#I think for me its so easy to have a level head because it was mostly death from hundreds years ago

[taeyungie]

hi ♡ i guess i'm back? 🥹

here's a little life update! i think you guys deserve it after my absence that lasted longer than even i expected it to last ;( i am very sorry about that. i miss everyone here and bangtan so much, you have no idea. the reason for all that is that for the past months i have been going through a lot of things and changes in my life. there were good and bad things happening, time flies extra fast, days melt into one and i didn't even notice the past half a year pass. although i think my absence was unavoidable in these circumstances i just thought that you guys deserve to know what's been up with me for the past months haha i have received a lot messages and reminders that people remember about me and that they miss me and i just want to send all of you my biggest apologies for leaving you for so long with no response, as well as all my love and gratitude! 🥺 i think i've been always fairly transparent on here so if anyone wanted to know more I'll leave some more details in the tags but basically I just hope that soon i will be able to become more active again and respond to messages ❤️❤️❤️ i hope everyone is doing great 🥰

[arolesbianism]

Yet another beautiful day to have the Maxwel tag blocked (can't see half of the posts in the Wendy tags)

[rafedarling]

Rustyn goes through a phase where he is very clingy towards the reader and wants to hug and kiss his mother all the time and whenever Drew approaches or kisses the reader, Rustyn becomes irritable because his mother is only for him ,sorry if he gets too involved English is not my first language

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐚, 𝐧𝐨

pairing: dad!drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: drew loves teasing his little buddy especially now that rustyn has entered a clingy phase. he insists on being the sole recipient of your affection, becoming hilariously territorial whenever drew so much as gives you a kiss.

warning(s): fluff, teasing banter, a possessive toddler, mild suggestive humor between parents, and lots of adorable family dynamics.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe

Rustyn just woke up from his nap as you sat comfortably on the couch, cradling Rustyn in your arms. At two years old, your son was growing fast, but right now, he seemed small and vulnerable as he snuggled against you, freshly awake from his nap. His tiny arms wrapped securely around your neck, and his head rested on your chest, soaking in your warmth.

“You have a good nap, sweetheart?” you murmured softly, running your fingers through his messy hair.

Rustyn nodded sleepily, his body still heavy with the haze of sleep. He hummed contentedly, nestling even closer.

From across the room, Drew’s familiar voice broke the peace.

“Baby,” he called, his tone laced with affection.

You looked up to find your husband leaning casually against the doorway, his blue eyes sparkling as they met yours. He wore his usual easy grin, the kind that made your heart flutter even after all these how many years.

“Hmm?” you replied, your lips curling into a smile.

Drew crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down to kiss you. His lips brushed yours softly.

Before you could reciprocate, however, a firm “No!” interrupted the moment.

You pulled back slightly, startled, and glanced down to see Rustyn glaring up at Drew. His tiny hand shot up, attempting to push Drew away from you.

“Excuse me?” Drew asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He crouched down to Rustyn’s level, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Are you trying to tell me I can’t kiss Mommy?”

Rustyn nodded solemnly, his blue eyes narrowing in determination.

“Mommy’s mine,” he declared, his voice firm despite its high-pitched sweetness.

Drew chuckled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, really? Well, fyi ‘for your information’, little man, Mommy was my woman first. Before you even existed.”

Rustyn’s face twisted into an exaggerated pout, his small arms tightening possessively around your neck.

“No. Mommy’s mine,” he repeated, his tone unwavering.

You stifled a laugh, brushing a hand over Rustyn’s curls.

“Drew, stop teasing him. He just woke up.”

“But it’s so easy,” Drew said with a grin, leaning down to kiss your temple.

Rustyn immediately reacted, a whiny “No!” escaping him as he pushed at Drew’s shoulder with all his might.

“Alright, alright,” Drew said, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.

“I’ll back off for now.”

Rustyn gave him a triumphant look, his little chest puffed out as he settled back against you.

You shook your head, biting back a smile.

“You know you’re just making it worse, right?”

“Yeah,” Drew admitted, plopping down on the couch beside you.

“But come on, look at him. He’s like a tiny bodyguard.”

Rustyn’s eyes darted suspiciously toward Drew, as though ensuring he wouldn’t try anything again.

Drew leaned closer to you, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“You think he’s gonna start charging me a toll just to kiss my own wife?”

You laughed quietly, careful not to disturb Rustyn.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s been attached to me like glue all week.”

“Bathroom glue?” Drew asked, raising an eyebrow.

You groaned.

“Yes, even bathroom glue.”

Drew whistled, shaking his head.

“Man, he’s really got me beat.”

The next morning, Drew woke up to the sound of giggles coming from the living room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and padded down the hallway, stopping in his tracks when he saw you and Rustyn sitting on the floor.

You were still in your pjs, your hair loosely tied back, as Rustyn sat in your lap, clumsily stacking blocks. He was giggling uncontrollably.

Drew leaned against the doorway, with a fond smile across his face.

“Well, don’t I feel left out?”

Rustyn’s laughter ceased abruptly as he looked up, his expression instantly turning wary.

“Good morning, you two,” Drew said, stepping into the room.

He crouched down beside you and reached out to ruffle Rustyn’s hair.

“Morning,” you replied with a smile, tilting your head to kiss Drew on the cheek.

Rustyn, however, wasn’t having it. He quickly turned to block Drew’s path, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“Mine!” he declared, his voice carrying the authority of someone much older than three.

Drew snorted. “Here we go… again.”

You tried to smooth things over, rubbing Rustyn’s back.

“Rustyn, sweetie, Dada’s just saying good morning.”

“No,” Rustyn said stubbornly, glaring at Drew.

“Wow, sassy” Drew said, sitting back on his heels.

“You really don’t want to share, huh?”

Rustyn shook his head firmly, burying his face in your shoulder.

You sighed, giving Drew an apologetic look.

“He’s in full cling mode right now. It’s a phase.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll remember this when he’s a teenager and wants nothing to do with either of us,” Drew said, though his tone was light.

Rustyn peeked out at Drew, his pout softening slightly.

“Mommy’s mine,” he whispered, as if reiterating his claim.

“Alright, alright, she’s all yours” Drew said, holding up his hands.

Rustyn grinned, clearly satisfied with his victory.

Drew shook his head, chuckling.

“You know, for someone so small, he’s got a lot of attitude.”

“Wonder where he gets it from,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at Drew.

Drew smirked. “Definitely you.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. Moments like this were your favorite.

By the afternoon, Drew decided it was time to reclaim some territory. While Rustyn was busy playing with his toy cars, Drew sidled up to you in the kitchen.

You were chopping vegetables for lunch when he slipped his arms around your waist from behind.

“Hi,” he murmured against your ear.

“Hello,” you replied, smiling as you leaned into him.

“You know,” Drew began, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “I don’t think Rustyn’s watching right now.”

You turned your head to look at him.

“Drew,” you warned, though your tone lacked any real conviction.

“What? Can’t a husband show his wife some affection?” he asked innocently.

Before you could respond, the sound of tiny feet padding into the kitchen reached your ears.

Rustyn appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing when he saw Drew holding you.

“No!”

Drew sighed dramatically, releasing you and turning to face Rustyn. “Really? I can’t even hug Mommy now?”

Rustyn marched over, his little fists balled up at his sides.

“No, Dada! Mommy’s mine!”

Drew knelt down to his son’s level, shaking his head.

“You’ve got some nerve, kid.”

Rustyn crossed his arms, his pout deepening.

“Mommy loves me more.”

Drew gasped, clutching his chest as though Rustyn’s words had physically wounded him.

“Oh, that’s cold, buddy. Real cold.”

You laughed, leaning against the counter.

“You walked right into that one.”

Drew looked up at you, his expression mock-wounded.

“You’re supposed to have my back.”

“I’m just enjoying the show,” you teased.

Rustyn, now satisfied that Drew had been properly put in his place, turned back to you and raised his arms. “Mama up, pleaze.”

You obliged, scooping him up and resting him on your hip.

Drew shook his head as he stood. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Rusty.”

Rustyn stuck his tongue out at Drew, prompting you to scold him gently. “Rustyn, be nice to Dada.”

“Yeah, listen to Mommy,” Drew said, grinning.

Rustyn huffed but leaned his head against your shoulder, clearly unwilling to share you anytime soon.

Drew stepped closer, placing a hand on your back.

“One day, buddy, you’re gonna regret pushing me away. You’ll want my advice on girls, sports, life…and I might just remind you of this moment.”

Rustyn didn’t respond, already drifting off into another nap.

You smiled at Drew, your heart full. “You know he loves you, right?”

“Oh, I know,” Drew said, his grin softening into a tender smile.

“But right now, he’s a mommy’s boy so...”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” you added knowingly.

Drew nodded, wrapping an arm around you both.

“Not for a second.”

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

----

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

[mindmelter]

Assimilated StepDaddy

Ryan slowly woke up, feeling disoriented. He looked around, recognizing his stepson's room. But something was off—he couldn't move. It hit him then: he was tied up on the bed. Panic set in as he struggled against the restraints.

"W-what the hell? What is going on? Why I'm tied up?" Ryan shouted, trying his best to free himself from the restraints. All he remembered was coming home from a hard day of work at the construction site and grabbing a beer to relax on the couch, and then... he woke up here?

"It's ok, Ryan, no need to freak out," He heard his stepson's voice as he entered the room while holding a glass jar with a strange slug creature inside.

"Benson? You did this to me? You little shit! I'm gonna beat your spoiled ass once I'm out of here!"

"Oh, you're going to beat my ass for sure, just not in the way you think," Benson said with a smug tone, he tapped his fingers on the jar, making the sluggish creature move as if it was excited. "It was very easy to drug your beer. You passed out faster than I thought you would, and I confess it was very difficult to drag you to my room, you're so heavy. Unfortunately, I'm afraid we don't have much time left."

"You drugged my WHAT? I knew you were a fucking freak but not at this level!" Ryan tried to pull the restraints once again, but he finally realized there was no use. He sighed and looked at his stepson. "Look, let me go now and I won't tell your mom about what you did."

Benson chuckled, "I'm not sure if I believe you; I know you very well, Ryan; in the past two years, I've known your true self; you're a cheater, a homophobe, and a horrible stepdad. I can't trust someone like you, I'm not dumb. But don't worry; once I help my alien buddy take over your body, our relationship will change to something more... trustful." Benson then looked at the creature inside the jaar. "Isn't that right, lil guy?"

Ryan could swear he saw the little creature nodding its head. "What the hell is this thing you're holding? You're freaking me out Benson.... please let me go!"

Benson got on the bed between Ryan's muscular legs and slowly started to pull down Ryan's underwear, he protested, trying to make the process more difficult for Benson, but with both his arms and legs tied up, Benson easily pulled his underwear down to his ankles. "Oh my, I can see why mom likes you so much because it definitely is not because of your personality," Benson said, amazed by Ryan's girthy cock.

"That's too fucking far! I'm gonna kill you, you motherfucker!" Ryan shouted.

Benson just ignored him and opened the lid, freeing the slug from the jar; the strange black slug crawled toward Ryan's ass and started to force its way inside his hole. Ryan's eyes opened in terror as he felt something squirming inside his ass. "Take this thing away from me! Take this thing away!" Ryan pleaded, no longer trying to keep his tough, manly persona.

"It's ok, Daddy Ryan, you're going to be a much better stepdad from now on," Benson said, caressing his muscular thighs and watching the tip of the slug disappear inside Ryan's ass. For a few seconds, nothing happened until suddenly Ryan's eyes rolled back, and his body started to contort and convulse, his hips bulked up and down, and his back arched as his muscles tensed until suddenly his body went limp.

That was when Benson heard his mom's car arrive; his heart raced as he immediately started to untie Ryan as quickly as he could; he thought he could turn Ryan into his pet's host before his mom came home from work. He untied Ryan's ankles and walked out of his room; it was then realized he had forgotten to pull up Ryan's underwear, so he ran back to his room and pulled his underwear up. He made his way to the living room just as his mom opened the door and walked in.

"Hey, Mom," Benson said, sitting on the couch and trying his best not to sound too out of breath.

"Hey, sweetie, where is Ryan?" She asked.

"H-he's sleeping in my room, I think he got so drunk that he crashed in the wrong room."

"Poor thing, he works so hard, let him rest a little ok?"

Later that night, while his mom was in the shower, Benson went to check on his stepdad, and to his surprise, the bed was empty. He jumped when he felt Ryan's hand grab his neck from behind and his big bulge pressing against his ass. Ryan leaned his mouth close to Benson's ear and whispered. "Fuck... he really hated your ass, I'm trying my best to control his body not to twist your little neck."

Benson smirked; he knew it was no longer his stepdad speaking. "I thought you said you would take full control of his brain?" Benson whispered back, pressing his ass harder against Ryan.

"Shut up you little..." Ryan stopped talking mid-sentence, and then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and then looking at Benson with more calm eyes. "I will. It just takes a while to fully assimilate his brain. There's still some parts of him left, I can still access some fragments of his memories as well as the hatred he had for you..."

"I think we could use all his hatred and use it for something more..." Benson then turned around to face Ryan and was about to caress his hairy pecs when Ryan suddenly pushed him down to his knees.

"You disgust me, you always did. If I didn't have a fucking slug inside my brain, assimilating it and turning me into a brainless puppet, I would have punched your dumb face right now."

Benson was so hard, his cock was leaking only at the sight of his hot stepdad standing over him, with his huge bulge just inches away from his face. He knew it was the alien in control, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit scared.

"Ok, I'm starting to get a little bit wo..." Benson tried to stand up, but Ryan pushed him back on his knees again and then pointed at him.

"You better keep on your knees! That's where you fucking belong." Ryan whispered, he then pulled down his underwear, freeing his throbbing massive cock, hovering his shaft over Benson's mesmerized face. "I'm gonna facefuck you as a punishment, that's what spoiled brats like you deserve," Ryan then grabbed Benson by the back of his hair and smirked down at him. "You better take every inch of punishment," With that, he pushed Benson's face to take all his length. Benson loved the way Ryan grabbed both sides of his head and fucked his mouth like he was a fucktoy. Ryan came down his throat before his mom finished her shower.

A week later, Ryan had his brain fully assimilated by the alien slug, and there was nothing more left of him besides his hot body. The alien adopted a more loving and caring personality for Ryan that Benson loved, but sometimes Benson would ask the alien to act more like the old Ryan.

Their relationship had improved so much since Ryan got assimilated. Benson's mom would go to work in the morning before Ryan, so every morning before going to work, Ryan would go into Benson's room and give him a proper morning fuck, as well as his morning load. And every time Ryan came back earlier from work, he would take his shirt off and order Benson to lick his sweaty body clean.

"These armpits won't clean by themselves, boy. You better bury your face in these hairy armpits and clean them up with your slutty tongue!"

After giving his stepdad a proper tongue bath, Benson was sitting on Ryan's lap, with his ass fully stuffed by Ryan's hard cock while he squeezed and groped his stepdad's big hairy pecs.

"C'mon buddy, suck on your Daddy's tits, your mom will come from work at any minute," Ryan said while flexing his massive pecs.

Benson didn't waste any more time and started to suck on Ryan's huge tits. He had only two hours left before his mom would return from work, and he would always make the most of it.

[artbyblastweave]

Playing through Fallout:New Vegas for the first time in years. And I'm developing a newfound appreciation for the damage done to the intended pacing of the narrative with the addition of the Courier's Stash. I wake up in Goodsprings, and as part of the extended tutorial you have Ghosttown Gunfight, the fairly self-contained faction war between Goodsprings and the Powder Gangers. And the design intent, I think, is that this is probably supposed to be a pain in the ass, with only one or two avenues of support available to you given the low level at which you'll pick this one up. Six Powder Gangers, some in body-armor, would be a serious threat, and committing to fighting against that with your dinky 9mm and a varmint rifle seems like a rough time! An actual uphill battle, doing the right thing instead of the easy thing. Fortunately, Benny inexplicably left my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, so I cleaned up.

I'm working my way south, and, you know, in a version of the game where Benny didn't inexplicably leave my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, this would have been the knock-on effect of my "good" Karmic choice in defending Goodsprings; the road south is littered with powder gangers who'd have been neutral had I not kicked the hornet's nest. As it stands? Free experience. I hit Primm, and fighting through the cramped hallways of the Bison Steve I encounter an enemy armed with what was clearly supposed to be the first heavy weapon I'd encounter in the world. Tight Corridors. Inexplicable Grenade Launcher. I clean up. South I go to the Mojave outpost, Nipton, that whole thing. And clearly, clearly you aren't meant to take a swing at Vulpes here, right? You're supposed to take it in, get a sense for the legion. In the version of the game that shipped you're supposed to get bodied if you try to kick the beef gate here. There are allowances in the game for if you pull it off, sure, but I did try with just the service rifle, without the glorious first-strike capabilities afforded to me by the 40mm grenade launcher that Benny inexplicably left in the grave with me. It didn't go very well!

So now I'm dogged by Legion hit squads on my way to Novac, which I get the distinct impression was not the point in the game at which this was supposed to start happening to me, because I am gathering up some pretty expensive equipment, all sold for space. I punch through to Vegas, and at this stage, the clear developer intent is that you need to spend some time milling around Freeside or Camp McCarran in order to gain access to the Strip- do odd jobs to scrape up the money, buy the forgery from Mick and Ralphs, gain monorail access, get your science skill high enough to hack the robot. Get the lay of the land, get a feel for the people, send some time stewing in the human cost of House's walled garden before you head in and hear the pitch from the big man himself.

Except I've got 5000 caps from selling off all the legion killteam equipment. In I go!

And the fun thing is, right, the Courier's stash can't be diegetic, but it is having a very direct impact on the world here. A top legion guy just went down to my inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher. Whatever else I'm roleplaying as, I am roleplaying as a guy who woke up in the possession of an inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher, and neither I nor my character can plausibly ignore that fact given its terrible bloodstained utility. I play a man, a man who would be a good man, a man nonetheless bewitched by the terrible resolutory power of the grenade launcher. My best friend, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher! My worst enemy, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher!

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 4 masterlist

-

At the quantum level, an electron can behave as both a wave and a particle. It is the act of observing it that confines it to a single form. The electron that once could’ve passed through multiple openings at once is forced to choose a single path when observed. 

Because what the eye sees becomes—

“—real,” you whisper, staring up at the face hovering in the window beside your bed. His smile doesn’t waver. “You can’t be real.”

“Sorry about the other day,” he says, instead of answering. “I got a bit lost after you left.”

Again, you pinch the soft skin of your thigh to wake yourself up and twitch when the pain sets in. The reassurance that you’re still awake doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you. 

“This isn’t real,” you repeat to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing heavily out through your mouth. “This isn’t real.”

Your words are met with a silence so profound that it almost feels as though you’ve plugged your ears, until you open your eyes and he’s still there, waiting right outside the window.

The blue lights around the inside of the window glow soft against his dark skin. You can make out the finer details of his face up close—the smoothness of his skin; the faint scar on his cheek; the fine grooves in his plush bottom lip. Too beautiful to have spent the last several days without food or water or sleep or fresh oxygen. You, with access to all of those resources, feel grimy; gritty. Skin tight against the bone, and hollowed.

“Was that you? Before?” you ask, thinking of the astronaut you saw drifting out in the distance, so lifeless and limp that you imagined the body within it long expired. 

He nods. The motion is slow, deliberate; still that sluggishness analogous with zero gravity. 

You wait for him to volunteer more information, but he just smiles wordlessly at you. It’s difficult to know where to begin. You’ve always been the kind to break a problem down into smaller, more manageable parts, but with this you don’t even know where to start. Its bigness is all you can focus on. The enormity of it. 

“Where did you go?” you ask instead. “You weren’t—…you were gone when I came back. We couldn’t find you.”

He blinks. “Elsewhere.”

“You can…move around out there?” 

“I can.”

His deliberate evasiveness frustrates you. Ostensibly one-dimensional with his glib charm and easy smile, but with an unplumbed depth. His response provokes more questions than it answers, and you can tell that it’s intentional. 

But again you’re prescribing an internal locus of control to an apparition that has been proven to exist only in your head. It can only supply you with information that you already have. 

And that’s the real quandary, isn’t it? The thing that has you whispering softly to yourself oh no oh no oh no oh no in the quiet of your room. Your body knows that the front door of your mind lies on its side, ripped from the hinges, dirt mounds blackening the entryway. And now outside stands a man, waiting to be let in. 

“How am I able to hear you?”

He smiles. “You must just want to listen.”

You huff out a breath through your nose. There it is again. 

“Who are you?” you ask, and you know that his answer won't matter. It won't matter because it won't be real. Because it's just you in your head and the words are too loud and whatever sickness is in your mind has crystallized in the body of a man that stares at you with a gaze too intense, too penetrating for what he is.

“You can call me Gaz,” he says simply, teeth peeking out from behind his lips when he enunciates the name. Glinting sharp like bone in the blue light. 

His answer makes you blink. It doesn’t seem like a name that you would come up with, but the mind works in mysterious ways. You didn’t think it could conjure up a person either, and now look at what’s happening to you. And it is happening to you, of that you’re sure. 

“Are you going to let me in?” he asks before you can open your mouth again.

He presses his gloved hand to the window. The folds in the fabric spread with his fingers, the pads of his fingers flecked with dust and grime, worn from years of use. 

You give a curt shake of your head. 

“Love…” Gaz says warningly. 

In the few days since he first appeared in the window, you’ve never heard him use that tone. You’re not too proud to say it frightens you. Whether he’s real or just in your head, so far Gaz has been perfectly affable, and you’re not sure you’re willing to face the implication that he might not always be that way. 

“I need to sleep,” you plead. “T-tomorrow—I’ll…I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

You press a button on the wall that drops a panel over the window with a quiet shunk, blocking Gaz from view.

When he knocks again, a shiver ripples down your spine. Guilt twists your insides up in knots. All you can do is pull the comforter over your head and block your ears. 

By morning, the temperature in your room has dropped a degree. You bundle up in a thicker sweatshirt and boots before going for your morning cup of coffee, but for the first time since takeoff all those months ago, you head for your work station instead of sipping your coffee in the cockpit. 

You start to hear him no matter where you are on the ship, a window no longer necessary. Always it comes after two solid raps against the hull of the ship, the sound jolting your heart into a frantic beat, pulse fluttering wildly under your skin. And then his voice, muffled through the layers of aluminum and titanium alloys, but intelligible despite the impossibility of it all. 

Sometimes, you respond. Just a few words to acknowledge his existence, even when the wall separating the two of you is impermeable, only his voice accessible to you. 

That makes it worse somehow though. Displaces his voice from his body, forcing you to reckon with his presence like a symptom of a bicameral mind, your own thoughts projected from you into the world. What difference is there between his voice and an audio hallucination? You should know better than to indulge in it. 

You’re beginning to understand the real root of the problem. The crux of it all. There’s a box in your mind labeled psychosis, and in the months of prolonged isolation and discomfort, you’ve inadvertently unshelved it, pulled it out of its storage space and peeled the lid open, all of its contents now released into the world. 

The thought is terrifying. You wonder if you can even trust your own mind, if everything is now compromised. Can you even trust what you see in front of you, or have you made it up as well? The thought is so disturbing that it paralyzes you in your bed at night. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in the medbay because it’s one of the few rooms without access to any exterior walls. Several other crew quarters separate it from the hull, while the main corridor runs along the other side. It’s the only place where you’re able to get a decent night’s sleep, though the lights stay on, fluorescent white at all times, programmed to stay at full brightness in case of an emergency. 

Even the sight of your own reflection makes you flinch until you realize it’s just you. 

One twenty-four hour period cycles into the next, pulling you into its embrace like crossing over an event horizon, your future self already distended out in front of you. 

In an effort to finally put you to good use (you try not to resent the implication when it’s framed like that), Farah tasks you with conducting pressure checks on the fuel tanks and lines around the ship while she continues to focus on the issue with the cruise control. You’re tasked with attaching a pressure gauge to the tank and increasing the pressure while keeping an eye out for any leaks or drops in pressure. A task simple enough that even the uninitiated could perform it. Busywork. 

You shut down the part of you that beats on your chest and demands that you leave. That this isn’t your job; you were brought aboard for a particular purpose and this isn’t it. You could be conducting your own research instead in the comfort of your lab, ensconced in data on antimicrobial resistance in space or microgravity-induced orthostatic intolerance. Not checking fuel tank pressure.

Someone raps their knuckles against the wall nearest you from the outside of the ship, startling you. 

“Shit,” you curse, the pressure gauge slipping out of your hand and clattering to the floor. You sigh when you bend down to pick it up and wince when you notice a crack in the glass where it hit the floor. 

“Love? Is that you?” Gaz asks from the other side of the wall, voice muffled.

Ignoring his voice doesn’t keep your heart from beating harder. You try to focus instead on the task at hand, pressuring the tank to fifteen hundred psi and waiting for the needle to stabilize on the gauge. Nothing abnormal. You jot it down and move on to the next tank, removing the gauge and starting the process anew. 

Another thump against the hull, the sound sending a jolt through your body. 

“I know you’re there.” He sounds amused. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

How could you avoid someone in your head? You almost say as much but then catch yourself on the verge of opening your mouth. You turn back your task, scrolling down the checklist on your tablet. 

There’s an edge to his voice the next time he speaks. “This is starting to annoy me, love.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you whisper, finally breaking, the stylus nearly slipping from your clammy hands. Brows scrunched, eyes shut tight. Another breath out to stabilize yourself. 

“Ah, there you are,” Gaz hums. “Thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

Just ignore it, you think, breathing in and out again. 

“You’d rather talk to Farah than me,” he says when you don’t respond, almost accusatory, and you nearly brush it off until you register what he said.  

“How do you know her name?” you hiss under your breath, turning your head to stare at the panel that his voice emanates from behind. 

“I thought I was just in your head,” he says, amused again. Voice lighter than a moment prior. Easygoing as ever.

You worry at your lower lip until the skin threatens to break. “Yes, but—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Your head whips around at the sound of Farah’s voice. You hadn’t heard the cargo hold doors open, but she stands in the doorway, staring at you with an unreadable expression, shoulders squared and hands on her hips. 

Your instinct is to ask her how long she’s been standing there, but that won’t serve you in the long run. You almost want to ask if she heard his voice too, but you don’t think you could handle her confirming to your face that Gaz’s voice is all in your head. 

“…No one.”

Her face hardens and you wonder if you made the wrong call choosing to lie to her. But what else should you have said? The wall behind you remains conspicuously silent.

The next few seconds under her gaze feel endless. Eventually though, Farah pivots on her heel without another word and leaves the way she came, the doors sliding shut behind her. 

The room bellows its cold ire. Only the sound of your own breathing reaches your ears. 

An hour passes. Possibly longer. The stress eats away at your insides. Though you don’t cross paths with Farah for the rest of the day, you can’t help the way every sound makes you flinch and glance towards its source. Jumpy; paranoid. 

You make yourself dinner when the galley is still empty and eat in the medbay instead of with the rest of the crew. The peppery aftertaste is more prominent than usual while you eat; you almost have to choke your food down. Almost metallic, like antiseptic. 

It happens again on your way back to your quarters. The lights cycle with the night and dim in the hallway, a soft pale glow like a low-hanging moon illuminating the floor in front of you. 

You catch him in the corner of your eye this time, no knock to signal his presence. Just an astronaut hovering outside the window, nearly translucent with the absence of light. The fear that overcomes you is almost animalistic until it settles into the folds of your skin like an ointment rubbed in, and you turn to face him. 

It’s the same but different. You know what he wants. What he’s waiting for. 

“I don’t think I can let you in,” you whisper, looking away from the window to the other side of the hall. His gaze seers into the side of your head.

“Why not?” It’s the first time Gaz’s voice has sounded cold to your ears. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. 

“I’m worried you’re not real. That maybe you’re just in my head. And I can’t—” You bite your lip, swallowing the warble in your voice. “—I can’t let them know I’m crazy.”

Let them know. As if it were a foregone conclusion. As if you’ve already passed the point of no return. But what other conclusion could you draw from your observations as of late? The constant disappearances and reappearances, his voice in your head only when you’re alone. His voice in general, somehow audible despite there being no medium for it to pass through. You’ve been ignoring his anomalous properties because you’ve been desperate to believe that your mind hasn’t been compromised. That you aren’t a danger to the people around you—a voice in your head telling you to open the airlock when there’s nothing out there in space. 

When you turn your head, he’s still there, eyes stony behind the visor of his spacesuit. He tilts his head and the visor glints black for a second, suddenly opaque, obscuring his face.

He looms like a figure straight out of death, imposing even from the outside of the ship. Your arms hang limp at your sides, locked in place under his gaze. Even the thought of moving fills you with dread. 

But he isn’t real; he’s just in your head.

When Gaz lifts his head again, his visor clears and his smile is pleasant again, back to what it once was.

“I’ll prove that I’m real. Wait for me, love.”

And then he’s gone, the view beyond the window night sky black. Gone between one blink and the next; faster than light.

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Pairing: Yandere!Ieiri Shoko x Reader (JJK).

Runtime: 3.2k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con (False Pretenses), Mentions of Pregnancy, Cheating (Reader is in an Established Relationship With Gojo), Fingering, Medical Malpractice, Manipulation, and Overstimulation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

The examination table was cold as ice against your back.

She’d been nice enough to put down a sheet of sterilizing parchment, but not much more. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt as you waited, too nervous to check your phone and risk seeing the newest addition to Satoru’s never-ending barrage of texts, too obedient to do anything other than stay where you were and stare blankly at the chipped, white tiles of her ceiling. That was what she told you to do – or, at least, what you thought she’d told you to do. It’d been difficult to understand her through her surgical mask, only pulled down slightly to accommodate the cigarette she was holding up to her lips, and come to think if it, she might’ve just meant to wait near the table, not strictly on—

The door opened, creating a break in the silence just long enough for you to pull yourself back together, and you bolted upright before your thoughts could start to slip, again – the stiff parchment crackling in protest underneath you. Your eyes found Shoko just as she slipped inside, letting the door fall shut on its own behind her.

Out of all of Satoru’s friends, Shoko had always been your favorite. There was obviously the gender bias (you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t have gravitated towards any woman in Satoru’s overall civil, but absolutely male-dominated social sphere), but even if that hadn’t been the case, you liked to think that you would’ve gotten along with Shoko, regardless. She was always so calm, always so level-headed, rarely smiling but slow to lose her temper, too. Being around her made you feel a little less like the awkward, oblivious non-sorcerer who’d stumbled into a world you still didn’t completely understand and a little more like someone who knew what they’d gotten into and who to rely on, when your own limited abilities fell short. You trusted Shoko, even if you’d only talked to her alone a handful of times. If you didn’t, you never would’ve come to her for something like this.

She stopped at the nearest counter, retrieving a pair of latex gloves from a nearly empty container, before coming to stand next to your table. You knew she’d been smoking, but the heavy scent of disinfect and rubbing alcohol smothered any traces of lingering smoke there might’ve been. You were thankful. You’d been sick with nerves for the better part of the past week, and you didn’t need another reason to feel like you were on the verge of throwing up.

(In the back of your skull, something cruel and vile whispered that there might be another explanation for your sudden bouts of nausea – something less ignorable than pure, ungrounded anxiety. You drowned it out before it could reach your conscious mind.)

Shoko broke the silence without prompting. You were grateful for that, too – you really didn’t have the courage to speak up first. “So,” she started, leaning on the edge of your metal slab. “You wanted to see me because of a… late period?”

Her mask hid most her expression, but you could make out the faint hint of a chuckle underneath her bedside manner. Your eyes fell into your lap. “A missed period,” you corrected. “I haven’t gotten it this month, either.”

She hummed, but didn’t respond. You sighed. Shoko was grounded, but she wasn’t kind. You should’ve known she wouldn’t make this easy for you.

“I’m worried I might be pregnant.”

To her credit, if she was surprised, it was impossible to tell. “Have you been taking your birth control?”

“Yeah, obviously, but I’m terrible about remembering condoms and Satoru never manages to pull out.” It felt strange to describe your sex life to your boyfriend’s closest friend, but you soldiered on. She was a medical professional, a doctor. Your preferred methods of protection (or lack thereof) couldn’t have been the worst thing she’d heard that day. “I’ve already taken a test, but I just want to make sure. Cursed energy is already so complicated, and I know Satoru exceeds a lot of expectations. I don’t know if he, like, has—”

This time, she cut you off with an airy, but blatant laugh. “You think he’s got magic sperm?”

“He fights invisible monsters and teleports,” you snapped, your anxiety turning into irritation in the blink of an eye. “I don’t think ‘magic sperm’ is that unrealistic!”

For a moment, she seemed to regard you – her dark eyes boring into your wrinkled clothes, your disheveled hair, the bags under your eyes nearly deep enough to match her own. Even if she didn’t understand why you were worried, she’d have to recognize that you were, in fact, worried. And, if she really was your friend, she’d at least offer to help.

You held your breath until finally, she cracked, straightening her back with and audible sigh. “And why, exactly, couldn’t you go to a standard obstetrician about this?”

“Because you’re the best doctor I know and I’d trust you with my life?”

“Try again.”

“Because I can’t afford the co-pay and if I use Satoru’s card, he’ll find out.” You deflated after finishing, crossing your arms over your chest. “I… I really just want to know. If it turns out I did have a reason to worry, I’ll figure out what to do next, but—” This time, your voice cut out all on its own. You forced yourself to swallow before going on. “I just want to know, first. Satoru doesn’t have to be involved.”

It was an awful position to put her in, you knew. For as much as you trusted her, she’d known Satoru for years. She had every right to go to him about this, even if you really, really wished she wouldn’t. She didn’t owe you anything, much less her help. Much less her silence.

But there was a reason you trusted Shoko, that you felt as unreasonable close to her as you did. Above her mask, you saw her eyes soften before they flickered away from you, landing on the counter she’d already visited. “Lay down and take off what you need to,” she said, her gruff professionalism back in full force. “It might not be conclusive, but the most I can do is a physical examination. It’s not much, but if you don’t trust a real test, it’s the best thing I can offer you.”

You couldn’t help yourself – nearly falling off the table as you pulled her into a bone-crushing, lung-flattening hug. “Ieiri, you’re the best,” you nearly shouted, your voice bouncing off the blank walls of her office. You moved to thank her again, and again, and again, but she pried you off of her before you had the chance, muttering a curt ‘you’re welcome’ before turning away to make her preparations and escape your unwanted gratitude. You managed to stop yourself from chasing after her, and yet, you were still smiling as you settled back onto the table.

Still, embarrassment quickly dampened the brighter edges of your relief as Shoko glanced over her shoulder. “Are you comfortable with undressing here, or would you rather leave the room?”

You blanched, and Shoko was kind enough not to laugh before going on. “You did know you were basically coming to be for a gynecological exam, right?”

“I mean, yes, but—” You hadn’t, but then again, you weren’t sure what else you’d expected. This made sense, even if it was leagues beyond anything you thought to brace yourself for. If Shoko thought it would help, then it’d help. “Do I get a gown, or…?”

Her eyes fell to your skirt, long enough to fall just an inch or so above your knee. “That won’t be necessary. Take off your panties and lay down – I’ll be over in a second.”

Your face burnt, but you nodded, and she turned away. Biting your inner cheek, you swung your legs over the side of the table and kicked off your shoes. Shoko pretended to be preoccupied while you shrugged your panties down your legs and, with no other option, stuffed them into the pocket of your jacket. It was awkward – lying down and spreading your legs with Shoko less than a full ten feet away. It was one thing to ask your acquaintance for medical advice, and another to let your boyfriend’s friend act as your pro-bono gynecologist.

You heard a few tools clatter onto a metal tray, the padded feet of a stool scrape across the tiled floor, and wordlessly, Shoko positioned herself at the foot of the examination table. “This should only take a few minutes,” she said, as her gloved fingers skirted along the inside of your knee, then your thigh, before reaching your pussy. Your labia, you corrected, internally. If she could be a professional about this, so could you. “Let me know if you feel any pain.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused intently on the ceiling above you. Even if you had looked down, your skirt would’ve blocked most of your view, which was how you preferred it. You couldn’t see Shoko, and hopefully, she couldn’t see the way you flinched as she spread a cold, pricking sort of lubricant over your entrance, as she eased two fingers into your otherwise dry cunt. You’d assumed she would use a tool, but then again, you couldn’t imagine what kind. And besides, you really shouldn’t have been questioning a doctor.

Shoko’s voice was gruff, distracted. “How’s that?”

“F-Fine,” you squeaked. “Please, do whatever you need to.”

“Satoru’s got you that worn down, huh?” She let out a breath of a laugh, but leaned in, easing her digits into until she was knuckle deep. Her fingers were thin, but long and graceful in a way that made them difficult to ignore when paired with the strange tactility of her gloves. Her free hand curled around your ankle, as if to hold you in place. “I’m going start the test. It might feel a little strange, so try not to move.”

She gave you a moment to brace yourself before spreading her fingers apart, inadvertently pressing against the sensitive walls of your pussy. On reflex, you snapped your thighs shut, but Shoko caught you by the knee before you could attempt to break her arm. “Easy there.” And then, as her thumb pushed slow circles into your skin, “Think you can hold these open for me?”

You didn’t try to say anything, but with more than a little effort, you spread your legs – planting your feet more firmly on either corner of the table. “Thatta girl,” Shoko muttered, seemingly more used to comforting scared pets than nervous patients. “Remember – we’re here because you wanted to be. If you want to back out, just say the word.”

You shook your head furiously, instinctually. You’d never do that to Shoko, and she seemed to know that – not waiting for verbal confirmation before starting to move. She seemed to need to stretch you open, judging by the repetitive, scissor-like motions of her fingers, the way she huffed in irritation as she slipped yet another digit inside of you. You knew it was inappropriate, but it would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from heating up, from squirming, from dampening around her in a way that you couldn’t entirely separate from arousal. You kept your hips still and dug your teeth into your bottom lip with enough force to break the skin (you would’ve rather died than moaned during a medical exam), but your cunt wasn’t as easily reigned in. It wasn’t long before a sickeningly slick clicking-type noise accompanied every little movement of her fingers. Hopefully, she’d just assume she’d used more lube than she’d meant to. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself, if she didn’t.

“Like I said – it’s a quick procedure, not a comfortable one. Most patients have a difficult time staying still.” It was humiliating – how steady her voice was while you were falling apart, fighting just to keep yourself from bucking into a medical professional’s hand. It took everything you had not to whimper when the scissoring slowed, then stopped altogether, only to be immediately replaced by the awful, terrible, embarrassingly wonderful feeling of her fingers curling inside of you, grinding against the most vulnerable part of your cunt. “It’s important to be thorough, though. I’m sure you understand why this is necessary.”

She couldn’t have done it on purpose. Nothing about this could’ve ever been intentional, and yet, when her wrist slipped, the heel of her palm seemed to land perfectly onto your neglected clit. It wasn’t much, just the hint of stimulation, but it was enough for you to seize-up – your nails scrambling helplessly over smooth titanium as you came, silently, around her fingers. Shoko, ever the professional, didn’t so much as slow down.

She only hummed, keeping her hand where it was – her palm now grinding broad, harsh patterns into your clit. “Are you usually this easily stimulated?”

You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to choke out was a single, jagged whimper. Shoko clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased that in a way you’d understand.” And then, as she spread her fingers apart cruelly, “Do you normally cum in less than a minute with Satoru?”

This time, a strangled cry was as much of an answer as you could’ve possibly given. You weren’t sure why she was asking, but… this wasn’t normal for you, was it? And now that she mentioned it, you did feel more stimulated than you should’ve during anything remotely medical. Your skin felt hotter, more sensitive where it’d come into contact with her lubricant, and it was getting hard to think, hard to justify not grinding into her hand as she curled and twisted her fingers inside of you. God. You knew you’d been a wreck, lately, but you never would’ve thought that it gotten this bad.

The nails of Shoko’s free hand bit into your ankle, and too strung-out to stop yourself, you let out a whine by way of protest. She chuckled, and suddenly, you were empty, left bucking your hips into vacant air as she drew back. “Poor thing,” she muttered, her sympathy tinged with a sardonic sort of condescension. “I’ve got one last test. Think you can bear with me?”

“Ye—Yes,” you chirped. At that point, it was meaningless – you would’ve agreed to anything so long as she was the one suggesting it. You’d shut your eyes at some point, but you could still hear Shoko’s footsteps, feel her standing above you as she positioned herself at your side. One gloved hand cupped your cheek while the other pressed something blunt and thick against your cunt and, with no warning other than a mumbled reminder to ‘breathe, pretty girl, breathe’, thrust it inside of you.

Her reminder, sadly, proved useless. The air hitched in your lungs as a ribbed shaft filled your overeager pussy, the object curved in a way that made it feel like it was pressing into every fucking part of you at the exact same fucking time. Your hands shot to Shoko’s wrist, searching for something more forgiving than cold metal to ground yourself with. You tried to pull yourself together, and you might’ve been able to if two distinct, silicone-wrapped prongs hadn’t slotted against your clit or, even more damningly, if whatever tool Shoko was using hadn’t started to shake.

Saying you came embarrassingly quickly would’ve been an understatement. There was no pretense of dignity, this time; just grit teeth and twitching legs and one long, miserable sob. Shoko nursed you through it, rocking her vibrating tool inside of you gently until your climax had died into total limpness and the occasional, unsteady gasp. The tool was drawn back, but Shoko’s hand lingered, her thumb tracing patterns into your cheek. “Such a good girl,” she mumbled, and you melted into her touch. “Feeling a little tired?”

It was sickeningly guilt-inducing, just how nice she was being to you after you’d done nothing but humiliate yourself in front of her. “A little,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly. Shoko smiled back. You couldn’t remember when she’d taken off her mask.

“Close your eyes and catch your breath. I’ll finish up while you get a little rest.”

It was all you could do to nod before slumping into yourself, your body going slack despite your best attempts to hold yourself up. Her reassurance was nice, but unnecessary.

In less than a full second, you were out like a light.

~

In Shoko’s defense, she did actually take the time to check. After you passed out, as delicate as Satoru had always bragged you were, she tested the blood sample taken prior to your “exam”. It took a total of three minutes, and left her with good news and bad news to deliver when you woke up.

The good news was, predictably, that you’d been right. You were pregnant. About a month along, in fact. Congratulations, mazel tov, etc.

The bad news was, of course, that you were pregnant, and that Satoru had finally managed to knock you up. Thoughts and prayers, get well soon, etc.

 From her make-shift desk on the far side of the room, she spared a glance to where you were still sleeping on her autopsy table. You’d rolled onto your side since she last checked on you, your pleated shirt bunching at your waist as you used your arms as a rudimentary pillow. It’d be a lie to say she didn’t understand why Satoru had gone so crazy about you so quickly. What you were – an ordinary human with enough cursed energy to see, but not act – was rare, your continuous ability to gloss over the uglier parts of their world in favor of perpetual, delusional optimism even more so. It’d be impressive, if she didn’t know it was going to get you fucked over eventually.

You were cute. It’s surprised her when she first met you in-person, when she first realized that.

It’d surprised her a little less when she realized that you even cuter mumbling gibberish as you came around her fingers.

Her eyes fell back to the phone in her hand. Her messages with Satoru were already open, what she’d been deliberating on telling him already typed out. She sighed, checked the picture she’d taken of you sprawled out on her table, three of her fingers buried in your cunt, and hit send.

[1 attachment]

your girlfriend has something to tell you.

sending a bill for my time btw.

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, signaling that Satoru was typing a response, before disappearing just as quickly. He tried calling her a second later, and she muted her phone before tossing it half-heartedly in the nearest drawer and turning back to you. Judging by your durability (or lack thereof), she’d have a few more minutes before you woke up, and another half an hour before the aphrodisiac gel she’d used on you started to wear off. You’d likely want to rush home to Satoru, when you finally got your hard-earned results.

Again, Shoko sighed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

It’d just be a waste not to have a little fun while she could, right?

[danibeanie]

astro observations MARS edition

-its so easy to spot a earth mars imo. 🧚🏼 They have a no bs energy to them. very practical and level headed they will get their work done and don’t need anyone’s help either!

🧚🏼‍♂️virgo mars=workaholics HEAVY and yeah they just don’t know how to take a break like please take care of yourself more. a bit critical but its comes from them wanting the best for you.

🧚🏼cap mars girlies have such dominant energy it’s very easy for men to be intimidated by these woman. they demand authority without even trying.

🧚🏼I’ve met very little taurus mars in my life which is surprising coming from a taurus rising but they can come off intimidating at first ngl😭 I believe it’s just that nonchalantness they have idk how to explain it but they just dgaf LMAO. they just give a don’t interrupt my work or else😇

🧚🏼‍♀️I have a soft spot for cap mars and scorpio mars it’s no wonder mars exalts in these signs. it’s something admirable coming from a weak mars :,)

🧚🏼‍♀️so many people talk about scorpio mars sexual energy and while yes THEY DO HAVE THAT. i love the determination they put into EVERYTHING. If a scorpio mars wants something they WILL get it.? wether it be work, school, or a relationship. I notice in relationships they tend to study the person b4 initiating and stare often LMAO

🧜🏼‍♀️I attract so many pisces mars in my life, I feel like water mars attract each other way often. they have this easy going dreamy energy to them. they really do go with the flow, kind, a bit head in the clouds but very vulnerable people.

👼🏻as a cancer mars it’s so hard to have motivation when your just not doing well at all. the moon linking with mars makes you think everything emotionally and even thought it’s considered a weakness I believe it’s something beautiful :,) no but seriously I won’t do anything if I don’t feel like it ugh

🧚🏼‍♀️I have a love/hate relationship with aries mars and I believe it’s because they either fall into 11 or 12 house which is not really a good place for synastry but besides that they come off VERY bold. even though mars exalts in this sign I feel like it doesn’t do well in it?😭 now their anger will show real quick but it’s sizzles down just as fast and they have A TON OF ENERGY. can come off insensitive but it really depends on other placements in the chart.

🧚🏼‍♀️leo mars grab people’s attention so quick it’s crazy… they talk and you can just FEEL their energy. I love leo energy and they’re such good souls and funny people. just like other fire mars bold with what they do.

🧚🏼‍♀️I feel like many people water down sag mars anger… my dad has a sag mars and it’s so scary when he gets mad. also the pluto in sag generation can intensify this placement. they have a very philosophical mind and always think about the bigger picture which I like! It’s probably the jupiter influence, really random but I feel like these people would be great teachers LMAO

🧚🏼‍♀️gemini mars are so chaotic and this is coming from someone with a gemini stellium😭 they talk a lot and I love yapping with these people . they have such a fun vocabulary but they can just come off a big wish washy with their energy. It’s like they can just flip a random switch and put a whole diff vibe out. they can really hurt people with their words but their determination is just if they feel quirky that day I feel.

🧚🏼‍♀️now the only libra mars I’ve met is my mom and all I can say is that she avoids confrontation like no other. comes off as passive and it’s kinda ironic me saying this as a cancer mars but yeah. they find beauty in everyday routine which I think is the venusian energy.very kind people and love taking care of themselves

🧚🏼‍♀️never met a aquarius mars so I can’t really say anything but I feel like they would have a eccentric energy! they probably would love hanging out with their friends and find joy in work If there’s something different to do everyday.

QUICK MARS DATING OBSERVATION. 🧚🏼‍♀️

we know that mars energy represents man and that’s usually the first thing I notice in men obv when dating.

-pisces mars men are very shy their cute and lovey but it’s gonna be hard to really know what their feeling cause YOUR gonna have to make the move😭 saying this in the nicest way but they get too in their head about what to do and then they just don’t do it lmao.

- scorpio mars man and I feel like this is one of the few placements that matches my cancer mars. theirs just this underlying feeling of I know ur hella passionate and that’s okay cause I am too.😍they will INITIATE that’s for sure

-sag mars men love:,) this guy was older than me by like 3 years but our chemistry was so good and I think it’s because my venus and his mars made a opposition( good balance). I learned a lot from him

- mars 4th house synastry -I WANNA TAKE CARE OF UUUUU

-mars 7th house synastry - let’s get into a relationship rn even though I’ve talked to you for only a month 😍

-mars 6th house synastry- wow let me take you everywhere with me and let’s basically live together😭

-mars 5th house synastry-“you make me feel like im livin a teenage dream”

-mars 11th house synastry-friends but more than friends? But friends….

THANKS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS YALL 💘

[mandalhoerian]

I want to pick your brain more about Caleb being the livestock guardian and the wolf at the same time. That part haunts me. Canine imagery for him >>>

That contradiction — the livestock guardian and the wolf — is at the very heart of Caleb. Emphasizing his duality aside, it’s a paradox that exists within him, one that he’s aware of, one that he chooses to live with rather than resolve. Because at his core, he is both the devoted protector and the ravenous beast, and both of them love you. Both of them serve you, in their own way.

The livestock guardian dog is bred to protect the flock, to dedicate its life to something weaker, something soft. It stands between the sheep and the wolves, fangs bared, willing to die for the creatures that will never understand what it’s doing for them. It is gentle with them, careful, soft-mouthed, lowering itself to their level so they will trust it. Do not fear me. I am here for you.

He was raised to be good, to be devoted, to be steadfast. A creature made to guard, to serve, to dedicate himself to something more important than his own desires. A dog trained to protect the flock, to live among the sheep, to love them with a quiet, patient devotion. His purpose has always been clear: keep you safe. Keep you fed. Keep you warm. The world is full of danger, full of wolves with their snapping jaws and greedy eyes, and it is his duty to keep them at bay.

He is yours. He always has been. If you told him to sit, he would. If you told him to stay, he wouldn’t move from that spot until his body gave out. If you told him to die for you, he would do it without hesitation. And he doesn’t think of this as a burden — it’s his purpose. He finds fulfillment in it, in watching over you, in being something you trust. You call his name, and he comes to you. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he stays still so you won’t move away. You let him linger close, let him take care of you, and it is enough. It has to be enough.

But a guardian dog is still a dog. Still a thing with instincts, still a thing that can be pushed. If the sheep do not trust it, if the shepherd does not guide it, if it is alone too long — if it's left hungry for too long, if it's is abandoned, if it loses the reason — then something inside it shifts. It begins to realize that it does not need a flock. That it has teeth for a reason. And then, with time, with neglect, with just the right set of circumstances—

The guardian turns feral. The thing that once protected the sheep remembers that it is, at its core, an animal with hunger, with wants, and it turns on the very things it swore to protect.

Caleb is the dog that never turned. He is the one that still guards you, still waits at your side, still lives with his body between you and the world, because that is what he chooses. But—

There is a wolf inside him. He wasn't born tame. This is the reason why you think he's changed.

It is not a corruption, not a failing, not a sickness. It is simply there, as much a part of him as the loyalty, as the tenderness, as the quiet way he looks at you like you are something holy. The wolf is not cruel. It is not mindless. It does not wish to harm. But it wants.

You have never had to see it because he never let you — but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. You think his hands were made to shield, to soothe, but that is only because he has never let you see the way they were also made to hold, to grip, to take.

He is the thing in the woods. The thing that lingers just beyond the firelight, just past the safe glow of home. He is the thing that wants to rip and tear, but not to destroy — not to kill. No, that would be too easy. He does not want to ruin you. He wants you to remain by his side forever.

And he knows that if he ever so much as breathes wrong, if he ever lets you see the way he looks at you when your back is turned, you would run.

So he stays where you left him. He plays the part he always has. The good boy. The guardian. The one you trust.

But when you press your cheek against his shoulder and sigh, when you curl your fingers around his wrist without thinking, when you whisper his name in the dark, he knows. He knows.

You do not understand what it means to press yourself into the waiting jaws of something that would never bite you but still wants to.

You do not understand that when you lean into him, when you trust him, you are feeding the very thing he is trying to starve.

And the thing is — both the dog and the wolf want the same thing.

To have you.

The dog wants to guard you, to protect you, to keep you safe in the way that all guardians do — by being a silent, unseen force, by waiting in the shadows, by letting you feel free while ensuring you never truly are. It does not control you. It does not take. It is patient, gentle, enduring. But it belongs to you so entirely, so thoroughly, that if you asked it to die for you, it wouldn’t hesitate.

The wolf? The wolf does not beg. The wolf does not ask permission. The wolf sees what it wants and takes it. The wolf does not serve, it claims. It sees you as something that belongs to it — not because it is entitled, not because it is cruel, but because it loves you the way hunger loves flesh. Because the wolf understands something the dog does not:

The only way to truly keep something is to consume it. To take it into yourself so fully that it can never be separate from you again.

But Caleb — Caleb — is the bridge between them. He has the wolf’s instincts and the dog’s discipline. The dog will heel when you tell it to, the wolf will wait because it chooses to, and Caleb is both. It would be easier if these two things were separate, if they hated each other, if they battled for control inside of him. But they don’t. They exist in harmony. They want the same thing.

The livestock guardian watches over you, protects you, ensures that no one lays a hand on you. The wolf ensures that no one takes you away, not even yourself.

The livestock guardian follows you, obeys you, kneels at your feet. The wolf is the reason he wants to.

The livestock guardian loves you. The wolf does, too. But love — real love — is not just something that gives. It is something that takes.

And you know what?

You never had a choice in the matter.

Not because he took that choice from you. Not because he forced you into anything.

But because, from the very beginning, from the moment you met him, before you even understood what he was—

You made him yours.

[destinyisastar]

Can I request an alastor and reader, where the reader is the owner of the alastor's soul, because in the beginning the alastor hated having made that contract that made him sell his soul, but as time goes by the alastor falls in love with the reader, and if If you feel comfortable, he is also being turned into a yandere by the reader (this yandere part can be removed if you don't want it), so reader tired of Alastor's antics and maybe a little scared, she the reader had an idea to make Alastor unwillingly to help Charlie and his hotel project. Could you do what Alastor would be like in the beginning until his more romantic transformation, what kind of things could happen...I'm curious

Say your Mine

Alastor x Fem Overlord Reader

Summary: You are a powerful overlord who is rising to the top, until a new sinner starts to take over what's yours. Once a deal has been made your new pet has taken more than a fancy to you. How will you deal with him now?

More info!: I am sorry that this took so long!! I made Alastor a slight Yandere (he seems more like a pathetic man in love I think). Also, Readers power is similar to that of Chuuya's from bsd! I really liked this idea I hope you enjoy this anon! Thank you so much for requesting!! This is a long one so beware!

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

You beam with pride as you see sinners on the street run into the shadows to hide from you. Grinning widely at them as they curl up in fear, one even kneeling before you, begging at your feet.

 Making a name for yourself was surprisingly easy once you landed in hell. Of course, you had the little rough and tumble with a couple of overlords, but you always came out on top.  Deals upon deals fell into your palm. You never dealt with your soul, absolutely never, you were no fool. Unless of course you knew you would never lose in the first place. Your good friend (A friend? In hell? Surprisingly yes!) Zestial wanted to make a deal with you when you first met.

“You are making quite the name for yourself….”

“Impressed aren’t your Zestial?” You asked grinning.

Zestial chuckles, “Would you care for a deal, my dear?” He bends himself down to your level, “I never deal with anyone I know won’t make it worth my time….”

“Oh, Zestial… I would have to say ……. no!” You giggle, lightly nudging him away. “But I could offer my friendship to you instead!”

And that was that!

However now there was someone moving in on your territory… A newcomer who sinners called the Radio Demon… He was stealing your mojo, killing off overlords left and right broadcasting their screams on his little radio show how…. peculiar.

Now you were making your way to his station to either end his life or offer him a deal…

 oh, this will be fun….

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

 “Well, I didn’t expect such a visit from an individual of your nature here Oh-ho!” A shadow comes from the ground taking form of the new overlord, Alastor.

“I simply came here for a chat Mr. “Radio Demon”, You tilt your head slightly, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” You say with a wide smile.

Ever the gentleman, the Radio Demon opens the door and leads you to his broadcasting room.

“I don’t suspect you came here for a friendly chat....” The demon says with a wild grin.

“How correct you are……”

Alastor summons his shadow creatures, and they begin their assault.

The little one pounces on you trying to scratch out your eyes, but you quickly throw it off making it splat into the wall. Another yanks your arm, opening its mouth yet the creature doesn’t get a chance to take a bite, as you rip its head off with your other hand.

Alastor summons his tentacles, wrapping them around you and slamming you into the wall.

“This is useless darling…. All your work will have been for nothing.” His eyes turning into radio dials. “You poor fool, you truly thought you could defeat me…”

“I’m the fool?”

“Yes! Are you becoming deaf my dear? Are you such a weakling that you lost your hearing already? You haven’t even left a scratch on me!” He laughs.

You laugh along with him. “Oh, Alastor…. You’re so pathetic…”

Alastor tilts his head to the side with a screech of static, “Pray tell how I am the pathetic one, when you are the one in corner?”

“Your so full of yourself!” You giggle.

Alastor feels the ground underneath him begin to shake, he looks down to see floor breaking apart. Hands come from the darkness beneath him making his tentacles release you. He tries to get away, but the hands grab him throwing him through the ceiling of his radio station all the way to hell’s red sky. Alastor falls to ground with painful loud static making the sinners on street run to safety.

You come out of the destroyed station wiping the dust off you as you make your way to the overlord on the ground.

“I’m the fool you said.” You kick Alastor in the stomach as he tries to stand up.

Alastor falls to the ground once more, his grin stretching higher.

You grab his hair to level himself with you as you stand, “My, my how pathetic you look right now Radio Demon!”

Alastor huffs, he summons his tentacles once more, but darkness beings to surround you forming a barrier cover you both completely, making his power somehow lessen.  

“Now, now I did indeed come for a chat! You just jumped to conclusions!” You let go of his hair with a push to the ground.

“I can see that you are as powerful as they say,” You let out an airy laugh, “Not as powerful as me though!”

Alastor lunges at you, a green aura surrounds him but he is quickly brought down by an unknown force.

“W̶͇̣̿̅ḥ̵̨͊͒ǎ̶̭̠̇t̷̝̦͘ ̸̖̀̽̋t̶̟͉̬̿͆̚ḣ̵̜̥̔é̷̢̙̩̔͋ ̷̨͈̥̆̍̅f̶̻͋̎ů̴͔̀c̵̟̔k̶̰̟͚̾ ̵̨̜̤̀̈́͗ä̴͙̲̩́r̸̹͉͙̓̾͋è̴̟̘ ̴̘͌̔̐y̵̬͙͌ö̴͎͖́u̵̗̩̎͜ ̸̝̼̬̾̄̚d̵͚̏̃o̸͕̞͔̚i̴͎̤̇̇n̶̻̯̊̅ḡ̷̐͜͝ ̶͇̘̓̀t̴͖͔̉̒͗ớ̸̢̥͊ ̵̣̊̈́͜͜͝m̵͎͔͛̾e̸̲̺͓̎!̸̜̰͎̔” He screeches out.

“I’m just making sure you know that I am more powerful than you…now what..should..I.. do..with…you? Hmmmm?”

Alastor snarls, he tries to claw your face, but his arms are forcefully pulled down.

“Let’s make a deal.”

“W̶̥̅h̴̨̟͝a̶̧͇̯͆t̸͈̦̬͠͠?̵̻̥͊͐̚”

“A deal! Hello!? Are you the one deaf now? Hmm?”

Alastor stares at you with a terrifying grin.

You raise your hand towards him, “We could forget this little mishap ever happened… I can help you on your little route on becoming the most powerful overlord hell has ever seen…. Of course, you would have to obey every single one of my commands, come to me at my every beck and call…… it’s just the cost of your soul...” This time you’re the one grinning at him.

“Come on now….” You release him from the force of your power, “Its only your soul…. Don’t you want more power than you can ever imagine…. Don’t be a fool Alastor…. Shake my hand.”

Alastor now on his knees, stares at you as you stand above him, he raises his hand, “Immense power….?”

“Exactly.”

He takes hold of your hand.

“A wise decision Alastor.”

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

Alastor despised you…. well, at first, he did.

In the beginning of your little partnership, you treated him like a dog… making him fetch little things for you… making him cook for you…it was humiliating.

The Radio Demon became nothing more than a maid.

He grits his teeth as he stirs the pot of jambalaya, you had specifically requested it, he turns to see you at the dining table staring at the window.

His heart starts to… flutter? Why did it do that?

You turn around to meet his gaze, “How’s it coming along, Al?” you smile at him.

“Its coming along rather nicely my dear!” He tells you as he turns back towards the pot, adding a bit of spice to it.

Alastor feels your eyes still on him, “Anything interesting happen today, Alastor?”

He grabs a bowl from the top shelf, tastes the jambalaya for a final time before pouring some into the bowl for you, “Oh just the usual darling, sinners falling at my feet, begging for forgiveness…I visited Rosie today as well.”

“And how was Rosie? I need to pay her a visit soon.” Alastor walks towards you placing the bowl in front of you.

“She’s doing well, she even gained new territory.” He stands by your side.

You grab a spoonful and put it in your mouth. “Oh, Alastor its delightful! Wonderful as usual!” You beam at him.

“Why of course it is, I made it! Ha-ha!” He begins to walk away when you grab his arm.

“Won’t you stay with me… you made the meal, stay please?”

Even though you treated him like a maid most of the time, you enjoyed his presence.

Alastor looked down at you, you with your soft smile, his own smile growing.

“I’d be glad too!” He grabs himself a bowl and sits beside you. “How was your day my dear?”

You continue to eat your meal, stopping to take a sip of your drink, “It was quite a good day, I managed to strike a deal with Carmilla, her mass weapon produce continues to grow, and I have a feeling that will be needing them soon.”

Alastor eats his meal, and it indeed is a wonderful meal (he made it! Of course, it’s delicious!). “Why do you think that?”

“Its mostly a gut feeling...”

The conversations flow easily.

It felt oddly domestic.

As you speak, Alastor feels a warm feeling pouring in his chest.  After all these years standing by your side following your orders, he thought he would hate you more, but you kept your part of the deal by giving him the power he desired. You never let anyone know that you owned his soul out of respect (was it respect? Maybe?), and he appreciated that. He appreciated the overlord who owned his soul.

He sees your hand on top of the table and reaches for it, its smaller compared to his.

You stop talking and look down at your hand to see Alastor’s slightly rubbing your hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

Alastor stays silent for a moment, “I….I enjoy spending time with you.” his radio voice is off.

It’s your turn to be silent. You remove your hand from his, “Thank you for the meal, Alastor.” You stand up from your seat, “Do you think you can clean up? I’m a bit tired from today I’m gonna head to bed early, again thank you.”

As you head to your room you feel Alastor’s gaze upon you.

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

Alastor has gotten close to you in the past days. A bit too close and personal. Lately all he’s been doing is trailing after you. Usually, he would go about his day and doesn’t come near you till you call him. You don’t mind that he dotes on you, but he doesn’t seem to be acting like his old self. The self that wanted you dead. You won’t lie, you enjoyed that part of him seeing as he wanted nothing more to be powerful.

“My dear, I believe this would look outstanding on you.” Alastor says as he points to a dress in a boutique window.

“Yes,” You say as you continue walking past the window, “It does seem pretty, but I do have enough clothing.” You turn around to face him not noticing an electrical static presence behind you.

“Why hello there Y/n! A hellish day we’re having today, aren’t we?” Vox says behind you.

Alastor’s grin tightens.

“Oh, hello Vox, I’m surprised your out on this side of hell.”

“I just felt like taking a walk around, I don’t think there’s any harm in that.” Vox leans down near your face.

“There’s always harm wherever you go.” You push his screen away.

Vox laughs, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Alastor stands behind you, a growing rumbling red feeling grows within him. Why are you chatting with that bumbling fool. He is nothing. He’s not worth your time. That’s right, you’re spending time with him today! Not Vox!

“Ha-ha-HA!” Alastor suddenly appears between you and vox. “Well, if I knew that such a garbage piece technology would appear I would have walked myself straight into the nearest hell pit!”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t come here to chat with you! You old trash!” Vox sneers at Alastor.

“Is that the best you got, pal!?” he says with a static voice.

“I have plenty more where that came from, but I don’t want to waste anymore of my time with you!” Vox turns to you. “I’m sorry for that my dear,” He grabs your hand looking sincere, “I’d like to speak with you privately if I may.”

“What would we be speaking about?”

“Ah, I’d prefer if we spoke without prying eyes surrounding us.” He stands closer to you pushing Alastor away.

Alastor huffs.

“How about we have dinner together?”

Alastor’s static cut off. Dinner? Dinner with V̷̞̪̑̇o̴̭͘x̶̦̻͠ ? No. The answer will. Be. No.

“I don’t believe I have anything planned for this evening… I’ll take you up on that offer.” You smile at him.

No. Why did you say yes? WHY? Alastor feels his façade beginning to crack.

“Great! Does seven o’clock sound good to you?” Vox grins at you.

“Sure.”

Vox nods his head at you and zaps off into the nearest electrical wire.

Alastor stays silent.

“Why the long face Al?”

He shoots his head up giving you a grin, “Oh, nothing darling, I was just wonder why you would waste your time with such a pathetic piece of “tech”.”

“Vox’s technology is advancing from what I had in the past, I feel as I need to keep up with the future.” You look him in the eyes. “Don’t you think we should keep up with the times in order to succeed?”

“Don’t you think I’m enough for you?”

“What?”

“You don’t need that loon! I’m all the future that you need! We can work together, you and I!” He grabs both of your hands clasping them together, pulling you towards him, not caring that sinners are staring. “I’m all that you need.”

“Alastor,” You try to pull away from his grasp, but his hold tightens. “Let go now before I make you regret it.” Your tone turning more serious by the second.

He lets go but his hand traces yours, “You don’t need him… I treasure your presence that imbecile would only use you, my darling.” He cups your cheek, but you swat him away.

“Go back to your home Alastor. I’ll call you if I need you.” You stare at him one final time before walking away and Alastor disappears into the shadows.

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

You had just about enough of this.

As you were sitting across from Vox eating your dinner, he talked about the advancements he made in his security systems, the newest models of these so called “phones”, how he was hoping that with your help he could expand his business across the seven rings.

You were intrigued, not only would you acquire the knowledge of these new technologies, but you would be even stronger than you are now. Vox’s help would certainly make things far easier for you.

“What’s the catch?” You ask him before taking a sip of your drink.

“No catch at all, I would just like to form a partnership with you. I believe together we can strike fear into these worthless sinners. Our business together would make others tremble in fear.” He smiles genuinely at you.

“A business partnership?”

“If you’d like to call it that.”

You raised your hand towards him, “Deal.” You smile back at him.

As Vox was about to shake your hand a tentacle broke through the window grabbing him and slamming down to the streets of hell.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Vox yells.

“Y̶͈̋o̵̘̩͒̊u̷̼͋ ̴̬̼̎̓ḍ̵͋ä̷͕͍̎r̸̪̈́ę̸̡̊̅ ̷̤̹̄̽ṭ̵̥̂r̵̢̖͌y̵̙̎̾ ̴̘̄̒ț̴̡͝o̸͕͙̊̕ ̵͖̉̔ṱ̸̋a̴̪͚̓k̷̥̈́͒è̵��͝ ̴͓͌̓w̸̦̒̈́h̴̫͕́ä̶̻͝t̵͕̙̓̚'̸̡̿s̵͚̾̇ ̸̣̻̔m̵̘̼͝i̶͈̮̽n̶̜̐̚e̸̠̲͊͝?̸̪̈́” Alastor’s demonic form takes shape, a booming static floods through the city.

“Of course, it’s you, you old fuck.” Vox gets up with a shake in his legs. “Taking what’s yours? Are you so old that you forgot that, that woman is a complete league above the rest of us? I can admit that. Can you?”

Alastor cracks his neck to the side. His shadow puppets forming around Vox, his tentacles racing towards him.

Vox takes a stance, his electrical waves were about to strike Alastor,

Until you came in between them, the gravitational pull from your power pulling them to the ground, the darkness taking hold of them till they calm down.

You walk over to Vox first, “I am deeply sorry for this, Vox,” You release him from your grasp, you can hear Alastor thrashing around behind you. “I would like to continue our conversation at a later time, before I make our deal, I need to deal with him first….” You tone becoming aggravated.

“HA!” He looks towards Alastor who is still on the ground, “ No fucking way are you acting like a fucking child HA!!” He cackles.

“Vox….”

Vox visibly shivers, he turns slowly towards you, “Yes…?”

“You may go home…. now.”

“Ah! Yes! Of course, Hahahaa! I’ll see you soon!” Vox teleports away.

You begin making your way to Alastor, tightening your hold on him, forming the dark barrier around you like when you first met.

“What the fuck were you think you stupid fucking fool?”

He begins to let out a static screech.

You release him from your grasp and instead tug on the chain that forms around his neck. “You disobeyed my orders, how FUCKING DARE YOU!” Your demonic form grows larger.

“How should I punish you? Hmm?”

Alastor tries to grab your hands, but you slap them away.

An idea pops into your head, and you release Alastor from your tight grip, but not yet letting go of his chain.

“Do you enjoy spending time with me Al?”

Alastor starts to breathe normally again and crawls towards you, “Yes… yes I do.”

“You don’t deserve to be by my side.”

His static begins to take over the barrier.

“You made me look like a fool… you say you cherish me, yet you had the audacity to do this.”  You grab his chin making him look upwards at you, “That won’t do at all….”

“I order you to be in a pit of darkness…. Only and only when I call upon you shall you return to my side and obey my orders.”

“W̵͔̲͒͑H̷̙̫̹͔͎̒͝Ą̷̟̜͋͒̊́͠ͅT̵̢̧̩̙̖̓͂̅?̵̡̛̥͖̈́̃̚”

“Ń̶͉̤̥̲̹̩̅̓̌̏̔̚͜Ỏ̷̢͕̑̑̉͝͝!̸͚͐̏͆”

A dark pit forms beneath him, Alastor tries to claw his way towards you.

“L̵̟̮̈́Ę̷̝̮͍̦́̍͘͘T̶̖͙̰̪̎̿͠ ̶̧̪̥̝̙͂̽̎M̶͖͍̿̌́̈͝Ẹ̷̜̯̐ ̷͈̟̳̖̮̏͋͘S̴̢͔̙̮̈́̔͒T̶̨̡͕̎A̵̝͔͈̾̓Y̸̙͖̌ ̸̨̥͈̀̀͂̌B̵̢͍̣̐̒̑̚͠Y̶̢͚̳̓ ̵͓͐̀́Ȳ̸̺͝O̷̮͈͝Ù̸͎̳̈̋R̵͙̝͉͋͂ ̴͎̝̱͗̂ͅŞ̷̩̂͊̔͛͝I̷̫̼̳̎̒͜͜Ḓ̸̍̄͝È̵̡͔͙̻͂̚”

Shadowy hands grab him and pull him down to the darkness and the pit closes.

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

It’s been seven years and you’ve been doing great. You were able to gain new territories and eliminate those pesky pathetic overlords that are of absolutely no help to you.

You sit in your living room watching the 666-news channel. Normally you wouldn’t partake in such wasteful time, but vox had gotten you a new television set that he said, “was to die for”.

And an upcoming guest on the news was Princess Charlie Morningstar. You rarely ever spoke to the Morningstar family, you only spoke to Lilith as you both had quite similar interests. You considered her a good friend though you haven’t seen her in quite a while, last you heard from her she said she was taking care of business.

Princess Morningstar spoke about a project she was developing, a hotel for sinners to be redeemed. How unusual. Sinners wanting to be redeemed? How laughable. This is hell, no one can be redeemed….. or can they? You were intrigued. After seeing how the princess became a laughingstock after her song, you decided you wanted to “help” her.

Of course you wouldn’t show your face there yourself, no, no, no. You would send someone over there to guide her.

With a snap of your fingers a dark pit opened up on the floor next to you and a red being was formed.

The radio demon was on his knees while you continued to watch the television, sipping your tea.

Without looking at him, “Alastor…. Stand.”

Alastor gets up, wipes the dust off his coat and stands by your side, silently watching with a crackle of static.

“My dear, I apologize for acting out of sorts the last time we spoke….” He bends himself lower. “Please forgive me….”

“Watch the television.”

Alastor focuses his gaze on the … tv…. disgusting.

He sees the Princess of Hell fighting the news reporter… what was that woman’s name again? Killer? Killeye? It doesn’t matter.

“What’s my purpose in watching this noisy picture box?”

“The Princess wants to make a hotel to redeem sinners…”

“What does that have to with me?”

“I want you to help her.”

Alastor’s static cuts off abruptly, “What?!”

“Help the Princess with her project, even you might find it interesting.”

“That’s absurd!”

You glare at him, “Do you dare question me?”

“Of course not my dear…..”

A chain is summoned around Alastor’s neck, and you move him towards you. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”

Alastor grits his tightening smile. “I’ve spent years without you….  I don’t think I can bear to be without you any longer.” He grabs your hands that hold his chain. “Let me stay by your side…I won’t cause trouble for you again.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?” You pull his chain harder.

“You’re the one not listening to me.” He mutters.

You, in fact, pretend not to listen to him.

“Go to her hotel and help her, guide her.”

“Is that what you wish of me, my dear?”

You face him, “Yes that’s what I want you to do.”

Alastor huffs and grabs your hand, placing it on his cheek, rubbing his face slightly with it. “Let me stay…. Let me be yours….”

You indulge him for a minute, but you quickly stand up from your seat.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Alastor, who is still on his knees, looks upwards at you, arms wrap around your waist. He nuzzles his face on you, “Yes, I understand….. but I do have a request….”

“And what would that request be?”

“If I do this… can I be yours….?” His eyes forming radio dials, static rings in your ears.

You smile down at him, running your hand through his hair, playing with his ears. You then bend down lower to his level, nearing his lips but not quite touching them.

“You can be mine.”

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

Hi everyone! I know I haven't posted in a bit! Sorry!! I recently been getting to the persona series, the music goes hard! You should give Heartbeat Heartbreak a listen!

WordCount: 3619

destinyisastar 2024

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

hey so how do you think the bay boys would deal with having a s/o who sometimes randomly cups their cheeks and gives them forehead kisses and then a kiss on the mouth while saying they love them or call them handsome and then they proceed to leave unless their boyfriend yanks them into a hold so they stay put? Happens once a day as long as s/o is not feeling negative vibes?

Affectionate S/Os are treasures to be protected, and I agrue every single Bayverse guy NEEDS an affectionate S/O like this.

But everyone has a different personality, right? I think Raph and Donnie need physical affection like this the most, but Mikey and Leo would be the ones most likely to initiate this kind of thing to you. But anyway-

This is how THEY react.

Enjoy!

Random Kisses X Bayverse Turtles

Mikey

-Loves that you do this shit often enough that he can pretend he's the shit.

-Thinks it's funny when your kissing and babying him and he can preen.

-Looking around the room like he's a big, strong man that owns world while you are making "kiskiskiskiskis" noises to his cheeks.

-Also loves to play victim.

-Is the boyfriend that, if asked, "Do you need kisses?" Mikey'll curl up under you and nod pathetically- even if he had an awesome day.

-"You okay, baby?" You ask.

-"Mmm." He makes a dismissive noise into your chest.

-"You need kisses, baby?" You ask.

-"Mmhm." He moans sadly.

-You press hundreds of those tiny, rabid fire kisses to the scales of his scalp.

-Then when you stop your met with another sad, pathetic groan.

-Mikey is also the boyfriend most likely to give you the same disgusting treatment. -Always looking for an opportunity for ambush kisses.

-Be careful

Leo

-He doesn't like it if he's already overwhelmed or preoccupied

-It can overstimulate him

-But he NEEDS that connection. He needs affection.

-if things are calm, if all the chores are done and it's time to decompress and relax (something he's learning how to do)

-and he's sitting down or curled up with you-

-he compelelty melts. Literally. Physically into you.

-he usually tries to hide his smile or stop himself from laughing.

-"Stopp, this isn't-" "staap"

-Its so fucking adorable. He's fun cuz he can be that fucking awesome, badass, highly specialized and experienced superhero- then also be a needy cuddle bug that practically begs for attention and needs to be held all the time.

-he also the second most likely brother to give the same treatment.

-Loves to surpise you with kisses and hugs.

Raph

-He's had a very difficult time reciprocating this level of cuteness to you without prompt, its something he's working on

-However

-In front of people, he's all like, "Ew. No. Stop. Get off me. This is dumb. I'm a man."

-Then during cuddle times HES the one who crawls into your lap and kinda just...begs with his eyes.

-Also he's hilarious because he sucks, SUCKS at pretending he doesn't actually freakn love it.

-It's hard for him to NOT smile around you when he wants to. So if your ambushing him infront of others or by himseld he's like, trying to push you away while saying, "S-stop, no." But his smile is super wide and he can't look at you in the eyes

-It's disgusting 😭

-Its also extremely meaningful to him, when you do this. Gets him feeling attractive and adored- he won't admit it but it's kinda hard for him to hide that he's flattered too.

-If he's been having a hard, overwhelming season and you pull that while alone with him, it's a struggle not to pull you closer and cry.

Donnie

-Unlike Leo, this is the best way to distract Donnie.

-If he's feeling overwhelmed by work or tasks- calling his name then grabbing his cheeks and kissing him all over will turn his internal world into a very quiet, loving place instantly.

-Hes usually pretty confident, and it's easy for him to talk, but if you do this he'll get all shy and embarrassed

-His smile is super wide and he pulls his head back on his neck while trying to lean away or avoid looking at you

-It's SO fucking cute

-The hardest part about this is if he's not sitting down-

-This shit is extremely difficult

-I don't care how tall you are. Donnie is taller and it's DIFFICULT to ambush him with face or head kisses.

-You just know 90% of your relationship with from his perspective is you looking up at him doing grabby fingers

-Good luck with that

[nickistuffs]

Almost, Maybe

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: Harry struggles with his growing feelings for Y/N as an evening with their close friend Sam makes it difficult for him to navigate

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None. It's Angsty

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

Harry didn’t know why he agreed to this.

Well, he did. It was because you asked. And how could he say no when you had looked up at him with that hopeful smile, your hand lightly tugging on his sleeve as you said, “I want you to meet Sam properly.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He wasn’t even sure why it did. You and he had been spending so much time together lately—dinners that stretched late into the evening and walks through the park that felt stolen from a different lifetime, conversations that made the world outside seem a little quieter. It was easy and natural, and he liked to think that it meant something.

But now, sitting across from you and Sam in a small café, he felt completely and utterly out of place.

The two of you were seated next to each other in the booth, your bodies angled ever so slightly inward. The air between you was filled with a kind of familiarity that made his stomach twist—like he was intruding on something he didn’t quite understand.

You were laughing at something Sam had said, your hand brushing against theirs as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. But Harry had never seen you like this before—not with him.

"She wasn’t like this with me."

Not the casual touches, not the way her head leaned on Sam’s shoulder as it had always belonged there, not the way her eyes softened when she looked at them.

Harry shifted in his seat, forcing himself to tear his gaze away before the bitterness in his chest made its way to his expression. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he had no claim over you, no right to feel this slow-burning jealousy creeping up his spine.

Calm down. Sam is the best friend. Nothing else. Right?

He picked up his cup, letting the warmth seep into his palms before speaking, keeping his tone as level as possible.

"So, how do you two know each other?"

The question came out smoother than he expected as if his emotions weren’t threatening to spill over.

Sam took a sip of their coffee before leaning back against the seat, completely at ease.

"We had a technical drawing class, and I was a hopeless case. Y/n, being the nicest person alive, saw my suffering and helped me get a passing grade."

You giggled, nudging Sam playfully. "Hey, you were great."

"Yeah, between the two of us, your grades were better," Sam shot back with a smirk.

Harry’s grip on his coffee cup tightened.

The way you laughed with Sam—it was different. The two of you shared a history, a connection that didn’t need words. You had always been warm, always kind, but with Sam, it was something else entirely.

Something he wasn’t a part of.

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever have.

The café buzzed softly around him, the scent of coffee lingering in the air, the sound of distant conversations filling the spaces between your laughter. But to Harry, everything else felt muted.

His thoughts were drowning in the realization that maybe—just maybe—he had been fooling himself.

That all those stolen moments, the quiet smiles, the lingering glances… they had meant something to him.

But had they meant something to you?

Harry swallowed thickly, setting his cup down a little too carefully. If you noticed the tension creeping into his shoulders, you didn’t say anything.

And that, somehow, made it worse.

Harry blinked, pulled from his thoughts as Sam’s question settled between them.

"I mean, I knew I gave her the gig for your pop-up shop last month," Sam added, stirring his coffee. "But how did you two meet?"

You turned to Harry, waiting for his answer with an easy smile, but he hesitated for just a second too long.

Finally, he exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "It was at an art market near my place," he said, fingers drumming lightly against the table. "I was just passing through, wasn’t planning on staying long, but—"

"But you did," you chimed in, tilting your head playfully.

Harry’s lips quirked up at the memory. "Yeah. I saw your work, and got curious." He paused, then, with a small smirk, added, "And you wouldn’t stop talking about the piece I was looking at."

You laughed. "Because you were staring at it for way too long! I had to check if you were okay."

Sam chuckled. "Let me guess—he brooded over it like it held the meaning of life?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "Something like that."

"And he even complimented my artwork," you added, nudging him slightly.

Harry met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. "I meant it."

The words came out softer than he intended. And for a second, the rest of the café faded into the background.

Sam, oblivious, simply grinned. "Well, guess I have you to thank for finally getting her to work with you, then."

Harry forced a chuckle, tearing his eyes away. But as the conversation continued, he found himself stuck in that moment—back at the art market, where he first saw you.

And back to now, where he realized that maybe he had never really looked away.

The conversation continued as Harry, Sam, and you swapped stories, but your phone buzzed in your pocket just as the mood started to settle into a comfortable rhythm.

You looked at it and saw the name flashing across the screen. A quick, apologetic smile passed your lips as you reached for your phone.

"Sorry, guys, I have to take this," you said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

Harry tried to mask his curiosity, but the furrow of his brows betrayed him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice a little tighter than usual.

You nodded, though there was a slight hesitation in your gaze. "Yeah, just my mum," you assured him, offering him a smile before stepping away to take the call.

Sam shot Harry a curious look as you walked off, phone pressed to your ear.

"So..." Sam began, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "You two seem pretty close. How long has this been going on?"

Harry stiffened, unsure how to answer. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight in his chair. "We’ve known each other for a while," he said, keeping it vague. He didn’t want to give too much away—especially not with him, all too aware of the tension brewing beneath the surface.

Sam raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling into a knowing smile. "I can see that. But I guess I’m curious... is there more to this?"

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, trying to maintain his composure.

"I’m not sure what you mean," he said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

Sam chuckled as if he could sense Harry’s discomfort. "I’m just saying, it’s pretty clear you two have something going on. Don’t try to act like I don’t see the way you look at her."

Harry’s pulse quickened, his mind racing for the right words

"I’m not sure what you mean," he said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

His throat tightened. "She’s just… a good friend," he muttered, even though it didn’t feel entirely true anymore.

Sam’s smirk faded into something a little more thoughtful. His voice lowered again as if the shift in mood had made him reconsider his words. "You know," Sam said, glancing over at you talking to your phone, "back in uni, I had feelings for Y/n. We were close… but it wasn’t the right time. She never really felt the same way. I could tell."

Harry looked at Sam, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected confession. Sam had always been friendly with you, but hearing him talk about this other side made Harry pause.

Sam continued, his tone softer now, more serious. "She wears her heart on her sleeve, you know? She tried to love before, really tried, but after that... she closed herself off for a while. It took a long time for her to open up to people again."

Harry felt a pang in his chest, the words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder about the past you hadn’t shared with him, the part of you that had been guarded for so long. Was it something he could ever break through?

Sam caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes a mixture of sincerity and something like brotherly concern. "So... just be gentle with her, alright? She’s been through enough. And if you care, don’t rush things. Let her take the lead on this one."

The weight of Sam’s words hung in the air, and Harry found himself swallowing down the lump in his throat. He glanced at you again, his gaze softening as he noticed how relaxed you were, and how easy you made everything look.

You weren’t the same as the person Sam had known in university. You were different, stronger now—but Harry could see that same vulnerability beneath the surface, the one Sam had been talking about. And maybe... just maybe, he had a chance to be part of the one who helped you heal.

Before he could say anything, Sam’s tone shifted, more lighthearted again. "But don’t worry, mate. You’ve got a good chance." He winked at Harry and took another sip of his coffee.

You, meanwhile, had finished your phone call, your focus back on the table. Your smile flickered in Harry’s direction once more, and though it was soft, it was enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

He wanted to be gentle with you. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to make you feel safe again. Safe enough to open up, to trust him.

...

You smiled apologetically as you sat back down, tucking your phone into your bag. "Sorry guys, my mum just wanted to greet me. So, what did you guys talk about?"

Sam, always quick with his teasing, smirked and looked at Harry before turning his attention back to you. "You, duh, what else?" he said playfully, raising an eyebrow as if daring Harry to say something.

Harry froze for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly around his coffee cup. Sam’s words weren’t helping with the tension that had been building up between them. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh it off or just brush it aside, but the way Sam was looking at him made it hard to ignore.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Really?" you chuckled, glancing between the two of them. "Come on, you’re not trying to make him uncomfortable, are you, Sam?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning. "I’m just saying, Harry’s been quiet. I was making sure he was still awake."

Harry couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Yeah, I’m here. Just... listening."

You smiled, clearly relieved by his response, but Sam’s teasing wasn’t letting up. He shifted in his seat, looking at Harry with a knowing grin. "Sure you are, mate. Just listening, huh? Or were you too busy thinking about something else?"

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks again, but he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. "Alright, alright, I get it," he said, trying to play it off as casually as possible. "You both have no shame."

You rolled your eyes at Sam, but there was a softness in your expression as you turned back to Harry. "Honestly, don’t mind him. He’s always like this. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him."

"Hey, hey," Sam protested, raising his hands defensively. "I’m just looking out for you, Harry. Gotta make sure you’re up to speed, you know?"

The tension between the two of them was starting to ease, but Harry’s mind kept drifting back to what Sam had said earlier. He couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was more going on between him and you than he’d originally thought. But for now, he let it go, deciding to enjoy the evening.

And for a moment, all the awkwardness between Harry and Sam seemed to disappear as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, with you guiding them through the evening. Still, Harry couldn’t help but wonder where things might go from here—especially now that Sam’s comments had planted a seed in his mind.

...

As the evening stretched on, the café’s soft hum settled into something quieter, more intimate. The three of you had been talking for over an hour now, but eventually, Sam glanced at their watch and let out a sigh.

"Well, this has been fun," Sam said, stretching their arms lazily. "But I should probably get going. Got an early start tomorrow."

You pouted playfully. "Already? You barely even finished your coffee."

Sam smirked. "I was too busy entertaining you two to drink it properly."

Harry chuckled, but a strange relief settled in his chest. Sam had been nothing but friendly, but their presence had been a quiet weight pressing down on him, an unspoken reminder of something he couldn’t quite name. Now, with Sam leaving, the air between you and Harry felt suddenly charged, a thread of something unspoken stretching between you both.

Sam slid out of the booth, grabbing their jacket. "You two enjoy the rest of your night. And Harry?" They clapped a hand on his shoulder, voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. "Don’t overthink too much, alright?"

Harry blinked, but before he could respond, Sam was already turning back to you with a grin. "Text me later, yeah?"

"Of course," you said easily, standing to give Sam a quick hug before they waved and disappeared through the café doors, leaving behind only the soft jingle of the bell.

And just like that, you and Harry were alone.

The absence of a third voice made it impossible to ignore the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. You shifted in your seat, looking at him with a small smile, but Harry couldn’t miss the way your fingers toyed with the rim of your cup—a nervous habit he had come to recognize.

"So," you said, breaking the silence first. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "No. Not at all."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "You were quiet, though. Everything alright?"

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. But then he met your gaze—open, expectant, and far too easy to get lost in—and found himself saying, "It was just... different. Seeing you with Sam."

You frowned slightly. "Different how?"

Harry hesitated, drumming his fingers against the table. "I don’t know. You seemed—comfortable. Close. Like you two had this whole history I wasn’t a part of."

Your expression softened, something flickering behind your eyes. "Sam is... well, they’ve been around for a long time. But that doesn’t mean you’re not important, too."

His heart did something strange at that. He looked down at his hands, trying to find the right words, but before he could speak, you reached across the table, your fingers brushing his lightly. It was brief, fleeting, but enough to make him look up again.

"Harry," you said gently, "you don’t have to feel like an outsider."

His breath caught slightly. "It’s hard not to, sometimes."

You sighed as if debating something internally, before giving his hand a small squeeze. "You mean a lot to me. I hope you know that."

The words sent a rush of warmth through his chest, but they also left him aching for something more. Still, he forced himself to nod, offering you a small smile. "Yeah. I know."

For now, that was enough. But as he looked at you, taking in the quiet sincerity in your eyes, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe—just maybe—there was still more waiting to be said.

...

My first angst fic. I hope you all like it hehe <3

[muniimyg]

6: the madness // series m.list

note: say u missed me or else i’ll cry 🫵

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

Timing.

You’ve never really understood it. Not to mention the whole invisible string theory and how implausible it seems… How is it that you can coexist with the love of your life for years and not be with them until the time is right?

Isn’t that strange?

Love is all-consuming, inevitable, and perfect, but its greatest weakness is a mere concept: time.

Speaking of time, you’re early.

As you enter the restaurant and greet your friends, you can’t help but check your phone every other minute. Waiting for a text from him, checking the time, and wondering when he’ll arrive… It feels exhausting to be in this state of longing.

How is it that you’ve been friends with him for so long and now you need him more than ever?

To hold you and tell you everything is alright.

To smile at you like you’re his favorite person in the entire world.

To just be with him.

Even if today wasn’t life or death, you felt so helpless. It felt like everything was against you.

Yes, it was just about a stupid presentation (that barely scratches the surface of your future), but it was still a tough thing to get through alone. It was unexpected and filled with minor mistakes, making it feel like a complete defeat.

So much happened.

First, you slept through your alarm.

Though you made it right on time, you didn’t have the extra moments to prepare and run through your presentation like you had originally planned.

Then, since there was no time for prep, you encountered technical difficulties. Your notes were missing for some reason…

And your stuttering!

God, you never stuttered so much in your life.

It was truly an off morning.

… And it doesn’t end there.

Nope!

As you texted Jungkook and updated him, you remembered that you had a rescheduled quiz to take… You know, the one that you completely forgot to review last night because your head was all over this stupid presentation.

The quiz went fine but it could’ve been better.

You know you could’ve done better.

That’s probably what annoys you the most. Everything that occurred today wasn’t up to your standard performance level. Humanizing it is difficult because the truth is simple…

Some days just aren’t good.

Some days you just have to take the L.

Some days you just need to breathe through.

And that’s okay.

Because after all the bad, losing, and catching-your-breath moments—there’s him.

The very thought of him eases you. Talking to him makes you feel like you’re bigger than the bad and the losing. Being with him is as easy as breathing.

“Hey ___,” an unfamiliar voice disrupts your thoughts. You turn your head to see who it is. Beside you, a tall man with a broad build offers you a smile. He has short hair and dimples. Even with just his appearance, he’s charming (you can’t deny that).

Politely, you return it but it’s obvious you’re confused.

“… I’m so sorry,” you feel slightly embarrassed to not remember his name. “You are?”

“Mingyu,” he introduces himself, stepping closer and offering his hand. You take it, shaking it slowly and unsure.

He tries again.

“I’m Jungkook’s friend,” Mingyu explains. “You’re Jungkook’s… Uh?”

“O-oh!” you avoid the question and redirect the conversation. “Are you in his friend group with Jaehyun and them?”

He scoffs. “By ‘them’ you mean those guys?”

Mingyu points to a group of tall guys hovering over the menu display. You count them and can’t help but laugh.

Then, you notice one.

“Is that DK? I think Jungkook introduced me to him when we were walking home a few weeks ago!” From where you are, you wave at DK. DK sees you from the corner of his eye and sends you a smile. He gestures for you to come over. For the second time, you smile politely and feel stuck.

What now?

“What’s Jungkook doing introducing you to DK and not me?” Mingyu chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood.

You purse your lips. “Ohh.. I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You’re cheeky,” you observe. “Yup… You’re definitely friends with Jungkook.”

Mingyu puts his hands up in surrender and then on your shoulders. “Guilty as charged.”

You laugh.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft and attractive—especially when you throw your head slightly back. Intrigued, he invites you to sit with them.

“You know the others, right? Hobi and them?”

“Yeah!” you answer him happily. “Hobi and I are actually pretty close—“

Mingyu’s puppy eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, shit really? So you don’t need to get to know them or anything?”

You blink at him.

“I guess?”

“Great!” Mingyu beams. “Good. Cool... Sit with me! I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

You know it’s all friendly nature.

Mingyu is known for being like this.

Goofy, a little deceptive, but a good guy overall. You have nothing to fear! Especially when he’s friends with Jungkook, right? He wouldn’t think of trying to flirt with you… Right?

What are you to Jungkook again?

Before you know it, Mingyu’s hands find yours. As he laces your fingers together, you feel your chest tighten.

This feels weird.

It feels like betrayal even though you know it’s not. Isn’t it ridiculous to be thinking this way?

You run excuses and options in your head.

Do you pull away and laugh it off? Do you just let him hold your hand and lead you to sit with him and the others? You aren’t sure… But the one thing that is clear is the look of annoyance on Jungkook’s face as he steps into the restaurant and his eyes land on your hands.

“Jungkook!”

As cinematic as it can be, that’s what it is. You shake Mingyu’s grasp off and rush to Jungkook. He’s completely taken aback, stumbling as you crash into him. A small laugh escapes his lips, as he finds your tiny charge at him to be the cutest thing you’ve done thus far. He barely walked in and you’re already in his arms.

Heaven, he thinks to himself.

As he wraps his arms around you, he kisses the top of your head. “Wow, look at you. Are you sure you’re my girl? Not shy anymore? Not avoiding me? I’m so proud of you, mi.”

He smells like him. Like his laundry detergent and his skin after his workout—a little sweaty but so addictive.

Is that weird?

Most importantly… Who cares?

He’s here.

You can breathe him in. You can breathe again.

You groan in embarrassment. Pulling away, you keep yourself close enough to rest your chin on his chest. He lowers his gaze at you, eyes softening as his lips curve into a pout.

“Bad day?”

“Better now,” you hum, hugging him tighter. He laughs and gently tickles your sides. Your laughter increases, causing you to let go of him. He takes your bag from your hands and swings it over his shoulder. His fingers brush against yours as you two walk to join your friends who go ahead and get seated.

“Hey, am I crazy or was Mingyu holding your hand—”

“___!” Mingyu calls for you.

You and Jungkook turn your heads and see him patting a place for you. Without a second thought, Jungkook lifts his hand to wave and you hold onto him tighter. Exchanging looks, he then proceeds to guide you towards his circle of friends and away from the ones you’re familiar with. Passing by Hobi, you give him a look.

A ‘help-me-get-out-of-this,’ look.

Hobi sticks his tongue out at you and mouths, “you’ll be fine, bitch.”

By the time you gather your thoughts, Jungkook has already introduced you to his other group of friends. You completely blank out as they respond and introduce themselves. It’s only for a few seconds and you already had an idea of who they all are anyway.

The campus calls them the 97 liners.

They’re known for being…

Boys.

Decent ones at that, but they’re definitely energetic. Amusing almost all the time, competitive and intimidating when they need to be. Through rumors and observations you’ve made from afar, it made sense to you where Jungkook gets his playfulness from.

He’s…

A lot like them.

He’s definitely himself. It’s interesting.

Mingyu scoots over, making enough room for you and Jungkook. He dabs Jungkook up, greeting him as warmly as he greeted you. The others continue their conversations, asking for your input every so often. You quickly realize how charismatic everyone is, and to be completely honest, it overwhelms you.

But with Jungkook beside you, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. He squeezes your hand under the table every so often when he notices your gaze wander. It’s like he’s gravity to you.

“Okay, so we already ordered… But we can order again if there’s something specific ___ wants,” Mingyu says, rather bubbly. He clears his throat, reaches over the table, grabs the menu and offers it to you.

“Yah, yah, yah,” Jungkook sends a glare to Mingyu, yanking the menu from him. You turn to look at him and find that he doesn't look amused. His eyes are fixed at his friend. With an intimidating tone, he warns; “Mingyu, stop flexing.”

Mingyu shakes his head, not taking it seriously. Jungkook and him have always had a playful friendship anyways. “I don't know what you're talking about... I’m not flexing. ___, feel it! I swear I’m not flexing right now.”

Jungkook tightens his grip on your hands.

Taking a sip of your water, you take your time to swallow and gather your thoughts.

“Don’t you gym with Jungkook?”

Dumb question.

“I gym more than him,” Mingyu corrects you.

Wow.

Stupid answer.

You can't help it. A laugh escapes your lips. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Jungkook lets out a hearty chuckle, liking the way you answer. He feels proud of you. He feels like he definitely chose the right girl.

Mingyu smirks, leaning back.

He thinks this is fun.

It is fun.

“Ehhh.. I mean, if you ever let me take you on a date, I’ll show you what it means to be impressed.”

Jungkook’s smile drops.

Yours does too.

You shift closer to Jungkook and avoid Mingyu's eyes.

“H-honestly, I’m not feeling picky tonight. I’m sure whatever you guys ordered will be delicious.”

The rest of the conversation is easygoing as everyone patiently waits for the food to arrive. Mingyu’s attention turns back to his friends, as he takes the hint from your avoidant eyes. To him, it was unserious.

Hopefully, it’s also whatever to you.

As the food arrives and is set on the table, Jungkook exchanges a few side comments and whispers context into your ear. You giggle and feel your heart race when he places his hand on your thigh.

“Jungkook…”

“Hm?”

“Your hand,” you warn.

“What about my hand?”

“It’s on my thigh.”

“I know,” he snickers. “Wish it was somewhere else.”

You gasp and can’t resist hitting his chest. He takes the hit like a man. He knows he deserves it.

On the table is a plate of shrimp. You pick one up with your chopsticks and begin to peel it. As Jungkook eats, you place the freshly peeled shrimp on top of his rice. He smiles at you brightly, his heart close to combusting.

“You didn’t have to—”

Jungkook’s words are cut off as you hear Mingyu whine, “Awh, no fair! Peel me one too, please!”

You nod and answer his request. Taking another shrimp and beginning to peel it, you then finish quickly and place it on top of his rice too.

Mingyu eats it happily.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s chest tightens. Again, it’s such a minor thing to happen… Yet, it irks him so much. He’s no boy, though. This isn’t a perilla leaf tantrum—no, he was much too mature for that.

This was… Clarity.

In between bites, Mingyu brings up a fascinating topic.

“Why are you looking at her like that?” he blurts. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he was looking at you a certain way. What was it? Was it too revealing of his feelings?

Wait… What even is he feeling?

There’s a sense of jealousy and frustration wrapped around the core of it all; his liking of you.

“I’m not looking at her in any way,” Jungkook responds, taking a sip of water. You continue to chew and look away.

“You totally are,” Mingyu laughs. “Hey, is it because you used to like her?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ohh.. So it’s not true, then?”

“Nah,” Jungkook scoffs. “I just don’t get why it’s a rumor and why it’s in the past tense. It’s true… I like her. She knows it too—wait, you fuck… Do you even read the group chat? I talk about her all the fucking time.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god!” he gasps, piecing everything together. “Shit, right. I remember now. God, why’d that take me so long to connect? Of course! This is ___. The ___! Ice skating bullshit, right? Pocky kiss or whatever?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to Jungkook. “You told them?”

Jungkook smiles innocently.

“I have the best kiss of my life and you expect me not to tell my boys?”

He has you there.

Mingyu laughs, murmuring about how down bad Jungkook is. When you feel your cheeks heat up, you quickly bury your face into your hands. You feel so embarrassed… But at the same time flattered.

It’s awful.

To make matters worse, the butterflies keep fluttering as Jungkook tilts his head and smirks at you. He finds your shyness the most precious thing in this entire world. The mere fact that he makes you feel and act like this?

Oh, it’s remarkable.

Jungkook can't help but compare your behavior from earlier to now. How you took initiative and ran into his arms as if they were your safe haven—and now there's this.

You like this, right now.

So utterly his without him much being done or said. It's an understanding. It's simply how it is.

He chuckles, as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you into a tight hug.

“Ahh... You totally folded."

With his words, your eyes widen. You push him away and roll your eyes at him. He teases you, mocking the way you cling onto his body.

You huff but let him hold onto you. From here on out, you two keep it casual and continue your conversations with everyone. He piles food onto your plate and in exchange you bring the food to his mouth.

Jungkook eats happily.

When the dinner is over, everyone goes their separate ways. 

Jungkook’s friends all hug you goodbye (Mingyu takes his sweet time) and leave him to walk you home. Hand in hand, you two wave goodbye and earn a few winks from Hobi. To that, you roll your eyes and brush it off. 

The walk with Jungkook is nice. 

The conversation between you two is so natural and good. You talk about the presentation mess up in more detail and he listens well. He empathizes with your feelings and understands. He’s so easy to talk to. He gets you. He makes you laugh even when what he’s saying isn’t funny. 

Is this how it’s like when you have feelings for someone? 

How embarrassing. 

When you two reach your front door, he looks at you longingly. 

“Feel better?” he asks you. You notice how gentle is tone is. How thoughtful.

“… About everything? The presentation and shit… Bebu, at the end of the day you did what you could. The grade your received is literally still an A—w-what”

Jungkook is startled. 

You grasp the fabric of his hoodie and pull him close. Without a second thought, you take a step closer to him and lean in. With urgency, you kiss him. 

Deep. 

Needy. 

Lovingly. 

His eyes flutter shut as you deepen the kiss with your tongue. He gives you way, parting his mouth open for you to explore and do as you please. As he kisses you back with the same kind of energy, you smile into the kiss. 

When you pull away, Jungkook is in disbelief. 

“... Now what?”

You clear your throat, feeling your lips tingling from the kiss. 

“S-sorry,” you gulp. “I d-don’t know what came over me… I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?” he blinks at you slowly. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked, now what?”

You tighten your lips. 

“Now? I… I just need some air.” 

Jungkook nods his head, eyebrows furrowed together. He understands you. 

Before you can open your mouth to defend or redirect, he beats you to it. 

“Yeah? Me too.”

Before you know it, he kisses you. 

Jungkook kisses you like a silent plea. Even though he has already confessed; this felt like another. 

The way he kisses you feels like a new language. He knows just when you kiss you more and when you to be delicate. He cups your jaw with the palm of his hand, tilting your head so he can kiss you better.

Which is so fucking weird… But it happens like never before.

He kisses you better.

Breaking away from the kiss, you two catch your breaths. As you do so, you clear your throat.

“Wanna come inside?” you ask, taking his hand.

He smirks, unable to stop himself. 

“Sure… But I’m gonna need some clarification on that offer… Come inside where?”

In your dimly lit kitchen, you two make yourselves a cup of tea.

Jungkook multitasks by making passes—saying that the water is still cold since you’re hotter than it. He sneaks in a few kisses on your cheeks as you tell him he’s being stupid. You two laugh as he lifts you up to sit on your kitchen island. He makes himself comfortable in between your legs.

There, you caress his hair.

He is so handsome. You love the way his nose just fits his face… How round his eyes are and even the scar on his cheek. It’s so precious.

He’s perfect, you think to yourself.

As you get lost in your thoughts, Jungkook feels so much comfort and freedom with your touch. It feels like rest. For a moment, he shuts his eyes and takes in how much he loves your touch.

Breaking the silence, you tug on his hair. “You need a haircut.”

He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“Literally got one two weeks ago.”

“Yeah,” you realize he’s right. He did cut his hair two weeks ago. He came over that night just to show it off. “... But I liked Mingyu’s hair! It was so short. I feel like it would suit you too.”

He opens one eye and gives you a weird look.

You mimic it.

“What?”

Jungkook lifts his face.

“So… Was it just me but I definitely caught Mingyu trying to shoot his shot with you, right?” He snickers, tilting his head as he recalls what he saw. "He literally asked you out."

You shrug, explaining Mingyu's attempt to hold your hand as a friendly gesture. "He’s just friendly, right? He also tried to hold my hand to lead me to the table and that was kinda… Unexpected? But he’s like that, right? He’s just friendly. Like a puppy! Golden retriever energy.”

"Maybe," Jungkook responds, his tone betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Y-yeah. I mean, the shrimp thing was worse."

You laugh softly. "What? This is about the shrimp thing? I peeled it for you too… And it’s not like I peeled his because I wanted to. He asked. It was lighthearted."

"I know that," he reassures you, his tone softening. "I’m not that insecure to pick a fight over peeling shrimp. You don’t have to convince me it was nothing. I know it was nothing.”

Confusion flashes across your face at his mixed signals. "Are you upset?"

"Maybe," he admits quietly.

Then he hesitates.

“Actually, I think I’m frustrated. I’m not mad. Sorry if I sounded aggressive—"

"N-no, it’s fine," you reassure him, gently cutting him off. "Why are you frustrated, bebu?"

Jungkook offers you a weak smile. "I don’t get it…"

"Get what?"

"All this shit and we’re still not together.”

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion.

Taken aback, you ask him, “what’s that supposed to mean?"

Gesturing between the two of you, Jungkook expresses his confusion. "This… I mean, what is this? We’re together, aren’t we?"

"Jungkook—"

"I’m just… I don’t get it. Even if you thought he was just being friendly, why didn’t you just say you were my girlfriend? Mingyu would’ve stopped flirting with you."

"So it’s my fault?" you huff, feeling offended at the pitch of this idea. "I thought your friends knew—"

"Well… Yes. I talk about you, and it’s not like I’m ditching parties to study in that stupid library—"

"Can you leave the library out of this?"

"Okay," he sighs, relenting. "Sorry… I just… They know how I feel about you. I guess they don’t know how you feel about me, and… I mean, did you tell him we were together or not? Because if I had to remind him who you were to me, I don’t think you told him that we—"

"Jungkook—"

"No, I’m being serious," he interrupts, his tone becoming more stern. "Why didn’t you just—"

"You never asked me out!" you interject, frustration evident in your voice.

Jungkook stares at you blankly, prompting you to continue. He runs everything back in his mind.

You were right.

With all these moments, he’s been so busy planning how to get reactions out of you and completely missed out on so many perfect opportunities.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend. All you’ve been doing this entire time is trying to get me to flirt with you, kiss you, or trick me into dates… You want me to act like your girlfriend? Ask me to be. I’m not built for situationships… And honestly? I’ve been waiting—patiently and elegantly at that. There were so many times where I wanted to hold your hand and give in. You talk about how you’ll get me to fold or whatever—fine.”

You take a breath, caving in. “This is it. I’ve folded! God, do you even know how hard it is to study next to you in that stupid library because y-you… You give me butterflies.”

Jungkook reaches for you. You let him touch you but your heart stays still, fighting to get these feelings out. Your voice wavers with emotion.

“A-and it’s so… I don’t know how you do it. At some point, I set them free. Like, fine, okay! Fly high, my butterflies… But for what?"

There’s a sense of urgency that awakens in you. Never in your life have you ever felt the same way for anyone.

It feels like defeat and victory all at once.

It feels like peace and war all at once.

It feels like love.

Oh, the madness.

To love someone this wide and deep… To love someone at all. It is everything beyond you. How it radiates through your body and onto his lips… How everything unfolds and reveals him no matter what.

You can’t decide if the way you’ve fallen is utterly heartbreaking or romantic. Maybe it’s both.

Let’s say it’s both.

All you know is that with glossy eyes and a fragmented understanding of timing, you tell him;

“Jungkook, I set my butterflies free, and they flew to you."

[with-my-calamitous-love]

HELP ME HOLD ONTO YOU

osamu dazai x reader

in a rare moment of what he believes to be weakness, you help your boyfriend through a panic attack.

mentions of anxiety and dazai’s trauma 🤍 please read with discretion

inspired by the archer

dazai’s been the archer, and he’s been the prey.

he’s experienced both sides of an uneven coin. he’s been the hunter, the one of top with the power and the last laugh. alternatively, he’s been stomped on and hurt, used as nothing but a pawn.

both sides ultimately left a hole in his heart. he expects evil, the same evil he’s given to people his entire life. who expects betrayal, death, or simple abandonment. in the face of that pain, he smiles.

he smiles because he’s expected it. he smiles to hide what he truly feels inside. like all the kings horses and men couldn’t put him together again.

he’s easy to approach, but hard to love. anyone who could see through his barriers, his equations and puzzles was certainly someone special. breaking through his walls was rewarding to you- since you discovered what it truly means to love osamu dazai.

loving him was like assessing an equation. his charm, his humour, his charisma- thats what people like about dazai. and for the most part, he’s fine with the surface level. but loving him means sitting next to him, tangled together on the couch, letting his hand press against your heart as he steels himself.

no one knows what truly goes on in dazai’s head. even when he vocalizes his thoughts, most people couldn’t ration his peculiar ideas. it seemed as though the only time you could see into his tortured heart was when he openly gave it to you, allowing himself to be loved.

he’s breathing is picking up as he his hand ever so slightly tightens around yours. he’s thinking and thinking deep, wondering if its okay for him to be this vulnerable around you.

he’s spent the entire night pacing like a ghost. he looked around and felt like the room was on fire, invisible smoke filling his lungs. all of the people he’s ever cared about die all alone.

when be turns to you, shutting his eyes and letting his forehead rest against yours, he searches for your dark side. be physically can’t believe that he’s safe, that he’s alright when he’s with you. no one knows it, but dazai is on survival mode long after he’s needed to be.

his mind ruminates on his failures and his shortcomings, wondering all the things that could have been different. the people he could have protected. the crimes he didn’t have to commit. the one life he could have saved.

if he was just a second sooner, just a bit faster. if he was perfect instead of almost perfect. if he could ever truly become a good man.

they see right through me.

they see right through me.

they see right through me.

[y/n] sees right through me.

even i see right through me-

“osamu.” you say, bringing him back to reality. “breathe.”

with that simple word, his eyes open. he didn’t even realize how much his breathing had picked up evident by the sweat on his palms and the frown curved on his lips.

you cup his face in your hands as he continues to ground himself, clinging to yours presence like a life buoy. he’s shaking.

suddenly, he’s holding onto you. dazai was always clingy, but this time it felt different. your quick to hug him back, throwing your arms around his back and rubbing soft circles over him. he presses his face into your bare shoulder, taking in your smell and assuring himself that you’re real.

at the end, he lets out and exasperated chuckle, pulling away just enough to look into your face. his eyes are glossy and it breaks your heart, knowing that he’s likely holding back his feelings.

“who could ever leave me, darling?” he asks sardonically, his lips curving into a forced smile. he doesn’t want you to see him like this. he’s got a 100 thrown out speeches he wants to say to you, about who he really is. and its moments like this when he feels like he can. that, despite all of his wrong doings, you’d still somehow love him.

he hopes you’ll see past his facade of being okay. and you do.

“i’m not going anywhere.” you whisper. thats the moment he realizes that you could stay.

and he searches your face for any signs of deception, the lies and betrayal he had known all his life.

he finds none.

[barleyo]

Love Machine.

Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: I got this idea while listening to a song with the same title. This was my first time writing for Leon, I hope it isn't too clunky or too short! I am slowly coming out of my hiatus, so my writing skills are a bit rusty, I need you all to give me a little grace for the next few posts in case they aren't great LOL. Love you all so much, thanks for your support!

Part Two: Here

Wordcount: 2.4K

Tags: sex doll/living sex robot (?), sex toys, oral (fem receiving), reader is called things like "pretty girl", p in v, creampie (but not really because he's a sex doll??), unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play

“Welcome in, can I help you find anything?”

(Y/N) gave the cashier a polite smile and shook her head as she walked past him at the check-out desk, trying to be as non-awkward as possible, especially since she was the only customer in the small store at that time of night. It was an in and out trip, she tried to convince herself of that. She needed something small, just enough to get the job done. 

Normally, she would’ve waited until the next day to run an errand like this, but days of stress had left her needy and frustrated, so when her trusty wand finally gave out on her mid-fun, she grabbed her car keys and headed out into the night. 

Her eyes scanned the wall of toys in the back of the store. Pink and purple covered the shelves, vibrating toys and dildos being her main focus. 

“Mini-vibe, bullet vibe,” she mumbled, squatting down to read the boxes on the lower shelves. “What’s even the difference–?”

She settled on a purple rabbit vibrator. Its packaging was the least indicative of its contents, and it was on the smaller side. Easy to hide. 

“Will that be all?” the cashier asked, looking over the box. 

“Yeah, that should be it.”

“You know,” he said, giving her a wide grin, “I can’t say I can suggest this one.” He held the box back out to her, waiting for her to take it. “We’ve gotten a lot of refunded purchases due to it.”

“Oh, shit, really?” (Y/N) took the box back, tucking it under her arm. “Okay, uh, I guess I should ask what the best option would be, then?”

The cashier gave a nod and waved her over, lifting the divider between behind the counter and the rest of the store. “Come with me to the back, we’ve got all the good stuff tucked away back there.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about whether or not to follow him. She didn’t immediately catch any red flags in his behavior: he was polite enough, no major creep-vibes. (Y/N) finally walked past the open divider and followed him into the stock room. 

“So, over here,” he said, waving his hand over a heavily stocked shelf, “is all the high-powered stuff. These over here have a high-customization level, lingerie over here, and over here ....” 

The man continued to go over the ‘hidden’ options in the store, but (Y/N)’s eyes traveled over to a large, sheet-covered box. 

“Hey, what’s that over there?” she asked, pointing at the box. 

“Oh, that? That’s new, uhm, probably a little out of your comfort zone, though, he’s a little advanced.”

“He?”

The cashier sighed and stepped up to the box, gripping the corner of the sheet. “It’s—it’s a long story, but, here, have a look.”

He pulled the sheet down, dropping it to the cement floors of the room.

“What the fuck is that?!”

A blond man stood in the plain box, the only adornment on the cardboard being his name in bolded letters: Leon. His eyes were closed, his hands sat idly beside his sides, and his body stood bare before them both.

“His name is Leon, he’s a prototype for a new line of responsive sex dolls. I mean, most of the bugs are out of the system, he’s not faulty or anything.”

(Y/N) walked up to the box and scratched the cellophane covering, trying to get his attention. “Is he awake? Or on, I guess?”

“Nah, he has to be set up, there’s a manual in the box, I think,” the man replied, bending down to pick the sheet back up to throw over Leon’s box. Just as he began to shake the sheet off, clearing the residual dirt off of it, (Y/N) spoke again.

“How much for him?”

She mentally smacked herself for asking. There was no doubt he was expensive, hell, he probably wasn’t even up for sale.

“You want him?” He raised his eyebrow, looking the girl up and down, confusion painting his features.

“I– I don’t know, can I have him? How much?”

He crossed his arms for a moment, thinking. “He’s not for sale, per se, but– so, listen, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“You can have him for free, okay? But if you aren’t satisfied with him, you can’t bring him back here, you’re stuck with ‘em.” He held his hand out expectantly. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she said, taking his hand quickly, giving it a few affirming shakes.

The boxcutter in her hand worked quickly, slicing open the cellophane. (Y/N) bunched up the plastic and threw it to a random corner in her bedroom, turning back to face Leon. She gave him a testing poke, and when he didn’t respond she turned that poke into a gentle tapping on the side of his face.

“Leon?” The name felt like acid on her tongue, guilt already creeping through her. “Wake up.”

She dropped her hand from his face and guided it further down his chest. The synthetic skin felt real, almost in an uncanny way. He was warm to the touch, not plastic-y and cold like how she assumed other sex dolls felt. 

“Come on, big boy.” she muttered, pulling Leon’s large, heavy body out of the box and placing him on his feet near her bed. “Where’s your–? Oh, got it.” (Y/N) snatched the instruction manual from the box. The print was foggy, and some words were horribly misspelled, but she flipped through the pages and located the directions page. She read the page to herself quietly. “I am Leon, your AI-powered male sex doll. The setup process of a Leon doll is extremely easy. To turn me on, just set my dial. After that, just sit back and let me love you for a little while!” 

(Y/N) walked a small circle around him in search of his ‘on-switch.’ She found it right on the back of his neck, almost hidden by his swoop of blond hair. On the silver dial sat three options: Off, gentle, and rough. A hand rose and ticked the dial to gentle. She stepped away from him quickly after hitting the switch, nervous to see what would happen.

His eyes opened slowly, and a weak blue light beamed from them, scanning outwards before shutting off completely. A grin slowly spread across Leon’s all-too-real features as he powered on. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he said, standing still in her room, only moving his head to face her. “Looks like you could use some company.”

“Uh, hello.” Her mouth was dry as she spoke, feeling like she made a bad decision the second he had snapped to life. 

“Hm, why don’t you come closer to me? I don’t bite,” Leon paused before cheekily adding “unless you want me to.” He took her in his arms and let his eyes drift down her body. He eased her shirt over her head and tried to undo the clasps of her bra.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away but he held her in place.

“You have all your clothes, but I’m exposed over here. That’s not so fair, is it?” He looked down at his hardened length, ushering her to look down with him.

Her eyes widened a bit. “When did you even get hard–?”

“I’m always hard around pretty girls like you.” He slipped off her bra and groped her breasts with his large, somewhat calloused hands. “Look at these, baby. You have pretty tits, and a pretty face, huh?” 

A hum left her throat as she felt his head dip down and take one of her swollen nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the bud, latching on to properly suck it after a few teasing moments. She ran her hands through his hair and gripped onto it tightly, whining at the feeling of his mouth popping off of her tit. 

“Bet you’re getting wet from this, aren’t you?” His voice was airy and muffled while he spoke. He left open mouthed licks over her pebbled nipples, grazing over them with his tongue’s warmth.

She gave a weak nod in return.

“Mm, maybe I should take care of that,” he chuckled lightly and lowered himself to his knees. “Gonna let me take these off you?” He tugged at the waistband of her shorts.

“G’head,” (Y/N) said, feeling her thighs rub against each other impatiently. 

He pulled them down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She shuddered at the feeling of his tongue darting across the cotton covering her wet center. Again, Leon laughed a bit at her reaction and licked a heavier stripe against the fabric. When he was rewarded with a gasp from her open mouth, he pulled the panties to the side and pressed his tongue at her slit.

“F–Fuck, that feels good,” she whined, hand still messily buried in his hair. 

Leon kept his eyes on her the whole time, not letting a moment pass where his blue irises weren’t piercing hers. 

His tongue dipped out of her entrance and moved up to her clit. He fidgeted with it, trying to see which motion worked best on her, and settled on a circular movement. The longer he sat slotted between her thighs, her knees thrown over his shoulders, the more frequently he felt her cunt jump from pleasure. He placed his tongue hard on her clit, giving it rough, pressured licks. 

“Almost there, I’m close,” (Y/N) said, feeling a coil form in her stomach. She had felt this with other toys, but by far, Leon was the best at the job. “Don’t stop,” she hummed, voice catching in her throat while he moved his head side to side, dragging his mouth sloppily over her cunt.

A string of profanities escaped her mouth when she felt her orgasm hit. A sputtering wave of warmth flushed through her body, her pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it, good job,” Leon cooed. He held his hand up to her face expectantly. “Spit.”

Her mind already felt melted, like it could’ve oozed out of her brain at any minute. She mindlessly complied with him, spitting onto his lengthy fingers.

“Ah–! S’too much, Leon.”

“No, no, you can take it. I’ll be gentle, I know you want another one,” he said with a slightly mocking tone. “Greedy girl needs something to fill her up.” Plunging his fingers into her pussy, he groaned at the feeling of her slick walls still fluttering. “Y’haven’t even recovered from the first one, but I’m gonna give you another one,” he said, curling his fingers, “gonna be twice as strong.”

“Fuck, it’s too much,” (Y/N) knew her sobs of pleasure were pathetic sounding, but she couldn’t muster anything else up as she tried to push his wrist down and away, not being able to stand the feeling of his two fingers prodding at her most sensitive spot. 

“Don’t fight it,” he warned, “not when you’re so close. Yeah, I feel you getting all tight on me. Mm, you’re gonna love how it feels, it only gets better from here, pretty girl.” 

Leon became more aggressive with his movement, moving his whole arm as his fingers jammed in and out of her. (Y/N) was lost in her ecstasy. Her hands shook and flew aimlessly before taking purchase of Leon’s shoulders and holding onto them, nails digging into the skin.

Her second release, as promised, was much stronger. Her legs clamped around him, her moans came out in long, shaky intervals, and her brain was mush. She couldn’t force herself to focus on anything but the cum dripping out of her cunt and down Leon’s fingers and forearm. She screwed her eyes shut, feeling even the dim light of her bedroom to be too much for her now fucked-out, slutty head to handle. 

She hardly noticed when he had placed on her back in the bed with her legs spread. Not until he guided his cock across her folds, tapping the head of it against her swollen, abused clit. 

“More?” she asked, voice breaking and weak. “Can’t take it ‘nymore.”

“C’mon, sweet thing, you can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more?” He whispered into her ear, slowly pushing into her, holding himself back. 

“Jus’ one? No more after that?”

“Mhm, just one.” Leon bottomed out and stretched her walls with his girth. The tip of his cock gave sweet, shallow kisses to her cervix’s tip, gently pressing into it with each thrust. His hips rocked into her, but he felt his dick being forced out of her walls, pushed out of her heat. “Even after all that, still tight f’me.” He slid back in, rougher this time, trying to keep himself inside. “Need somethin’ to stretch you out, baby. Good thing y’got me now.”

His hands were placed under her knees, scooping and holding them apart while he fucked her. He slowly transitioned from fucking and burrying his cock into her, to bringing her body forward, bouncing her on his cock. 

“Leon—”

“Hush, now, you’re okay. Mm,” he wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, “look at how you take it. It’s like you were made to be used like this, sweet girl. Maybe you’d be better off as a toy.” 

She moaned at this, feeling her cunt twitch at his words.

“Yeah? You like that?” Leon’s eyebrow raised at her a bit, teeth barring in smirk. “You like being a little toy. Being– oh, fuck, you’re enjoying this so much. Your pretty little face...”

(Y/N) threw her arms over his neck, pulling him closer to her body. Their chests pressed together, her sweat slick between them both. “God, Leon, please!”

Leon pressed his mouth on her to quiet her down, swallowing her moans as their tongues and teeth gnashed against each other. He winced as (Y/N) bit down on his lip, choking back her sobs when she clamped down on his cock. Taking this as a sign, Leon emptied his thick, synthetic cum into her. 

Once he pulled out, a mixture of both of their cum pumped out, gushing and wetting in between her thighs.

“Good job, baby,” he said, stroking her face, grinning at the warmth of her cheek. “You did so well, getting all cockdrunk for me. To think I was being gentle. Wanna try my rough mode out for size?” He joked, letting his hand grip her hip. 

“Goodnight, Leon,” she responded, unimpressed at his teasing and tired from what he had done to her. She brought her hand to the back of his neck and turned his dial to ‘off.'