#I promise -- it's just a lot! there's a lot to dig into

[itsminjify]

꣑୧ BAD DECISIONS : LEE HEESEUNG ╰—where, heeseung is bad down for his spy partner

FEATURING. agent!heeseung x agent!reader ─── ARCHIVE : smut, agent au oneshot 1OOOwc. WARNINGS oral sex, lots of bickering, cursing, fingering ◞

MINJI SAYS : hello tumblr ! my first fic on this account, i promise i'll make a sfw fluff fic tomorrow (> <)

YOU WERE METICULOUSLY CHECKING YOUR WEAPONS. while, heeseung leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glued to you.

"you always get so serious before a mission, sweetheart," he drawled, pushing off the frame and sauntering towards you.

"someone has to be," you retorted, not bothering to look up. "unlike you, i don't rely on charm and dumb luck."

he chuckled, stopping behind you, his hands snaking around your waist. "ouch, darling. that hurts. but you know, my 'dumb luck' has gotten us out of some pretty sticky situations." his breath ghosted against your ear, "and it’s gotten me… closer to you."

you rolled your eyes, "get off me, we need to focus."

"or we could… refocus," he whispered.

you finally turned, meeting his gaze, "heeseung…"

"you know you want to," he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "you've been looking at me all day."

"that's because you've been messing everything up all day," you hissed.

he laughed, maybe i just wanted your attention." he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "and now i have it."

the kiss was slow but quick, heeseung pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "can i, baby?"

you knew what he was asking. the mission was tonight, a high-stakes at a lavish party. there was no time for… well this. but the pull of him was too strong to resist. "just… be quick," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

a grin spread across his face. "quick is not in my vocabulary, especially when it comes to you, you little brat."

he wasted no time, his hands moving to the zipper of your sleek black dress. it slid down smoothly, revealing the delicate lace of your black lacy bra. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of the swell of your breasts, the soft curve of your cleavage peeking out from the lace. your nipples pressed against the fabric. “fucking hell,” he breathed, “you’re driving me crazy.”

he unclipped your bra with a practiced flick of his wrist, letting it fall to the floor. his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. you gasped, your head falling back, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. your breasts, full and round, spilled into his hands.

"you like that, don't you, you?" he whispered.

he pushed you back onto the plush hotel bed, following you down, his body hovering over yours. his fingers traced a path down your stomach, dipping below the waistband of your matching lace panties. he slipped two fingers inside you, already slick and hot, his thumb circling your clit. you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"fucking hell," he muttered again, "you're so wet for me."

he pulled off your panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. his gaze swept over your naked body, his eyes lingering on the curve of your hips.

he positioned himself between your legs, and you finally got the full view of him. his cock was thick and heavy, a dark, veined column straining against his pants before he'd even touched you. now, freed from his trousers, it stood erected. the head was a dark, dusky rose, glistening with pre-cum, and a thick vein pulsed visibly along its length.

heeseung began to move, his thrusts deep. you wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his every move. the hotel room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths, his low moans, and the soft slap of skin against skin.

"you’re such a fucking slut for me," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his breath hot against your skin. "i love it when you’re like this."

you bit your lip, your nails digging further into his back. heeseung followed soon after, his release a guttural groan.

"we should probably get ready for that party," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

you groaned, burying your face in his chest, the scent of his skin and his cologne filling your senses. "remind me to kill you later."

[jelzorz]

205.

Midwinter is different in Katolis. They call it Yule here, and Rayla's done a couple on this side of the border now that the yearly traditions aren't such a surprise. Skating is weird (she's been using her blades pretty deftly for years now and she's never once thought about strapping them to her feet but okay) and the food is... not for her (she and Ezran stick to salads while the others dig into the boar Soren and Corvus had brought back from a hunt) but the sentiment is the same. It's friends and family gathered around the hearth to celebrate, to talk and laugh and share stories of the year gone by.

It's supposed to be a happy time. A time of peace. Of rest. Of relief.

Instead, Rayla is wringing her hands in the hall while the others gather by the fire, uncertainty roiling in her gut.

It's been three years since the Archdragons defeated Aaravos. In four more, he will return, and she and Callum had promised to keep everything on hold until then; to wait until the danger had passed before they commit to the life they know they both want, and yet...

She swallows. She breathes. She clenches her fists and focuses on the sensation of her nails in her palms to keep herself from throwing up.

"You haven't told him yet."

"No, I haven't told him yet," she snaps, waving Runaan off with an irritated huff. "I haven't told anyone yet.You shouldn't even know."

"I can't help that I know you well, Rayla." Runaan smirks a little at that. "You remind me of your mother."

"Oh, please, like this is even a little bit the same."

"She had concerns," he says. "That she wasn't ready. That Lain wasn't."

"They just had to go back to work," snaps Rayla. "We have a time limit. Four years, Runaan. Four before the world'll end again. That's not a life! That's barely even a childhood! How could we possibly—"

"You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Rayla scowls and rounds on her father, hackles raised, jaw clenched, teeth sore from the way she's been grinding them for days. "Aaravos isn't done, Runaan! He'll be back! What if we're not ready then? What if we can't stop him? What if—"

"What if you do?"

"What—I—"

Runaan holds her stare, his face unnervingly unworried. "What if you do defeat him? What if it's all okay after all? Will you sit around and put something like this off because you're afraid of the next thing?"

"There won't be a next thing—"

"You don't know that."

"Well—you don't know that we'll defeat him either."

"And you don't know that you won't."

Rayla clamps her mouth shut. Runaan twitches the corner of his lips.

"There's a lot of uncertainty right now, Rayla," he says gently, "but something that is certain is that Callum loves you. There's no doubt about that. And he will not resent you for bringing his child into this world."

Rayla grimaces. "You're not worried even a little?"

"I will worry when I need to. There's no point in worrying twice."

Rayla breathes again: one slow steady breath in, one rush of an exhale out. "You've been hanging out with Gren."

Runaan laughs at that. "Yes, I remember him. Far too sunny a human but surprisingly good company these days. Go on, little blade. Your beloved deserves to know."

He pushes Rayla into the room and Callum looks up at once, his eyes bright and pleased to see her join them at last. Rayla takes another breath. And then another. And one more after that.

There's no point in worrying twice, she tells herself.

(And, in any case, Callum is thrilled).

[grapejuicebluesrry]

sorry this category is a bit of a mess- some aren't that short but they are all smutty! you can find the rest of the posts under the tag 'grapejuicebluesrry 2024 fic rec'.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

love, lust, and everything in between (9K) by Thisishowitends

“After everything you’ve done today,” Louis pauses, grabbing both of Harry’s ankles and spreading his legs further apart, leaving everything on display, “You deserve to have your legs tied up too.”

Or, Harry is greedy, and Louis did not train his sub to be a brat.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Like Waters Poured Into One Jar (17K) by jishler | @jishlerfics

“Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Taking a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you) (4K) by messyjessy08 

“Babe?” Louis asks, running a hand through Harry’s hair, soothingly. “What is it?”

Harry shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sharply. “My—it’s—”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What, Harry?”

He pulls a hand up to his chest, pressing hard against one of his pecs, “My fucking—her crying’s making them—Lou.”

Louis gasps, understanding. He reaches a hand up, pushing Harry’s aside, and thumbs gently across Harry’s nipple, somehow already dark and swollen, without having touched them once. “Harry,” He says in a low voice, chest rumbling at the sharp gasp Harry makes.

“Lou, they’re fucking—’m leaking.”

(Harry and Louis just had a baby and it's been a while since they've had sex.)

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

And I spend my time trying not to feel it (but what would you do if I went to touch you now) (14K) by refusethyname

It was now Niall’s turn to spin the bottle and after a swift spin, it landed on Harry. That familiar glimmer Louis had seen in Niall’s eyes before this evening made its appearance once more and Louis knew he was fucked. He wasn’t sure what Niall was planning, but it sure as hell was going to involve him as well as Harry.

“Oh Harry,” Niall grinned, clearly amused, “your challenge tonight is that you have to call your right-hand player ‘daddy’ for the rest of the evening.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted from Harry to Louis and it was then that Louis realised that he was Harry’s right-hand player.

Or the NYE fic that involves a lot of pining, a drinking game and a daddy kink.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

In Your Wettest Dreams (26K) by Anonymouis

Harry knows Louis wants to sleep with him. He’s been trying to get into his pants from the night they first met, and when that didn’t work, he took second best and fucked his ex. The more Louis tries, the less Harry wants to sleep with him.

If he’s being honest, though, he's always wondered what Louis is like in bed and he probably would have slept with him by now if he wasn’t such a twat. He’s heard the noises that come from Louis’ room anytime he’s brought one of his conquests home. See, that right there, is the issue. Louis thinks just because he’s devilishly fit, charming, soft but hard in all the right ways, and captain of the bloody footie team, he can have anyone he wants. Sadly, he’s not far off base, but Harry promised himself that Louis would never have him.

“Do you really want me to leave you alone, Harry?” Louis asks, crowding into his space until his toes hit Harry’s.

Harry swallows hard, losing his composure for just a second. Then, staring directly into Louis’ sparkling blue eyes he bluntly says, “Yes.”

“Okay,” is all Louis says.

Or: The one where Harry gets stuck on Louis’ lap on the ride home from a night of clubbing.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

you can choke her (if she's asking) (11K) by l0vestruckharry

Placing himself beside Harry, Louis hovered over him, observing how beautifully debauched he looked. His hair was messy, his eyes almost bloodshot from crying, and his mouth puffed up and delightfully bruised. Louis let his hand carefully touch him, tracing his nose, his lips, and his jaw, admiring him.

“Pretty little thing, always so good for me,” Louis murmured quietly. His fingertips were now sliding down his face, following the line of his slender, long neck, caressing his collarbones before trailing down to the rest of his body.

“Stay still for me, baby. Let me touch you.”

or, harry interrupts louis during a meeting, parading around the office wearing an obscenely short dress. louis takes full advantage of it and punishes harry accordingly.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Colorful Hearts (20K) by Larrysmomfics

In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. The leader of Colorful Hearts, a therapist named Harry, is positively swoonworthy and sets Louis at ease right away. Needless to say that Louis isn’t aware yet that so much more than the color of his spunk is about to change.

OR

The Rainbow jizz fic, a mood ring orgasms AU

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

discover more fics under the cut!

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Can't get my fill, so I'll take yours (3K)  by CopyofaDreamer (DaysLikeMasquerades)

Harry wants to make Louis cum until he passes out.

Louis wants to feel Harry fill him up with more than just cum.

They compromise and do both.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

In-flight entertainment (6K) by lunarheslwt | @lunarheslwt

A flight is a rather inconvenient place to be when Harry is desperate to relieve himself, until the desperation gets turned into something exciting by Louis. Aka watersports ensues.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Fuck You Better, Baby (12K) by larry_hiatus | @larryhiatus

When Harry is spotted at a bar with a mystery girl, Louis is determined to prove that he’s the only one who knows what Harry really needs. He’s in for a surprise, however, when Harry shows him which of them is actually the needy one…

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Yesterday’s gone (it’ll be better than before) (3K) by red_panda28 | @red-pandaaa

Leo’s frown. His attempt to call after Louis. Ed saying he was surprised to see Louis here. All those little moments fell into place the moment he spotted Harry Styles.

Harry Styles, his former bandmate.

Harry Styles, who he hadn’t seen face to face in over three years.

Harry Styles, who was technically still Harry Tomlinson-Styles. 

OR

Louis and Harry run into each other at the Euros, there's a mix up at the hotel and they have a past

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

i’m not ever going back (4K) by angelsueavenue

It’s Harry’s first time going into sub-space, and when he gets Louis as the alpha who’ll be fucking him into it in front of a camera for millions to see, he knows there’s no other insanely gorgeous alpha he’d rather have take care of him.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Bittersuite (2K) by mygirlcrush | @pinknblueforever

louis needs to calm down after the euro 2024 final..........

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

SHE (11K) by blessin_n_curse

“Doll, come here,” he says, patting his lap.

It’s needless to say that Harry almost flees down the stairs. He doesn’t care that he might seem – probably seems – overeager. Who wouldn’t do the same if Louis were to invite them to sit on his lap?

The one where Harry tries his best to be a brat. Or the one where Louis can't stop fonding over his baby.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

hello, lovers (3K) by eynap | @panye

Name: Shawn

Age: 24

Pronouns: He/him

Desires: light praise kink, light daddy kink

Oh. He could do that. Probably pretty well, too. Niall sits up on his bed a little taller and adjusts his headphones, pressing the green accept button.

Or, Niall is a phone sex operator at Hello Lovers hotline, and Shawn is his last caller on Valentine’s Day.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

let me see how wild it get (17K) by alwaysxlarrie | @alwaysxlarrie

Harry's success rate with being able to orgasm from masturbation was abysmally low, but she was determined to get there. She tried to actively avoid thinking about the fact that her best friend, Louis, had offered to help her if need be. Key words: tried to.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Wake Up All Wet (like we're dripping in gold) (9K)  by larry_hiatus | @larryhiatus

Harry tends to wet the bed sometimes. His boyfriend Louis secretly finds it hot and likes to get off with Harry’s pants while Harry is in the shower. After Harry accidentally gets Louis wet too one night, Louis’ secret alone time doesn’t go quite as planned.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

subverting expectations (2K) by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface

“Do you have a cigarette?”

If Harry thought the question would shock Louis, she would've been wrong. Louis doesn’t even look startled, even though it’s the first time one of them has spoken. She smirks at Harry in the mirror.

“We’re not supposed to do that anymore,” she says, her raspy voice full of mirth. Like she’s amused at Harry or something. “It’s bad for the paintings or whatever.”

“And you’re not a bad girl,” Harry says, turning to face Louis. She leans her hip against the counter, determined to both gain the upper hand and not think about why she wants to. “Right?”

Harry goes to the ladies’ room at the Met Gala expecting a cigarette and a break from the boredom. Instead, she gets Louis.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

never just the tip (6K) by journeytothepast | @suckerforhome

Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

drain me (6K) by boyfriendstages | @boyfriendstages

Harry’s obsession with Louis is perfectly normal. Until it’s not.

or, saltburn bathtub scene inspired smut with lots and lots of long buried feelings.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Let Me Be Your Last First Piss (6K) by LiveLaughLoveLarry (SoLongAndThanksForAllTheFic) | @loveislarryislove

“You fucking planned this, didn’t you,” Louis growls against Harry’s mouth. “Knew exactly what you were doing from the first picture, you little shit.”

Harry laughs, his breath warm and soft against Louis’ face. “Only partly,” he says again. “I was just drunk and lonely and pining and wanted to send you a dick pic that didn’t seem like I was just sending you a dick pic.”

“So sending a pissing pic seemed more normal and casual?”

Harry digs his nails into Louis’ scalp, making Louis shiver. “I didn’t say it made sense,” he says, “just that I was crazy into you and drunk enough to do something about it.” He shrugs. “I wasn’t expecting to discover I had a piss kink along the way.”

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Booked and Busy (9K) by InsightfulInsomniac | @insightfulinsomniac

Booking the Away from Home Festival is the biggest opportunity of Harry’s up-and-coming career to date. It’s just an added bonus that the festival is hosted and headlined by his longtime celebrity crush, world-renowned rockstar Louis Tomlinson.

Despite his excitement, doesn’t expect Louis to watch his set. Or to visit his dressing room ahead of his show to wish him good luck.

Or to flirt with him.

But seeing as this is the most monumental night of Harry’s life to date, he might as well make the most of it.

***

A fluffy, smutty PWP where Harry performs at AFH 2024 and gets a lot more than he bargained for.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

baby, you're my only reason (6K) by zouisclimax | @zouisclimax

Harry's famous and Louis' a big fan.

or, "you're a celebrity and you just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie and said "date me" and you thought i was serious?" au

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) (12K)by devilinmybrain (venomedveins) | @thedevilinmybrain

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

We're Not Who We Used To Be (7K) by jaerie

Louis comes back to his childhood home and sees an old friend who has changed quite a lot since the last time they saw each other.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

the relentless barrister (10K) by louisplumpyass |  @louisplumpyass

Barrister Louis overhears his neighbour making explicit comments about his husband, Professor Harry. Fueled by a mix of anger and protectiveness, Louis decides to confront the neighbour, but not before he passionately reminds Harry who he belongs to.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Only Angel (5K) by starryhaze | @starryhaze28

“If I’m an angel, what does that make you?” The angel asks.

“A sinner,” Louis answers.

ʚɞ

or the one where Louis is in Japan and stumbles upon a boy wearing angel wings

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Peeping (16K) by jacaranda_bloom | @jacaranda-bloom

Louis hates his job as an accountant and desperately wants to be a teacher. Of course, that would mean going back to uni, which he can’t afford if he wants to keep up the mortgage payments on his house. It’s Niall that suggests Louis gets a housemate.

Harry is great around the house, loves cooking and cleaning, and everything is fine, lovely even. That is until Louis locks himself out of the house, and in his attempts to get inside, he stumbles upon Harry wanking to a video of Louis playing footy.

OR Louis has a thing for his housemate, Harry is under the impression that clothing around the house is an optional extra, and neither of them seem to be able to stop wanking long enough to get their shit together and admit their true feelings.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Get Out of My Kitchen (3K) by cc_horan28 | @cc-horan28

“Get out of my kitchen,”

Harry quickly stalked over, poking his finger into Louis’ ribs. “Lou, you’re- I’m trying to cook over here. Out of my kitchen. I mean it. Out. Take the whole bloody block of it if you must but don’t-”

“Your kitchen, huh? Say that again,” Louis challenged, tilting his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

OR

The one where Harry has had it with his husband interrupting him, but he isn't having any of his cheek.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Is (3K) by InsightfulInsomniac | @insightfulinsomniac

Harry arches an eyebrow in his direction. “You really think I’m going to keep the match on while you fuck me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Louis mutters, but he’s grinning and quick to make amends. “I’m only joking, darling. Whatever you want.”

“If you had said the match was good, I would’ve sucked you off while you watched.” Harry replies airily, enjoying the groan that he pulls from Louis. “I am kind about the Euros. But since you said it’s boring, I figured I’d turn on something more interesting.”

******

Harry and Louis fuck in the back of the car on the way to the Euros. They use the television screen for more than a little background noise thanks to Louis’ private folder.

Aka an indulgent PWP inspired by Louis’ recent Instagram story.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

I Like to Watch (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larryhiatus

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Lose myself between your legs (2K) by lunarheslwt | @lunarheslwt

Louis has a thing for Harry’s thighs, especially Harry’s thighs in tights. Written for day 7 of kinktober, prompt: intercrural sex, slick kink.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Feryt: Tangled by Sensations (1K) by littleohs | @littleohs

“Breathe.”

Even after listening to Louis, Harry couldn't do it. His breaths were erratic and he took the hand the alpha offered him with trepidation, as if he was going to disappear at any moment. He clenched his body and the sensation made his eyes fill with tears, his jaw clenched tightly and the burning spread even further in his gut, endless.

or, day two of kinktober: figging

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

i'm going out tonight (3K) by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface

Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

I Can't Change (But I Wanna Be Yours) (19K) by Cy_v

He was being ridiculous, he was well aware. He’s started to feel like he’s back in secondary school, for fucks sake. It’s just a tiny tattoo, being done by some random, completely normal, not at all excessively hot, or hopelessly irresistible-

“You still ok, Haz?”

And ok, maybe Harry was lying to himself. Because that? Using his nickname on him? Well that should be illegal. But Louis was still looking up at him, the poster child for innocence, and he was waiting for a response. So Harry tried his best not to choke on his tongue.

...

Or the one where Harry has anxiety and let's Zayn talk him into getting a tattoo, and that's fine except for the fact that Louis is his tattoo artist, and well…

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) (3K) by Dreaminrainbows | @dreaminrainbows

Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.

He's had enormous success throughout the years, has a couple of Grammys to prove it, yet he'd still be Louis Tomlinson’s vacuum cleaner in a blink of an eye. Louis does like his coffee hot and Harry would gladly be his coffee pot.

He groans again, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He's been trying to get a grip on himself for the past fourteen years, the only grip he's gotten is on his man.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

i'm a couple glasses in (3K) by justanothershadeofblue (zjofierose) | @justanothershadeofblue

Harry winds a finger into one of the curls that grazes his shoulder as he stares at the jars of colored ribbons on the table in front of him. Pink, black, orange, green, and white. Red, blue, teal, and yellow. Each ribbon a different color, each ribbon a different…permission. Encouragement?

Harry pulls at his lip, considering.

Pink, he thinks, at least for the evening. A pale blue. The braided blue, white, and green. And… he lets his hand hesitate over the jar, then takes a deep breath and shoves it in.

Yellow.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Bearing secrets (2K) by lunarheslwt | @lunarheslwt

The door, to his horror and illicit thrill, was ajar. He shouldn’t have paused. He shouldn’t have taken a better look and known just how wide open it was. His eyes shouldn’t have strayed inside to peek at the view.

So maybe Louis was to blame this time, but he felt entirely helpless.

Whatever Louis had been expecting to see, whatever he could’ve imagined, it wasn’t this. His mouth hung open, throat going dry.

Because there was Harry, on his hands and knees, stripped naked. Hovering over a giant bear plushie with his knees bracketing it, hips moving slowly. A plushie that in fact Louis had won him at one of those stupid fair games. Louis’ attention fell traitorously to his hard cock that was being pushed against the soft, fuzzy material with each thrust, and a shiver ran through him.

Oh my god.

Or, Louis’ curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds out a few things about himself and his flatmate. Written for day 3 of kinktober, prompt: voyeurism.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

My Friends Would Like You (Just Not In The Same Way That I Do) (9K) by j_klmnop

“Is that—“

“A piercing? Yes.”

On your knees is probably not the best way to meet a new neighbour.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

angel in my eyes (2K) by 28goldensfics | @28goldens

“You are devilish aren’t you?” Harry purred, instinctively licking over his bottom lip as his hands went to adjust the headband of devil horns from Louis’ costume to fit back centered in his slicked back hair.

“Oh, but you,” Louis stepped one small step forward so that their chests and hips began to meld together and his hands danced their way to his back and followed the curves down over his arse. “You’ve just been my angel all day, haven’t you?”

or the halloween pwp where louis and harry aren’t quite ready to take off their costumes

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

keep feeding my soul, and i’ll fall apart (5K) by boyfriendstages | @boyfriendstages

Harry realizes he’s gone into heat early in the middle of performing Medicine, and promptly has his Alpha casually cross the world to help him through it.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Shaking In The Shockwave (4K) by LetTheMusicMoveYou | @letthemusicmoveyou28

Harry looks up then at the tall building in front of him, as people rush past him on the pavement all around. It looks like any other building in London. Then again, he isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting.

A neon sign on the side of the building proclaiming SEX HOTEL maybe?

Of course there is no such sign, instead there’s just elegant gold lettering that reads: The Suite Spot.

Harry had rolled his eyes when he’d first read that name, but he’s always been a sucker for a good pun. ‘A luxury hotel experience that will have you coming again and again’ the website had read.

It felt a little too on the nose, but then again, Harry’s the one that sought out the website in the first place so who’s he to judge?

(Or the one where Harry is still reeling and heartbroken after discovering his fiancé has been cheating on him. So in a moment of desperation, he decides to spend the weekend at a self-pleasure hotel. As it turns out, the gorgeous blue eyed man at the front desk is more than willing to help distract him).

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Makes Me Feel Alive (8K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Lights Go Down (10K) by SilverStuff50 | @silverstuff50

Louis is in need of the perfect dom, and the best dom in the club has just parted ways with his regular sub. Can Louis be the sub Zayn wants?

· · ──────────────────────────────── · ·

Fire (9K) by eversincezourry | @eversincezourry

Harry is Louis’ pretty girl 🎀

[murdleandmarot]

The gang’s all here!! They’re on the case!! And there’s no ghost that they wouldn’t chase!!!!!

@mysticalcats’s Foxglove, @toki-toro’s Chaumet, @emimii’s Clownaire, and my own Bluebelle :)

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I know this may sound crazy but remember how in No Way Out, Sonic told Nine that he still considered him to be a friend while getting down on one knee and Nine calmed down? Later in Nine’s Lives, Nine says “Typical” when seeing Sonic run to the others and accused Sonic of betraying him when Sonic called the others his friends.

Nine was sort of acting like Sonic proposed to him and then cheated on him by being friends with the others.

Okay so first of all, I don't think you're crazy. During S3 there's actually plenty of evidence that Nine is jealous, both of the Tails variants and Sonic considering everyone else his friends.

One example that presents his specific kind of jealousy is during Episode 2 of Season 3, when Nine first appears to Sonic in New Yoke.

"Everything is collapsing... This is terrible!"

"Is it? That seems odd coming from you. As far as I can tell you only care about your own home."

Essentially what I'm getting at is this. I do believe that pre betrayal, Nine admittedly considered Sonic to be the most important person to him, and thought Sonic may have felt the same way. And the "betrayal" at the end of S2 hurt Nine very deeply. He had this image of Sonic in his head that was shattered by the finale, so he sort of instinctively switches to thinking the worst about Sonic because he can't trust that anything he thought before wasn't a lie. This is one of the reasons that he can't fathom Sonic caring about shatterspaces other than his own home.

But it's not just that he can't fathom it, it's that due to this deep hurt, Nine cannot allow himself to believe it.

Because if Sonic genuinely cares about the shatterverse as a whole, if he genuinely cares about saving all of these people, then to Nine, what made him the exception?

Sure, we the audience can see Sonic’s journey in Prime. We can see that by the end of S2, Sonic wanted to keep the shatterverse safe just as much as he wanted to bring back Green Hill. He wanted everyone to be alive and happy. But from Nine's pov here, he's just learned that Sonic lied to him, spoke honeyed words and manipulated him just to get to the prism. None of that is true, but he doesn't feel like Sonic actually cares for him or wants him. So at this point, for Sonic to put saving all of these people over saving his own home or genuinely worrying about their home makes Nine feel like the exception or that his feelings about Sonic must be wrong. Either one of those ideas he'd understandably like to avoid (because one means that Sonic is genuine with everyone except for him, and the other would mean to him that his feeling of betrayal and hurt feelings post S2 finale are misplaced and not allowed to be had, though he feels justified feeling hurt)

And that scene in S3 E3 No Escape is actually another big exemplifier of Nine's brand of jealousy and just how hurt he is.

"Don't worry. Beneath the surface, my new friends are far simpler than the flawed creatures you knew and loved. And all the more loyal for it."

Starting out strong, Nine takes a not so subtle shot at Sonic's friends while taking subtler shot at Sonic's loyalty, since Sonic had been his first and only friend.

"Ever wonder where we'd be if things had gone differently between us?"

"...Not anymore."

"I do. All the time."

"Not anymore." Implying that post the S2 finale he really had dwelled (at least for a time) on thoughts of how things could have been different. How he wished things could have gone differently.

And Nine gets visibly angry/frustrated when Sonic confesses he's always thinking about how things could have been different. Perhaps because it feels like a slap to the face, or feels hard to believe.

"Tch. You had your chance."

"...Right back at ya, bud."

And then, despite his anger, despite how he's been trying to get Sonic all along so he can drain his energy and save his home, Nine ignores Sonic's "should we get this over with". He puts on another one of those faces, similar to earlier when Sonic arrived and Nine talked about his "new friends". Perhaps to cover up exactly the way he's feeling in this moment with a veneer of superiority (he always did something similar when talking up Sonic to the Chaos Council).

"You know...after all this time...I think I finally understand you, Sonic."

...

"You wanna save everyone. Friends. Foes. Total strangers! You say it's because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, but deep down... After what you did—destroying your own home—it's the only way you can ever live with yourself. Even if that means you won't live at all."

And while I think Nine isn't incorrect—that there is a part of Prime!Sonic who's been acting out of selfishness, caring more about feeling like a good person than actually being one—these are still words from someone who feels betrayed by Sonic. I think there's a level to which Nine is seeing a part of Sonic no one else did, and also to a level which Nine is trying to recontextualize Sonic's more heroic/selfless seeming actions so he can reconcile them with how he feels about Sonic and sees him at this moment. In other words, while he's seeing a facet of Sonic he didn't see before, this is not all encompassing of who Prime Sonic is. It's just that perhaps by believing that Sonic's every seemingly selfless action is disingenuine, that all those nice words and intent to save people is just so Sonic can feel good rather that actually caring about anyone, then Nine doesn’t have to feel like the exception. Then he can see Sonic as someone who is pretending to care about all of this, and Sonic's other friends as fools who don't see what he (Nine) has seen.

But as I said, it's more complicated than that. Perhaps Nine is seeing a facet of Sonic that other people don't see or don't want to see, but Prime!Sonic is multifaceted. Perhaps he does want to hurry up and sacrifice himself in this scene because then he can finally feel like he's atoned for what he's done and he's absolved of/paid for his crimes, but that also doesn't mean he doesn't genuinely care about the lives of people in the shatterverse.

"If I don't make it, and you do, how do I know you'll keep your promise."

"Don't worry. Your 'friends' are safe. Once I have your energy, I can restore everything. They can have their silly lives in their silly spaces, as long as they leave me alone."

"Fair enough."

...

"And for what it's worth...I wouldda done the same for you."

"Don't lie to me..."

"I'm not–"

"DON'T!"

"Think whatever you want, but it's true. Even after everything you've done, everything we've been through. Together. Against each other. You're still my friend, Nine."

I really couldn't express more just how hurt Nine feels. That he doesn't believe Sonic would give anything up for him, even if he were to accept that Sonic would do that for everyone else. When he tells Sonic not to lie to him, frustrated, angry, voice wavering, I think it's because he can't take this again. If Sonic is lying just to manipulate him, if this isn't genuine, if he's just using him again, he can't take it again.

This is an incredibly intimate scene. With Sonic, standing face to face to Nine, inside Nine's safe space, his home that no one else has been into, behind the physical representation of the walls surrounding Nine's heart post betrayal, this is his first time all season really being allowed to speak to Nine directly. Here there's no one to perform to aside from each other.

But you can see that despite everything, Sonic still reaches Nine in this scene. It's not easy, but he reaches Nine's heart, leading Nine to start to believe in him again.

And that's why it's a pity the other variants show up when they do, using Sonic to breach Nine's walls. With the way Nine reacts after this happens, Sonic may as well have made Nine believe in that image of him again. Sonic may as well have made Nine believe that Sonic does care about him, that he'd do anything for him (or, at least, would give his life for him like he would for the others if it meant they could live), only to be the trojan horse that allowed the enemy™ to breach his safe space. The pretty lie.

At the beginning of S3 E4 Nine's Lives, Nine says "Predictable" when Sonic runs over to his friends. And, as anon mentioned, Nine says that Sonic has betrayed him for the last time, calling the deal off.

I wouldn't necessarily say here that Nine feels as if Sonic had cheated on him so to speak, but I would say that even if Nine doesn't see Sonic as a willing "trojan horse" here, Nine still feels like a fool for "falling for it again", for believing in Sonic. I think it's enough betrayal to Nine that Sonic would convince him that he cares about him and wants him to have a future too, only to then side with a bunch of people who want to beat Nine down and who would not let Nine be happy if Nine surrendered to them (from Nine's pov at least).

So in short, anon, I think you are seeing Nine's jealousy here. Even if he also has to believe Sonic is secretly fooling the others, to him this is a scene where Sonic is not only choosing them over him, but another example of Sonic (from Nine's pov) proving that he's a liar who doesn't care for Nine or his future/safety at all.

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[suolainensilakka]

Accidentally rewiring your brain to mentally replace the canon design of a character with your own headcanons and oc-ified designs is really funny bc sometimes you see fanart that is objectively pretty faithful and accurate to canon but it's still a jumpscare. Like what do you MEAN xemnas isnt actually built like a fridge. Why are you thin. What happened here. Do you need several lovingly homecooked meals

[peppermintquartz]

I need Samoa Joe to return asap I am becoming obsessed with Lou Ferrigno Jr as a person and I think it's approaching unhealthy levels

[lesenbyan]

I will not start a project with denim when I've been awake for 19 hours. I will not start a project with denim with I've been awake for 19 hours. I will not start a project with denim when I've been awake for 19 hours. I will not-

[biborispavlikovsky]

save me advil my beloved save me

[llycaons]

I feel like people like to write jc as The Sensible One who doesn't take or give any bullshit and I can see why but it just doesn't work when they try to give him better judgement or some kind of authority over wwx or lwj because those are two characters who don't really respect his authority and who generally have as good or better judgement/insights than him, and for most of canon they're also more functional people, more self-controlled, more compassionate, have stronger interpersonal relationships, and are much more emotionally mature. so it doesn't really track to have jc scold either of them and have it stick because they know what they're doing and they're probably doing better than him anyway. I just wish authors like, accepted him for all his flaws because they're both interesting and completely understandable based on his personality and history. ugh

[todayisafridaynight]

OUGHGHGHGHGGH thank you so much for the compliments I'm gonna 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭that means a lot coming from you!

I rarely post art though haha, I think all I've got on Tumblr is my one (horrid) MineDai render, and that Mine study I'm sure you've seen on Twitter. So I can probably speedrun all my works right now and save you some scrolling: x x x

I live for the contrast between Ichi's design and the others' honestly! Love that Jo's and Arakawa's remained all moody and sober while Ichi and Aoki wound up wearing opposing primary colors. Mitsu's a fun case because he's always been a mix; dark and colorful in the 2000s, and his suit in 2019 is about the color you'd get from mixing Ichi and Aoki's suits and desaturating it.

But sort of on the topic of Nice and Beautiful and Arakawa doing light makeup for him........

thank you for dropping the links (and preemptive apology for me spamming your notifs in a minute OOPSIE)

the contrast between ichi and aoki's designs is SO good and i love it so much- like Y7 really couldn't stress enough that aoki and ichi were the exact opposite to each other and i live for it 👏👏

PLEASE HE LOOKS SO NICE WITH THAT SHADE THOUGH..

[phagodyke]

i hate being everyones depressed friend bc i dont wanna be a fucking downer + also at a core level i dont actually believe the world is miserable etc + i genuinely have a lot of lust 4 life + enjoy being a bit silly to keep the horrors at bay but also maintaining this 'only mildly depressed but still a fun guy to be around!' persona/facade around ppl makes me want to rip all my fucking skin off sometimes

[mementoasts]

binge watching kaguya-sama has sucked the energy to write toxic masadai fic out of my body. i want to be in LOVE

[andoutofharm]

sometimes you just have to look yourself in the face and say what are we gonna choose. are we gonna keep making everything into a joke and something to mock and survive that way or are we gonna look for the light that has to be there on the other side of this. i have to fight for it. you have to say i do value sincerity and hope and i want to look for the light coming through and fight for that instead of just getting by on spite alone.

[khioneee]

simon is too big for you.

his hands gripped your hips firmly, his breath heavy and labored as he tried—really tried—to ease himself into you. but no matter how patient he was, how slowly he pushed, your body resisted, tightening around the sheer size of him.

simon was desperate—aching to thrust, to rut into you without restraint. every muscle in his body screamed for release, the urge to roll you beneath him and pound his seed into you overwhelming.

he wanted to bury himself so deep that your body had no choice but to take him, to force his release to take root in your belly.

“fuck…” he muttered under his breath, resting his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his composure. “you’re so tight, lovie. i don’t think i’m gonna fit.”

every inch he fed you burned with pressure, leaving you gasping, your fingers digging into his arms as you trembled beneath him. your body clenched instinctively, fighting to accommodate him, but it was too much—too thick, too deep. you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “si, it’s… you’re too big!”

“shhh, you’ll take it,” he whispered, voice hoarse with restraint. “you’ll take all of me, i promise.”

he exhaled sharply, every muscle in his body tense from holding back. “relax, sweetheart,” he coaxed, brushing a soft kiss along your jaw, his hands slipping lower to hold you steady. “i know it’s a lot… but you can take it, yeah?”

you nodded shakily, lips parting with a soft moan. “try again… please,” you whispered, gripping his shoulders tighter. “i want you. all of you.”

with a low growl, he began to push forward, inch by agonizing inch, feeling your walls flutter and stretch around him. “good girl,” he murmured through clenched teeth, savoring the way your cunt fought to take him. “that’s it. you’re doing so good for me.”

it was slow—painfully slow—but with every careful thrust, you felt yourself adjust just a little more, inch by inch, as he stretched you wider than you’d ever thought possible. and the moment he was finally buried inside you, completely, ghost let out a low, guttural groan.

“see?” he whispered against your ear, a grin tugging at his lips. “i told you—you’d take me, love. every inch.”