. Billy Hargrove was hot and you too had heard that no woman ever left his bed unsatisfied—in the true sense of the word. It was a shame he had to be such an arsehole most of the time.

Standing on your tiptoes, you leaned forward to hammer another nail into the wood. You should probably move the ladder but you’d work it out somehow. At least until one of the wet soles of your flip-flops slipped off the rung of the ladder, the sudden weight shift making you lose your balance.

Your eyes widened as you fell, your hands desperately grabbing at whatever they could get a hold of to save yourself from colliding with the floor when the ladder toppled and fell over altogether. Whatever hit the back of your head, it hurt. Everything went black for a moment as you flopped into the water, dizziness washing over you in an instant, the panic scourging you from the inside out having you gasp for air the water masses around you could not provide you without gills.

You didn’t know where up and down was anymore, your limbs ceasing to take orders from you. Darkness began closing in on you even though part of you kept on fighting it, knowing you’d drown if you gave up. Any moment now, one of the pool guests would notice you weren’t emerging anymore. They’d save you. Perhaps a kid would alert an adult to drag you out of the water…

And then someone jumped in and grabbed you just before you lost consciousness.

-

When you came to, you were lying on the wet tiles. You coughed up some pool water, the chlorine burning in your throat and your eyes before you realised there was someone leaning over you, holding the back of your head and supporting you. But it wasn’t your friend despite her calling your name over and over again. It was Billy.

“Easy… take it slow.”

Your clothes were drenched. You sat up, allowing him to give your back support. Your limbs were shaking so bad you didn’t quite trust them to hold you up on their own accord yet, so you didn’t even protest. Shit. You should have moved the ladder.

“I fucking told you to be careful,” Billy growled quietly—he didn’t sound angry though. Quite on the contrary… he sounded concerned.

“The ladder must have gotten wet from my shoes.”

You glanced over to the pool. Both your flip-flops were still floating on the surface.

“Looks like you need some swimming lessons, doll.”

“I know how to swim, dumbass! I… I couldn’t move…”

“You probably have a concussion. And you breathed in a shit ton of water, your brain went into panic mode.”

“Yeah, thanks for the chemistry lesson.”

“You need to go see a doctor. I’ll go get you some towels, I’ll be right back.” With that, Billy stood, leaving you and your friend behind. You only realised now that there were a number of people watching the whole ordeal. You scoffed.

“Oh my fucking God,” your friend began then. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… just… in shock I guess. What exactly happened? I only remember blacking out and someone pulling me out of the water.”

“Uh-huh, well that was Billy. Shit, you should have seen him! I opened the door with that stupid tape in hand and walk back in, next thing I know I wonder where the hell you are. Put one and one together when I heard him scream your name like you were being murdered and then he all but jumped off his chair, ran to the side of the pool and dove in like a Baywatch character. I could almost see it in slow motion. Have you got any idea how hot that was? And then, Jesus Christ, he heaved you out of the water bridal-style, climbed out himself and… I had no idea watching someone do CPR on someone could be so hot!”

“Are you seriously romanticising me almost drowning right now?!” You couldn’t help but chuckle regardless only to cough again moments later. But your friend was right. What Billy had done was quite heroic. Sure, it was his bloody job, he was the lifeguard after all… but you hated to admit the effect of him saving you had on your body… and your mind.

“Here you go.” You almost flinched when he returned, draping two towels over your shoulders and then helping you up on your feet. “My shift is about to end, I’m gonna grab my stuff and drive you to the hospital.”

“You want to do what?”

“Do you have another ride?”

You did not. You’d walked here on foot. “N-no.”

“Thought so. I’m assuming you don’t have any spare clothes on you but we need to get you out of that wet stuff. I should have something dry in my car.” Oh, and what was that? Remnants of previous conquests?

Before you could speak your snarky comment out loud, Billy turned to your friend. “Are you good here alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll manage.”

“Don’t slip,” he said instead of goodbye. Then, he led you out to the changing rooms.

It was quiet here. You were alone. No annoying gawkers.

“Billy… uh… thank you. I owe you.” And you did. He literally saved your life today. Without him... this could have been your last day on God’s green Earth.

“Let’s say eight o’clock tonight then. I’ll pick you up.” Damn that chewing gum. Why did it have to look so hot when he did it? And… did he seriously have the guts to ask if… you had just… you had merely… Frustrated, you breathed out loudly.

“I almost died and you’re asking me out on a date?”

“I’m the one who saved you, right?”

“Oh, so is that why you did it?”

“Nah…” He grinned, averting his eyes for a moment. “But you just said you owe me. So I wanna take you out.”

If your friend was here right now, she would have given you a nudge. You sighed. Fine. “Alright, Hargrove. Eight o’clock. But I get to pick where we eat.”

You could swear you could feel your panties getting even wetter when he nodded and gave you a sly wink before opening the door for you to lead you to his car.

-

A/N: Lots of Christmas Imagines coming throughout December for pretty much all the characters I write for! Including everyone’s remaining requests!

Also, my first novel is coming out! FINALLY! Check out my pinned post on my blog for more details! ♥

[optimismxmagicism]

The girl approaches the familiar little figure in her line of sight just prior to the start of the game proper—prior to the doling out of roles, when the only indicators that anything might be going on tonight are the torchlit decorations scattered about the area and people clad in costume that gather here.

"Don't you look cute in that outfit! It suits you, Ewan," Poe compliments in her usual, polite greeting. "I wonder if you are here for the candy, or for the game? Well, regardless of which, I am sure you'll do quite well tonight, heehee."

She leans in closer, as though to offer a secret.

"Would you like me to let you in on a little piece of advice?" Poe asks, not quite a whisper, but below her breath nonetheless. Well, she is sure that others wouldn't be surprised to hear what she is saying, but to act conspiratorially will perhaps give the wisdom a little more impact, and especially given tonight's mood. "You can learn a lot about people by watching how they act in a game like this. Some people act quite differently when they are encouraged to distrust one another. So watch carefully!"

“Oh, Miss Poe! Hiya!” Ewan couldn’t help but smile as he spotted her. The girl, as always, seemed like the paragon of justice and good manners in his mind. So much so, the young mage had been trying to find ways to emulate her behavior for a while now. “Aw, gosh.. thanks.” Pale cheeks turned a slightly rosier tint at her kind words. “Likewise, your costume’s also perfect for you! Very cute, very proper.” Indeed, an angel fit her well, he thought.

“Heehee, I’m here for little bit of both, actually. Candies, games, maybe the occasional prank or two..” he said that last part very quietly.

His curiosity was piqued when she mentioned advice. Despite hosting, she was willing to give him a little hint? She really was the best. “Oh, tell me! …er, please.” In his excitement he almost forgot to be polite.

“Uhuh, I see… oh my!” The boy nodded for dramatic effect, as if he was given some kind of big revelation. “Not to worry, I’ll be sure to spot any liars! After all, this witch won’t just be listening to what they say, I’ll be listening to their hearts!” He threw a peace sign to accentuate his words. Truth lies in the heart, or so his mentor always taught him.

….was that applicable in games too? He supposed he’d find out soon enough.

[tornrose24]

So if Jinx idolizes the werewolf who bit scratch then would that werewolf be like the chairman from season 1 in a way?

Also do you ever plan to finish your Aladdin AU

The werewolf IS in fact the Chairman. I first hinted at his identity when I first drew him and a friend of mine instantly figured it out upon close inspection.

Chairman!Werewolf is the one werewolf all werewolves fear. He doesn't have a postion of power, but that's not what makes him terrifying. There is no trace of his humanity when he transforms–he is no different than a murderer as any human or creature who crosses his path dies by his hand. Even as a human, there is nothing human about him–he has no concept of love or friendship, kindness, or a sense of right and wrong. He has no reservations about who he attacks as not even a child would be safe. He fights only for himself as well as the thrill of it. Many have tried to go after him, given the threat he poses to both the supernatural and the human sides, but he is nigh impossible to find, let alone kill. If you aren't human, you can almost smell the aura of death and blood from miles away, but depending on what creature you are, it might already be too late. If he shows interest in attacking you, then you are out of luck.

(And speaking of–yes, Todd was LUCKY he was only biten because he would have been killed. He was not going to escape that encounter without some consequence, and he was severely traumatized by it even before he first transformed.)

You also might notice that he is missing a nose in my drawings. It was ripped off during a past fight. This detail extends to his human form, but it is NOT a pretty sight, even if thats one of the very few visual clues you get in order to find him. Your only other hope of finding him is to pay attention to his hunting patterns, which is what the Chen family has done across the years.

________

As for the Aladdin AU, I kept forgetting about it and it felt like other people forgot about it as well. So it's nice that someone is showing interest and wants to here how it will end, as well as the other details. Perhaps I need to think on it this week.

[books-and-catears]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write some headcanons on how the brothers would react to the alternate timeline MC (the one killed by belphie, rip) haunting the house of lamentation? I just think some angst would be neato. Keep up the good work! I love your writing <3

Oh how much I love this concept. With all the ghost MCs I've been writing this fits in perfectly. How I love writing angst hehehe thank you for this wonderful ask

Thank you so much for your kindness. I hope I can do this justice :')

It has been months since you've been gone. Your body buried in the human world, and yet your soul still felt like it was lingering.

They could see you - a glimpse here, a whisper there and your presence everywhere. Almost as if you just walked past them into your room, and lay curled up in bed with Satan's new books or Levi's new manga. Only you weren't.

The bumps in your bed were just pillows and blankets. The extra chair stood out like a sore thumb. They would so often call you and then feel stupid for expecting a response. Except you had started answering back now.

Lucifer could often hear paper rustling in his sleep. And when he woke up he found the paper work was done more than he remembered doing.

He found his favourite tea brewing whenever he was too tired. And it tasted exactly how you used to make it.

At first he thought it was some sort of sickening joke from his brothers so he threatened to punish them if they didn't come clean. But it was none of them.

Then...MC? Did you come back somehow?

He went into a secret frenzy, looking for you everywhere. Sometimes when the house was empty, he screamed out your name, he could hear your voice softly calling back from your room.

Soon those soft vague sounds became his only comfort - he became super strict about silence in the house. He refused to have any other tea than the one he found magically brewing. He'd always kiss the cups before drinking from them, and his eyes would sting with unshed tears.

___________________________________________

Mammon might be scared of ghosts. But not you. Never you. Especially when he could feel your weight in his arms whenever he missed you too much.

Maybe the sensation was more vivid, since he was the last one to hold you alive. He could also see you. A faint shadow that walked beside and waved to him whenever he was in your room.

And though the shadow had no face, he could tell it was smiling. He felt calm around it. Like you never left. He denied your death the most and now there was reason to.

He barely left the house and most of the time he just stayed in your room. That's where he had most memories with you. Sometimes he found coins and Grimm strewn around your bed, as if you'd left it there for him. He took them and stored them away, never to spend them.

He was overjoyed when he saw your shadow in his room. He started talking to it like it was you, pressing his lips against the walls where you appeared and watching your shadow reaching up to touch his shadow, holding it tight. In those moments he swore he could feel your arms around him again. And on those nights, his pillows would be drenched with his agony.

___________________________________________

Leviathan first noticed it when he saw that Player 2 was always logged in, in all of his games. Even the ones that came months after you were longer there.

And while player two didn't actively play, he found boost items in his game inventory that he didn't achieve himself. You used to hunt down boost items to help with his battles and he protected you during the fights.

He starts getting even more into gaming, to the point where he forgets to go out for meals. Mammon and Satan have to drag him out to eat. He often just sits there talking to himself as if you're still there.

Then one day, in the group texts of the game, he sees you text. Player 2: 'Go get him Levi! I got your back; we have a lot of ammo!" He forgot the game altogether desperately typing back a message.

You don't text as often as he would like, but he's always waiting for whatever you say. It's easily the best part of his day. If he fell asleep in front of the screen, he would wake up covered with a blanket and good morning message on screen. His brothers claim to never have gone inside so he knows it's you. He cries into the blanket you covered him with cause he misses you.

___________________________________________

Satan came to feel your presence in the strangest way. There was a particular cat that you were attached to. That cat started finding ways to sneak inside the house, in the library or Satan's room, holding small books in its mouth.

When Satan opened them up, he found petals of your favourite flowers tucked away in some particular pages. It resembled the way you marked your favorite chapters using colored bits of paper or bookmarks.

He figured out a way to talk to you. He made something that resembled an Ouija board and left a little cat shaped button on it. He tried it out in your room, and it worked. You were talking back. Not whole sentences but broken phrases and words. So he used yes and no questions from then onwards.

He often found new books in his room, a hint that you wanted him to read them. While reading, he could swear he felt your head rest on his shoulder as if trying to read with him. He also left books in your room to read. Though he missed your touch and your voice, the fact that you still talk to him gave him so much joy. He often kisses the books he gives you, hoping they reach your fingers and litters the pages with tear stains in hopes you'd see them and come back.

___________________________________________

Asmodeus screamed the first time he saw you behind him in the mirror. You were transculent, barely visible. But it was you and your distinct smile and wave of the hand, leaning against his bathroom wall, long streaks of dried blood near your neck. He could even smell you - your scent like flowers, firewood and old books.

He tries to talk to you, even tries to hold you but you're just an image. A reflection that reflects nothing but empty space. You don't seem to talk but you nod or shake your head in reply. He presses himself into the mirror as if trying to hug you tight.

But lately he hears whispers, very faint and barely there but he hears them. Always calling him somewhere where there is a mirror. Cause that's the only place he can see you. If you thought he was obsessed with mirrors then, you should see him now.

He almost covered his whole room up with mirrors so he could see you from all angles, making you feel as alive as he possibly could. He screams your name into his pillows. Maybe you would respond if he was louder?

___________________________________________

Beelzebub often passed by you room, all covered now, just like Lilith's. The door was always kept open but he didn't dare enter. But one day, a strong gust of wind blew it wide open as if urging him to enter. So he did.

On the bed he found some fresh treats placed right in the middle of your bed. It was the treats he loved to eat together with you. How did they even get here?

He sat on the bed and absent mindedly started eating. When he ate, he could hear your laughter and you talking - a surge of memories flooding his senses. And when he was done, he could swear he felt your fingers wiping his mouth.

Eversince then he refused to eat anywhere except your room and his brothers had to drag him to the table during breakfast and dinner. But whenever a new bakery or restaurant opened, he would bring all the food back only to eat it in your room. And he would smile, listening to saying how delicious the food is. He would often clutch at his chest and cry, missing the way you used to hold him whenever he was sad. Won't you come hold him now, MC?

___________________________________________

Belphegor couldn't feel a thing. The only way he knew you were still here was when he brothers acted strangely. He'd ask them of course, but they'd never reply to him. He was the reason MC was gone. Why would MC show themself to him?

So he observed his brothers, always cautious for every little thing that was out of place. He'd caught all his brothers crying at some point or the other. Especially in your room. So he'd curl up in your room to spend the night in there hoping to feel you like his brothers. Only he never did, and Mammon and Satan would scream and drag him out the next morning.

None of the brothers would let him inside of their own rooms either. They couldn't save you when it mattered. So now it was their way of protecting whatever essence was left of you.

Feeling dejected and guilty he went and locked himself inside his old attic. He rested his against the bars that locked him in. Isn't this where he first met you, MC? Sigh. You'd been nothing but kind to him so why did he-

"Belphie.." Then he heard it. For the first time in forever, he heard your voice again. Soft and kind - just like before. He looked up and through the bars, he saw the most familiar sight. You smiling at him through the bars, your fingers wrapped around yours. And just like that he broke down. He started howling in pain, as he tried to reach you, but his fingers slipped right through you. "I'm sorry I'm sorry come back please come back!" He cried as you disappeared into thin air again.

My Masterlist .

[chocoluckchipz]

Together

It had to be a mirage. Eyes like these simply couldn’t exist. The deepest blue he’d ever seen, warm and inviting with a rainbow sparkling inside them. The most precious of jewels. A treasure, really.

Too bad it was nothing but a hallucination.

Adrien closed his eyes and forced a deep inhale. Two days adrift on the ocean on a sloppily made raft; cold, hungry, and in pain. It was a miracle he was still alive. A miracle that wouldn’t last much longer. And if a hallucination of this beautiful creature staring at him from the water was the last thing Adrien saw on this earth, he was more than okay with that.

The creature grabbed at the edge of his raft. Adrien slowly turned to look at the intruder.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful.

Not a simple mermaid. A being not of this world. How shameful was it that he couldn’t keep his eyes open for longer to marvel at her? With the last of his strength, Adrien rasped. “Are you an angel?”

“My name’s Marinette.” Her voice was the most soothing melody. “What’s yours?”

He couldn’t help a smile, her name slipping off his lips in a reverent whisper. Such a fitting name for such a gorgeous creature. “Adrien. You… taking me... home?”

He wasn't sure what was beyond this life, but whatever it was, it surely would be better than a cold house, a missing mother, and an abusive father who, in his crazy quest, didn't hesitate to throw Adrien overboard for daring to doubt the existence of Atlantis and hinting that perhaps, after three fruitless months of searching the waters, it was reasonable enough to go home. 

Home he was sent. Thrown on a haltingly-made raft, no water, no food, not even a paddle. Broken legs and an arm… perhaps a few ribs; a parting present for his "pathetic excuse of a son".

Marinette looked at him curiously, nibbling on her lip. “We aren’t exactly allowed to bring in outsiders, but… you’re too pretty to die. You’ll have to stay hidden if you want to come with me.”

Too pretty to die? Adrien would’ve laughed if he had any strength left. He wasn’t anything special, nor had he ever cared about that. He just wanted this all to end. The hurt. The pain. His cruel fate. “Anything you want.”

Her smile shone brighter than the sun behind her. Adrien closed his eyes for the last time and breathed in. A few more moments and it would all be over. A few more minutes and he'd be at peace. He could feel it coming. A gentle touch to his forehead, brushing away his muddled hair. A soft stroke of fingers against the bruised skin of his cheek. A featherlight kiss of a lover to his lips. A tender embrace of her arms as she carried him away.

***

Whoever said that heaven was bliss must have never been to the one Marinette took him to. He was still in just as much if not more pain. His thirst was somewhat tolerable, and his stomach didn't feel as empty, but shouldn't those be gone completely in the Great Beyond? 

And why on Earth was there arguing in the place of eternal happiness?

“I couldn’t just let him die, Papa! Not when I could do something about it!”

His angel’s voice. Adrien would’ve smiled if he could.

“So, you decided to break the law and bring him here?” A deeper, male voice trumpeted through the room. “Marinette, sweetheart, I know you have a kind heart, but rules are there for a reason, and even you cannot break them. Especially you.”

“I’ll take him back after Master Fu heals him. Papa, please. You said I can have anything I want for my eighteenth birthday. This is what I want. Let me save his life.”

Adrien could hardly understand what was going on, but one thing was certain—his angel was in trouble because of him. He gritted his teeth and tried to get up. To protect her. To shield his—

Pain ripped through his body.

The world went dark once more.

***

He was bundled up in something very cozy and warm. The softest of touches on his cheek sent pleasant shivers down his body. He almost forgot about the pain.

“So, that’s a deal, right? You wake up and get better, and once you’re back on your feet, I’ll show you around. We’ll have to be careful and maybe sneak out at night, but I promise, it’ll be worth it. Just wake up, Adrien. Please.”

His Marinette’s voice. How could he deny her? It took a herculean effort, but Adrien slightly opened his eyes to once again behold his beautiful angel’s face.

Her eyes widened. She gripped at his hand and leaned closer. “Adrien?”

The only thing he could give her was a tiny smile. Why was she crying? He didn’t want to upset her.

***

The next time Adrien woke up, he was able to stay awake for more than a few moments. Marinette gave him a drink and fed him something he'd never tasted before. It was almost as good as seeing her face again.

“Master Fu is on his way.” She smiled at him. “He’s our best healer. You’ll feel better in no time.”

“I thought there was no pain in the afterlife.”

His beautiful, gorgeous Marinette watched him in confusion, then snickered. “You aren’t dead. You’re in Atlantis.”

He must have misheard. “Atlantis?”

Marinette nodded, brushing hair away from his forehead and placing a wet cloth there. “Yes. Atlantis.”

Adrien gaped at her like a fish. “But… no one was ever able to find Atlantis. My father spent most of his life trying. My grandfather and my great-grandfather. All of my ancestors going so far back that no one even remembers when it started.”

She giggled, the most precious of sounds. “Well, you succeeded. Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like an achievement. He wasn’t even interested in finding Atlantis. He was simply following his father’s orders when he got on that ship.

“Sadly, you won’t remember this after your memories are wiped.” Her smile was anything if not apologetic. “But I will never forget you.”

He must have misunderstood. “My memory will be wiped? Why?”

“Outsiders aren’t allowed here. My father is risking his throne by covering for us, but only because I promised him that once Master Fu heals you, we’ll erase your memories and deliver you back on land. Don’t worry, though. We won’t touch anything from before I found you.”

He had so many questions, he wasn’t sure which one to ask first.

She must have read them all on his face because the next thing he knew, Marinette was telling him a story Adrien was sure he’d never forget, memory wiped or not.

Ever since it was swallowed by the sea, Atlantis was hidden in a rock cavity deep under the ocean. Marinette was an Atlantean princess. A defective Atlantean princess. One that couldn’t use magic because she hadn’t met her soulmate and shared a true love’s kiss with them. And Marinette had met every single person living in Atlantis.

“Does he have to be Atlantean?” Adrien asked, something stirring in his chest.

She nodded. “That’s how magic works here. How it always worked. We aren’t exactly regular humans despite looking like them.”

He would have to argue. Marinette looked a lot more beautiful than any woman he had ever met. “If that’s the way it works, then why don’t you have one?”

She shrugged. “At the time of the Catastrophe, there were some who chose to flee to the mainland and a few who couldn’t get back in time. Magic doesn’t distinguish between them and us. It counts in their descendants…”

“Who aren’t even aware of your existence,” Adrien finished for her. “I’m sorry.”

She gave him the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “It’s fine. But thanks.”

“What will happen to you?”

She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, looking away. "Once I turn eighteen, I'll be presented with all available bachelors to ensure none of them is my soulmate, after which I'll have to choose from a few approved-by-the-court candidates who also don't have a soulmate."

Somehow, he dreaded the answer, but he had to know. “And are there any court-approved men without soulmates?”

He hadn’t missed the way her knuckles whitened as she tightened her fists, her eyes downcast. “Yeah. An older man by the name of Theo Barbot, a very greedy and corrupt character who I despise with all my being. And Felix Graham de Vanily, one of the most disrespectful and tactless men I’ve ever met.”

In all of his life, Adrien had never wished to be a defected Atlantean so much. Sadly, he was not. His ancestors had been obsessed with Atlantis for centuries. Surely, someone would've mentioned if there was the slightest possibility of Atlantean blood in their veins. But perhaps, he could get a blood transfusion or something? Anything to save Marinette from a fate with the men he already detested.

A soft knock on the door called their attention. Marinette swiftly got up and let their visitor in. “Thank you for coming, Master Fu. I really appreciate it.”

"No worries, dear." An older man entered the room, locking his gaze on Adrien. He watched him intently, walking closer, nothing but untamed curiosity in his eyes. "Where did you find him, Your Highness?"

“Outside. When I patrolled,” Marinette said. “He needs your help, Master Fu. He’s got multiple injuries. His fever is going down, but only because I gave him medicine. I know he isn’t Atlantean, but can you heal him, please?”

“Let’s see.” The man placed his hand on Adrien’s forehead and closed his eyes.

Something warm spread all across Adrien's body, rushing down from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Broken bones moved. Torn ligaments weaved back together. The pain slowly subsided. Adrien breathed in freely for the first time in days.

“His wounds run deeper than physical damage,” Master Fu murmured, taking his hand away. “I’m afraid those are beyond my expertise, but perhaps, you can give it a try, Your Highness?”

Marinette looked away. “I’m useless when it comes to magic.”

“No one is useless, child. More so you. You have the strongest of magic inside you. Primal: the very core of all creation. I can see it.”

“And it’s locked away forever…”

“It’s locked only if you don’t give it a chance,” Master Fu said, glancing at Adrien. “There is always more to a person than meets the eye. I’ll be back in a few days to check on him.”

“Papa said—”

"If I'm the one responsible for this young man's health, then it is me who says when he goes. And he doesn't leave until his soul is also healed.” Rummaging in his bag, the man pulled out a silver ring with a glowing cat paw in the middle and offered it to Adrien.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Master Fu—”

“We wouldn’t want people to suspect he isn’t local, now would we?”

Adrien looked at the ring. “What’s this?”

“A miraculous,” Master Fu responded. “Every Atlantean has a miraculous that helps them control their powers.”

“But I don’t have—”

"It's just a cover-up. No one will force you to use any powers, but if you have a miraculous on you, no one will question your origin."

“Is it okay for me to have it, though?” Adrien asked, eyes glued to the glowing cat paw on the ring.

“Absolutely.” Master Fu put the ring in Adrien’s hand and, patting him on the shoulder, got ready to leave. “I’ll see you in a few days. Until then, keep your mind open.”

***

They spent the rest of the evening chatting away on the palace’s roof Marinette had snuck them onto. 

“I’ll show you the city tomorrow,” she said, helping him climb atop one of the beams. “There will be a festival, so we’ll have lots of fun stuff to do and a large crowd to blend into.”

He was looking forward to that. If chatting hours away about nothing in particular felt like a paradise, then what would attending a festival with her be like? She really was an angel… even if an adorably clumsy one who had the most endearing habit of using her whole body to talk about things that excited her. And Marinette was excited about a lot of things. His face hurt from smiling, but he couldn't stop. When she’d proposed they lay down to stargaze, he didn't even think to protest. He hadn’t noticed when his eyes drooped closed after she’d weaved her fingers between his. Somebody jumping on him at the first rays of the sun, though, was impossible to miss.

“Wake up, Adrien.” Marinette watched him, straddling his midsection. “Time for breakfast.”

His face flushed, Adrien quickly propped himself up on his elbows. “Marinette? What are you doing?”

She frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Waking you up? Why? You wanted to sleep past sunrise?” Her hand reached for his face, she softly caressed his cheek. “You look so pretty when you’re blushing.”

“Marinette,” he pleaded, his voice faltering. “Can you climb off me, please?”

Her lips parted, she looked at her legs wrapped around his stomach, her hands pressed against his chest, and back at him. “Oh… Is this uncomfortable? I saw pictures of people from above doing this, and I thought you’d like to start the day with something familiar.” 

He wouldn't mind this to be familiar. Especially with her. But Adrien had to remember his place and had to respect Marinette. “This isn't familiar. Not for me.”

Her gaze saddened, she climbed off him promptly and sat down, hugging her legs with her arms. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.” 

“That’s okay.” He hesitantly reached to touch her hand. “You wanted me to feel at home, and I appreciate it. A lot.”

“You do?” There it was again: that bright sparkle in her eyes.

He couldn't help but smile. “Of course, I do. Thank you, Princess.”

Marinette grinned and jumped to her feet. “Then we should hurry! I’m starving, and I’ve heard we have fresh octopus today.”

Adrien winced, his stomach churning. “Octopus? For breakfast?”

“Yes! Fishermen just brought it in. It’ll still be alive and squirming and, oh, so delicious. Hurry up! We don’t want to be late for this one.”

With the most excited grin Adrien had ever seen on her face, Marinette grabbed his hand and pulled him downstairs and into the dining hall. Thankfully, the still living, squirming-on-their-plates octopus wasn't the only option on the menu. About an hour later, Adrien left to tour the city with Marinette by his side, his belly stuffed with more kinds of seaweed than he knew existed. 

The next few days were full of adventures. Marinette showed him the city; they scaled mountains around it, explored ruins, and swam in the lake. Nothing extraordinary, yet it was the most magical time Adrien had ever had because Marinette made it so. 

The whimsical architecture of Atlantis couldn't compare to Marinette’s beauty. Machinery straight out of science fiction was not as impressive as her courage and passion. He was surrounded by plants and animals he had never seen before, but he couldn't look away from Marinette’s smile, couldn’t stop marvelling at the way her eyes lit up with a new idea. Multitudes of people, exotic food, and magic. Everywhere. Everything. Even the sun in the sky was just a big ball of magic. Yet, Adrien preferred to watch Marinette scrunch her nose in concentration as she was trying to win yet another game at the festival. Atlantis was losing so much considering her a "defect". She was anything but.

And he… He was falling in love. A fool who was giving away his heart to a girl he would be forced to forget in less than a week. An idiot, because even if his memories would be wiped clean before he’d be left alone on some random shore, Adrien knew without a doubt that his heart would still be here in Atlantis. With Marinette.

A shrieking siren split the air. Adrien looked toward the mountain where the "doorway" back to his world was and froze. A few Atlantean ships were flying toward the main city, followed by a fighter's jet he knew too well. 

“We must get back to the palace,” Marinette yelled, grabbing Adrien’s hand.

“That’s my father.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him, confused.

Adrien struggled to explain, frantically pointing at the sky. “That’s—my father’s jet. He’s here! My father!”

With a mask of disbelief on her face, she stumbled back a step. “Did you—”

“No!” Adrien feverishly shook his head. “No! Never! He almost killed me and threw me out to die. My whole life, I’ve been nothing but a nuisance and a bother. I was happy to never have to see him again. I would never lead him here.”

Grabbing her hand, Adrien pleaded. "Marinette, I swear it wasn't me. I—" 

He froze, a memory of Gabriel Agreste demanding each member of the expedition be chipped for security purposes flashing before his eyes. His heart sank. Was he nothing but bait thrown in the ocean for a naive Atlantean to pick up?

Anger coursed through his veins as the jet fired its first shots upon the city, destroying a few buildings and possibly killing a few people. People who took Adrien in and saved his life. People who showed him more mercy in a few days than his own father did in his whole life. People who Adrien would protect, no matter what it cost him.

“I have to go.” He turned to the palace grounds. “I have to stop him.”

Marinette grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t. We can defend ourselves. We have magic. You don’t.”

"And he has a state-of-the-art fighter jet. I'm not sure magic can withstand that."

“And what are you going to do without even that?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t just hide and let him do this.”

“You're going to die, Adrien. Don’t go.”

“If not for you, I would’ve died already.” He really was a fool. Impudent enough to not even try to stop himself as he reached forward and cradled Marinette’s cheek in his hand. “Thank you for giving me this gift, Marinette. These last few days were truly the best in my life.”

She leaned into his touch, covering his hand with hers. Tears burst from her eyes, her voice trembled. “Don’t go. Please. I need you, Adrien. I need you to live.”

His heart skipped a beat, he took a step closer. Did he dare to hope that he wasn’t the only one falling in love? How cruel of a fate.

 He tried to smile. “Then I guess we're at an impasse."

She only sobbed harder, gripping his arm with her hand. “Please, Adrien. Please, don’t go.”

There was only so much his heart could take, and Marinette looking at him like that was Adrien’s limit. His heart threatening to escape his chest, his brain out of order, he pulled her closer and captured her lips in a kiss amid the chaos of a battle. A gentle touch at first, her lips suddenly burned against his, a surge of something powerful and overwhelming running through his body, claiming every corner of his flesh as their mouths moved feverishly against each other. Something stung his hand, shooting rounds of rippling pain through his veins. Adrien jerked away only to see an equally startled Marinette staring at her own arm.

“There’s a powerful magic inside you.” Master Fu appeared by their side. “A lineage we thought had disappeared a long time ago.”

Adrien gawked at Fu in shock. “I’m a descendant?”

Fu nodded. “And not just any. Plagg’s children are somewhat of a legend around here.”

Adrien glanced at his arm, unknown hieroglyphs glowing on his skin. He couldn’t read them, but he knew exactly what they meant. Destruction.

He glanced at Marinette. Tears streamed down her face as she jumped into his arms and buried her face on his chest. “I felt there was something about you. I knew there was.”

A missile struck close to them, sending debris in the air and people running. Adrien stirred. "I need to go. I have to stop him. How—" He halted, somehow knowing exactly how to use the powers now coursing through his veins.

“It’ll come to you naturally,” Master Fu said. “But if in doubt, focus on the ring. It’ll guide you.”

Adrien nodded, his eyes on Marinette. He kissed her lips once more. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“Of course, you will.” She smiled, raising her arm to his eyes, a phrase he couldn’t read glowing on her arm. “Because I’ll be right there with you, defending our homeland.”

“Creation,” Master Fu read. “Tikki’s child. Your eternal partner. Your other half. Together, you’ll be invincible.”

“Together” was exactly what Adrien wanted. He pulled Marinette to himself, whispering against her skin. “I like the sound of it.”

She grinned, bopping the tip of his nose, a teasing smile on her lips. “I’d like that too. I’d like that very much.”

Read it on A03

[imaginebabygurl]

Prove it Dollface - Part one Billy Hargrove x Oc Reader

Hey yall Author here just wanted to say a Little something thank you for sending in your request it's really appreciated, so a few more thing I don't own any stranger things charaters or gif I use credit goes to the rightful owners and two please don't steal my work if you want to repost and sure and translate sure just make sure you give credit.

Trying make this one long but soooo tired)

@emmajoanknight-blog this is for you it's gonna be a slow burn as I put out more chapters. Hope you enjoy this one .

Summer Hawkins P.O.V

I'm Summer Hawkins this summer I moved from Toronto, Ontario in canada with bussling streets by day but as well as quite annoys beautiful colours of night life that food make you feel scared but safe. I would ride my motorcycle throughsmashing dure not to disturb the quite street's I encountered, it was a really nice way to clear my mind but now we moved to the quiet town but anything but normal small town Indiana, Hawkins.

The first day of class's I had to make introduction of myself, and let's just say I got bombarded with questions I so of them kind of questionable and complements rather sweet.

"Summer where do you come from?"

Summer do you really ride a motorcycle it's kind of weird for girls don't you want a car instead, girls aren't risk takers."

"You look rather strange."

(Wait what?)

All the questions from her peers were very overwhelming for Summer, but when she was about to respond the door to the english class slammed open causing everyone to grown silent...but just for a brief moment before you heard the guys groan in the annoyance and the girls cooed and make flirtatious gestures.

(Who the hell is this guy!? Who does he think he is fabio or something?)

Summer had though to her but she couldn't admit that she found him attractive like the other girls.

Summer was still in her own train of thought when Billy hargrove the guys she would soon to know spoke taking out the cherry lollipop that stained his lips a pretty pink.

" Hi miss sorry, I'm late."

Billy said with a dashing grin that had a hint of mischief that cause every girl in the class room to swoon, well almost and that was Robin herself. She just rolled her and made a gaging action for Summer to see,Steve along with the rest of the guys groaned in annoyance.

"Mr.Hargrove please take a seat and hand in your homework.

"Miss no can do, I forgot but I'll hand it in later."

"Billy makes sure its done this time now please take a seat. Summer is out new student and I want her to introduce herself so we can being."

With that said Billy was casualy walking past Summer he notice she was staring at him with a smirk on his face he stepped right in front of her and flashed on his charming smile.

Summer looked quickly towards her friends as they shook their head left to right and made X's with their arms not to engage with this strange, but soon Summer snapped out of it.

"Hey dollface I asked a question."

Summer could tell he looked slightly annoyed as the guys rolled their eyes and

"Sorry I spaced out for a sec, reI eat what you said."

"Sure thing summer is it?" He said kinda of in a sarcastic way.

"Yes."

Summer look around the room as the guys looked really annoyed Steve the most and most of the girls look like their heart was broken into a million pieces.

"Baby doll I said let's go out on a date. What do you say?" Billy proceeded to lean closer in her ear this time.

" Doll that yellow dress match your chocolate skin perfectly and its driving me crazy. I wanna get loss in your head of hair and those brown eyes so look innocent. I wanna make them cry for me while your on top of me riding my-"

" Stop right there!"

Summer was beyond shocked with her eyes wide as she thought to herself that this guy, she has never met in her life wants to take her out on date and then fuck her, she thought that was ludicrous.

A part of her was happy and it wanted to make her knees go weak. She wasn't small and petite like the other girls, she had thunderous thighs and wide hips, nice size boots and a some love handles and and some belly.

But their was also another part where she thought to herself, which was a little insecure and suspicious in her mind.

(You only want to fuck the fat girl? Absolutely NOT!)

"With all due respect no thank, I don't even know you or where you been. With all do respect."

As she tried to regain composure. Billy with a grin pulled her towards him, slightly squeezing her love handles. Whispering

"Your gonna be my babydoll, don't worry about these girls that act like bimbos, I like a girl that's smart and knows how to tease a man."

Billy squeezed a little harder on the emphasis on man and summer could a this point feel the massive boner the was hardening by the second.

"Baby one way or another you will be screaming,moaning and crying my name. I wanna see you cry for me."

With that Billy left Summer in a trans face flustered and skin warm. The poor in her stomach was hot and bother really wishing for more.

But as that interaction was done she could see the angry glares towards billy like they hated their guts, Steve shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Mean while every girl looked jealous and wanted to be you in that moment, and if every girl in this school like Billy.

Summer knew that would cause more trouble for her, especially the so called popular girl carol.

Summer would realize the rest if the day, would go by in a blurr until it was time to go home she usually drove home with Steve and Robin because they both work at the same place but summer wanted to ride her motorcycle one last time before she put it away for the summer.

She said her good buys to her friends well everyone expect Nancy, but summer bearly got to see her besides hallway hugs and exchanges between class rooms but also at lunch.

Summer and Nacy compared their schedule and seen they had many classes together the next day.

She was in her own train of thought driving home when she heard the rumble of Billy's Camaro. He zoomed pass Summer on the empty strip and made a u turn blocking the lane home was this really okay though nobody came down this strip.

Summer was curious as to what he wanted and she stop. Billy took off his glasses either a lustful look in his eyes with another cherry lollipop in his mouth.

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

Hi! Can I request headcanons for dating marcus (deadly class)? Thank you

HEADCANONS FOR DATING MARCUS LOPEZ ARGUELLO

A/N: Just a head’s up, I got a little carried away, so this is kinda long lol. Also, sorry this took forever! I’ve been suuuuuper busy lately :/ I almost had it done before work picked back up, but I couldn’t figure out how to end it. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Before the two of you started dating, Marcus had no idea that you liked him, and for good reason

You did such a good job with hiding your feelings that sometimes even you forgot they were there, which was kind of the whole point

With girls like Saya and Maria around, sending out mixed signals and dropping subtle hints that they liked Marcus, too, it was intimidating

Add Marcus’s constant cynicism about love, and life in general, into the mix, and it was clear the chances of him actually liking you back were next to nothing

So, you knew it was probably for the best to move on

You used the “if you ignore it, it’ll go away” approach in the hopes that if you simply didn’t acknowledge your feelings, the problem would disappear

All this did, however, was create a whole new issue

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to take the thought process of ‘ignoring your crush’ too literally

You and Marcus were best friends, so when, out of the blue, you stopped talking to him, he could tell something was up

He had no clue what, though

Naturally, he assumed it was something he had done

Marcus started asking around among your mutual friends to see if they knew anything, but they were all just as out of the loop as he was

You hadn’t told anyone about your repressed feelings for Marcus, and you had no intention of letting the secret slip any time soon, but accidents happen

The truth came out one night during a game of truth or dare when you were up on the roof smoking with the Rats

Your confession came tumbling out quicker than you could even think about reeling the words back in

“You hear that, Romeo?” Billy asked, elbowing Marcus in the ribs. “Y/N’s got the hots for you”

All Marcus could do was laugh nervously as he looked down at his feet, refusing to meet your gaze

To your relief, no one brought it up again for the rest of the game

When the next day rolled around and your crush on Marcus still wasn’t the topic of conversation, you started to think that you were in the clear

Maybe they’d all been too stoned to remember when they’d woken up that morning

Your hopes were shattered by the late afternoon

As you left the bathroom, Marcus spotted you from across the hall

He quickly rushed over and caught you by the elbow, dragging you back through the doorway

“Relationships aren’t really my thing,” he said

Marcus sounded like he had more to say, but before he got the chance, you cut him off

“It’s fine,” you said. “I get it”

“No, no. I mean, I like you, Y/N, really. I just don’t wanna mess it up”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face even if you tried

“You’re not gonna mess it up”

Before either of you could say more, the bathroom door opened and Petra walked in

She glanced between the two of you knowingly

“Hate to break this up, but if I hold this piss in any longer, I’ll explode”

With that, she pushed past you both, effectively ruining the moment

It didn’t take long after that for you and Marcus to make your relationship official

‘Official’ is a bit of a loose term in this case

For the most part, both of you kept the fact that you were dating fairly under the radar for fear of what others would do with that information

In a place like King’s Dominion, something as small as caring for another person beyond using them as an ally was seen as a weakness that could and would be used against you, and the last thing either of you wanted was to be put in a situation where you were pitted against each other

Of course, there were several instances when one (or both) of you nearly blew your cover

Such as in Martial Arts class

Instead of fighting you, Marcus would try to cop a feel

You’d quickly smack his hand away

“Miss De Luca’s right there!”

“She’s not looking”

In defense of both of you, though, a class in which hormonal teenagers are asked to pair themselves up and wrestle is practically an invitation to break the ‘no sex’ rule

The other classes you shared weren’t any better

Master Lin caught you and Marcus staring at each other instead of paying attention on multiple occasions, earning both of you a smack from his cane

Although Marcus was somewhat known for his smart mouth and talking back to authority, he knew better than to challenge Lin, not mention that if he did, he’d risk exposing the two of you in the process

So, Marcus bit back his insults and held in his tirade until the two of you were safely locked away in his dorm room

“He had no right to hit you like that”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, shoving another tissue up your nose to stop the bleeding. “Besides, he does it to everyone”

“That still doesn’t give him the right”

“Next time, I’m gonna stick that cane right up his ass”

Marcus wanted to shield you from all the violence at King’s, but when it was coming from teachers, there wasn’t much he could do about it

If it was a fellow student pushing you around, on the other hand, there was no holding him back

You loved how protective Marcus was of you, but sometimes you worried that he’d get carried away

Marcus always made sure you were never around to witness the fights take place, but the scrapes and bruises on his face that hadn’t been there when you saw him that morning were all the proof you needed

In such cases, you would insist on patching him up afterwards

The first few times this happened, Marcus was embarrassed by all the attention you were giving him

After a while, though, he grew to love the feeling of having someone fuss over him, especially if it was you

It was nice to have someone care about him for a change

You weren’t much of a fighter, but making sure he didn’t get Tetanus was your way of looking out for him

When you and Marcus weren’t getting into trouble, you were actually a pretty cute couple

Your roommates became accustomed to the two of you being a package deal, which often meant sneaking into each other’s rooms after lights out

Sometimes, it was to make out, but other times, it was so you could have late night conversations that you didn’t get the chance to have during the day

The topics of these conversations varied—they could be deep and philosophical (which was Marcus’s favorite kind), an opportunity to open up to each other about yourselves and your pasts, a time to plot someone’s death (usually only theoretically), or simply joking around

After especially long days, you would accidentally drift off in the middle of these nightly chats with your head on Marcus’s chest, but he never minded

He’d pull the covers up on your side and wrap his arms more tightly around you

While both of you were perfectly capable of pulling all-nighters, whenever you fell asleep, Marcus was never far behind

The sound of your evened-out breathing was like a lullaby to him, so it was safe to say that his sleep schedule drastically improved after the two of you started dating

You’d found that you slept better with Marcus, too, so on the few nights you spent apart, you’d doze off listening to the mixtapes he’d made you in your Walkman, which were full of your favorite songs and songs that reminded him of you (though, these had quickly become your favorites, too)

It was rare that the two of you weren’t together, though

Even during the day, you and Marcus were practically joined at the hip

At lunch, you would hold hands under the table and share food

Of course, this always opened the door for plenty of teasing from your friends, especially Lex

“While you’re at it, why don’t you chew the food up for each other and pass it back and forth like little birds?”

“Fuck off, Lex”

It was always in good fun, though

Actually, the other Rats were relieved when the two of you finally got together because the weird tension that had been brewing leading up to that point went away, meaning group hangouts could carry on normally

They could overlook you sitting in Marcus’s lap if it meant you weren’t being distant and secretive

Just like they pretended not to notice when you showed up to class wearing each other’s blazers by mistake after spending the night together

Or walking in late looking ✨especially disheveled✨

All in all, you and Marcus are King’s Dominion’s cutest couple™️ that only, like, five other people know about, but still-

[inkykeiji]

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.