#I’m nearly halfway through the film

[headfullof-ideas]

A few doodles that have been sitting and waiting for me to add more to, before I decided ‘eh, three’s enough’ and posted them

Here we have a Gustav and an OC I’ve yet to talk about but while be important alongside Gustav and some other little kiddos later on in the story. Then an Astrid and Ingrid, done while exploring their dynamic. I am having way too much fun drawing a bunch of Ingrid, and figuring out her dynamic with other characters. She’s hot and she knows it, which makes her fun to draw. And then a conceptual idea for an adult Kari, around the age she’ll be around the end-ish of the fic’s timeline. So, twenty-ish. Also drew her with her hair somewhat down, because I realized I don’t draw her too often with her hair down, which is a shame cause it’s so thick and fluffy and curly-wavy and I love drawing thick and fluffy and curly-wavy hair. I like to make hair go POOF

[lurkingshan]

Japanese BL Starter Pack

It’s been awhile since I dropped a rec list, so I am here today to share one that is very near and dear to my heart—a Japanese bl primer for those who are new to the jbl game. I created this for @neuroticbookworm to help her on her journey when she decided she wanted to start getting into Japanese works. The fandom (on Tumblr and generally) tends to focus primarily on Thai shows because they are the easiest to access for international fans, since Thailand is working its way toward world domination via ql media and wants us all to be able to watch. But there is a lot of great stuff to watch beyond the easy access Thai channels, and Japan is the country where this genre originated, so its shows are important for anyone who considers themselves a bl fan. Japan doesn’t cater nearly as much to the international audience so tracking down the shows sometimes takes some ingenuity and can-do spirit, but that’s part of the fun!

And so, the list! Bookworm is about halfway through it and having a ball, so I figured it was time to stop hoarding it and share it with anyone else who would like to dip their toes into jbl and isn’t quite sure where to start. A few notes: 

I am not here to teach you about the deep roots of the jbl genre or give you a primer on yaoi manga. I am by no means an expert and there are other places to find that information. Start here with this great post by @nieves-de-sugui and then maybe wander over to @absolutebl to read up more on the evolution of the genre.

This list is by no means an exhaustive accounting of every important Japanese bl ever made; it is simply a nice sampler platter of the cream of the crop among various styles you will find in jbl. Watching through this whole list will not only expose you to some fantastic shows, but also give you a sense of what makes jbl unique and how the country’s style differs from others, and point you toward the types of jbl you’ll like most (they tend to put shows in pretty specific style and tone lanes and once you find the ones you like there are lots more where that came from). 

If you’re coming to this post as a jbl lover and you don’t see your favorite here, I promise it’s not because I don’t love it very much; I simply had to make some choices to get this down to a reasonable shortlist. Feel free to leave extra recs for others to find! 

I’m putting these in a loose suggested watch order that will take you through the various jbl lanes in a kind of popcorn style, because I always think it’s good to change it up so you don’t get too stuck in one mode, and it works its way up to most of the extremely Japanese stuff (you will know what that means by the time you finish). But do what’s in your heart and change up the order if you want, friends, I am not the boss of you! 

Cherry Magic (Crunchyroll or grey)

gif by @liyazaki

I believe everyone on Tumblr is pretty familiar with this one, which is not a coincidence—this is one of the most accessible jbls. Not in terms of actual access to watch it, mind you (we’ve all jumped through shady internet hoops to watch it) but in terms of its content and style. Cherry Magic is a classic workplace romcom with a magical twist, and it is charming af. It’s a great exemplar of Japan’s light and zippy comedy lane for bl—a lane in which, importantly, the romances stay chaste even when the actual plot is about sex, or lack thereof. My friend @waitmyturtles would kill me if I didn’t make sure you know that Cherry Magic also has a lovely follow up film. And bonus: there is now a Thai remake airing so if you watch the original you can get in on the discussion about the different adaptations between countries. This is pretty easy to find these days in all the usual places, but I strongly recommend watching it here.

Old Fashion Cupcake (Viki)

gif by @liyazaki

Moving on to a slightly more mature workplace romcom. Old Fashion Cupcake, another Tumblr favorite, is an age gap boss-subordinate romance, and it’s both very adult and somehow wholesome af at the same time. Sure, there is a lot of carnal desire going on here, but there is also a lot of wooing via fluffy pancakes. It’s a tight five episodes and a fantastic example of what Japan, with its extreme technical precision in writing, directing, editing, pacing, and acting firing on all cylinders, can do in two hours. There’s not an ounce of flab on this thing and you’ll want to watch it over and over again.

Utsukushii Kare (Viki)

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Time to get a little weird! Weird is a key feature of Japanese media, and lots of jbls explore unusual relationship dynamics rooted in complex psychology. This is the first show on the list that will likely feel very Japanese if you’re new around here—my advice is to lean into it and finish the show, even if you get uncomfortable along the way. In Japanese media, discomfort always serves a purpose. This is a high school story with a twisted relationship at its center, and I’m not saying any more than that. Don’t spoil yourself and go watch it! This one also comes with two sequels—one short second season and one movie—that continue from the original story. They are less essential but still excellent.

I Cannot Reach You (Netflix)

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Next up, another high school tale, but with a totally different vibe. This show is kind of a revelation in its willingness to tell a story about overwhelming desire—including sexual desire—with young protagonists. It’s rooted in a classic but often misunderstood trope, friends to lovers, and takes the angst of it seriously, giving us a low stakes story that feels extremely high stakes to our leads. It’s also gorgeous and uses a classic Japanese visual style (bokeh) that you’ll be dying to learn more about. 

His (Viki)

gif by @gabrielokun

Time for a break from high school, and we’ll sprinkle in a movie for some added flavor. His is a jbl film featuring a second chance romance between a stoic, introverted man who moves to a remote town to start over, and his ex-boyfriend who follows him there unexpectedly, adorable child in tow. Importantly, this movie does not take place in what we often refer to as the “bl bubble” where homophobia doesn’t exist; the leads’ experiences of being gay men in a homophobic society are hugely important to the plot and themes of the story. It’s a beautiful film and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. @bengiyo would surely also like me to tell you that this film follows a brief prequel show called His: I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love about the characters originally meeting in high school; I do not think it’s really necessary to watch it but completists can start there.

The Pornographer series (Gaga)

By now you should be ready to get into some classic Japanese fucked up psychosexual material, right? Right! The Pornographer series is told in five installments in this order:

The Novelist, a six episode miniseries

Mood Indigo, a six episode prequel series

Spring Life, a 15 minute short

Pornographer: Playback, a two hour film

Spring Life Continued, a 15 minute short

Confused by that distribution model? So say we all; sometimes Japan likes to make us work for it to make sure we really appreciate its many gifts to us. The story across these installments is about a very difficult to love protagonist, what makes him the way he is, and the also-unhinged-but-in-a-different-way man who finally gets through to him. It’s an extremely satisfying love story and one of the best character arcs I have ever seen, full stop. For this one, you’ll want to just pull the word problematic out of your pocket and store it in a drawer; nearly everything that happens in this story is problematic and that’s the point. Lean in! All of these installments except for the film are on Gaga, if you get that far hmu and I will supply you with the final puzzle piece.

Our Dining Table (Gaga)

You could probably use a break after those last two, so it’s time to shift over to a heart-tugging twofer: family trauma mixed with the cutest shit you’ve ever seen. ODT is an example of another classic type of Japanese show: the food drama (you will see the GOAT in this category at the end of this list). In Japanese culture, food is love, and the act of preparing food for your loved ones is a common path to romance. You’ll love this story about an isolated office worker who meets a pair of brothers, learns to cook as a way of connecting with them, and begins to heal from his own trauma as a result. The image above is a scan from the manga, which @troubled-mind curates to make extremely cool comparison sets like this one. Many jbls are faithful adaptations of yaoi manga source material, so it’s good to have a bit of familiarity with them.

Minato’s Laundromat (Gaga)

gif by @liyazaki

Japanese media loves to explore taboo, and often manages to do it in a way that is surprisingly light and chaste. This is an age gap romance between a teenager and his adult neighbor that explores internalized homophobia, emotional repression, and falling in love across seemingly impossible social chasms. It’s also a great example of old school yaoi seme-uke dynamics that still show up across the bl genre. Also, take my advice: end your journey with this one with the first season and just pretend season 2 doesn’t exist.

Eternal Yesterday (Viki)

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Remember what I said about weird? Time to do that again, but with a heaping dose of grief and pain on top. It’s not a spoiler to tell you this show involves a major character death; a major character death is, in fact, the root of the entire story. This is a magic realist tale of first love turned tragic, and it will hurt and heal you. It is one of my favorite dramas of all time.

Restart After Come Back Home (Gaga)

And now for a break for your poor exhausted brain. This film is basically the jbl version of a Hallmark original movie, about a city boy who goes back home to the country and falls in love with a total sweetheart while working together on a farm. Enjoy it, bestie, you’ve earned it! 

Tokyo in April Is… (Gaga)

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

You’ve probably noticed by now that emotional repression and failed communication are big themes in Japanese works. This second chance romance has plenty of both, and it’s a great example of a kind of muted emotional style that Japan does so well, where the surface of the story seems almost placid and calm even as deep emotion roils underneath. This one (and Eternal Yesterday above) are part of a special line up of jbls on Japanese channel MBS called Tonku (Drama) Shower. The shows air one after another in the same time slot on Fridays (in Japan, perhaps Thursdays for you depending on where you live) and you truly never know what you’re gonna get, but they’re all interesting. Warnings on this one for sexual assault and trauma. 

The End of the World With You (Viki)

Time for sexy and weird again, but even more so! This has to be one of the most unique bls ever made; it goes to some truly divine and strange places, and it feels incredibly queer while doing it. Made by the same screenwriter/director of the Pornographer series with a lot of the same sensibilities, but in a more heightened apocalyptic setting. This one has existential angst, a road trip, a redemption tale, and a variety of interesting side characters in the mix.

What Did You Eat Yesterday? (Gaga)

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Congratulations, you’ve reached the end of the list and your reward is watching one of the best bls of all time, and a perfect slice of life food drama to boot. WDYEY now has two seasons (along with a couple specials and a movie that fall in between) because the universe clearly loves us. You can now get it on Gaga for easy access but I’m partial to the versions over at @kinounaniresource for better subs. Wherever you watch, settle in to get cozy with Shiro and Kenji and make sure to always eat before you hit play.

[moonstruckme]

ur james roommate fic (amazing btw) just gave me an idea

what about pre relationship marauders and there all roommates or something or maybe just one of them a roommates with reader but they all like her and they are all watching a movie like “hey were is she” and one of them answers oh she’s just gone round her mates for a film night or something

then a few hours later she comes stumbling in drunk in a tight as hell dress and heels and they get shocked cause she’s normally so quiet and now here she is giggling and making all these jokes and she was out at a club and who is the lady???

if not that’s totally fine bae 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: intoxication

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 967 words

“Think we ought to check up on her?” James asks halfway through the film. 

Remus doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about. “Why?”

“It’s getting late.” James frowns out the window, where darkness has well and truly settled. “She’s never out this late. Wouldn’t we be pretty shit roommates if she was dead in a ditch somewhere and we didn’t even know?”

“What the hell do you plan to do, Prongs,” Sirius drawls, “send out a search party? It’s hardly eleven.” 

James looks like he’s thinking a search party’s not such a bad idea. “She said she was going to her mate’s place, and I’m pretty sure it’s book club night. Maybe they’re just going late.” 

Sirius scoffs. “You mean to say that on a Saturday night, she got so caught up talking about books that her meeting ran long?” He shakes his head, but his smile is fond. “What a fuckin’ nerd.” 

Remus cocks an eyebrow, jutting his chin toward the television. “We’re in on a Saturday night. What does that make us?”

James laughs as Sirius huffs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the couch. “Least we’re not talking about books.” 

By the time they finish their film, each of the boys is dead tired. Still, no one argues when James proposes starting another, an unspoken current of worry keeping them in the living room as the night wears on with no sign of your return. 

A couple hours later, James and Sirius have both fallen asleep, James drooling slightly on the top of Sirius’ head, when Remus hears keys in the door. Sirius stirs as your keys twist this way and that. There’s a stream of muffled curse words before you finally get it, the lock sliding free and the door swinging open. 

“Merlin,” Sirius breathes at the sight of you, rousing James. Remus is inclined to agree. 

You’re in a tiny little dress that Remus would have never been able to picture in your closet, the bodice tight and the hem barely skimming past your buttcheeks. You teeter in the door on high heels like a newborn fawn, unphased as if that’s the way you’ve been getting around all evening. You curse quietly when your shoes make a clacking sound against the floor, reaching down to slide them off. Remus can tell from the way you flex your feet that they’ve been hurting you. You start toward your bedroom cautiously, on tiptoe, and it’s a testament to your unusual state that you don’t notice the boys until you’ve nearly passed them on the couch. 

“Oh,” you say, still quiet as though you’re afraid to disturb some unseen sleeper. “You’re up. Hi!”

A laugh bubbles up out of Sirius. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says. “How was your night?”

“Ugh.” You grin, shoulders drooping as your eyes go wistful. “It was amazing. How was yours?”

“Not bad.” Sirius can’t seem to stop smiling, and James is the next of them to find his voice. 

“Angel,” he says, blinking as though he’s not quite sure he’s actually woken up, “are you drunk?”

You go shy, and Remus’ heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness at the sweet sheepishness that touches your smile. “Just like, a tiny little bit,” you giggle, like you think you might get in trouble and are thrilled with your rebellion. 

James shakes his head at you, mystified, and Remus scoots over, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “C’mere, love, talk to us for a bit.” 

You’re happy to comply, though not quite as happy as Sirius when you stumble on your way over and he gets to put his hands on your hips, guiding you to a sitting position. You cross your legs under you, and James flushes as each of the boys try to look anywhere other than your exposed underwear. You lean your shoulder into Remus slightly; he leans back. 

“What’d you get up to tonight?” He raises his eyebrows, delighting when you blush. Your lipstick has worn down to the liner, and you’ve got some sort of dark makeup smudged beneath your eyes. It takes everything in him not to brush his finger under your lashes and fix it. “We thought it was book club night.” 

“No, we pushed that ‘til tomorrow,” you say. “Tonight was real club night.” You let out a little laugh, and Remus grins more because of that than the joke itself. 

“I didn’t know you liked going out,” James says. “You haven’t done it in all the time we’ve lived here.” 

You make an incredulous sound. “Sure I have.” 

James’ eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline. “When?”

You shrug. “I mean, not all the time. Once a month, maybe.” Your lips curve upward in a look Remus has never seen on your face before. It’s making it difficult to breathe. “What, you just always assume I’m in my room if you don’t see me leave? S’that it?”

“Sorta,” James mumbles, and Sirius grins at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and stealing you from Remus. 

“We’ll be more careful not to underestimate you in the future, sweet thing,” he promises, eyes half-lidded in that way that always reduces you to a blushing, stuttering mess. 

You don’t seem affected this time. “Good,” you reply, batting your lashes at him. Sirius blanches. 

James laughs at him. “Alright, I’ve got to see you in action,” he declares. “If we go out next weekend, will you come with us?” 

You tilt your head consideringly. “Sure,” you say, “but I don’t think many guys are going to come up to me if I’m with you lot. You’ll scare them all away.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, I’d fucking hope so.”  

“That’s alright, love,” Remus says. “We’ll find some way to make it up to you.” 

(cont)

[on-leatheredwings]

request: "how dick would handle learning reader is dating somebody?"

Yandere! Dick Grayson / GN! Reader > romantic > tw/cw: possessive thoughts, suggestive thoughts > word count: 660

Dick is 100% going to sabotage it. 

He had been so excited to spend the night with you – even if it is still entirely platonic. A movie with friendly snuggles was better than no movie and no snuggles, right? 

The snacks are classic theater popcorn, sour candies, chips, soda. The theater is your bedroom. A mountain of pillows and blankets are your recliners for the evening. Premium comfort. 

Following the plot of the movie goes out the window once your head drifts sleepily onto his shoulder halfway through the film. Dick tempts fate by reaching his arm around you. He feels jitters when you don’t protest, seemingly agreeable to the contact. You don’t even move once the movie credits start to play. 

It’s a good night so far. A great night.

Then you speak. 

“Oh!” you snap your head to him. Dick does the same, heart jumping with surprise. Snuggling had put him nearly in a tranquilized state. You sit up out of his grasp, and leave him cold and wanting. “You’re always talking about how I should get the house… Well, I forgot to say earlier, but I’m kind of seeing that cute pizza guy I told you about!” 

Dick just stares at you, a smile frozen on his face.

“Oh! That’s awesome!” he says. To his grief, you begin to tell him all about it. “Uh huh. Mm hmm.” he says to your gushing. It was lucky that you were so enamored with your daydreaming that you couldn’t notice his robotic nodding or the displeased glint of his eyes. Dick knew this day may come – you finding someone before he’s ready to pursue you. There are admittedly some things he enjoys about being your friend rather than your lover. Majority of it is feeling like he’s undercover, playing a cat-and-mouse game you aren’t even aware of. But that doesn’t mean you won’t feel attraction to someone else. So Dick has a plan.

The first order of business is making the target of your affection look as incapable as possible. That’s not hard. He is Dick Grayson. He is five-ten and 177 pounds of capable. Most people pale in comparison. He’ljust be a little suggestion, here and there.

“Oh, he’s not treating you to dinner? Well, fuck those stuffy, traditional roles, amirite?” 

“That’s where you had your first date? … He’s really thrifty.” 

“Wait, he volunteers re-socializing homeless abused puppies only once a week? I figured we all make time for it at least every weekday.”

He just needs to plant the seeds of doubt. Give you what people call, ‘the Ick.’ Once you break it off with that guy, surely, you’ll be feeling the temptation of bouncing to someone new. But who…?

That part’s the easy part. (Actually, it’s all pretty easy for him.) Dick will get you to notice just how great he is. He’s charming. And handsome. And rich. And flexible. He just needs to take you out to swim, or skating, or the gym, or the park – anything that would enable him to slide his hands across you. He can already imagine lengthening your arm, putting it gingerly in the right position. He can imagine the sweat beading on your temple. He can imagine your lip bite as you struggle to ignore his chest against your back as he stretches you out.

Dick relaxes, leaning back. He still offers vague commentary in the conversation, but his mind is racing with many other possibilities. Your body. His body. Together.

“But enough about that!” you say finally. “Let’s put on another movie.” Your brow raises cheekily. ��Horror movie? And first one to scream owes the other twenty bucks?” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Dick hums. 

At your clear excitement, he feels his cheeks warm. He admires how the blue light of the TV screen reflects in your gorgeous eyes. Maybe he’ll let you win anyway, if only because he loves the look on your face when you do.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Both being in the NSFW content creation sphere, you and Yunho find a mutually beneficial piece of content to film. Pairing: NSFW Audio Creator!Yunho x Only Fans Creator!reader Tropes: Adult Content creator au, friends with benefits au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, the reader is smaller than Yunho by a good amount Smut Warnings: recorded sex, blindfolding, auralism, protected sex, implications of a hand kink, use of the name “daddy”, pet names, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, ripping clothing Word Count: 2,416 Host Tag: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Often by The Weekend

“You’re sure you’re not going to get kidnapped?” Yeri checks for the tenth time.

“I’m sure!” You laugh, “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve talked with him before, too, several times. You know Yunho and I are friends.”

Yeri’s jaw falls to the floor. You meet her eyes through your mirror after you finish fixing your makeup. You look at her as if you’ve just said the most mundane sentence in the world. On the other hand, she looks as if you just told her you’re not actually who you told her you are.

“You mean to tell me–”

“I haven’t fucked him. Not in the literal sense, at least.” You explain, “We’ve fucked around in DMs before a few times but nothing in person yet. We’re genuinely friends, too, it’s not just about our jobs. He’s seen me. I’ve seen him. We’re both being safe. Now go back to your own apartment unless you want to witness something you probably don’t want to.”

She shakes her head and scrunches her nose. You laugh at her action and start walking her toward your front door. You start to pull your door open to let her out when she starts to sound like a broken record.

“Seriously, if you think he might–”

She’s cut off by someone clearing their throat. She turns around, and you look up. He’s right in the doorway, looking devastatingly handsome. Yeri buttons her lip and slips past him. You bid her goodbye as she’s already halfway to the elevator.

“Come on in.” You smile at the tall man, moving to let him in.

“It’s nice to see you in person finally.” He smiles

You nod, mouth suddenly dry, “I hope it wasn’t too bad of a trip here.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “It was actually really nice. It’s beautiful out.”

You’ve been friends online for a while now, and this sudden awkward tension is almost suffocating. Yunho smiles at you and takes your hand in his. You look at your connected hands before looking back up to his face. You’ve seen him before in pictures you exchanged in the past. Some of them are more distracting than others. Seeing him in person seems to create a whole new level of devastation for your panties and your heart at the same time.

He drops your hand and leans against a bookshelf at the edge of your entryway. He’s nearly the same height as it. You need a stool to reach the top shelf of it. Now you take in just how tall he is. You knew he was tall. Knowing a fact versus seeing it is so different. You already know his cock is big too. You’ve been blessed to see it several times. Your mind starts to wander to your activities planned for the afternoon.

“You okay?” Yunho’s eyes fill with concern, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. We can just hang out.”

“No, no,” you chuckle, “I just forgot how… big you are…” You admit.

Yunho smirks as he leans over you while leaning against the bookshelves. You gulp at the sight.

“Did you, sweetheart?”

Fuck.

Your mouth goes dry again, trying to find a proper response. You knew damn well what the plan was walking into today. Both of you had planned out the entire scene in depth to ensure safety and quality content for your followers. Hearing his voice, seeing that stupidly hot smirk, everything about him renders you speechless.

“Sweetheart?” He calls again, “You still with me?”

You nod, “Just… thinking…”

“About?” He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips.

“We have a bit of content to film, and–” You stop yourself and stare at his lips for a moment.

“And?” He questions.

Your gaze stays fixated on his lips, “And… I fucking need you right now.”

Yunho doesn’t waste a moment closing the gap between you. The way he pulls you tight against him, combined with the heat of the kiss, makes your knees buckle. You stand there for a while, just kissing him. Your neck hurts a bit from stretching up to reach him, though you’re sure he is hurting more from craning down. By the time you pull away, your lips are puffy and wet with spit. His aren’t in much better condition; he has a bit of your lipgloss smeared near his own lips.

“Is your camera all set up?” He asks, his voice slightly raspier than earlier.

“Mm,” you hum, “You’re okay with your face being on camera?”

“We already talked about that.” He reminds you, “It’s okay. My face isn’t fully a secret to my audience.”

You take his hand in yours again and guide him toward your room. As you had told him before, your camera is already set up in front of your bed. You reach over and press record before you even say another word to him. As much as you’d love to get wrecked by him now, you know the goal is to get content. Your high-quality microphone is already connected and tested to ensure it gets the best recording it can. After all, it’s not just being uploaded to your Only Fans. The audio from today is being edited and uploaded to Yunho’s NSFW audio subscription as well. Short free clips are going to be posted on both of your Twitter accounts in addition to helping with the traction. Before you get in the view of the camera, you slip your shorts off from under your oversized T-shirt. Per the agreed-upon scene, you’re playing the role of his pretty little stay-at-home girlfriend and won’t be needing pants if you’re at home all day.

“You ready, princess?”

You know he’s put on his acting, but he still searches for any uncertainty in your eyes.

“I’m ready, Daddy.” you respond, voice sweet and needy.

Despite neither of you truly having a daddy kink, you both agreed to that title for Yunho to both protect his identity and play into the content you both know people want. You sit on the side of your bed and look up at him with wide, faux-innocent eyes. Yunho hums and leans down to cage you against the bed. One hand slips back a bit to grab a silk tie just behind you. He pulls it off of the bed and leans back a bit to hold it between you.

“We’re gonna play a little game, okay?”

You nod, “Will I get to feel you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ll feel me. You just won’t see a damn thing.”

Yunho leans forward again and kisses you sloppily. The wet sounds of your kiss are enough to make you rub your thighs together. He, of course, notices it and grips your thigh with his other hand. Massaging the flesh, he pushes your oversized shirt up to expose your soaked panties. He guides you back further until you’re nearly laid down. He drops the tie just long enough to pull the shirt off of your body. You’re only left in your panties while he’s fully clothed. That doesn’t last long, though. He pulls his own shirt off. You appreciate his toned body and end up fixated on the noticeable bulge under his sweats. You gulp before meeting his eyes again.

“Can’t I suck you off for a bit? I wanna be a good girl for you.”

Yunho gives you an endearing smile, holding your chin in his hand, “That’s so sweet of you, baby. As much as Daddy would love that, I have other plans for us today. I’m gonna blindfold you now, okay? You know our cues.”

“Colors, if I can speak. If not, two taps for a break and three for a full stop.”

He kisses you again, “That’s my girl.”

It’s for the camera, you know that. Still, it doesn’t stop you from nearly melting at the praise. He takes the black silk tie and carefully secures it around your head, checking to make sure it’s not too loose or tight. You feel him guide you to lie down on your bed and push your thighs apart to be flat across the bed as well. Every sound sounds so vivid. The soft sound of his hands moving across the bedding, the gentle sounds of his breath by your ear, even the light creaking of your bed as he puts his full body weight on it. A gasp escapes your lips as he leaves more wet kisses along your throat. The noises he makes as he kisses you while letting his hands wander are enough to make your panties even more soaked than they previously were.

“You’re so jumpy, baby.” He chuckles, “Relax, let me make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” you whine, bucking your hips when his hand trails along your inner thigh.

“Yes, princess?”

You gasp when his kisses reach your chest, “Need–” 

You let out a broken whine when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. His fingers lightly trail up and down your thighs, intentionally skipping over the place you need him most. Each time you buck your hips toward his touch, he lightly nips at your chest. The lack of vision only heightens your other senses more. Each time he so much as grazes your body, you jolt in reaction. Each word he says and each noise he makes sends you into another plane of existence.

You feel his body pull away from you, leaving behind a waft of his addictive scent. You feel as he pulls your panties to the side and strokes through your folds. The squelching sounds that come from your lower lips are loud. Each rub against your clit, each time his pretty, long fingers push into you, you feel yourself crave him more. He fucks you on his fingers for a while. His thumb presses perfectly against your clit while two of his other fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that makes you see stars. His unoccupied hand holds one of your thighs down. His fingers dig into your skin in a way that may leave bruises, not that you mind at all.

“You hear that, sweetheart? You’re so fucking wet. What’s got you such a wreck? Hmm?”

“Daddy, I– fuck! Everything, it’s everything!”

“Everything? It’s how you keep whining and moaning while I finger your pretty little pussy, the way I’m speaking to you, the fact that you can’t see a damn thing. You’re at my mercy, sweetheart.”

You want to close your thighs so badly due to the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. A light slap on your thigh stops your action. A moment later, Yunho pulls his fingers from inside you, and you feel his weight lift off of the bed. The sound of foil ripping fills the space, followed by a low, growly groan. Though you can’t see it, you know Yunho kept his promise to put a condom on.

“Daddy,” your voice wavers with uncertainty.

You feel his hand rest against your waist, “It’s okay, princess. Daddy didn’t leave you all alone. I’m right here.”

The small gesture of reassurance makes your heart flutter for a brief moment. You feel the bed sink again and feel his bare skin against yours. He places a sweet kiss against your lips and whispers a quick check-in.

“You want Daddy to fuck you now?”

“Please, want Daddy’s cock, please.” You whine.

You feel the head of his cock rubs through your folds a few times before pushing in. Your panties are still pushed to the side, though they aren’t terribly in the way. Yunho continues to shower you with filthy comments and praises. Your hands fly forward and feel their way to his hair. Pulling him forward more, you pull him into another sloppy kiss. His thrusts are loud, and the squelching sound of your pussy is louder than it was with just his fingers. Your moans are muffled slightly by his kisses, but still, they’re loud. The fact that you can’t see anything makes it hard to know exactly what is happening.

“Wanna see you.” You request.

“My princess wants to see me now? I thought you liked not knowing what’s coming.” He teases.

“I- I do, but I wanna see Daddy now. Please?”

Yunho gives a particularly punctuated thrust, “Alright, princess, pick up your head a little, and I’ll take it off.”

You do as he says, and light floods your field of view a split second later. It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the light. Once they do, you’re met with the sight of Yunho above you, sat up straight on his knees as he thrusts into you. He has a heated, lust-driven look in his eyes that brings you closer to your orgasm.

“Are you attached to these panties, baby?”

You shake your head at his question. A moment later, the telltale sign of clothing ripping fills the room. You break eye contact for a moment to see that he ripped the seat of your panties and was seconds away from ripping the waistband, too. Yunho smirked at you and leaned in close to your ear.

“I’ll buy you a new pair later, or I’ll pay for you to get some new ones.”

“Daddy, wanna– gonna–”

You’re not on Earth anymore. Your mind is so far gone, lost in the obsession you’ve discovered you have with his voice and the filthy, debauched noises being created in the space. In all honesty, you didn’t even process what he just said to you. All you can think about is the fact that you’re mere moments from your orgasm.

“Pretty baby wants to cum?” He asks, gripping onto your now bare hips.

“Please,” small tears form in your eyes, “Please, please!”

Yunho smirks at you again, “Cum.”

Your orgasm rips through you, stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. Yunho’s thrusts grow stronger and faster. As you ride out your high, he reaches his own. He releases his load into the condom with a loud groan. His eyebrows furrowed together while his eyes remain locked on your own. You both start to fall from cloud nine around the same moment. Yunho leans down to hover above you and places a small kiss against your collarbone.

“You did such a good job, pretty girl. I’m so proud of you.”

That last comment wasn’t for the camera. That was specifically for you.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

[katanablue]

I am also a Leo girl especially from the 2007 film. I was wondering if you can do a one shot where the female reader is going to a wedding as a bridesmaid and she is wearing a blue dress like Leo’s mask. When she gets back home to her apartment she calls Leo to stop by to not only see her in the dress but to also dance with each other since he couldn’t go to the wedding for obvious reasons and if you are comfortable can lead to smut. If you are not I completely understand. Just something fluffy and romantic

Oh hell yeah, first request 👹

Warnings: fluff, romance, suggestiveness, Leo being cheeky lmao

You let out a heavy sigh when you finally step back into your apartment for the first time since early this morning, dropping your giant tote of bridesmaids items onto the ground and walking into your kitchen to grab a drink. It’s nearly midnight when you return, the reception of the wedding for your best friend having gone way longer than originally intended.

Songs were danced to, lyrics were screamed, tears were shed, hugs were shared and many times was the word ‘congratulations’ thrown around. It was a wonderful time and a beautiful wedding but there’s only one thing that would’ve made it better, for you at least.

If a certain mutant turtle was able to be there with you, enjoying the night and sipping on fancy cocktails while you danced across the floor.

There’s a bit of a bittersweet sigh that passes when you think about it, knowing that the two of you could never really do things like this, not in the public eye at least. You love Leo wholeheartedly that much is true and you wouldn’t change him for the world. Who he is, is who you fell in love with.

But something does tug at your heartstrings thinking about having a first dance with him as a married couple in front of all your loved ones.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when your phone lights up, Leo’s name flashing across the screen. With a grin you walk over and pick it up, leaning against your counter.

“Hi sorry, I just got through the door. Was about to text you.” You hum, glancing down at your blue bridesmaids dress.

Your idea hits you like a freight train, eyes going wide and lips parting. You were so absorbed in it that you almost didn’t hear Leo calling your name over and over again.

“Come over.” You say suddenly.

You hear him stop mid sentence, followed by a slight laugh.

“Now? It’s late, darling.”

Even though he says that he’s already halfway off the couch and heading towards the Lair exit to make his way to you.

“I know I know, I just wanna show you something.” Your voice is soft, bringing a flicker of warmth through Leo’s chest. He laughs again, questions swirling in his head as to what you’d wanna show him so late at night.

“I’m on my way, see you soon.”

——

You wait anxiously in your living room, alternating between sitting on your couch and standing up and walking around. You’re just about to get out your seat when you hear two gentle taps on your window, turning your head and seeing Leo on the other side with a tender grin. With quick steps you stand up right as he lets himself in, smoothing your hands down your dress when you see his expression morph in awe.

“Wow… you look…” His eyes go wide as he comes closer, hands automatically finding their place on your waist while he admires you in the floor length blue dress.

Nearly the same exact shade as his mask.

Sure he had seen how you looked in pictures you sent him prior but it didn’t compare to seeing it in person, especially how it contrasted beautifully against your lovely skin. He runs the tips of his fingers across the silk, marveling at the cool sensation before flicking his gaze upward to you.

“You look beautiful.” He whispers, bringing you an inch closer to him so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. His hands glide up your back, grazing across any exposed flesh and causing shivers to cascade down your spine.

“Worth coming over in the dead of night?” You tease softly and go to drape your arms over his shoulders.

He chuckles and nods against you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Very.”

Before you allow yourself to get lost in the sensation of Leo holding you close, you step back and reach for your phone on the coffee table. Leo keeps himself in your neck, peppering featherlight kisses across your skin while you look for the perfect song.

You feel his hands start to travel lower towards your rear when you hit play on your phone, the soft romantic tones filling the silence. Leo picks his head up to watch you place your device back on the table, your lips upturned in a dazzling smile.

“Dance with me?” Your voice rings sweet in his ears, Leo adjusting his hold on you while you do so around his neck.

“With pleasure.”

And so the two you sway side to side, all throughout your living room, with Leo giving you a spin or two as the song plays. It comes to an end far too soon for your liking and before you can grab your phone, he halts you.

“Let it play.”

So you dance for three more songs, each melody guiding the two of you through an unspoken choreo that made you laugh and feel butterflies all over again, reminiscent of the first time you truly felt in love with Leo. At the end of the final song, he dips you with a kiss, holding you tight with one hand splayed on your back and the other resting just above your hip.

He holds you there for a few seconds, kissing you, relishing in the feel of your plush lips and your nails gently raking over the expanse of his shell. The beginnings of a churr start low in his chest, easing its way up through his throat as he pulls you impossibly closer. He lifts the two of you back up but keeps his mouth close to yours, hands now gripping everywhere on your body. One palm circles the globe of your ass before grasping it in his three fingers. You can feel his grin grow against your mouth, a playful nip at your bottom lip when he smacks your cheek at the same time.

You gasp in surprise and pull back to see his heated gaze and instantly you know what he wants.

“This dress look incredible on you.” Both hands come to rest on you, kneading the fat gingerly like dough.

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head back just enough to expose the tender flesh of your throat, Leo’s lips and teeth crossing over with nips and kisses.

“Thought you’d might like it better in person.”

His churring increases in volume as he guides you backwards towards your bedroom, slipping his palms to under your thighs to lift you up and around his waist. You clutch tighter to his shell, tossing your head back in a laugh as his pace increases to get to your room. With fluid motion he turns and bumps your door open with his shell, quickly spinning back around to drop you onto your mattress. A fit of giggles sound from you as you bounce, your dress hitching up near your knees.

The look Leo gives you has you shuddering in anticipation, making your fingers dance down your thighs and curl under the hem of your dress. Tantanizingly slow, you pull it up and reveal your panties, Leo groaning low when he sees that they’re a lighter shade of blue.

“Wore these on purpose, didn’t you?” He rasps, pushing your legs open more to fit himself in between them. His gaze is heated, those pretty brown eyes nearly molten with desire for you.

“You ever gonna wear this again?” He goes back to kissing your neck, hands working their way up your inner thighs, squeezing and grasping harder with every move.

“Don’t think so- why?” You moan softly when he presses himself against your core, his three fingers tucking under the sides of your underwear to yank them down.

“It’s not gonna be much of a dress when I’m done with you.”

[rosemaze-reveries]

May I request weeping yearning and pining from afar but reader notices this and sends a message? 😚😚😚😚😚😚

omg who could this be ( ᷄ᾥ ᷅ ︎🫶) ty for the chance to write weepybeepy again

― spellbound

Disclaimer: This was loosely inspired by a scene in The Last Circus (the film Hullabaloo’s love triangle is based on). You couldn’t pay me to sit through that movie again but I’ve got to make use of those 2 hrs I wasted somehow </3

⚠️ Some Sergi/Margaretha. Reader uses they/them (sparingly).

Joker sits on the bench by the prop wagon, the one you instructed him to meet at, watching the other performers practise their stunts. A letter is clutched in his hands, written in your script, its envelope stained with tears that dried well over an hour ago. He’s beginning to accept that you aren’t going to show up. But Joker would wait a lifetime for you—if he had nothing else to cling to, he would always choose you. That’s how it’s been for years.

You’re the light of his life, a star on stage and off. He’s never missed a single performance of yours. He might even be more familiar with your schedule than you are. As brilliant as you are, you’re prone to such scattered thoughts that Joker is sure you wouldn’t be able to live on your own. He’s taken it upon himself to watch over you from afar. Every time you forget a piece of your costume, or your lunch, or a stage prop, he finds them for you; he sets aside a plate of all your favorites whenever you’re late to dinner (which is, impressively, most of the time). You’ve never known who your guardian angel is, and he adores playing that role for you.

That’s also why he believes you aren’t standing him up on purpose. But even if you are, even if this letter you sent out of the blue was all a setup, he would still play along for you.

“Joker, I’m so sorry!”

His eyes flick up at the sound of your voice. You’re hauling around several bags in either hand, props and cosmetics practically spilling out over the top. He jumps up from the bench to greet you, ready to rush over and take some of the load. But before he gets the chance you hitch up your bags and break into a sprint toward him. A couple of greasepaint tins tumble onto the grass, but you pay it no mind and even discard the rest of your things off to the ground with them. Then you toss your arms around Joker, squeezing him tight. His shoulders tense on impact, so stiff they nearly graze his ears.

No one has ever held him like this before. It’s almost unbelievable how much tenderness can seep through a person’s touch. He’s slow to process the sudden warmth that’s enfolding him. After a moment’s hesitation, he realizes this is a chance he might not see again for a long time. So he snaps free of his stupor, delicate fingers cupping over your shoulder blades for an awkward pat back.

“...I-It’s funny, I…” he mumbles into your neck, “I’m not sure I...” Halfway through his words fade out. It’s not meant to be a protest, but you can’t see it as anything else.

“Sorry, I couldn't help myself!” you quickly pull away. Joker mourns the loss. A prickling sensation lingers on the skin where you’d touched him. “There was a huge mix-up,” you explain. “I accidentally agreed to go shopping for the morning crew, and I told someone to tell you what happened but they couldn’t find you in your tent. I didn’t think you’d still be here!”

With a sheepish smile your attention turns to the trail of makeup scattered on the ground. “Anyway, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” you say as you pick up your things. “You know, Sergi’s treating us to dinner tonight. It’s nothing special, just a couple of our friends getting together for drinks. You probably know most of them already. Mike will be there! And Natalie too, obviously. I could let them know you’re coming and we’ll save you a seat?”

Joker doesn’t dwell on it for a second. You’ve invited him out for dinner — what do the little details matter? You will be there, the one person he adores above all else, and that’s enough for him. Sergi’s presence alone is excruciating enough to spoil it all, but he’d sit through it for you. He doesn’t even care that he never would’ve known about this get-together had you not felt guilty enough to extend an invite. This is a dinner date, no matter how you try to twist it. His heart skips a beat at the thought.

 “A-Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! And don’t worry about Sergi. I mean, this sounds bad, but he probably won’t even notice you if you sit on the end… Honestly, I get nervous around him myself so I know how to…” —appease him. You can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. “...Well, you know. But we can keep each other company!”

You’re so full of contradictions, Joker muses. Thoughtful, but careless. Sympathetic, but selfish. You talk to him like a well-meaning friend and yet you would’ve been just as happy without him tonight. But that’s alright, it’s not your fault. You’re that way with everyone, he knows that. He just has to step up for you to take a more intimate notice of him.

“Can’t promise I’ll be much of a guest,” he says, lips twitching into a wry smile, “but I guess I could swing by, if you’re going and all…”

And with that your eyes light up and Joker is relieved to know he said the right thing. As you pull him in for a goodbye hug, he closes his eyes and lets himself fall into you, savoring the few seconds your touch belongs to him. When you move to break away, his arms tighten, not willing to let you go just yet. But then he catches himself and his eyes flash wide as a rabbit’s, afraid he’d wronged you in some way. You only smile, gently tucking a lock of red hair behind his ear.

“Okay, I’ve gotta go drop these off! Dinner’s at seven, so let’s meet at the carousel a quarter till? See you tonight!”

“See you,” he echoes, dazed, and finally unhooks his arms. He watches you wave before disappearing into the busy Hullabaloo crowd. Then he reaches up to trace his hair, mimicking your touch.

This is love. He’s sure of it. He feels as though a fairy had come and bestowed a kiss upon him before vanishing with the wind. One blink and you’re gone, just a trick of the eye, and yet his body feels like it’s on fire. What a cruel spell you left on him—he’s pinned in place with butterflies flitting around his stomach, a heart that’s beating louder than his thoughts, and a dull ache pulsing up his leg.

— ୨୧ —

Not forty minutes pass before Sergi hears about the talk you had with Joker. He is Hullabaloo’s shining star, after all, with eyes and ears everywhere. He finds you on the Moonlit River Bridge throwing crumbs for the birds, apparently having nothing better to do, but you would have picked an afternoon of utter boredom over Sergi’s company any day. He strolls over to you and leans against the rail.

“Excited for tonight?” he asks. You spot Natalie observing from afar. She gives you a shy wave of her fingers, but keeps her distance. That’s all the proof you need to know that Sergi isn’t here for some small talk. Your gut tells you to stay on your guard.

“Uh-huh…” you reply, warily. “Do you need something?”

Sergi chuckles, before he slings an arm over your shoulder and begins reeling you across the bridge. Your legs stumble to match his pace, but you don’t fight him. “Listen,” he says as he walks, “you know I love Natalie, right?”

“Yeah?” You can taste the whiskey in his breath, burning your nostrils.

“She’s the love of my life. True love. Say it with me—”

“True love,” you echo.

“True love, exactly. I would do anything for her. And that clown you’ve been talking to lately, I don’t trust him. I don’t like the way he looks at her. I don’t want him even near her. You get me?”

That’s what this is about! All the tension melts from your face. “Oh, don’t worry! He’ll be sitting with me.”

“I’m worried about my wife,” Sergi insists, laying a hand over his breast. “So you understand I have to speak up when you invite someone that might hurt her. To my dinner party of all things. Look, you’re good company. My boys like you, I like you. But I don’t want a mopey clown to spoil my appetite. Right? We want to have fun. And we can’t have fun with him around. Right?”

He keeps up an easy smile, but his eyes warn you to choose your next words wisely. The pit in your stomach drops all of a sudden. You crinkle your nose to escape the smell of his breath and duck under his arm.

“I can just get a separate table,” you say, smoothing out your tousled sleeves. “I really don’t think he’s hurting anyone. Plus Mike’s fond of him, you know, they go way back—”

“(Y/N), I’m saying if I see him there, I’ll blame you for his murder.”

“......”

Those words roll so effortlessly off his tongue, you almost don’t believe you heard him correctly. Your blood runs cold, heart nearly stopping in your chest. This is my circus, is what he’s so graciously reminding you, I’m your meal ticket, not Bernard, not anyone else. You’ll listen to me. Knowing Sergi, this kind of threat is no surprise, and likely an empty one at that, but the sudden switch-up still gives you a jolt. You don’t know how to answer. All you can do is take a few slow steps out of his reach. Some kind of rebuttal rises in your throat, but you choke it back down for a half-hearted “Mhm,” instead, then break into a brisk half-run.

A miffed scoff follows behind you. “Christ, do I have to worry about you fucking up the mood too?”

Again, you don’t respond. He changes his tune a second later:

“I was kidding, (Y/N), you know that! C’mon, it wasn’t that serious! We’re all family here! Tell ‘em, Nat.”

Only at the mention of Natalie do you glance back. She seemed to have sensed the tension and rushed over. She has a soothing hand placed on his back, while Sergi’s arms are spread wide in the air, as if he’s expecting you to rush back in for a hug and say, “Oh, Sergi, I was out of line! I won’t doubt you again!” The sight of it makes your blood boil. You fear you might turn foolish if you act on your rising temper, so you swallow it down and face forward again. Before you storm out of earshot, you catch the last of their conversation:

“Natalie,” Sergi warns, voice low. You guess it’s because she hesitated to back him up. You can almost envision her scrambling to find her words when she calls from afar, a little frantic:

“He didn’t mean it!” she says. “You’ll still show up tonight, won’t you?”

You don’t turn around for her this time. A part of you regrets it, because Natalie is a dear friend of yours, but you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of your lungs. You’re sure you’ll have the chance to speak to her later, at least. She’ll come to apologize on Sergi’s behalf once things quiet down, try to reassure you that he was just a little drunk, that “he’s not really like that.” That’s how it always goes.

Watching you run off, Sergi spits on the ground. “Psycho making me look bad,” he sneers. “You know I was joking, right?”

“Of course I do, Serge,” Natalie coos.

“Right. Everyone loves Sergio the Happy Clown. I make kids laugh. I make you laugh, too. This goddamned circus would’ve burned itself to the ground without us here to save it.”

— ୨୧ —

Joker has spent hours fussing in the mirror.

With one clean stroke, he lines white facepaint above his lip, smoothing right over his cleft. He tries to rub it in with a careful finger. Blend it too much and the scar shines through; too little and he’s just drawn himself a milk moustache. There’s apparently no in-between. This is much easier to cover up when he’s in a full face of show makeup. At a loss, he decides to scrap the white and try a bit of rouge instead.

All the products at his disposal are made for the stage, bright and vibrant and grossly obvious in any natural setting. But as he wipes off the rouge he used on his lips, he discovers it leaves a faint stain behind. Not too prominent, yet it still conceals what he needs it to. Perfect. He uses that technique to plump and even the shape of his mouth. Satisfied with the results, he tucks his hair behind his ear before setting down his mirror.

“Joker, are you there?”

Oh, he loves that voice. Sweeter than anything he’s heard in this world. It’s yours, of course. But you shouldn’t have come for at least another hour or so — and especially not to his tent. …Unless he lost track of time? He glances at the striped canvas wall, the other side of which you’re presumably standing.

That was your voice, right?

He nearly knocks over his vat of lip paint as he lunges for the pocket watch atop his bed. It’s not even six o’clock. So he reassures himself that it’s nothing important. You’re probably just here to update him about the carousel’s faulty calliope or something. That’s a cute habit of yours, he’s discovered: you’re always compelled to tell whoever you can about the smallest of breakthroughs, insisting you’d forget about them otherwise.

He stands up from his stool to greet you, only for a rush of doubt to hit him. Quickly he grabs his mirror and scrubs all the makeup off his lips before slinking over to the slit of his tent.

“E-Early, aren’t we?” he greets, a little meeker than he means to. “Well, not that I mind…”

A weak smile ghosts his face as he talks, expecting to see you mirror it. But the one waiting for him outside holds their brows knitted together, eyes wild and distracted, as if they’d just witnessed a murder. That’s a side of you he never thought he’d see in his lifetime. His smile falls.

“I didn’t mistake the time, did I…?”

“No,” you say. “Um, listen. I don’t think you should come tonight.”

Joker assumes you’ll elaborate, and when you don’t, it’s him that mirrors your knitted brows. He comes closer.

“What happened?”

“Sergi’s upset about it. And he’s serious, I mean it.”

His breath catches in his throat just at the sound of that name. It’s easy to fear the worst. “He didn’t lay a hand on you, ri—”

“No, nothing like that.” You’re quick to cut him off with a firm shake of your head. “I’m sorry I keep messing things up. And about my letter, it wasn’t that important to meet somewhere special or anything. I just wanted to say thank-you for always doing so much for me. I notice, you know.”

As heartfelt as you mean to sound, your tone is devoid of its usual passion. Clearly meeting “somewhere special” had been an important part to you. Joker can imagine what’s coming next: you’ll say that you’re still planning on going to that dinner, that you don’t want to worry anyone, that you’ll see him tomorrow. He doesn’t want to stop you from doing as you like. But at the same time, you’ve cast him aside once already, and he fears his chances at pursuing you whittle away the more this happens.

Sure enough — you start to turn around. “Anyway, I’m still going to go,” you tell him. “I think it’d put Sergi in a better mood if things go like they’re supposed to.”

Joker doesn’t hesitate. He latches onto your arm, his hand quivering slightly.

“You don’t want to,” he points out. “(Y/N), forgive me for being blunt, but you’re shaken up an awful lot… Why put yourself through all that?”

You don’t deny it. “It’s not like I’ll be alone with him.”

“Not tonight,” he presses. “Not tonight. Stay here for a while. I-I’d be glad for the company, and… I’ll figure something out with Sergi. You can take it easy…”

You search Joker’s face. He’s not looking at you, his expression uncertain, gaze lost to the dust on the ground. The pull to stay grows stronger the longer you wait. It’s a tempting offer, and finally the weariness in your bones makes the decision for you.

[mandarinmoons]

https://www.tumblr.com/mandarinmoons/738899638663380992/heyy-what-about-spencer-with-a-super-independent

We need part 2 where after some time he tells her that he can't be her friend anymore and she freaks out but he inmediatly calms her telling her he can't be her friend because he NEEDS to be her boyfriend 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Yes yes I love this!

A true friend pt. 2 - Spencer Reid

After a few months of testing the waters of the newfound friendship with Spencer, you went from second guessing every small action and word that came from your mouth to nearly tackling the poor poy in a hug every time you saw him.

It was undoubtful how much of a positive affect Spencer had on you, you could be on the verge of tears from pushing yourself to finish that one last folder of paperwork, but Spencer would come along, pull you into a hug and you could feel all the stress and worry vanish as if it wasn’t even there in the first place. He had a calming effect on you that you couldn’t put into words and you were more than grateful.

You had your fair share of small ways of letting him know how grateful you were for him, from making him coffee to watching his favorite scary films with him, even though they would freak you out and Spencer would have to pause it halfway through so you wouldn’t suffer from another nightmare, but he didn’t mind, it made him so happy that you were willing to try, to try for him.

One particularly exhausting week led the two of you lounging on the couch for the whole weekend. It went from cuddling in each other’s arms to seeing who can annoy the other person the most. Spencer was in the middle of poking your nose, trying to break that poker face you had on when you decided to lean closer and squish his cheeks. You heard a muffled “Oof!” coming from his mouth which made you laugh, “Did that hurt Spence?”

“A little,” you pulled your hands away when seeing Spencer’s lips form into a small pout. “Aww I’m sorry,” your hands instantly went back to his face and lightly caressed his cheeks with your thumbs which caused Spencer’s breath to get caught in his throat.

You were so gentle, the way you held him and tried to comfort him from the slight pain you accidentally caused, it said a lot about your character and that’s what made him love you, and love you a bit more than a friend he did.

He knew he had fallen for you one particular night when you two were having one of your regular movie nights and you ended up falling asleep in his arms. With your head on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso, he looked down on you and could not smile at the sight in front of him. You looked like an angel and it certainly did something to his heart when you stirred and cuddled yourself closer into his embrace. He tried his best to keep his breathing calm so as to not wake you, but he knew he would eventually fail as he felt his heart beating out of his chest.

Spencer was brought back to reality when you called his name and shook his shoulder, “Hey, you okay?”. Spencer sat there, staring into your eyes and oh how he loved those eyes. He could look into them and feel the world coming to a halt. You giggled which caused an involuntary smile from Spencer and his heart stopped, this was it, he had to say it.

“Y/N,” your breath hitched, Spencer’s voice was shaky and it instantly rattled your nerves.

“I don’t know how to tell you this but-”

“Stop, just stop,” you were certain of the words that were about to spill from his mouth and you shut him down so you could have the last word.

“Look, if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore it’s fine, but don’t beat around the bush and just tell me.”

Spencer shook his head vigorously and reached out to take your hands gently, “Y/N it’s not that I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Then what is it?”

Spencer sighed and lowered his head, he’d never been this way with you before, “I like you Y/N, I like you more than a friend.”

You stared at him blankly and waited for him to continue on, but he didn’t, Spencer’s tongue was caught between his teeth and he was waiting, hoping for you to say something.

“Spence, are you serious?”

Spencer nodded and pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapped around you so gingerly as if you were made of porcelain and you’d break with a slightest touch.

“You don’t hate me do you?”

A chuckle erupted from your lips and you took his face in your hands again. This time you saw a rosie hue on his cheeks and you were sure it matched the same one present on yours, “I could never hate you.”

“Yeah?”, you leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, “Yeah.”

Taglist: @taygrls

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My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

[artificialbreezy]

I am actually so unwell rn that I'm abt to ask you for more Matt piss kink content on main all the shame in my body evaporated w that last post abt it 💀

ya know? i am SO glad you asked. this has been bubbling all day.

cw: piss, cum, Matt (he needs his own warning)

it was a lazy day, a no pants, fairy lights, kinda lazy day. so, you were in his lap, legs spread, his hand on your thigh. you were halfway through yet another lord of the rings directors cut. you start to wiggle, trying to get up. when his arms tighten around you.

“no, where are you going?” eyebrows scrunched up, eyes still on the film.

“Matty, i gotta pee. i’ll be back i promise.” you whispered.

he laughs a little, “in a minute.”

soon that minute turns into 10, then 15. it’s getting a little harder to hold in. “Matty, gotta go. please.”

his hands move up to settle on your lower stomach, pushing softly. “Matt! i’m gonna pee on you, if you don’t stop.”

“no you aren’t. you’re gonna sit here, and hold it until i let you go.” he spoke way more seriously than he did earlier.

squirming around, confused why your center ached. “i really need to go!”

“oh, you really need to go?” he mocked your panic tone.

you can feel his smirk against your ear, growing wider each time he feels you squirm down against him. “i’m gonna pump you full of my cum, then i’ll let you go, okay?”

nodding at the man behind you. his hands gripping your hips, lifting you up just enough he can pull his cock out, and push himself into you.

you don't even have to beg for him to be quick, he's nearly there. with you squirming on his lap, and clenching down, and you're just letting him control your body this way. makes him fucking crazy. he groans into your ear, “you’re clenching real hard baby. scared of letting it go? too embarrassed?”

you don’t have to answer, he knows. he knows you’re trying with everything inside of you to hold out for him. to wait for him to fill you up. he feels your body start to relax a little bit. “hold it. almost done baby.” he groans, biting down on your shoulder.

you feel so full.

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | midoriya izuku, part two

Midoriya's route of soulmate trope. Part one here. “this doesn’t match the manga’s canonical ending!” correct. and isn’t that sexy? please read this route last, as it contains spoilers for all other routes. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to 411ish. angst. sexual content. moderate injury (not reader). indulgently meta on behalf of the author. a note: some meta elements in this route may lead you to think it’s the true route for this fic. not necessarily. the true route is whichever one is your favourite :) ~57k overall. ~17.5k for part two.

Life got better afterwards. Infinitely better to focus on the part of your life that sings rather than what you lack. You weren’t over it, of course, but you were growing. Choosing Izuku made little joys shine.

You finished jigsaw puzzles in the kitchen together. You went with him to the farmers’ market to get his brie. You sent him memes during long work days. On a late night, you caught him while he was sitting on a street lamp’s overhang to deliver a bento.

He’s beautiful. Izuku’s beautiful. When he’s playing as a paladin in DND in Tenko’s room, when he’s across the room at a press conference and you nearly walk into someone because you’re watching him, when you slide a cup of double-sweet tea across the kitchen table and he blinks blearily up at you with a throaty, “Yeah, baby?” Not beautiful just in his body, of course, but because his personality’s written all over his face, and who he is shines; he beams and shimmers, and you’ve discovered you need to see it.

Sunlight, after all, keeps you alive.

You still haven’t kissed him yet. The timing hasn’t felt right.

The closest you’ve come to it was when you were helping him transport snacks for his employees from his car inside his agency, and halfway up the ramp, he stopped pushing his cart. Ensuring your cart wouldn’t roll away, you doubled back to Izuku, muttering under his breath and pinching his lower lip.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, gracious,” he said, breaking from his stream of thought and gripping the cart’s handle again, “I was just thinking. The cobblestone façade for the building entrance is terrible design. It’s difficult for the wheels on the carts to roll up smoothly, so it’s got to be infinitely worse for wheelchair users and others who use wheels to get around. This needs to be smooth concrete to be more accessible. It’s strange,” he said, pushing the cart again, more slowly this time, to watch how the wheels engaged with the cobblestone façade, “I’m disappointed in myself for needing to live with a temporarily disabled body in our dream reality and a couple of snack carts to realise this.” He paused when you reached your cart, waiting for you before entering the building. “I think I should spend time thinking about how to make this agency more accessible. Consult some experts. At the very least, I should commission Cementoss to smooth out the front.”

As Izuku held the door to the elevator for you, you were overwhelmed with the realisation that the only reason this man wasn’t helping more people was that he literally did not know in what capacity he could be helping. So long as he was learning, so long as he was gathering information about new people and the ways they lived, he was going to put the information and his authority to use to make others’ lives easier. This was…an infuriatingly, aggravatingly, desperately needed, good man. And so shines a good deed in a weary world.

And you would’ve kissed him for it, but you couldn’t reach him across the elevator with two carts in between.

***

You were on set the day that Izuku filmed for the pilot of Uraraka’s miniseries, Ad Astra Per Aspera. You garnered that it was a space adventure-comedy sort of thing, and the first episode was supposed to be a subversion of expectations: Izuku’s character is set up to be the main character, playing into genre and gender expectations, but halfway through the episode, he dies so that Uraraka’s character can take over as the lead. It worked on several levels: one, reminding audiences that even in real life, Uraraka didn’t need anyone, particularly Izuku, to be capable, and two, ensuring Izuku would only need a one-episode contract.

Right now, they were filming an ensemble scene in a seedy, space bar, with the initial band of characters getting to know each other through all interrogating this one suspect simultaneously. For most of the scene, they had Izuku straddling a chair backwards, his character’s army insignia sash tied snugly around his waist to emphasise it, arms resting on the back of the chair while he looked down at the suspect with disdain.

At first, the script had had Izuku’s roguish, pseudo-Han Solo character smoking, but that morning, you’d walked into a conversation between the screenwriter and the director about how showing the number-one hero smoking might have negative effects on really young kids. Thus they changed it to Izuku sexily eating fruit, but even that had its problems: surely the same kind of fruit that grows on Earth wouldn’t be available in this shitty bar in a different galaxy entirely?

So, they had you peeling kiwis for each take, and without its characteristic brown skin, kiwis could pass as some sort of space fruit. You felt a little silly, with all the peelings piling up in your lap, but now you supposed you could put production assistant on your résumé.

“They have him biting into like an apple,” you said to Monoma, also involved in the production for his clothing collaboration with Uraraka to promote the series, “Why are they having him eat it like that? That can’t be any good.”

Monoma licked his finger and flicked the page of his magazine, crossing his ankle to rest on his opposite knee. “Defamiliarises the fruit from the audience because we’re not seeing it eaten in a typical way. Next question.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, jabbing your kiwi-peeling knife his direction, “It’s going to ruin the scene if he bites down into the ring of seeds. That’s very recognisable.”

Raising a brow, Monoma looked up from his magazine. “Surely you’re accustomed to telling Midoriya how hard to bite down by now.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and returned the knife to your lap, and you pulled your jacket more closely around you instead of answering, scanning the ceiling for what vent was the source of the cold.

“Oh, are you not prepared to be on a film set?” asked Monoma, indulgently settling into his puffy coat, “They keep the set cold so that the actors don’t overheat under the lights.” He closed his magazine and set it over the arm of his chair and strained for his messenger bag on the floor. “What’s up?”

“I’m not working the show—am I allowed to go to catering? My mouth is dry. Plus, there might be something better to peel,” you said, picking up your next kiwi, “I don’t really—hm.”

Your words caught in your throat, because across the room, Izuku was, in character, licking kiwi juice up the side of his arm, from mid-forearm to his palm. You didn’t realise Monoma was offering you a bottle of water and chapstick from his bag until he jostled you with it.

“Thank you,” you said, accepting it and unscrewing the lid, and after you’d drunk enough, you picked up the unopened chapstick, examining it. “Aren’t these supposed to be, I don’t know, less spherical?”

“I thought you’d appreciate that. It’s supposed to be one of the tie-in lip balms for the series. They’re doing flavours based on some of the characters.” Monoma pulled out a few more lip balms from his bag. “We’re still working on the packaging, so they’re not out yet. That one’s supposed to be Midoriya’s.”

“Explains why it’s green, then,” you said, popping off the spherical cap, “How original. Means they were thinking more of him and not the character he’s playing. Is it mint?”

“Matcha,” said Monoma, as you smeared some on your lips, feeling better almost instantly, in the dry cold of the set, “and lemon. Which wasn’t my first choice; originally I suggested matcha and vanilla, but what do I know. Do you like it?”

You nodded mid-drink from your water bottle.

“Does it taste like him?”

You choked, water going through your nose, nearly letting kiwis and peelings tumble from your lap while a grinning Monoma thumped your back. “Man, that wasn’t even clever. If you’re this easy to fluster,” he was saying, “I don’t even want to imagine how much fun Midoriya must have with you.”

“I need you to never open your mouth again,” you said, wiping your mouth with your sleeve, and you cleared your throat. “Now. I am invoking the no-judgments clause of our friendship.”

“What do you need?”

“I wanted your advice on video editing,” you said, pulling out your phone, “I’ve been putting together this, uh. Thing. And before I post it, I wanted you to check that it’s as good as it can be. It’ll be my first time posting in a fan community I’ve joined, and I want it to be good. Try not to make fun of me for it.”

Monoma only had to watch a few seconds of footage, the chorus of NCT’s “Baby, Don’t Stop” coming in softly through your phone’s speakers, before he looked back up at you in condescension. “This is a fancam for Midoriya’s nipples,” he said, frowning.

“See, I knew you’d make fun of me for it.” You scooted your chair closer to Monoma’s, and while you peeled kiwis, he critiqued your editing and helped you make it better. You were both so absorbed in the video that you didn’t notice that the film crew had taken a break until Izuku came up to talk.

“Hey,” he said with a wave, startling you and Monoma out of your skins (he hastily shoved your phone back to you before Izuku could see the screen). “What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” You held up your knife and latest kiwi. “Being on a film set is a bit different than I’d pictured, but it’s still neat to watch everyone work.”

“Ah,” said Izuku, mouth nearly a straight line as he took the peeled kiwi from you, “I started out the morning being quite fond of these. I’ll be content if I don’t see one for a while after this. Are you cold?” He nodded at how much you snuggled into your jacket. “I can go get my coat from the green room for you.”

“You’re not? It’s frigid in here.”

Izuku shook his head. “It’s the lights.”

“Yeah, Monoma mentioned something like that,” you said, glancing towards Monoma—and you could’ve sworn you caught Monoma staring at Izuku’s nipples through his shirt. “Is this your only costume, by the way?” You reached for your water again.

Midoriya smiled, teeth cutting into his lower lip. “More or less. I’m not wearing anything for my death scene.”

You stopped the bottle before it reached your mouth. “I’m sorry. What?” You cracked a grin. “Are you telling me you have a nude scene?”

“Nothing’s shown,” he said, smiling down at you, scooting out of the way of a crewman, and tossing the kiwi to himself.  “I don’t think I mind. Women have to be nude in movies a lot, so I’m fine with helping to balance it out. I’m told it’s supposed to be non-sexual nudity, anyway.”

You sat up in your seat, taking another drink before speaking. “How noble. What’d they say about it?”

“So, I was in costuming and makeup earlier because of an effects shot; it’s the last shot I’m in before I get killed. They were explaining that I have to be completely nude for it; it’s actually pivotal that the spaceship shard that kills me slices from here—” Izuku drew a line from his upper thigh to just below his nipple (Monoma’s eye twitched). “—to here, so I can’t be wearing anything. They want me levitating, horizontal to the ground, and I was describing to the costumer that the shot is actually really similar to this effects shot in an episode of Star Trek—Next Gen, season three, episode thirteen, ‘Deja Q,’ and I was asking the costumer and the head makeup artist if I should put some sort of makeup on my ass, because I only have freckles on the top curve of my asscheeks; the lower curve doesn’t exactly see the sun—but my character, with the UV light in his bedroom, where he gets killed—he’s getting proper sun on his full ass, but if makeup were to put fake freckles on my ass, it’d be extremely obvious that they’re fake, especially in contrast to the real ones. But we couldn’t get to a decision about it before call time, because we got so wrapped up in that none of the cock socks —because that’s what they’re called, apparently, those things that’re meant to protect your modesty—well. None of them fit. And I was just about to bring up that same episode of Star Trek, because John de Lancie had the same issue, but Uraraka came and got me so that we could start,” said Izuku, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dear God, you’re in love with him.

You’re in love with the biggest nerd on the planet, and something was deeply, deeply wrong with the universe, because you weren’t currently kissing him within an inch of his life.

“But I’m hoping we finish this scene soon, at least,” Izuku was saying, tongue rubbing the inside of his cheek, as if it weren’t a crime punishable by death that his mouth wasn’t on yours at the moment, “because my lips are all dry from how acidic the kiwis are; I may need to stop by makeup again to ask if they have any sort of moisturising sealant, or something.”

“I gave your girlfriend some lip balm earlier,” said Monoma, as quick on the uptake as you, zipping up his bag to hide the other flavours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him for it.

“Yeah,” you said, mind blank except for you loved him you loved him you loved him, aggressively yanking off the chapstick’s cap and applying more to your own lips before you stood (kiwi peelings falling to the floor) and grabbed Izuku’s face to kiss him.

He floundered. Froze. Held his breath. Which, sure, at this point it was more of a smushing of faces rather than a kiss, but you heard the tiniest clearing of his throat before he kissed you back in earnest, and nothing else mattered; everything else was just white noise. It was as if you didn’t even have matcha or lemon or kiwi to consider but instead just Izuku, Izuku distilled, sunshine and warmth, and oh, his hand was gliding up the side of your neck, the span of his hand wider than that of your throat, to play with your earlobe, and he was opening his mouth, sucking your lower lip inward just slightly, and—and you had to break away to breathe, and you wished you didn’t have to.

Chest heaving, Izuku’s lips chased yours after the initial separation, and he settled for resting his forehead against yours. “To think that I was going to introduce you to Uraraka’s soulmate today, as a final nail in the coffin that I belong to you. Now,” he said with a heady rasp, nudging his nose against yours, “I’d think you know that already, and I’d rather smuggle you back home to have you all to myself.”

“You’ll have me later,” you said, giving him another short kiss and appreciating how dejected he looked when it didn’t last for more than a second. “How much time do we have? Why don’t you still introduce me to Spike? Is she here?”

Izuku took a deep breath before releasing you, and he nodded, taking your hand. “She’s over there with Uraraka. I wanted you to see how differently Uraraka treats me compared to Spike. It’s evident that’s she really in love now.”

“Lead the way,” you said, waving towards Monoma, who was determinedly reading his magazine.

Uraraka and Spike were in conversation with the director, and while the two of you waited to the side, you looked Spike over: tall and imposing with blue-black hair in a harsh bob, and huh, she’s really putting that scar around her neck on display, isn’t she? Looks like she’s been beheaded.

“Wait a minute,” you said, whispering to Izuku, “I know her.”

“True,” said Izuku, crossing his arms as he leant down to your height, “But I figured I should introduce you in this context.”

You shot him a look. “Wait, how would you know she’s a cashier I met in Alderside? Back when I was investigating your Jackrabbit stuff?”

“That’s what you were thinking of?” It was Izuku’s turn to look confused, and, laughing under his breath, he pulled you by the elbow away from everyone, until he was sure that no one would overhear. “Sweetheart, you know that Spike is just Toga Himiko transformed, right?”

“What?” you said so loudly that people looked over. Izuku rubbed his hands up and down your arms to quiet you, so you dropped your voice. “How would I know that? Where would I have gotten that information?”

“I thought I’d told you,” said Izuku, grinning and shaking his head, “Toga has been at a local rehab, Sakura Grove, and Uraraka had been visiting for a while before they found out they were soulmates. They, uh. Both have matching symbols on the underside of their tongues.”

“I’m assuming I shouldn’t ask how they found out.”

“Toga—sorry, we should say Spike since we’re in public—Spike still lives at Sakura Grove but has been given a lot of privileges for good behaviour for this long. One of her long-time handlers doesn’t leave campus much and has consented to let Spike use her appearance, within reason. And to be fair, they’ve mostly used the transformation to go on dates,” said Izuku, glancing over her shoulder at them, “It's good to see them both so happy.”

The director ended the break before you could speak to them, and, with a final kiss to Izuku’s cheek, you left the set, went home, crawled into Izuku’s bed for the first time, and tried not to fall asleep.

***

But you did fall asleep, inevitably, and you spent an annoyingly long time in the dream world listening to Tenko tell Granddaddy Slapkins that Touya loved him very much before Izuku’s body stirred in his bedroll.

You knelt at his side while he pushed himself upright. “What took you so long?”

“I apologise,” he said, rubbing his eye as he accepted the slice of toast you had ready for him, “It’s just that I finally had a particular woman in my bed, and I took a moment to admire how gorgeous she is when she sleeps.”

“You sap,” you said, and you held up a phial of the soulwalking potion. “We need to talk without eavesdroppers for a moment.”

You got to the spirit realm before Izuku did, since he had to finish his toast, and when his glowing, green-tinged soul materialised across from you in the campfire circle, you pounced on him, pushing him back down to lie on his mirrored bedroll, hands planted on either side of his head, and you kissed him, heat blossoming from his lips, the only source of warmth on this side of reality. You hummed into it and raised a hand to trace along his jaw, but Izuku gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and yanked your mouth off of his, holding you in place.

“I thought,” he said, eyes half-lidded, chest swelling underneath you, “that we were here to talk.”

“Oh, stop it. Like I could make out with you in front of our friends,” you said, leaning down towards him again, but Izuku tightened his grasp so that you couldn’t move more than an inch (at the pressure at the back of your neck, your eyes fluttered shut). “Oh? Have I done something wrong?”

Izuku raised his free hand, his index finger tracing along your cheekbone before tapping your lips. “Yes,” he said, dragging the syllable out, “You aren’t kissing me like you love me.”

“Tell me what to do, then.”

Izuku blinked slowly, eyes taking on a hint of the OFA glow. “All right.” He let his hand fall to the side. “I want you to stick your tongue in deeply, as if you’re desperate to keep me near. You need to tangle our tongues together,” said Izuku, tilting his head backward to expose the jut of his Adam’s apple, “and suck them towards you. If you can handle that, then we’ll graduate you to the next class.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding when he released your hair, but you weren’t going to give it to him immediately. You shifted your weight to one arm as you slated your lips against his, finger-combing through his hair with your other hand while your tongue swiped over his lower lip, replaced, after a moment, with teeth gently tugging. Izuku parted his lips and accepted your tongue into his mouth, lips moving with yours, while you slid your tongue against his, guiding them with the tip of your tongue towards your own mouth, and you gave a soft nip to his tongue that made him hiss.

“Now,” you said, panting, moving to sit upright, “Surely that was—”

Izuku jerked you down by your necklace to capture your lips again, pinning you against him and completely reversing the suggestion of who was in charge, and you daren’t pull away, lest the chain of your necklace break. Brow furrowed, Izuku groaned into the kiss as he shifted his hips underneath you, and, tongue feeling around the roof of your mouth, he raised a knee for you to straddle and guided your hip so firmly that you were forced to grind down on it.

He released your necklace, mouthed, “Sit back,” and moved your hand to steady yourself on his sturdy chest, clutching your hand to his pec before joining his other hand on your hips to make you rock them. After a moment, a hand trailed upwards towards your shirt, trying to get underneath it, but once he realised he’d have to undo layers of medieval clothing, Izuku huffed and simply pressed his wide palm down hard against your lower stomach, staring you down while you ground against his thigh, quick snaps of OFA lightning sparking around his forearms as you went a bit glassy-eyed and flushed, despite the layers of fabric between you.

Izuku drew you down again, shivering in the moment your lips connected with his, kissing you hard for a final, few seconds before pulling away. “Good Lord,” he said, and perhaps it’s because you’ve been kissing, but his voice sounded sweeter. “I have never kissed you before today. I haven’t seen you, completely bare, before today. Yet I’ve never so thoroughly devoted my heart to anyone besides you. I know I’ve never felt this close with anyone.”

“And you have eight people larking about inside you,” you said, tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

“And I have eight people larking about inside me,” said Izuku, nodding, “I don’t know how I’ve lived without you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but today’s been—yeah. I felt like I could say it today.”

“You don’t have to say it, exactly. It’s been…subtext.” You tapped your fingers in a ripple on his pec. “But I appreciate it very much.” You dragged your fingers down his chest, catching fabric, but before you could reach the ties of his trousers, Izuku caught your hand, flattening it against his abdomen.

“No,” he said, smiling, “Not yet. The first time you have me, I want us to be in our reality, in our own bodies. As real and true as it can be.”

“That’s fine. Have anything special in mind?”

“Yes, actually. All according to my ludicrously evil plan. Actually, I—” Izuku frowned and sat upright, helping you off of him. “Actually, we need to get out of the spirit realm first. I think I’ve put together the pieces for how we can make Shinsou a frappe, and I want to see if it works.”

You clicked your tongue. “Izuku, why the fuck are you thinking about that? You literally have a boner right now.”

“That’s not—ignore it,” said Izuku, bending his leg to conceal it from you, “But if we’re going to make lo—have sex in the real world, then we should get other stuff done while we’re here. I’m thinking that we can achieve the frappe taste from your tea ceremony, and we might be able to get the texture and temperature through experimentation with Todoroki’s ice magic—”

“You are bonkers,” you said, leaning back on your hands, “and I don’t wanna have to witness that conversation. I…you go back first. I’m going to chill here for a bit; I need to collect my thoughts about what I want to plan for when we sleep together. I won’t even be able to hear my own thoughts if everyone’s blabbering at once. Now, get.”

Izuku waved goodbye, fading into the grey as he climbed back into his body, and gosh, it really was so much colder without him here. Well, if you transformed back into a cat, you’d be a bit warmer…And then, surely it wouldn’t hurt if you curled up in a ball while you daydreamed…tucked your little head underneath the tip of your tail…started to plan about what you wanted to be wearing, what you wanted the bedroom to look like, but you didn’t get very far…

***

You blinked awake to Izuku’s defined bicep in your face, his bedsheet pulled up to your chin, and you breathed in the scent of his laundry detergent deeply.

“Oh!” Izuku removed his reading glass to set them and his book on his bedside table, and he flipped onto his side to look at you, one hand cradling your cheek. “Are you all right? Does anything feel strange?”

“Uh.” You assessed your body for, like, anything bleeding out. “No. Situation normal.”

“Good.” Izuku let out a breath, shoulders losing their tension. “I was worried, but I figured it’d be good to have someone monitor you in the real world in addition to our dream world. They’re still—”

“Hold up,” you said, starting to feel more awake, “What happened?”

Izuku sat up, blankets pooling around his waist, and you followed. “After I went back to the group, everything seemed fine for about half an hour, but then your—well, you know how our bodies seem like they’re sleeping when we’re soulwalking, and that’s all. But, uh.” He held up his hands, as if he were holding a basketball, and then dropped them. “Your body—you know All Might’s soul crystal? You—when we eventually get back to his body to return it, he’s—he looks like this stone dragon, with a spot for the soul crystal to fit. You shifted into something similar, I think. You turned into Dango, not fully cat-sized, y’know, but very—small, statue-ish. A cat curled up in a ball. I could’ve fit you in my pocket. Your soul crystal was visible, but there was no way to remove it. And we were, of course, concerned,” said Izuku, grabbing you by the shoulders, “So I’m immensely relieved to see you like this. What did you do?”

“Dude, don’t look at me. I didn’t do anything; I can’t remember. I was—” You caught yourself and grinned. “Izuku. I don’t remember anything, because I was asleep.”

Izuku tilted his head. “What?”

“I fell asleep in the spirit realm, and I think that’s why—” You broke off to laugh. “Izuku, I got a good night’s sleep for the first time in almost a year. I wasn’t awake here or in our dream world. My consciousness got to rest.”

Izuku’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he hunched over on himself to mutter furiously under his breath, pinching his bottom lip. You reached over him to grab his phone off the bedside table, checking the time and if anyone needed him this early in the morning.

When you glanced over at him, he was still going at it, so you thumped his chest. “Hey. Don’t think about it too hard. I’d given up on trying to achieve dreamless sleep a while ago, because I—like seeing you all the time. So, don’t stress about if we can recreate it. Your brain is always going a thousand miles a minute. You can relax, y’know.”

“Well, perhaps I’d need to rest in the spirit realm, then,” said Izuku, sliding out of bed and pressing his hands to his lower back as he stretched. “By the way,” he said, coming out of a groan, “I wanted to share the most pertinent piece of information regarding our Sex Plan.”

“Don’t call it—whatever, Izuku. Go ahead,” you said, scratching your forehead.

“Two weeks from now—”

“You’re gonna make me wait two weeks?”

“Hey, no, listen,” he said, grinning, holding his hands up in defence, “There’s an emotionally resonant anniversary in two weeks, and besides, look who’s saying that. The woman who’s been stringing me along for almost a year.”

You threw your hands above your head. “I didn’t know it was you for a good part of that! I didn’t know you were real,” you said, tongue in your cheek as you smiled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, “Okay, gorgeous. Lay it on me.”

Izuku bit his lip, rubbing it with his index finger before replying. “One. In two weeks, there’s a fundraiser we’re slated to attend. It’s hosted by the one we were at together three—well, four years ago. It’s grander in scale now, since the charity’s grown, but I think we can have a similarly adequate time. Two,” he said, raising another finger, “Since it’s more grandiose, our friends will be there. If you’ll allow me to be selfish, I’d like to take this opportunity to brag about our immense happiness.”

You laughed and covered your mouth. “Not even considering proving it to the press, since we haven’t made a public statement about our relationship in ages? Just our friends?”

“I admit that competition is a contributing factor,” said Izuku, taking his phone from you to return it to his bedside table, “but it’s not everything. I’m simply tired of suppressing my love for you, in public or otherwise.” He took both of your hands in his, and he knelt before you, parting your legs to get closer, to share your body heat. “Three,” said Izuku, much more seriously, “I think we should get married.”

You blinked. Okay. Not what you were expecting. “Right.” Your grip slackened, but his didn’t, keeping your fingers laced together. “To quell your fears before we have this conversation, my answer’s yes. Yes, I do wanna get married. I think it’d be wonderful. But.” You managed to free a hand from his grasp to cup his cheek. “Aren’t you concerned that I’m only just started showing you affection? That I’ve only recently opened my heart to you? Anyone else would’ve fallen for you immediately; of fucking course they would, once they saw how you shine,” you were saying, determinedly looking away from him, “but I’ve got all of these—strangely metaphysical hangups about whom I’m permitted to love, and I’m only just now starting to really get over them, and I can’t guarantee that they’ll ever really go away, so what if I can’t ever show you more love than I have recently—”

“Ohhh, my dear girl,” said Izuku, and he tapped a finger under your chin to get you to look at him, but you wouldn’t look away from the ceiling. “If we have to kiss to show we’re in love, then we’re not in love.” He tapped your chin again, and this time you met his eyes. “And we are. Haven’t you noticed? You’ve been showing me affection for so long. You’ve been proving your love to me in thousands of tiny choices you make every day, thinking of me with good intentions. Kissing is just another way of showing it. I’ve known you’ve loved me for some time now, even though you’ve been reluctant to admit it to yourself.”

You opened your mouth, scrunched your brow, and closed it. Because when you thought back, oh, he’s right; you’ve been living and working together for so long now, learning more and more about each other, both eager to dig into the minutiae of each other’s characters. He’s become a part of who you are, without trying much at all, and you haven’t noticed until he put the words in your mouth, and the feeling fucking flooded you, making your chest feel stretched like a balloon and pin-pricked in the same moment.

Because you don’t think about loving the sun. It’s just something you do. It comes built into your soul. You don’t have to announce it.

“Huh,” you said, really intelligently, “Cool. Then, yeah. Let’s get married.”

“Sweet,” said Izuku, standing and going to riffle through a dresser drawer, “I have the forms already; I hope you’ll forgive that I don’t have rings yet, because I figured you’d like to choose. I wanted to submit the soulmate quirk incident form as a marriage registration, but I didn’t know if you wanted to commit back then, so I’ve waited until—and if we can get the registration forms in by the end of the day, we’ll be in their system by Wednesday…”

You sat back on your hands, sinking into the mattress, and, feeling like you were in a dream, you listened to your soulmate ramble.

***

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

Wish you were here

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

The DJ keeps running tests of songs I thought I left behind in middle school

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

They got the Crawler as keynote speaker. Do you think he’ll sign something if I ask?

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I’ve never seen this many chairs in my life

You were smiling at your phone as you walked through the doors of your hero agency, sweaty and sore from patrol. Izuku had to be dragged away from his agency around noon; the Foundation wanted him at the fundraising site early for setup, something about adjusting the heritage building for modern security. You waved to the front desk workers and stepped into the elevator, smushing the button for the ninth floor. More texts pinged before you could type a reply to the previous one.

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

THEY’RE TELLING ME I NEED TO MAKE A SPEECH

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I WAS PLANNING ON DRINKING

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I’VE BEEN WATCHING THEM SET UP THE OPEN BAR! AND YEARNING!!!!!!

YOU

lololol did someone else drop out of giving a speech

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

YES

YOU

okay lol. listen i just got back from patrol and am omw to my office. give me a minute to cool down, and then we can brainstorm what you can say

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

Wait, have you been away from your agency for more than six hours?

YOU

…yes? ito and i got lunch while we were downtown

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

You should have something waiting for you.

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I asked them to put it in your office instead of the mailroom.

YOU

???

You sent the last while rounding the corner to your office, and you opened the door on a white garment bag hanging from your coatrack, the silhouette of the dress backlit by the late afternoon sun behind it.

Oh, this idiot.

You stopped at your desk, tearing off your support gear and dropping it unceremoniously next to a flat box, also from Izuku, at which you raised an eyebrow. But first, you grabbed a water bottle from your minifridge, chugged the whole thing, and wiped off sweat with a towel you kept behind your desk.

You began to undress, unfastening the front of your hero costume to let the A/C hit your skin, and you unzipped the garment bag, laughing through your nose at the dress: gorgeous, of course, but just a bit too slinky for your tastes and made out a material that wouldn’t be comfortable for all the hours you had to spend at this fundraiser. He must’ve been thinking with his dick.

So, you turned to the flat box on your desk, and you unfolded the tissue paper hiding a fuckin’ lingerie set, intricately lacy and deadly verdant. Izuku, you absolute nerd. Don’t you know that you can’t wear something with this heavy a design under something so blatantly silky as that dress? The lines will show. Plus—now that you were looking at the dress again—the straps on the bra were thicker than the straps on the dress, so you absolutely were not going to wear them together.

“Looks like he wanted something easy to take off,” came Ito’s voice from your doorway.

Grinning, you waved her in as you bent to retrieve another water bottle from your fridge. “Tell me about it. That dress screams easy access.”

“Like a horny couple at prom.” Ito caught the bottle you tossed to her, and she sat on your desk, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s lovely,” she said, shrugging one shoulder.

“It’s not exactly black tie,” you said after a long gulp, “It’s more of a sexy, expensive loungewear sort of deal. I don’t think I could wear that in public without everyone seeing everything that’s going on with me.” You gestured down your front. “I’m not gonna wear it.”

Ito rushed to swallow and wiped the back of her mouth. “Why not?”

“Think about it. What kind of idiot would I be if I hadn’t prepared an outfit for tonight? It’s not like the fundraiser is a surprise,” you said, pulling off the top of your hero costume, leaving you in your undershirt, “I’ve got something already. Izuku is damn lucky, though, because I’ll be able to wear that—” You nodded towards the lingerie. “—under the dress I have planned. Are you coming?”

Ito blinked. “Not at the moment.”

“I meant to the fundraiser.”

“Yeah, actually,” she said, twirling a strand of thick, white hair around her finger, “One of your friends invited me as arm candy. Said there was something I’ll want to see.”

***

Your PR advised you to arrive around 45 minutes late to avoid the initial buzz outside of the venue (some turn-of-the-century architect’s manor house before she died), but since that’d be 45 minutes of Izuku searching for you, you sneaked in through a staff entrance. You managed to locate your assigned table (thankfully in a corner, unfortunately near the front), where you hid your clutch in the pocket underneath your chair’s floral cover and listened to the musicians tune their instruments.

Where’s Izuku? They can’t need him every minute. You scanned the ballroom for his face among the early attendees, but he wasn’t to be found; some of your graduating class was already trickling in, and so, Asui, Hagakure, Ojiro, and Iida stopped by your table for a while.

“We’re over there with Yaoyo and Jiro, ribbit,” said Asui, pointing towards a far table, “I’m glad! Yaoyorozu has been to black tie events more than I have, so she can tell us if we mess up.”

“Come off of it, Tsu; we’ve been to black tie stuff before,” you said, smiling up at her from your seat, “It gets easier.”

Asui stuck out the tip of her tongue. “Forgive my cliché, but I always feel like a frog out of water no matter how many I attend.”

“Worry not!” Iida gestured stiffly. “If you’ll recall, I also come from, as you put it, old money! I can assist you if Yaoyorozu is otherwise occupied. However, you needn’t concern yourself with—”

“Why have they put you near the front?” Hagakure crossed her arms, evident by her elbow-length gloves, and held her clutch underneath her armpit. “There aren’t any awards being given out tonight. It’s just dancing and that silent auction.”

“No, but Izuku’s giving a speech,” you said, “Probably for convenience.”

“Either way, sorry about that,” said Ojiro, placing a hand on Hagakure’s shoulder, “I know you’re not too comfortable with being in everyone’s line of sight.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Though I remember this being a much smaller event. Has it grown that much?” you asked, eyeing the main entrance nervously, with how many people swarmed inside, “It’s—shadowy over here. The lights aren’t on us. It’s fine.”

“Ooh, I think they’re opening the bar,” said Hagakure, playing with the pendant of her necklace, “Good luck, and all. See you later!”

Not having the fortitude to brave the crowds yet, you stayed at your table, yanking out your phone to shoot Izuku a text.

YOU

have arrived. where are you???

Hearing the ding of a phone behind you, you turned over your shoulder and beamed as your soulmate approached.

“Hey, Izuku,” you said, standing to hug him, and oh, as you slid your arms around his neck, you breathed in the scent of his cologne (something like cedar and maybe apple?)—and that, paired with the way that he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you very slightly as he held you to his chest, the tips of your toes grazing the tile—made you just about black out. “Where have you been?”

“Back of house,” said Izuku, smushing his cheek to yours, savouring it, “They keep trying to give me more work. Something about how I’m too competent. But I can’t exactly say tonight is supposed to be some sort of psychosexual foreplay for my soulmate and me, can I?”

Your eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, we’re getting right into it? I was hoping to have about half an hour in which I wasn’t horribly aroused.”

He laughed near your ear, the air puffing away some of your hair. “Relax. We’re not doing anything drastic, you know. Now,” he said, grip loosening, “let me look at you.”

You dropped your arms, but he held onto your waist at arms’ length while he looked you over, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Gorgeous,” said Izuku, wetting his lips, “Absolutely gorgeous. But. I believe I—” He cut himself off, and he stepped closer to you, speaking under his breath and looking for all the world like he was commenting on nothing more than the weather. “Aren’t you such a bad girl? Not wearing the dress I set out for you.”

Saliva weighed heavily on your tongue. He’s being pedantic, and clearly you’ve arranged for your dress to match his midnight black tux, with its subtle bottle-green embroidery, but the flowiness of your dress’s fabric contrasts how snugly tailored to Izuku’s body his suit is, particularly his thighs and shoulders, outlining every curve his muscles have. It’s as if his suit’s from a high-end version of Best Jeanist’s Moulded to Your Ass line, except he still manages to be a bit dorky, with his tiny lapel pin that read Suit Jacket.

It was messing with your head how dashing he looked, and he just called you bad girl, which you, unfortunately, were not immune to. Clearing your throat, you rubbed at your eye and resolved that you had to slow things down quickly, lest you walk around with soaked underwear the whole night.

Worse, that’s what your brain decided to bring up next. “I’m wearing what you told me to underneath it. Thought that’d be more important.”

“Oh,” said Izuku, sounding hoarse and bringing a fist to his mouth (was that a flash of OFA lightning?), “I didn’t—”

“Deku-san, sir,” came a voice from behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, and—a Kazama? That was Kazama, or one of him, at least; Hero Commission personnel must be working the event—appeared. “You’re needed backstage.”

“Of course,” said Izuku, recovering in a single second and pulling down his suit jacket, and he leant in to kiss you on the cheek. “I’ll be back, love.”

You were alone hardly a minute before Monoma eased into the seat next to you. “Greetings and salutations,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm, as he held up a champagne flute in toast.

“You didn’t bring me one?”

Instead, he slid you a glass bottle of sparkling water that he’d been hiding behind his back. “I know you usually don’t drink at these things. Pity they don’t have pink lemonade.”

You unscrewed the cap, leaning back in your seat when he did. “Do they have regular lemonade?”

“Of course not. Since when do people care about the non-alcoholic drinking crowd?” Monoma shrugged, tilting his chair back on two legs. “The dress work out well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, brushing down your front, “Thanks for getting it made on such short notice; it’s really—”

“It’s fascinating from a design standpoint, because there are purely no so-called dark elves to pull a look from, as you wanted, in Lord of the Rings,” said Monoma, clanking his chair forwards again to dramatically steeple his fingers together. “The Moriquendi elves, of course, come closest by definition, since they have never seen the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, but considering that category of elves splits into several subcategories that I don’t think truly fit the spirit of the design you requested—maybe the Falathrim—but regardless, I’m thinking it was the right idea for my design team and me to simply adjust the palette from our Vanyar line, even though it goes against the lore, and people usually cut me off by now; are you all right?”

Honestly, you were still processing bad girl and how it went straight to your cunt. But you swallowed the sparkling water you were holding in your mouth and shook your head. “I’m fine. I think I’m just a bit put off that it seems like Izuku’s going to be away from me for a good part of the night.”

“We’ll ensure you’re not lonely,” said Monoma, tracing the rim of his glass, “In the meantime, would you like me to distract you? I’ve been keeping an eye on your fancam since we posted it; it seems to be doing well.”

Monoma pulled out his phone to scroll through the comments with you, and it served as a delicious distraction as the ballroom grew packed and noisy.

[video description: a Deku fancam set to NCT’s “Baby, Don’t Stop.” Clips from social media, photo shoots, behind-the-scenes of Ad Astra Per Aspera, and interviews flash in time to the beat of the song’s bridge, focusing on Deku’s nipples, both when deliberately on display and when accidental.]

igneousbastard: everyone say thank you to the production crew for making the set cold af and putting deku in the thinnest shirt known to man 🫡

midori-world: he is literally slutting himself out. can he fucking chill. in unrelated news i’m going to bite my hand off

blueberrybakugou: mr. deku……….

chargenut: hello i am going to obliterate this man

sakuraraka: okay i’ll just say it, since no one else will: BARK BARK BARK WOOF BARK

kirishimashairdye: shredding him with my teeth. putting him in my mouf like a fucken fuit Gummi

mmmmmidoriya: SUCKABLE.

dickuprint: @assortedsoftcheeses hey OP where did you get that clip at 0:33?? seems like it’s the kind of thing you’d find on some pro’s private account. kinda personal 👀 have i missed something?? who posted that????

momo-closet: been watching this on loop for a few minutes before realising my jaw was clenched hard enough to eat through my own enamel. Good work everyone let’s hit the showers

You and Monoma jolted out of your skins when Todoroki Touya slammed his plate on the table and yanked out a chair, legs scraping the tile, nodding your way as he straddled his chair. Tenko followed closely behind, a bottle in one hand and a Nintendo switch in the other.

“Are you playing a game?” Tenko gestured towards Monoma’s phone.

You laughed through your nose as Monoma stowed his phone away. “Not really. I see you didn’t leave home without one.”

Tenko scrunched up his face. “I had to bring something. No one outside of our DND group is going to want to talk to me without morbid curiosity, and you’ll be too busy to be at my side the whole time.”

“That’s why I’m his plus-one,” said Touya, holding up a crostini and waving with his free fingers.

“I was wondering how you were here, Touya,” you said, mouthing thanks to Shinsou as he set a plate of hors d'oeuvres in front of you and moved to sit in the seat to your left, “Tenko, I get, since he’s working with Aizawa-sensei in the underground hero scene, but—”

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” Aizawa pulled out the chair next to Shinsou and eased into it, bracing himself on its back to make it easier on his prosthetic leg.

“You did. Shouta, I apologise,” you said (with Shinsou’s eyebrows flashing upwards), and you turned back to Touya. “You’re Tenko’s date?”

“Don’t say it like that,” said Tenko, scowling as Touya nodded eagerly, “Since he wouldn’t be able to come otherwise, and I’ve been told I can’t just latch onto you for the whole night…” He trailed off, and your eyes darted across the table to catch the cause: Aizawa, shaking his head ever so slightly, as he lifted one of the event’s pre-made cocktails to his mouth.

Weird. But okay, you’ll pretend like you didn’t see it. “So, what’re you playing?”

Everything went smoothly for a while, with Shinsou and Aizawa sharing hors d’oeuvres while Tenko explained the mechanics of his game, with scathing commentary from Touya and probing lore questions from Monoma, but then, two, innocuous things happened in quick succession that changed the mood of the evening entirely.

First, Aizawa got a text. “It’s from Haimawari Koichi—the Crawler, I mean. He says he’s about to go on. He can see us from backstage.” Made you think about Izuku, that he wanted his autograph and was probably talking to him right now.

At the same time, Todoroki and Bakugou showed up, since their table was next to yours, and Bakugou thumped you in the back of your head. “Looking pretty bored without us, sweetheart.”

“Wow,” you said, rubbing your head, grinning, and you spoke without thinking: “That’s everyone except Izuku.”

In the moment, it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to say. At Shinsou’s sharp inhale, Aizawa’s cautious glance towards the opposite side of the table, and Todoroki’s bracing your shoulders, it occurred to you that perhaps you said something odd, but then oh my god they would only react like that if they knew that you were their soulmate in another timeline how the fuck did they find out where’s Izuku you need to leave now—

“I think we should dance. There’s dancing,” said Shinsou, scanning your face for distress and grabbing your wrist as you pushed yourself up from the table in a rush, Todoroki still at your back.

The room’s too hot. The room is too hot, and it’s spinning.

The orchestra swelled as the lights dimmed. It must be time for the keynote speech.

“I really,” you said, swallowing with effort, sweat running down your neck and between your shoulder blades, “I need to go.”

Shinsou’s hand around your wrist. Todoroki’s hand on the small of your back. Bakugou grabbing your forearm, Monoma staring up at you from your side, Tenko and Touya peering across the table at you, the most compliant you’ve ever seen them.

“Sit down,” Aizawa said, quietly, firmly, gesturing to your chair with his drink, and it’s like you’re hearing his voice underwater. You never wanted to have this conversation with them at all, but since they knew, why couldn’t it at least be one-on-one? Why did they all have to be here at once?

You need to be alone. You need to be with Izuku.

Feeling very, very hollow, you’re guided back down to your seat by both Todoroki and Monoma as the room finally darkens, with a spotlight on the podium onstage. The string section played a vaguely familiar song as Bakugou yanked his and Todoroki’s chairs from their table to sit behind you, and Shinsou uncapped your drink, holding the bottle out for you to take. The Crawler walks out onstage to thunderous applause, but you didn’t catch his opening words.

Shinsou gripped your hand, almost crushing your fingers. He kept his eyes on you, not the stage. But so was everyone else.

Eventually, you could speak, though you kept it down, since the Crawler was talking. “I’m so sorry.”

Most of the table started to protest, but Aizawa held up his hand to cut them off.

“My life is over,” you found yourself saying, blankly, far away, somewhere without strategic lighting or dress codes or crowds, “I—all of you aren’t going to be able to be the same around me. Our relationships are fucked, because you’re going to look at me and know, know that I’m the direct cause of your never getting a soulmate in this timeline, that I’ve ruined things for you. God, I love our friendships, and I really shouldn’t, because you deserve more. I’ve deprived you of a warmth that I get to chase until the ends of the earth. I,” you said, and you really hadn’t wanted to cry at this damn event, but whatever, man, “I can’t—fuck.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry. But I can’t get around it, and I don’t really want to. I love you guys so much. But I’m in love with Izuku.”

At the soft, muted sound of porcelain being slid across the tablecloth, you peeked through your fingers to glance down at a plate with three dumplings left on it. Touya tapped the edge of the plate, staring you down. “Eat this fucking thing.”

Taken aback, you sat up straight and, since no one else was reacting to that, obeyed. You hated that the dumplings made your stomach feel less like one, big knot. How annoyingly simple of a solution.

“All right,” said Bakugou, leaning forward in his chair so that he could speak in your ear while you chewed, “Have you noticed us act any different lately?”

You rushed to swallow. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve known you are our soulmate in other timelines since the day you threw up on Bakugou’s carpet,” said Todoroki.

“I’m sorry. What?”

Bakugou scowled and shook his head. “You were there for that conversation. In the infirmary, remember?”

“No,” you said, taking your drink from Shinsou again when prompted, “I—you’ll recall I’d hit my head. I didn’t…” You sighed. “Are you kidding? And we’re all—” You gestured around the table, trying to catch everyone’s eye. “—okay with this?”

The table remained silent.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, stomach turning but reaching for the next dumpling, anyway. “I’ve fucking destroyed your chances of happiness—”

“Can you not rub your brain cells together for once?” Bakugou tugged your chair backwards a few inches so that you could look him in the eye. “You and Izuku are exactly the same. Shut the fuck up. No one has lost any shred of happiness because of you and your choices.”

“Don’t think you have that much influence on our lives,” Aizawa was saying, smiling, “You don’t have to hold back on our account. You’re allowed to be happy.”

You couldn’t believe it.

You couldn’t.

But the sick feeling in your gut was fading.

Sniffing, you rubbed the back of your neck, tears running down your cheeks. “Hold on. I need a minute.”

Before you could compose yourself, the Crawler wrapped up his speech, with the crowd clapping as the lights rose and music picked back up.

Touya spoke under the applause, leaning towards you. “Plus, I know that some version of me out there gets have enormously fucknasty sex with you, so I’m good.” Tenko elbowed him in the chest, not bothering to be subtle.

“Thanks, Touya,” you said, cracking a weak smile, “You’re not…actually, you are helping. Thank you.”

Monoma took your free hand, dumpling-greasy as it were. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly aware of all the sweat draining down your back, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just thought—I thought I’d be keeping this to myself forever. Well, myself and Izuku.”

“And Ito,” said Bakugou, scoffing, “She won’t shut up about it. Says she didn’t mean for you to have a harem, but she’d be interested in seeing it play out. Claims she’s never seen one assigned from her quirk before.”

“Ito’s been talking to you about this?”

“She’s probably listening in somehow,” said Bakugou, jerking his thumb up to the second storey balcony, “Begged me to be my date for the night. Probably wanted a show.”

You followed his gesture to make out Ito on the second floor while she leant over the railing, her elbow-length, lace gloves recognisable even from this distance, and she was using opera glasses to look your way. Uraraka and Toga-as-Spike were laughing next to her.

“God,” you said, slumping in your seat, adrenaline draining completely, and you ran your hand back through your hair. “And everyone’s really okay with this,” you asked flatly, making a point to hold eye contact with everyone, and no one said anything. “Okay,” you said, setting your empty bottle on the table and moving to stand, “I’ll just be happy, then. Since you want me to. No take-backs.” You waited for any dissenting voices, but, again, they seemed content. “Cool. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Agreed,” said Aizawa, and he batted at Shinsou’s arm. “Go with her. Make sure she doesn’t drown herself in the toilet.”

Taking a deep breath, you and Shinsou wove through crowds and away from the music, travelling down century-old, narrow corridors until you located one of the minute restrooms open to the event. Spotting a member of the kitchen crew exit it, you instead yanked Shinsou around a roped-off corner to shove him against the exposed brick.

“Hitoshi, you’ve got to tell me the truth,” you said, gripping his lapels, eyes bulging, “Are any of you actually okay with this?”

Shaken, Shinsou glanced down at your hands and patted one with his own. “You’re overthinking it. We’re fine. Spend less time thinking about us, and allow yourself to be selfish. You—” Shinsou shifted his jaw, and, keeping his eyes on the water-stained ceiling, he rolled his shoulders back. “I’m not supposed to tell you this. I am not supposed to tell you this.”

You released him to give him space to consider his phrasing, shoe scraping the wood when you took a step back.

“It’s good that you’re Midoriya’s soulmate in this timeline, instead of any of ours,” said Shinsou, covering his mouth with his hand, brow scrunched, “Because—I don’t wanna get into who loves you more, or anything, because who can measure—but Midoriya definitely loves you better than any of us. Because he’s the only one who loves you well enough to let you leave him. To let you choose who you want.” Shinsou swore under his breath and, running a hand back through his hair, he slid down the wall into a crouch, bunching up his suit jacket.

Leave him? He’s never…hm. You knelt next to him. “What do you mean?”

Shinsou fiddled with the button on his jacket before unbuttoning it. “Midoriya’s been tearing himself up. First, over that he was ruining your life, and he thought he had verification of that because of the constant soulmate pain he felt, but then—he said that you two figured out something about soulmates and timelines, so that brought on another layer of guilt: that you could find your happiness with someone else.”

Fuck. Fuck. Might explain why he hasn’t insisted on being alone with you. Why all the group hangouts. Lately, it must’ve been too painful—must be why he begged you to look only at him. “Why would he not say anything until recently—what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him? What about what’s wrong with you?” Shinsou shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, laughing through a scoff. “Listen,” he said, and he, shifting to sit on his knees, took your hand to place it over his heart. “There’s nothing binding us together. You’re my best friend, yes, but that’s all. Feel that? Completely normal heartbeat.” Honestly, you couldn’t feel anything through the layers of fabric, but you let him continue. “I’m gonna be fine. We all will be. It should be a comfort that our lives don’t revolve around you. Not like we make up a solar system with you at the centre. You’ve also lost it if you think that romantic love is the only way we can lead a fulfilling—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, pulling your hand back, “I don’t want to rehash all the bitter stuff we’d say when we were all soulmate-less and hanging out with our graduating class.”

“Then stop rehashing all these feelings of guilt, too,” said Shinsou, “Allow yourself to live in reality, not in some daydream of what could’ve been.”

Every heavy feeling stirring in your gut for almost a year finally, finally evaporated, dissolving into air and floating far, far away like gossamer in the night breeze.

It left you feeling rather light. Almost foamy.

Nodding, you said through a dry croak, “I need to find Izuku.”

Shinsou clapped your knee in encouragement, and, pushing himself to stand, he helped you do the same. “I think we’re missing his speech right now.”

You rushed back through the labyrinthine corridors, almost knocking into some press and definitely knocking into a retired hero, sorry, but when you managed to cut through the throng, you weren’t even rewarded with the sight of Izuku at your table—Touya, Tenko, and Aizawa remained, the two former invested in the switch, the latter in the book he’d brought (fucking nerd). They hadn’t seen Izuku.

“Bakugou dragged him off towards the second storey,” Todoroki chimed in from his table, having taken a moment to swallow his crudité.

You thanked him and hurried off, first having to find a staircase and then a way to the outside balcony, but you caught a flash of Bakugou’s moonlit hair before you slipped around the corner to the alcove overhanging the backyard, and, holding your breath, you darted back inside the shadow to press yourself flat against the wall, hoping to God that you hadn’t interrupted anything terrible.

“You don’t even like beer, so stop bitching about not getting to have any,” said Bakugou, tilting his own bottle back to take a gulp.

“Sorry, Kacchan. It’s—I’m nervous. I don’t want to mess this up. It’s all so new to me.”

“What is?”

“Being in love.”

The words are spoken so softly you could’ve missed them under the distant, hollow notes of bamboo windchimes in the gardens. You heard Bakugou’s beer glass clink against the balcony railing, paired with a sigh, instead of answering.

“Thanks for not laughing,” said Izuku, sounding like he’d shifted to face Bakugou; his voice didn’t reverberate back as clearly anymore. “I just like being around her. We don’t have to say anything at all—like I can be switched to off. Like I can just be me, instead of someone everybody needs. It’s good. Calming. Feels like she’s always been a part of me, even when I didn’t know it. I don’t know how else to explain it. When I’m with her, I just feel like—like me, instead of any conceits of me that people have in their heads. And sometimes, she doesn’t even like me.” Izuku let out a laugh. “It feels good to have someone not see me as perfect and still love me for it. Sensual, even.”

“Control your dick, Izuku.”

Izuku laughed, and it echoed through the night air. “I don’t think she knows how much I think about it—building a life together. Genuinely settling in. Settling down. We’re already in deep, but I want more. I want to cook her breakfast. I want her house slippers next to mine by the door. I want to fumble for her soap in the shower. I want the empty spaces in our lives to be filled with her laughter. God,” said Izuku, accompanied by a clump, as if he’d banged his head against something, “I want to stop fisting myself every night thinking of her perfect tits, the curve of her hips—”

“Can it. I don’t need to hear—.”

“—it’s the kind of stuff I used to dream about.”

You couldn’t take it. You and Izuku were finally on the same page, and all of this running and chasing and finding was useless; you needed to be near him right now.

Retracing your steps, you approached the alcove again, this time making your footsteps obvious, and so while they were both expecting someone as you drew nearer, Izuku’s face lit up like a firework when he saw it was you—and then, for some reason, he turned bright fucking red.

“Hey, Izuku. Bakugou,” you said, nodding towards him before focusing on Izuku, lifting a hand to his heated cheek, “Are you all right? The heat was getting to me, too, earlier.”

Izuku shook his head frantically, and after he shut his eyes to take a heady breath, he steeled himself, looking at you with something next door to adoration as he placed a hand on your waist, he said, “I’m fine. I can’t stop thinking about what’s under that fucking dress.”

“O-kay,” said Bakugou, clapping Izuku on the shoulder, “I’ll be downstairs. Not that you’ll need me. Try not to break anything.”

Izuku didn’t even wait for Bakugou to leave the balcony before kissing you (you did catch Bakugou’s thumbs-up that you weren’t supposed to see), mouth opening the second he grazed yours, and you had to grab his face, squeezing at his cheeks while his cheek scuffed your palm, to tear him away.

“Hey,” you said, tapping his cheek in a ripple, trying to ignore how he grabbed at your waist almost desperately, staring at your lips, “Not yet. I wanted to tell you that I’m over it, over everything that’s complicating our situation, and that I love you.”

Izuku froze, cogs almost visibly turning, and he pressed his forehead to yours. “They talked to you, didn’t they? I asked them not to.”

“I was being weird about it, and they said some very comforting things—”

“Are you sure you want me? I’m not—not sure I’m what you want—I haven’t known you forever, like Shinsou, and I could never be as gentle as Aizawa—”

“Izuku,” you said, squeezing his face as you pushed him backwards to look him in the eye, “What I want is you, Izuku. No one else.”

He searched your face for any shred of deceit, and he pushed through the hand still on his face to hold him at a distance to kiss you again, tongue swiping at your lower lip, the grunt at the back of his throat so soft that he was almost drowned out by the bamboo windchimes again. While you sucked his tongue into your mouth, Izuku let his hands drift upwards, cupping one of your boobs, and Izuku broke the kiss with a hum while he stared down at his hand, circling your nipple through the fabric.

“Can you feel much through your dress?”

“Not especially,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

Izuku pouted, pursing his lips in thought, but a smile soon replaced it. “That’s fine,” he said, reaching for the slit in your billowing skirt, “Let me touch you? I wanna feel where I’m gonna come later.”

He didn’t need to know your underwear dampened at his words. “Izuku, we are in public.”

He paused just short of touching your bare leg. “Should we stop? We can stop.”

Huffing, you bit the inside of your cheek and looked down from the alcove, where a group had started into the gardens, laughing through their drunkenness. “We can keep going, but I’d like to be able to walk out of here without anyone knowing what we’ve done.”

“Got it,” he said, and he kissed you, hard, close-mouthed, pressing himself against you as much as he could. “Right,” he said, cradling your face when he broke away and guiding you backwards into the shadow against the alcove’s wall, “Then all we have to worry about is how much noise you make, hm? Can we trust that clever mouth to be quiet?”

Throat running dry, you swallowed thickly as Izuku’s fingers slipped through the slit of your dress, brushing over your inner thigh. “So long as you keep kissing me, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

Izuku grinned. “I like the way you think.” He kissed you again, hot as your back hit the wall. “But you’ll recall I want to watch.”

Without removing it from around his neck, Izuku rolled the end of his tie, pried your mouth open, and shoved it inside, its silk drying out your tongue as Izuku hiked your leg over his hip. He shivered, beaming, when one of his fingers grazed your clit through the lace, and he circled it slowly but firmly. Your breath hitched, and as the adrenaline spread to tingle in your fingertips, your cunt tensed up, clenching around nothing.

“Oh?” Izuku trailed his lips across your cheek to just before your ear, breath hot against it. He traced his finger down the lace flower along the gusset, and you felt his smile against your skin when he reached the wet patch pressing coolly over your heated entrance. “Interesting.”

“Hey,” you said, inhaling sharply when he dipped underneath the fabric, trailing his fingers up and down your labia, “Izuku—”

“You’re okay,” he said, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb against your bare clit, “We’re fine. In fact, we’re great, because, as you reminded me, we’re in public. I’d be sucking at you through the lace if we weren’t.” At your shudder, he ran the backs of his fingers down to test the dampening fabric. “Ohhh, that’s it. That’s nice. It’s just what I wanted to see.” Izuku lifted the gusset from you, cool air swishing up your heat, and he released it, fabric snapping back onto your cunt. “Eager to please me, aren’t you? Sick of trying to push me away?”

Izuku pulled back from your ear as his index finger circled your entrance, right around the rim as it began to curve inside. “Think you can take my fingers yet?”

You nodded and bit farther down on his tie to close some of the distance between you.

“Thank you. I need to stretch you out for later, anyway,” said Izuku, and he kissed your cheek before burying his face in your neck, rolling his hips against yours as he pressed his first finger into you. Its width caught you off guard, and you yelped into your gag.

“Hey, easy. Easy,” said Izuku, rubbing your clit as he drew his finger inside and out, so slowly, so fucking slowly, “We’re in public.”

It’s hard to articulate you rat bastard while gagged, but you got the message across.

Blood surged through your veins; you struggled to keep your eyelids from fluttering. Izuku flooded your sense: he’s licking at your neck and smelling so, so good, covering you with his warmth and ever-tightening the coil in your gut through his careful touches, and hey, when did he add a second finger? You’ll kill him, and he’s muttering the most frustrating things against your skin, like he didn’t care that you still had to walk out of here.

“C’mon, then,” said Izuku, surfacing from your neck, breathing heavily, like he’s just woken up, “Claim me. Mark me.” He removed a hand from under your skirt (the other, still pressing two fingers inside you, stretched to rub at your clit) to tug his tie out of your mouth, and he let it drop, saliva-heavy against his shirt. “Let everyone know that I’m your soulmate,” he said, baring his throat, “That you alone own me.”

“Izuku,” you said, panting, “Don’t you still have to give your speech?”

Izuku sighed, his fingers stilling inside you. “Yeah, I do. You’re right. You’re goddamned right,” he said, grimacing, and he withdrew his hand from underneath your skirt.

“Whoa, what?” you asked as he took a step back, “I—I, um.”

“Is there a problem?” he asked, a touch of smugness to his voice. “You have to say it, if you want something.”

Wetting your lower lip, you glanced over your shoulder and back at him. “I didn’t come.”

“That’s true,” said Izuku, adjusting his lapels, “but we’re in public, and I have a speech to give. How indecent.” He winked at you, and you huffed. “What a shame you’ll have to wait.”

You stepped towards him with murderous intent and froze as arousal gushed through the lace and down your leg. “Oh, God. I don’t think I can go out there. I’m too—”

“On it,” said Izuku, unravelling his tie and whipping it from around his neck, and he fucking parted your legs to wipe you down with it, pressing more into your cunt than someone cleaning up really should have.

“How do you manage to think through that horny fog in your brain?” you asked, as Izuku stood upright, examining the freshly wet spot on his tie.

“You get used to it.” Izuku watched your moonlit arousal glisten for a moment, and then he stuck the fabric into his mouth, sucking audibly.

“Holy fuck,” you said, shaking your head, “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Izuku was saying as he guided you by the small of your back off the balcony, stowing his tie in his inner suit pocket, and he took your hand to thread his fingers through yours when you reached the staircase. “But we should go home, where I know how sturdy everything is. There’s a reason why Bakugou told us not to break anything.”

Izuku led you through the dance floor back to your table, and you had to be normal. You had to sit down with your rotating coterie of friends coming to socialise, and you had to be normal. You had to watch Izuku unbutton his suit jacket as he sat next to you, flipping the jacket away from his hip as he stuck his hand in his pocket, and you had to be normal. His ankle bone poked through his thin sock as his trousers rode up, like a slut, and you had to be normal. Izuku held his bottle of sparkling water at his crotch, peeling at the condensation-beaded label, thumb rubbing up and down the bottle neck absently, and you had to be normal.

Monoma hissed and glared over his shoulder at the orchestra as they transitioned into a new song. “Aren’t we over ‘Air on the G String’ as a society yet?”

Touya cleared his throat, holding up his champagne flute to the light. “I’m not over anything in a g-string yet.”

Monoma propped his chin on his fist. “Touya, you are a paragon of modern society. Tell me about your plans to bolster the economy.”

Izuku caught your eye, his own glinting as they dropped to your lips, and you had to be fucking normal.

Later in the night, long after the orchestra had packed up and after most press had departed, the silent auction began. Since Izuku had no interest in it and you were vibrating out of this plane of existence, Izuku moved to one of the standing tables at the back of the ballroom. More openly drunk behaviour was exhibited here, and near your table, a caution sign had been erected where a recent spill had been mopped up.

You shivered as he sneaked up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he set a plate of the latest round of finger foods in front of you on the tiny table, and he leant his head against yours, rubbing his cheek on yours like a cat before kissing it. You craned your neck away from him, trying to seem absorbed in the flavours of meringues he’d brought over, but when he blew cold air into your ear, you jolted, eliciting a quiet chuckle.

“You are insufferable, Izuku,” you said, sounding controlled despite every part of you buzzing and screaming like a sparkler.

“Don’t I deserve to be? I’ve been waiting for so long,” he said, and he pressed a kiss in front of your ear, below it, and then on your neck. “I’m gonna make it really good for you.”

Izuku grinned into your throat when you stiffened, but you shook it off, taking a small step to the side and popping a meringue into your mouth just to have something besides Izuku to stimulate your senses. “Don’t just say things like that; I can’t take it.”

“You will.”

You would’ve choked if Izuku hadn’t timed his comment perfectly.

“I think,” said Izuku, tilting his head with a smile creeping in, “that you’re embarrassed, that you’re ashamed of taking so long to come around to your feelings, when I’ve been waiting with open arms and an open mouth all this time. So, in that gorgeous brain of yours, you’ve decided that you’ll acquiesce, that you’ll take every single thing I give you, because you feel like you deserve to be used as I please. Now, I’m not saying you’re right—” Izuku pushed some of your hair behind your ear, not that it needed it, and trailed his fingers down the side of your throat. “—because how rude, how mean of me would it be to think so? But. I shan’t deny that I’ll enjoy watching the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to take me inside.”

You grabbed his shirt, right where his tie should be, and as you jerked him towards you, you caught a glimmer of excitement (and you were reminded that any manhandling on your part was because he was letting you push him around). “If your cock isn’t in me within the next five minutes, I am going to shred you into confetti.”

“You’re doing this to yourself, you know,” said Izuku, grinning, holding his tongue between his teeth as he held his hands up in defence, “You can safeword out of it any time.”

This is part of it? Of fucking course it’d be part of it. “Fuck you, Izuku,” you said, also grinning, livid, “Lotus. Now, call our fucking car.”

Izuku was quite compliant after that, ever so polite to your friends as you ducked out and to the driver, even apologetic to you in the car as you shook him by the shoulders when he admitted he’d given his speech while you’d been talking with Shinsou. Courteous and kind even when you held his hand in a death grip on the ride home and pulled up a list of medieval torture methods for tomorrow.

“Okay, well,” you said, toeing off your shoes once you were inside the apartment, Izuku locking the door behind you, “I guess I’ll go wash up, or—”

“No, you’re fine,” said Izuku, and you found yourself being spun around by your thighs, Izuku kneeling on the hallway rug and staring up at you with big, ol’ wet eyes (that bitch). “You’re perfect.” He pressed his hand flat on your lower abdomen to back you against the wall, and he tapped the inside of your ankle to get you to shift your weight to your other foot; he tossed your leg over his shoulder and parted the slit in your dress. Izuku’s mouth found your clit and, through the lace, sucked hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” you said, hand flying to his hair, “You—you don’t even have to, fuck, Izuku—I’m wet; you don’t have to warm me up. I’m ready for you.”

Gathering saliva on his tongue, he licked up the length of your cunt, dampening the final scraps of the fabric not already soaked. He licked where your labia met your inner thigh, down the trail of arousal dripping down your leg. “Gracious,” he said once he’d surfaced, “Good Lord, you’re drenched.”

“Izuku,” you said with a whine, “Get up. Fucking—fucking stop. I—I’m going—I need to—”

“I know, baby,” said Izuku, so gentle as he stood and cradled your face in his hands, and he kissed you softly. “I know what you need. Seems like you’re close to being fucked-out brainless without even coming. You’re adorable. You can relax now, sweet girl. I’m going to take care of you.” He indulged you when you kissed him again, and he guided your jaw open a little wider so that he could slip his tongue inside. “Oh, that’s good. You’re so good for me,” said Izuku, flicking away the gauzy thread of saliva between you, “While don’t you get on the bed, hm?���

You nodded, almost drowsily, because relief swept over you to such a full extent that you’re a bit boneless, and you trudged into his bedroom and crawled onto the bed, flopping over to sink into his pillows.

Wait, was Dango in here? Your cat shouldn’t witness you having sex. She might claw at someone’s nipple. You dangled upside-down off of the side of the bed, peering underneath it for Dango, unable to discern if that far shadow were her.

When Izuku entered the room, suit jacket draped over his arm, you explained the situation. You paused the sexual encounter to locate the cat, who was inside Izuku’s closet in his sock drawer, and once you’d shut her out of the room and washed your hands, you reconvened on the mattress.

“Did that kill the mood?” you asked, hair splayed around you on the pillow as you arched your back to unzip your dress, “I think that may have killed the mood.”

“It didn’t; trust me.” Transfixed by your boobs, Izuku fumbled to unbutton his trousers, and when he stepped out of them, you halted in your shimmying off of your dress: shirt stays pinned his shirt down, their straps digging into the muscle of his upper thighs, and sock garters did the same around his calves. “It does it for me, actually, knowing that you’re so conscientious about this sort of thing.”

“Come closer,” you said, holding out your grabby hands, and he, bewildered, came to the edge of the bed, legs touching the blankets. You traced down a strap of his shirt stays, and you pulled one out to snap it back, the elastic cracking against his pale thigh. You covered your mouth with your hand, throat constricting slightly as heat curled in your lower stomach.

Izuku lifted his knee to press into the mattress, and you scooted backwards to accommodate his body as he climbed on. “Everything all right?”

“My mind is about to melt out of my ears,” you said, sitting back against the headboard. “Please, continue undressing.”

Cute how you could tell he was making mental notes in how he watched your reactions to him, how he unfastened his sock garters and stays and tossed his shirt across the room, leaving him in his briefs that honestly seemed a few sizes too small because Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a bulge.

But Izuku wouldn’t let you look at it, tapping your chin upwards, and pulling your dress down to your hips, and when he’d gotten it off, he left to hang it up. You buried your face in your hands, kicking your feet in the air, because what the fuck; what did you do to deserve someone so strangely endearing.

He kissed you upon his return, tilting your chin to follow him as he guided you to lie back. That hand then slid down your neck, applying a slight, massaging pressure, and his lips followed, reluctantly parting your tongue from his. Izuku nipped at the flesh where your neck met your shoulder, hand trailing down your arm, touching so lightly that the hair on the back of your arms stood up, and as he rolled his hips against yours, he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, another onto your upper arm, towards your elbow, each open-mouthed kiss wetter than the last. He mouthed at the inside of your forearm, holding your hand up towards the ceiling, and he licked a wide stripe up your palm before deep-throating your middle and ring fingers, groaning around them.

The thought occurred to you that this man is a fucking freak when you realised he’s kept his other hand behind his back this whole time, but he bit down around your ring finger, holding your hand still when you tried to jerk it away. Izuku pulled your fingers from his mouth, admiring the teeth marks at the base of your finger. “The rings finished getting resized today,” he said, showing you the velvet box he’d been concealing, and he popped it open, your white-gold wedding rings sitting inside. He kissed the pads of your wet fingers. “Let me put it on?”

“Fine, fine,” you said, wiggling your fingers in his grasp. Izuku beamed as he slid your ring onto your hand to sit directly over the bite mark, and honestly, some lightheadedness started to creep in. Before it got to you, you took Izuku’s ring to put it on his finger, though you didn’t bother lube it up first (?), as he had.

“Hey,” said Izuku, both hands cupping your cheeks, tapping his ring finger against you, “I love you, by the way. In case you didn’t know.” When his lips pressed against yours, scorching, your hands gripped his wrists to hold him closer, your hips rocking minutely of their own accord. He smiled into the kiss and hitched his knee under your thigh, drawing both upward so that he could grind more directly onto you, and dear God—

“Actually,” you said, gasping as you slid your hands up his arms to squeeze appreciatively at his biceps (he didn’t stop pressing kisses along your jawline), “I think I need to hear you say that again.”

“Of course,” said Izuku, breath fanning over your ear, “I love you. So much, my dear, dear wife. My soulma—”

“Oh, shit, are we married?” You pried him away from you for a second to see if he were joking.

Hair dishevelled with curls blown out, he shot you an incredulous look. “Don’t you check your email? Yes. Yes, we’ve—the notification came in late last night—”

“I don’t check my email; that’s where the emails are,” you said, grumbling and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just wondering. You may proceed to fuck my brains out now.”

Izuku braced his weight on his forearms, each on either side of your head, dipping into the pillows. “You know, usually I’d say that this kind of behaviour is strange and off-putting, but since it’s you, I’m fucking hard as a rock. Congratulations. You do strange and off-putting things to me,” said Izuku, stretching down to kiss your cheek.

A compliment? An insult? Who knows! “Uh, I meant that you may proceed to fuck my brains out now, sir?”

Izuku slapped his hand over his eyes, biting his lip, and he inhaled sharply (his cock twitched against you). He had to take another deep breath before he could speak. “Okay,” he said, dragging his hand down his face, “Yeah, I’m in love with you, you maniac. We should have sex before we both just—explode from talking to each other. That sound okay? Cool. Thank you.” He shifted his weight to drag his finger under the strap of your bra, stopping just before he reached the cup. “Bra on or off? You look wonderful in it, of course; I didn’t think your boobs could get any prettier. But if the wire’s cutting into…”

Taking too long. You twisted to unhook the bra yourself, and you threw it somewhere. Since you knew he’d take his time about the underwear, you yanked them off, too, laughing through your nose at their weight from how wet they were. “They’re lovely, Izuku. Notice how I’m not letting you rip them, because I want to wear them again.”

“Appreciated,” said Izuku, staring down at your boobs, fingers grazing the delicate skin. “Do you think you could come just from my sucking your tits?”

“Stop stalling,” you said, fighting the urge to whack him with a pillow, “You can have me any way you want, as long as you want, for the rest of our lives. Get on with it.”

“Right,” said Izuku, snapping the waistband of his briefs to break his gaze away from your chest, and he leant down to kiss you again, licking over your bottom lip, tilting your head to the right, and waiting for you to open your mouth for him. When you did, the hand resting on your thigh dragged upwards to your labia, still dripping and swollen from the lace rubbing against it all night, thumbing between them to part you, thumb sliding up to your clit and two fingers slipping inside you, prompting a full-bodied shudder at the first graze to your g-spot.

Izuku breathed a fuck against your lips, and as he pulled away, you caught the fading scent of his cologne, sweet apple and cedar mixed with the beading sweat. “You have such a tiny cunt. I—hm,” he said, watching the way his fingers pumped in and out of you, and he pulled his other hand away from toying with your clit to tap his fingers, one by one, in your pubic hair. “Baby, I need you to answer me honestly. How many orgasms do you think you can handle tonight?”

Is this a test? “As…many as you’ll let me have?”

“No, I need a real number. I may legitimately be too big for you, and the more relaxed I can get you, the farther I can sink inside. To your benefit, you’re already very wet, but you’re still pretty tense in here,” he said, fingers curling against your g-spot, making you spasm a bit; he held you down at your hip.

Since you’ve been fucking edged all night, your greedy little mind didn’t supply a number, but you also knew that once you got that first orgasm, you’d probably chicken out quickly. “Probab—probably two.” You grasped his forearm, halting his fingers. “I want at least one of them around your cock.”

Izuku nodded, and he kissed the back of your hand before placing it on his chest (he flinched when your nail grazed his nipple). “Two. All right, then,” he said, pushing his fingers in you while grinding on your clit with the heel of his palm, but he’d hardly bent to wrap his lips around your nipple before you were gushing around his fingers, clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle any noise.

Izuku pulled away from your tit, brow furrowed as he extracted his fingers, strings of arousal connecting them. “Wha—that was—that was too easy.” Izuku crawled over you, searching for anything the matter in your expression. “I know I’m okay, but I’m not that good—”

“I don’t know either,” you said through a breathy sigh, eyelids heavy, “Guess I needed your permission. Guess I need you to fill me that badly.”

A line of white-green lightning sparked from his arousal-coated fingertips and scorched all the way up his arms, fizzling out in a hiss at his bicep. Adam’s apple bobbing, Izuku pushed himself off the bed. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping towards the bathroom, and he turned back, jabbing a finger in your direction. “Stay—stay horny, in the meantime.” He closed the bathroom door behind him.

A full minute passed.

He poked his head out of the bathroom. “Yes condom? No condom?”

You’re on another type of birth control, too, but let’s make him more flustered. “Why not forgo the condom? After all, it’s our wedding night.”

Eyes bulging, Izuku hurked and shut the door again.

When he came out, he had fresh determination in his eyes and water along his hairline. “Hey! Hello,” he said, returning to the bed, “Sorry about that. Thought I was gonna come in my underwear. Had to splash water on my face to calm down.”

“It’s fine. It’s cute. You know, usually I’d say that this kind of behaviour is strange and off-putting, but since it’s you, I’m drenched. Congratulations. You do—”

“Stop that,” said Izuku, kissing your forehead. His thumb hitched under the elastic of his briefs, and he sighed. “In all seriousness, we may have to restrict tonight to just the tip.”

“Yeah? And what if we restrict our breathing to once every five minutes?”

“You’re ridiculous,” muttered Izuku, and he yanked down his underwear, and you saw fucking red while he readied himself, grabbing lube from his nightstand and moving to kneel between your legs, because why hadn’t you really looked at his cock when he was naked and flirtatious at the waterfall? No way would it have not been burned into your brain, been the only thing you fantasised about for months, because who is this man, and who gave him permission to have that kind of cock, annoyingly, infuriatingly pretty (how loathsome), twin veins twisting around the thick shaft that were even vaguely green like his quirk, crooking upward, sporadically dotted with freckles (which, in conjunction with the freckles on his ass, brings into question how often this man must sunbathe naked), and fucking aching for you, pink head smeared with precum, but, most importantly, way too fucking big why is it coming up that high on your stomach when he rests it atop your mons pubis he is going to break you in half.

“Cool,” you said, normally, like a normal person, “I don’t need to see that.” You nodded towards how much of your lower abdomen his cock was lying across, and you grabbed his hips (thumbs pressing against his hipbones, that slut) to manhandle him away from you, and Izuku looked very pleased to let you.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Izuku guided his cock down your slit and nudged the head between your labia near your entrance. “Take a deep breath, okay?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours and taking your hand in his. His cockhead spread you, stretching you in a sort of stinging pleasure, and he stifled a groan that vibrated through his chest.

Heat coiling inside you, you rolled your hips, but Izuku was quick to stop you, splaying a hand across your stomach. He cleared his throat. “Just wait. I’ll give it to you in a minute. You’ll be all right.”

But you couldn’t take it; you went about it more subtly this time, rocking your hips ever so slightly, working them back and forth (and if he actually wanted to stop you, he had the means), and even though it’s just his tip, your insides were boiling, clenching and fluttering around him; you’re really, truly, quite too small for him, but another gush of arousal allows another inch to slide in, and Izuku’s eyes snapped open.

“Doesn’t hurt,” you said, before he could ask, and you brought his lips to yours while you curled your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting your hips to encourage him to push just a little more, but as Izuku found a shallow rhythm, working more of his cock inside you bit by bit, you found your eyes watering—not hurting, no, but overwhelmed, realising that yes, this was Izuku; this was the rest of your life, and how lovely it will be to spend the rest of your life feeling so full. You were his, and he was yours. This is how it’s always been. From everyone’s soulmate, to simply Izuku’s soulmate. And from there, the beginning of a life unfolded.

He's thrusting hastily, shallowly, and he’s closed his eyes again, grinning with every thrust, because he can hear how sticky and wet it was as you opened up underneath him. He rolled his hips, groaning and hunching in on himself, and he squeezed one of your boobs, rolling your nipple under his thumb, bringing the buzz in your head to a clamour.

But both of you froze when his hips met your ass: he’s fully seated inside, pressing against a spot that’s making you dizzy.

“Fucking hell,” Izuku said under his breath, “You have all of me.” Running his tongue over his lower lip, he grinded into you, eliciting a choked gasp as you clutched as his back, and his hands were on you again, and everywhere he touched was singing.

Izuku’s rambling against your skin, but you’re so close that you can barely make out what he’s saying. “I’m so glad we found each other. I’m so glad it’s you. I’ve—I’ve loved you for so long, y’know? But I was shy back then, and so I studied and improved myself and became confident for you, to become to kind of man you could always feel safe around. The kind you could always come home to. When Uraraka found Toga, I dared to hope. Dreamed about it, about you, until the dreams shifted into waking up in the northern lands, frigid, waist-deep in snow, and dealing with dragons. And we found each other again. Got to be around you in my dreams when it felt like every waking force deliberately kept me from you. And then you hated being bound by fate, when I cried that first night with relief, and I bore the pain of rejection because it meant you were thinking of me in any way at all.” He pressed a wet kiss to your jaw. “I’m so glad we’re here. I’m so glad I love you. I’m so glad I’m supposed to love you. I want to spend the rest of my life learning about you, angel. So, please,” he said, rolling your clit between this thumb and index finger, “like I asked earlier tonight: mark me. Leave some sort of evidence on my that I’m yours. The rings, yes, always the rings, but I’ll always look at your ring and think about that bite mark, so please, mark me in some way, and I’ll wear it for the rest of my life like a fucking collar. Please—”

You’ve been holding off your orgasm to listen, but, unable to bear it, you let it wash through you, clenching your teeth, twitching and gushing around him with your heartbeat pulsing in your ears and, for some reason, the roof of your mouth. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him in deeper in a motion that made him gasp.

“Oh, very funny,” Izuku sputtered, “You’re hilarious—” He managed to get in one more, jittery roll of his hips before he was coming, releasing the breathiest, most pathetic whines you’ve ever heard, and it only made you want him more.

But as both of you were coming down, the bedroom exploded in a cloud of shining, pink specks.

Neither you nor Izuku spoke, both trying to catch your breaths. Izuku grunted as he pushed himself upright, straining his muscles to support his weight, watching the glitter fall to the blankets and fade upon impact.

“The hell is this? The hell,” you winced, hissing as he pulled out of you, cum dribbling out (for a second, a filmy string of cum linked the two of you, but it broke when he sat back), “is it?” You tried to snatch a pink speck, as one snatches dust from the air, but you couldn’t grab hold. “Is this some One for All aspect I don’t know about?”

“No, I—” Izuku placed a hand on his chest, as if he could control how steadily it rose and fell in the process of regulating his breathing, “—it’s pink. Must be Ito’s quirk. Oh, gosh,” he said, frowning, moving to kneel (and inadvertently displaying his softening cock, glossy with cum), “I hope it all fades; I wouldn’t want Dango to get sick if she eats any. Pivoting—eating reminded me—dream Todoroki, mage Todoroki, said he thinks he can finally get the frappe consistency when we try tonight. He’s been practising with coconut milk and has achieve something close to a slush.”

Teeming with affection, you reached for Izuku, pushing a curl behind his ear. “It really is one thrill after another with you, isn’t it?”

Izuku snorted, covering his mouth in surprise that he could even make that noise, and he smiled with his eyes back at you, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. “We should clean up,” he said, dropping his hand, “Shower together?” He patted your thigh as he slid off the bed.

“Oof, ouch, my bones. My bone marrow,” you said flatly, holding the back of your hand to your forehead (eyes on his broad shoulders as he stretched, on the dip between his shoulder blades, the indent of his spine above the swell of his pretty, freckled ass—no, stop), “I can’t move.”

“I’ll get a washcloth,” said Izuku, and he started towards the bathroom. As he turned, you caught the beginning of a small, boyish smile meant just for himself—looking very much like sunlight.

Apt. You planned on basking in his warmth forever.

(Just being next to Izuku lit up your world in a colour you’ve never known. His love brought changes, changed you, in such tiny, indiscernible ways that you couldn’t notice until the light shined back on them.)

You were trying to make some sort of photosynthesis joke about it, but the pieces weren’t coming together. You shook yourself out of your thoughts to register Izuku, standing in the bathroom door, staring back at you, head tilted, eyes somewhat glazed over.

You cleared your throat, sitting up in bed. “Izuku? Is something wrong?”

Startled, Izuku snapped out of it. “Oh! No, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I was just so taken with you. You’re lovely. So lovely.”

He shot you a small wave, and as he disappeared into the bathroom, it occurred to you that he may just look at you in the same way you look at him.

You heard his burst of laughter echo against the tile. “In regard to your aching bone marrow,” called Izuku, smile so evident in his voice, “does that mean you’re not up for a second round?”

Rolling your eyes, you collapsed back in the bed, snuggling into Izuku’s pillow, excited for when he comes back outside so that you can spend more time together. “Yeah,” you said, heart so full it may burst, “In your dreams, jackass.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare @eunchaeluvr

[ddejavvu]

i think you just spun my whole world with dbf! jake seresin. like i’m thinking about him going back to top gun to teach and you happen to tell your friends that miramar is the PERFECT place for your spring break. and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind when he sees you strutting into the hard deck with your friends. and when you see him and send him a smirk, he’s getting up to talk to you and rooster would be like “you still got it, old man” and jake’s just grumbling about “if only you knew”

🤭🤭 gAh okay i'm horny <3

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters), minors dni. (cw: age gap, don't like, don't read. rooster's about 33-34 in the film, i think, so i'm assuming hangman is somewhere around there, too).

"Woah," Coyote's low drawl breaks Jake away from the concentration he's administering to pool, "They're not navy wives."

"Navy daughters, maybe." Rooster snickers, and Jake turns to see-

Oh fuck, Jake turns to see you.

You and your friends, finishing off college strong with a spring break trip that Jake had no idea about.

"I bet they've got fake ID's," Coyote watches as you make your way over to the bar, and Jake scoffs, putting his pool cue down.

"Christ, guys, they're old enough to drink. They're almost through college, don't be creeps. Just-" Jake's eyes meet yours, and he startles as he realizes you've turned to look at him, your eyes burning and laser-focused on him, "-let me handle this."

"Damn," Coyote laughs, jabbing Jake in the side with his own cue, "Didn't know you were into cradle robbing, Hangman."

"She's not that young," Jake huffs, smacking the cue away from his side, "And- and I'm not doing anything! Fuck off, guys."

He's halfway over to you when the unmistakable voice of Rooster whoops, "You've still got it, old man!" and Jake's jaw clenches as he closes the distance between you.

"Y/N," Jake raises an eyebrow at you, smiling sweetly, "Care to explain what you're doin' here? If I recall correctly, you should be studying for something right now."

"It's spring break," You gush, sipping on a beer, the same kind Jake drinks, "I forgot you were teaching here! I just wanted to see the beach."

"Hm," Jake ponders, "Really? The beach is out there. In here," He switches his pointer finger from aiming outside to the wood floor beneath you, "There's booze."

"Booze is good, too." You shrug, taking another sip, "So, how's teaching going?"

Jake's eyes break off of your own mid-sentence to watch a young pilot's across the bar. The man's eyes dip greedily down your form, landing at the hem of your skirt that Jake decides is too short.

"Nope," He huffs, reaching towards your hip to yank the dress down, one hand braced on your shoulder to stop it from exposing your chest, "Let's, uh- let's go outside, okay? We can see that beach you came here for."

You let him lead you across the bar, back to the front doors that swing open at his touch. You don't see the aggressive middle finger that he throws to his laughing friends in the corner, but when he's done with the obscene gesture the hand falls to your shoulder, guiding you down the steps and into the sand.

"I didn't come here for the beach," You confess, just when you reach its waters. The ocean laps at the shore, seafoam nearly crowding your toes.

There's a long sigh from Jake, then, "I didn't think so."

"Oh? Why not?" You turn on your heels, back to the water. Your red dress looks fantastic in the moonlight, and Jake has a hard time keeping his hands off of it.

"If you wanted to take a spring break near the beach, you'd go to Florida." He reasons, shrugging, "Everyone goes there."

"Florida scares me," You admit, "Maybe I just like Miramar better."

He snorts, "Really? You'd prefer a bunch of hotshot dickhead pilots breathing down your neck?"

"No," You shake your head, sand soft beneath your toes, "I prefer the one that doesn't."

"Sweetheart," He sighs, but you cut him off.

"No! No, don't do that," You point at him, "Don't start spiraling. I know you like me, Jake. I know you do. And I like you, too! You're not a cradle robber," Jake cringes as he realizes you must have heard his friends earlier, "I'm the one pursuing you. I know that you really care about me, Jake, that's why I'm okay with it. You respect me."

"I do respect you," Jake nods, keeping his eyes on the sand, "That's why I can't do this to you. I can't steal you away while you're young, while you could be out having fun. It doesn't matter what I want."

"I'd have fun with you," You urge, "Jake, I flew cross-country to see you! I have one week off of school, do you think I'd make the trip if I didn't want it?"

You can tell he's thinking about it. He's scared, you know he's scared of what people will say, what people will think, but you know he's right for you. He's kind, he's respectful, he's caring. You both deserve that, and you're more than happy to give it right back.

"Just.. try." You beg, centering yourself in the sand before him, "Please? Just for this week, and then if it doesn't work, we can stop."

He reaches out cautiously, and you melt into the feeling of his massive hands on your waist. They stay respectfully chaste, not too low on the fabric of your dress.

"You want this?" He confirms, eyes shining in the light of the moon.

"I want this," You nod vigorously, drilling it into his brain, "Do you want this?"

Finally, he seems to relax, weight lifted away from his broad shoulders when you promise him that he's what you want.

"I want this," He hums, leaning in to bump his nose into yours. The first kiss you share is beside the moonlit beach, as is the second, third, fourth, tallying up to an uncountable number. More are shared later, across the seats of his car, between pillows on his bed, and in the airport just before you leave, and each one takes your breath away. They leave you restless to finish out your semester and see him at your graduation, and a thousand more will later be exchanged in the comfort of your shared apartment.

[distracted-and-diffused]

On streaming and cancellation

Wanted to get a bit off my chest about the Dead Boy Detectives cancellation and the state of television today, so this is going to be a bit of a ramble/rant.

I know that Dead Boy Detectives cannot have been the cheapest or least challenging show to film in the Netflix Originals lineup. I am very grateful that Netflix picked it up in the first place, because the alternative seems to have been that it would have quietly moldered after having been dropped by HBO.

And I know that the realities and financials of the business of television are very different now than they have been in the past. I’m pretty sure they’re a black box to most people now, because Netflix sure isn’t sharing the fine details of how they are making those financial decisions, and their only real important metric seems to be “subscription number goes up.”

But I’m so exhausted by this current model, which seems to launch fans into the “bargaining” mode of grieving by default, even before the show gets cancelled.

As a fan, I should not be worried about whether I found and started watching the show quickly enough, or whether I should have watched more of it sooner. (I think my first watch-through ended just within that first month).

As a fan, I should not be worried about whether I posted enough, or did enough to evangelize about the show. (I like talking about stuff that I like, but I am personally uncomfortable with evangelizing about anything.)

As a fan, it is not my job to be an influencer, or the unpaid wing of Netflix’s marketing department. (And if I was going to be, oh, I have so many ideas about improvements they could make… but those improvements would probably exceed their modest in-house marketing budget. And again, not my job.)

As a fan, my only job is to love the show, and I do, and I did. So, so much. (I made it through nearly six complete rewatches; I was halfway through episode six again when I heard the news — and that’s not me putting on the show in the background, that’s actively watching each time — and they should know that from the number of times I rewound certain scenes. I had to stop putting it on while I was cooking because I kept missing parts I wanted to see more closely.)

And I know that as much as I loved this show, there are so many other fans out there who loved it that much more.

---

So it’s disheartening to hear that the show supposedly didn’t have the numbers or the engagement, but it’s also disheartening to see fans feel like this is something we could have prevented. Because I’m pretty sure we couldn’t.

Netflix doesn’t want to see that the show is critically acclaimed (it is!), or that people who like it really like it (they do!). The fact that it’s really good is great, but at the end of the day they’re not that interested.

They want to know that it’s something that will gain them subscribers. They want to see that it’s a sure thing that will make them back their money. (And this sentiment is not exclusive to Netflix, of course; any streamer, any studio has the same concerns at this point.)

And Season Two would probably cost more than Season One. Honestly, if we had gotten a Season Two I would have wanted them to give a bit more time and money to Season Two than Season One, because as great as it was, I feel like I could see places where the show was held back from being even better.

---

There’s nothing that I can do, as a fan, to let Netflix know that Dead Boy Detectives Season Two would have been a sure thing that would absolutely make them back their money. All I could have done is to go on loving the show, and telling other people about how much I love the show, and I think in time it absolutely would have found a wider audience of people who loved it.

Netflix used to be one of those companies that thrived (or at least, claimed to thrive) on the long tail, on people discovering the things that they loved and spoke specifically to them (maybe long after they were made), over and over and over again. It’s not that anymore. And I’m not even sure that the execs have ever thought of the Netflix Originals in that context.

And that’s sad for us, but it’s also sad for them, because here’s the thing:

We’re now in a climate where all of the major streamers are raising rates while also trying to maintain their user base. And that makes sense, from a certain point of view — content, licensed or in-house — is ultimately expensive. At the same time, everyone wants subscriber counts to go up, even as they start to reach saturation.

So then we start hearing streamers bemoaning churn — people signing up for a few months and then cancelling, and then coming back months or a year later to sign up for a few months again. That’s not steady or reliable income. And every time you lose someone to a cancellation, there’s a chance that they might find something else to occupy their time (could be another streaming service, could be their DVD collection, or woodworking), and they might take longer the next time to come back. Or they might not come back at all.

---

And to me, if you want a steady user base, then you want people that want to rewatch your content. You want people to find their comfort shows. You want people to find things that they don’t just like, but love, and especially to have confidence that you can offer them those things, and that you will help them find them.

But that’s just me, and I’m feeling old and tired now. I’m one of those people who can’t afford to spend more on streaming and who doesn’t like ads, and is eyeing my subscription change at the end of the month now that Basic is going away.

[themidnightcrimson]

Obedience. | e. olsen

summary: in which lizzie comes home angry and you offer to help relieve her anger.

warnings: top!lizzie, vibrator, fingering (r receiving), strap (r receiving), edging, overstimulation, size kink, filming during sex, oral (r giving), i think i mightve used that gif before but oh well, oh to be stretched out on lizzies strap, lets all give prayers to reader after this

this post is for 18+ only. minors: do not interact.

masterlist.

 

The TV was keeping your attention as you waited for Lizzie to come home from a meeting. It was being held about an hour away, so you tracked her location to make sure she drove home safely. When you saw her getting close to home, you put your phone away to focus on the TV and wait.

It was an important meeting, you knew that. Lizzie would either come home her cheerful happy self, or she would come home frustrated and upset. When she walked through the door without a smile, you knew it was the latter.

“Hey babe,” you greeted her, watching her close the door and walk to the entrance table with a sigh, throwing her keys down in the bowl sitting there.

“Hey,” she sighed as she undid her gold watch from her wrist. Although she was upset, you couldn’t help but notice how nice she looked. She had worn a black blazer over a white shirt tucked into black slacks, suited with a pair of tall heels that made her loom. You loved when she wore suits like that.

Her watch clinked into the bowl, along with her rings, before she slowly made her way into the kitchen. Standing up from your cocoon of blankets, you followed her, again facing her back as she stood at the counter, pouring herself a glass of wine. You awkwardly tapped on the island counter and hesitantly asked, “So… how did it go?”

“Not well,” she bluntly said as the red wine poured into the glass until it was halfway full. As she screwed the lid back on, she threw her head back and sighed again.

When Lizzie was sad, you would always drown her sorrows with hugs and kisses. When Lizzie was anxious, you would hold her so tight that all her anxieties melted away. When Lizzie was angry, it was admittedly hard to help her. There was really only one thing you could think of to cheer her up.

Coming up behind her, you wrapped your arms around her waist, laying your cheek against the back of her shoulder. She stiffened slightly under your touch but then eased, relaxing into you as you squeezed her.

Your hands slid around her hips, coyly sliding up her abdomen. Turning your chin so it rested on her shoulder, you whispered, “I know something that could make you feel better.” You watched her bring the glass to her lips and sip the wine, her eyes fluttering closed. You weren’t going to give up that easy. “You want to be in control, hm?”

Lizzie had a thing about control. Specifically, she wanted things to go her way. Whatever happened at the meeting obviously did not go how she wanted it to, so she was feeling inferior and lost, like she no longer had a grip on the wheel. If that was what she needed, you knew you could give that to her.

Lizzie opened her eyes again and put the glass down, having drunk nearly half of it in one go, turning her head to look at you. “What are you proposing?”

Curling your finger around her brunette hair and tucking it behind her ear, you nipped at her earlobe before seductively whispering, “I’m proposing whatever you want to do to me.” Nuzzling your nose against her sharp jawline, you bit at it, feeling the muscles clench under your teeth as her eyes fluttered closed. Your hands slid down her front and then back up again. “Or whatever you want me to do to you,” you added, letting her know that offer was very much there if she wanted it.

No, Lizzie was in control. Your arms fell away from her as she turned around, darkness shadowing her eyes as she took a slow step towards you. You playfully took a step back, and she paused for a moment, sensing the game. She started to swagger towards you, watching you take a step back with every step she took forward.

“You sure you want that?” she husked as you led her to the living room. “Mommy’s very angry tonight.”

She rounded the couch as you walked around it, eyes trained on you like a tiger. “I want Mommy to feel better,” you said innocently, batting your eyelashes.

Lizzie’s lips pursed as you led her towards the bedroom, her eyes already alighting with so many ideas of what she wanted to do. She wanted to be in control. She wanted to be rough. She wanted obedience.

By the time you reached the bedroom, she had caught you, grabbing you by the bottom of your shirt and swinging you around to push you against the wall. Instantly, she was on you, diving her hand up your shirt to grab at your breast. Your breath faltered before her lips smashed against yours in a forceful, hungry kiss. Lizzie was always a sweetheart. But you knew just how to reach that switch inside her and turn her on.

The taste of red wine invaded your mouth as she dove her tongue past your lips, skipping asking for permission. While one hand grabbed at your tit, the other one grasped your face as she explored your mouth with her tongue, wrestling your own for dominance. Her lips were so soft, yet her kiss so bruising. By the time she pulled away, your lips were wet with her saliva.

“You’re such a slut for Mommy,” she huskily whispered as she roughly yanked upwards at your shirt, signaling she wanted it off. She simply stood against you as you peeled your shirt over your head for her, darkened green eyes trained on your exposed chest. “Pretty slut,” she praised, grabbing both of your tits and kneading at them, humming at the way your chest arched into her touch.

“You can do whatever you want to me…” You paused as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders, coming close to her to end your sentence with, “Mommy.”

The word elicited a growl from deep within Lizzie. She grabbed your wrists and unhooked your arms from her shoulders, walking you to the bed and throwing you down on it. As your breath left your lungs from the force with which your back hit the mattress, you already felt yourself growing wet between your legs.

Lizzie crawled on the bed over you, slowly, her eyes glistening and pupils swarming. She kneeled over your legs and reached down to her belt, unbuckling and snapping it from the loops of her pants all while her eyes never left yours. You watched her with lustful anticipation, unsure of what she was going to do with the belt until she took your wrists and lifted them to the headboard, roping her belt tightly around them and tying you to the headboard.

“There,” she said once she was done, and you gave a test tug on the belt, finding absolutely no resistance. Standing off the bed, she straightened her blazer as she walked to the nightstand. “I’ve always liked my slut best when she’s tied up.”

You held your breath and watched her open the bottom drawer, which you knew meant she was going to pull out a toy. There was quite a variety of things in that drawer, and you drooled at the thought of each one until she pulled out a large vibrator. You grew wet with excitement as Lizzie set the vibrator down on the bed and took the hem of your pajama pants, pulling them, along with your panties, off your legs. You were completely naked and tied up for her now, your thighs squeezing together in excitement. To your confusion, she reached back in the drawer and took out a long, red silk ribbon. You watched as Lizzie forcefully spread your legs open and placed the end of the vibrator on your clit, laying the handle against your lower stomach. She took the ribbon and wrapped it around your hips, tying the vibrator to you.

“What are you—” She clicked it on, turning it to the highest setting, and it vibrated hard against your clit, sending pleasure instantly throughout your body. You hummed, wiggling your hips a little and finding that the vibrator was strapped tight against you. You looked up to ask Lizzie what her plan was with this until you saw she was walking to the door. “Where are you going?” you asked, your clit beginning to throb against the vibrator.

She stopped at the doorway and turned to you with a smirk, and you instantly started to regret coming onto her when she came home this angry and worked up. “I’ve gotta go reply to some emails,” she said casually, watching your eyes widen as you realized what she was doing. “You said I could do whatever I want with you. So I want you lay there and wait like a good, pretty slut and do not dare fucking cum until I’m back.”

“Lizzie, wait—” She closed the door, leaving you alone with the vibrator on, strapped to you with no way for you to get it off. You tugged at the belt, almost forgetting you were restrained for a second, letting out a groan as you threw your head back against the pillow and squirmed on the bed. It was already becoming unbearable, and you didn’t know how long Lizzie would be gone. Sometimes she would take a whole hour to respond to emails.

You tried to move your hips away from the vibrator at an angle where it wouldn’t touch you, but it followed you. You knew that Lizzie would know if you came and would punish you for it, and this already felt like punishment enough. As you laid on the bed, wiggling and trying your hardest to ignore the pressure forming within you, you knew deep down that you loved it.

Within half an hour, you were crying. Thirty minutes felt like four hours as you continued to fight off the orgasms that threated to wash up on you, having to squeeze your legs shut, but finding that only pressed the vibrator harder against your clit. You had called out for Lizzie a few times, but upon getting no answer, you only laid there weakly, being edged repeatedly to the point that you started to cry from frustration and desperation.

Finally, the door opened, and Lizzie slipped in, looking at you like a doctor greets their patient.

“Lizzie, please,” you instantly begged, moving your lower body all around to keep the vibrations away. “Please stop.”

“Lizzie?” she echoed with an arch of her brow, still standing in the doorway as if she had no intention to take the vibrator off you. You knew exactly what you did wrong.

“Mommy,” you begged, embarrassment welling up inside you at how needy you felt, how pathetic you felt, how out of control you felt. That was exactly what she wanted.

“Hmmm,” Lizzie hummed, finally taking a step towards you. Her lips parted when she saw that you had made a mess of yourself on the bed, the vibrator forcing you to become so wet that your juices were dripping down the bed and coating your inner thighs. “Did you cum?”

“No,” you insisted, squeezing your eyes shut as the mere mention of coming threatened your body to do it. She said something again, but you didn’t hear her, so she grabbed you by your face and leaned down close.

“Listen to me when I speak, whore,” she spat, her fingertips bruising your cheeks. “Do you want Mommy to make it stop?” You nodded feverishly, but you were met with a slap against your cheek. It was harsh and gentle at the same time, springing up fire on the side of your face in the form of a bright red hand mark. “Use your words, sweetheart,” she said coyly with a small smile, as if this was just a pleasant conversation and you weren’t tied to the bed with a vibrator that was about to make you scream.

“Yes, please, Mommy make it stop,” you begged, feeling utterly dumb and helpless. Lizzie paused for a few moments just to watch you squirm and suffer before she finally clicked the vibrator off, bringing you sweet relief although you could still feel ghost vibrations throughout you. You let out a deep breath, feeling the hot tears on your face as Lizzie untied the ribbon and put it and the vibrator back in the drawer. Sweat coated your entire body as your weak legs trembled on the bed. Lizzie gently undid the belt around your wrists, feeling a little bad when she saw that your wrists were rubbed raw. Taking a break away from being ruthless, she raised your wrists to her lips and gave the red circles gentle, soothing kisses all around.

“I needed to break you first,” Lizzie said softly as she sat down on the bed, still wearing her suit. She tapped her thighs and told you, “Come to Mommy’s lap.”

Slowly, you sat up and crawled to her like a dog, straddling her lap and instantly hugging her, nuzzling your face in her neck. She hummed and rubbed circles on your bare back, her hands slipping down to grab your ass and squeeze it hard. You squealed, hugging her tighter as she chuckled evilly against your ear.

Lizzie’s hand circled your hip before slipping between your legs, her fingers instantly finding your clit. You were so extremely sensitive that even the small touch was painful to you, causing you to shriek and grab at her wrist.

“Shhh,” she shushed you, pressing a kiss to your ear. “Be a good slut for Mommy. She needs you to be good.”

Remembering that you had subjected yourself to her will in the first place, and also that you truly did want to please her and make her feel better, you let go of her wrist, letting her rub at your clit as you quietly cried into her neck, her sweet cologne bringing you some relief. Lizzie tortured you for a few moments, feeling your swollen, pulsing nub between her fingers. Finally, she lowered them, slipping two inside your slippery cunt.

“Mommy!” you cried, feeling relief to finally have something inside you and not on your clit. Your mouth fell open as Lizzie held you on her lap and thrust her fingers inside you, curling them at their deepest point to reach your sweet spot. Trembling on her lap, you moved your hips against her fingers, desperately seeking relief to the pressure that had been fearsomely boiling inside you.

“Don’t cum, whore,” she told you, bringing you nothing but disappointment. You whined, and while her fingers had been bringing you relief, they started to bring more pressure. You tried to squeeze your thighs shut, but she held them open over her lap, her lips sucking at your neck as she tortured you. When she added a third finger, you cried out in desperation, biting at the shoulder of her blazer as she stuffed you full of her fingers, relishing in the way your tight walls squeezed her in.

“Such a good girl taking all three of my fingers,” she praised you. You were focused on fighting back your orgasm again, wanting so desperately to please Lizzie. “But I want you on my cock.”

The words brought heat to your tear-stained face, and finally she pulled her fingers out of you to unzip her pants. You listened to the zip before you felt something large poking at your entrance.

Removing your face from her neck, you looked down to see that the strap she had on was new, and it was bigger than anything you had taken before.

“Lizzie, that’s—” A hand around your throat cut your words off.

“What did you call me?” she growled, and you felt the tip of the strap threatening your entrance. You whined and tried to life your hips away from it, but she held them still in her hold.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” you said through her hand squeezing your throat, prying at her fingers to get her to let go, but her hold was impenetrable.

“I thought you wanted to be a good girl for me, but you are being very very bad,” she lilted, and you felt her start to lower your hips onto her cock. As the first inch dug inside you, your pussy stretched, and the sharp stinging sensation brought more tears to your eyes.

“It’s too big,” you whined as she held you by the throat, no longer choking you but keeping you steady. You tried to move your hips away, but she only pulled them down, stuffing another inch of her inside you.

“Be still and take Mommy’s cock,” she cooed as pain radiated throughout you. She was so big that you hadn’t even thought about length as she lowered you farther and farther down on it. You babbled cries of desperation as she filled you up completely, hands now grabbing at the collar of her blazer. “That’s it,” she said when she bottomed out inside you, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head from just how deep she was. You could feel her poking through your lower stomach as your insides throbbed around her.

Keeping one hand on your throat, Lizzie leaned back on her elbow and spread her legs so that you were completely spread out on her lap with her cock lodged entirely inside you. “Now ride Mommy until I say stop,” she ordered, deciding to let you do all the work of fucking yourself on her strap.

Whining, you slowly lifted up only a little bit before sitting back down again, feeling more sharp pain inside you. You feared that you were torn from how big she was, but you wanted to make her happy. You rode her slowly, and thankfully she let you go slow so you could adjust to her size. She didn’t want to really hurt you.

Your eyes had been closed from the pain, and when you finally opened them, you saw that she had her phone out and was pointing the lens down. Lizzie groaned at the sight as she filmed the way you lifted up and then sat back down on her strap, strings of your cum sticking to her pants. She slowly panned the camera upwards to show the rest of your body, your breasts completely on display for her, her hand on your throat, your face that was contorted in both pain and pleasure. She wanted to document how much she was stretching your pussy out.

Lizzie ended the video and put her phone away, focusing back on you and reaching up to grab at your tits as you slowly rode her. Eventually, the pain faded and turned into pleasure, and her size and length felt so fucking good inside you. You picked up the pace, rolling your hips forward so that her cock nudged that sweet spot inside you.

“Fuck, Mommy,” you whined as you felt pressure coil inside you. She started to buck her hips upwards to meet you each time you went back down, and you had to throw your head back from the pleasure.

“Look at you, riding Mommy’s cock like a good whore,” Lizzie said with a grin, and you realized it was the first time she smiled since she got home. It pushed you to start to bounce harder on her, getting your wetness all over the front of her pants. “You’re ruining Mommy’s pants, aren’t you? While Mommy ruins your pussy.” She grabbed your hip and thrusted herself up into you even harder, and you were already on the edge again—this time you knew you couldn’t stop it when it came.

“Mommy, please,” you begged, feeling her hand tighten around your throat again. “I need to cum.”

“I don’t have to let you cum,” Lizzie said as she grew breathless from how hot you looked spread open on her strap. “Maybe my plan was to just play with you like a toy.”

“No,” you whined, praying that she was only teasing you. “Please, Mommy.”

Ignoring you, she sat up again so she could place her mouth on your tit and suck on it, her teeth gently nipping the tender flesh. Your hands moved to her hair and grabbed at it as she forced you to keep riding her. She was doing all the work now of slamming you down on her cock and thrusting inside you.

Tears sprung in your eyes again as you fought off the impending orgasm. You wanted to cum so bad, but you didn’t want to be a bad girl. You wanted to do everything she said perfectly, so you bit your lip so hard it bled and let her fuck you like a toy and suck on your tits until she was finally satisfied.

A few minutes later, Lizzie finally removed her mouth from your tit and looked up at your tear-stained face. She realized how good you were being for her, that you let her tie you up and leave a vibrator on you, you took all of her cock even with how much it hurt, and you were trying so so hard to stop yourself from coming.

“Cum for Mommy,” she finally said, and at the very syllables sounding out of her lips, you came. After holding it off for so long, your climax was nearly brutal. All you could do was hold onto Lizzie for dear life as your insides pulsed and throbbed around her, your mouth making all sorts of absolutely lascivious noises.

Panting against her shoulder, you stayed limp in her arms for several minutes after you came, feeling her rub your back and bum soothingly. You were absolutely spent after how much she had tortured you.

Feeling her arms wrap around you, she moved you on your back on the bed, and you winced at the way her strap moved inside you. Easing you onto the pillows, she pulled out of you and tucked her strap away.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, leaning over you and stroking your messy hair out of your face. As you looked up at her, there was softness in her eyes again, and her mind was far, far away from whatever it was that had angered her at that meeting. She smiled softly down at you, stroking your hair and glancing over you with concern that she had gone too far or done too much.

“Yes,” you whispered with a breathless smile, taking one of her hands and holding it. “Are you?”

Lizzie tilted her head with a raise of her brow. “I am now,” she hummed, leaning down to give you a soft, gentle kiss.

[femdomdiaries]

Kinktober 2023 Day 1: Macro/Micro

Sub!Knockout x Reader Drabble

Warnings/Tags: NSFW 18+ stuff, masturbation, weird car anatomy that i made up, 600+ word Drabble, PwP, gender neutral

Synopsis: You accidentally turn Knockdown on

It wasn't intentional; it was just a bit of clumsiness on your part. You were trying to get some much-needed shuteye in Knockout's backseat, sprawled out across the heated leather as he escorted you from town back to the Nemesis. He gave you a strict warning not to get drool on his interior, but other than that, allowed you to do as you pleased. As you slept, the hum of his engine became a calming background noise, along with Knockout going on about the most recent human film he'd seen—something about a train and zombies.

Your phone went off halfway through the ride, and the sound was so out of place it jolted you right awake. Unfortunately, it was resting on your chest at the time, and your erratic movement sent it flying under the front seat.

Knockout went silent for the first time in a while. You weren't sure, but you thought you heard a low moan come from the con. You didn't have time to dwell on it because he asked, "What was that?"

"Dropped my phone," you answered honestly.

"Be more careful, you clumsy short-life."

"Yeah, yeah."

It should have been an easy retrieval, but it was rather deep underneath, and it was too dark to see. You dropped down and stuck your arm as far as you could underneath, brushing your hand around the whole area to try and get a feel of the phone.

Knockout screeched to a stop so fast you nearly became one with the chair in front of you.

"Ow! What the fuck, Knockout?"

He transformed, pulling you from his interior so fast you nearly got whiplash. He placed you on the ground and turned his back on you, using a servo to prop himself against the side of the nearest cliff formation.

"Hey!" You attempted to get his attention, but he wouldn't look at you. From your position however, you could kinda see that he was moving his other servo rhythmically against his body.

"F-frag, (Y/n)," when he finally spoke his words came out breathless, followed by a low whine. Now you were concerned. Was he mending himself or something? "What's going on? Did I hurt you?”

You moved to try and get a better look at what he was doing, but he adjusted his position to keep you facing his back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to—”

"No, (Y/n), you didn't hurt me. I--" here, he whined again and then said, "Frag, I told you to be careful."

"Because…" The wheels were turning in your head, everything was starting to click. "Did I touch—was underneath the seat one of your—was it an erogenous zone?"

Upon receiving no response other than low moaning, heat rose to your face. "Oh." You cringed slightly in embarrassment as you realized that you had mistakenly given the mech a boner. As far as you knew, that wasn't easy to do. Or at least that was what you had heard from some of your other associates. But maybe Knockout was different because of his obsession with humans, which you were now beginning to doubt was as innocent as it seemed. "Do you want—do you need help with that?"

Knockout was a prideful mech. So when he nodded yes, you didn't waste the opportunity. You ordered him to come down to your level, so he turned and collapsed back against the cliff face, red optics peering down curiously at you. Now you had an unrestricted view of the problem at hand.

His cock—or rather his spike—was silver and looked to be made of a sort malleable metal material. It was stiff like a regular hard-on but also seemed to hold most of the other physical properties. It was leaking transfluid from the tip, covering the sleek shaft with a luminous energon blue. His servo was still at work, pumping himself desperately to try and ease his aching member.

Considering its size in proportion to your body (you were nearly equal sizes), you had your work cut out for you.

Might do a part two when I do the rest

[believesthings]

Not Just A Girl - Chapter 2 // Jason Sudeikis x Reader

Summary: You’re a new up and coming actress. At your first awards show, you run into your celebrity crush, Jason Sudeikis. Trying to navigate the bond you form with him while both juggling your respective careers proves to be quite the task with some unexpected twists along the way.

Tag list: @my-soupy-brain @tegan8314 @tortilla-maria1

Warning: description of car crash due to drunk driving

After an exhausting but also enjoyable day with Will promoting All Your Monsters, you decide it’s time to follow your agent’s advice to buckle down and work through some of the scripts you’ve been sent for upcoming projects. You haven’t put nearly the amount of effort into it that you should. You always give up halfway through the stack because you find you aren’t connecting with them as much as you did with your debut project.

You know at this point Todd just wants a general direction. If you could at least give him an idea of what genre of film you’re interested in, he would be pleased. He promised to bring you by dinner as well as a new stack of scripts for you to consider. He gently lays it all down (along with a stack of your mail, bless him) and he leaves soon after. He wanted to leave you be in case there was a chance that his presence would be distracting for you.

You glance over them momentarily but decide to put your focus into dinner first, sorting through your mail while you eat. Once you’re no longer sitting on an empty stomach, you’ll feel more prepared to take on the task at hand.

You decide to start at the top of the stack and just work your way through one by one. No need to overcomplicate things. Scanning through the pages of the script beneath you, you heart goes out to Todd. He’s a damn good agent. He’s already done an initial screening process of sorts, taking notes and placing them inside the cover page on the manuscripts so really all that’s left you for you to do is to just pick one.

His first note says “semblant romance” although you’re not quite sure what that means. Right below he’s written: don’t abandon it too soon. It takes a little time to develop.

And sure enough, he was right. It takes some time to warm up to the story but you can’t deny after flipping through several scenes that you’ve become enamored with the characters, Mia and James. You decide to scribble your own notes right below Todd’s handwriting.

You decide to take a minute to stand up and stretch, admiring the view from your room. You have a pretty nice view of the cityscape which you’ve come to appreciate over time living here.

Moving on the next script on the pile, you tilt your head to take in Todd’s scribbling on the bright pink post it. You’ll love the setting of this one - very futuristic. Killer cast too. I’m not telling you who, so don’t bother to ask.

You roll your eyes at this. You could just look it up and he would never know. As if he could read your thoughts, you see his next sentence. Don’t look it up. Just read the script and decide for yourself.

Chuckling at how well he seems to know you, you comply, reading on and finding out that he called it exactly right - you did love the setting of this one.

You make it about 75% of the way through before coming across another post-it. Okay, I’m sure you’re dying to call. Feel free. It doesn’t matter the time of day.

You shoot him a text. Despite the fact that you have it in writing that it doesn’t matter what time of the day is - you must admit that it’s rather late. True to his word, Todd responds right away. You go back and forth about plot and characters, with each message you find yourself getting more excited for this project.

Todd gives you a call and you answer on the first ring. You can hear him chuckling on the other end. “So, you found some stuff you like, I assume?”

“Yes. Obviously, I really like the science fiction piece.”

“Well, I told you that you wouldn’t fall in love with the first script you read. It seems like you might got discouraged but I’m glad you’ve gotten into them. What others did you like? I’ll reach out regarding your favorite pieces tomorrow and let you know what I hear.”

Todd seemed pleased that you were finally giving him feedback on other projects and you were comforted by just how good of an agent he really was.

You settle into bed to finish the script, thrilled with the possibilities of new and exciting projects ahead.

When you wake up, the sun hasn’t even risen. Just in the edge of sleep, you can just barely reach the fringes of the pleasant dream you were having, and eventually admitting that you probably weren’t going to make it back to sleep, you decide to pull yourself out of bed.

You wander over to your desk, almost tempted to dive back into reading scripts but you know you run a risk of getting sucked in and neglecting other tasks, or worse over analyze and end up back of place of disinterest.

You decide to make use of the hotel’s middle-sized gym, popping on a playlist to occupy your mind.

During filming, you had to learn quite a bit of self defense and kick boxing, and you miss the physical exertion involved in the training. Maybe, if you were to accept a role in the area, you could start looking at the possibility of building a life here. Maybe you could look at renting or even buying a home.

When the next person arrives, they pause only slightly, probably expecting the gym to be empty. You see that the sun has finally come up and decide to call it quits to give the occupant their privacy. You cool down your pace and wipe down the machine before leaving.

You grab some quick items from the breakfast buffet, not wanting to sit down and enjoy a huge meal since you were now covered in sweat.

Once you make it back to your room, you give your father an early morning call - purely to check in and let him know you’re thinking of him. He talks a bit about an expansion that his crew is working on that keeps growing in complexity due to the owner’s requests. You listen to him for a bit knowing he’ll probably have to hang up soon to organize his teams for projects for the day. He barely even says goodbye before reminding you to send your award to him and telling you about the beautiful case he is going to have built to hold it.

You shower and decide to get ready for your outing with Jason today. He told you to dress for comfort, so casual clothes is what he’s getting.

You stop to look at yourself in the mirror. You are going to hang out with Jason Sudeikis today. You are an award winning actor. In your brief time here, you’ve already met so many of your idols… you could quit tomorrow be still be contented with your career. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. But it was still hard for you to grasp sometimes that this was your reality.

Checking the time does nothing but make you antsy. It’s still entirely too early in the morning. You decide to finish the supposed “semblant romance” script that you had started the night before. The science fiction scrolls had gripped you more but you couldn’t deny that you were curious in wanting to know the ending. You were still torn about whether you were rooting for the main couple or not. Mia and James have faults and they sometimes seem to feed into each other’s bad habits.

You decide to move to the window and read by the ledge, a quick check of the time assures you that you still have time to read, taking a peek to see how many pages are remaining, you can’t help but frown. There are only a handful of pages remaining. The story doesn’t seem like it will be concluded in the limited space remaining. The instability of the relationship is starting to amass into a full on break between them, the spiteful word growing more frequent.

You’re reading quickly - verging on speed reading, trying to figure out what happens. Todd always scolds you when you do this. You can hear him in your head telling you to slow down and take in the nuances of the piece.

The characters are fighting in the car on the way home. A split is definitely upcoming, you feel. Mia in a moment of anger, has removed her engagement ring. It was a symbol of hope that you were holding out for them. She throws it directly at James. Flipping the page, you take in the script.

James reacts to Mia throwing the ring at him.

Cut To:

Collision of James and Mia’s car with another vehicle, a drunk driver who missed an overpass. Vehicles are spun into a mangled mess. James and Mia’s car is upside down when the vehicles finally come to a stop.

FADE OUT

Cut to:

JAMES

Coughing, wipes his face to find blood. A dripping above him causes his attention to be drawn to the roof of the car near his head. He reaches up his bloodied hand to pluck the engagement ring off the cloth surface, bringing it to his face the glint of it. Moments pass with a vacant expression on James’ face before recognition dawns. His breathing picks up, recollecting the impact of the vehicles. He begins to struggle due to the prolonged time he has been hanging upside down.

PAN OUT TO INCLUDE:

MIA

Out of focus while the camera still shows James’ progress.

JAMES: Mia? (A silent beat) Honey?

James pauses in his struggle against his seatbelt, trying to quiet his own breathing to listen for a reaction from his fiancée. He hears nothing. The ring drops, forgotten, back onto the roof of the car while James struggles against with seatbelt with more ferocity than before.

JAMES: Mia. Mia!

His voice is hoarse and in the midst of his thrashing around the car, the seatbelt releases him. He drops into a heap onto the roof of the car. Groaning in pain at the feeling of his injured, bloodied body slamming against the beaten vehicle. Sirens are beginning to announce their arrival gradually in the distance. James flails his hands around the crunched up metal in a desperate attempt for the feeling of Mia’s hand. When he collides with her wrist, he is gripping it furiously, desperately searching for a pulse.

He feels the frantic thump beneath his fingertips. He lets out a shaky sigh.

PARAMEDIC:

Sir? Sir, can you hear me?

Blood is beginning to puddle around his mouth, coughing, he lets out a strangled reply.

JAMES

Yes. Please I need you to help my fiancée.

He feels like he can barely get the words out. The blood is rushing around him.

PARAMEDIC:

Sir? Sir - I’m sorry…

He hears something in the distance the loud screech of a police radio. Female. Dead at the scene. He can’t comprehend the words. Everything feels too loud. The sirens, the talking, the damn blood is everywhere. He sees a drop of blood fall from his face to manacled car roof below him, splattering on the ring he had placed on the very hand he was now holding in a death grip. The blood is rushing in his ears and does his best to turn out the noises around him. Closing his eyes, his body goes stiff as his realizes, beneath the blood, the wrist in his hand is cold and the frantic thumping for he has mistaken for his sweet Mia had actually just been his own, thumping through his own skin, reverberating off the lifeless limb of her hand.

"What the fuck?" you mumble to yourself. You simply drop the screenplay on the seating area in front of you. You suck in a breath, trying to control the pressure in your chest and reign yourself back in.

When your phone rings, you barely even acknowledge the caller ID before answering, stuffy 'I've been a crying mess' voice and all. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" You can hear the concern in Jason's voice and it jolts you. You're still not used to the fact that you can just talk to this man on the phone at any given moment, let alone that he would express concern for you.

You give yourself a little shake, hoping not to embarrass yourself to much with him. You let out a sniffle and try to brush it off with a laugh, "I'm reading a script... I'm alright, I promise." You look at the clock and realize it's nearly time for the two of you to meet. The noise of the wind rustling through the phone indicated to you that he was on his way.

Jason doesn't immediately reply but you can hear his breathing and the ambiance of the city. "I'm almost there. Do you need a key card to use the elevators?" He pauses waiting for your affirmation. "Ok, call down and let them know I'll need access. Take a breath. One block left and I'll be at your lobby doors."

You juggle the hotel phone to notify the reception area of Jason's arrival. Returning to the phone to the hook, you lean back on your bed with a sigh, "Okay. Your set."

The background noise lessens and you can hear Jason's footsteps on your lobby floor through the phone. Someone from reception must have met him at the front door, you can hear someone through the phone explaining how to use the key card in the elevators. "They told me your floor and room number." He teases into the phone. "You seem a little steadier now."

Suddenly realizing that he is in the elevator about to walk into your room, glancing around you see scripts littered all over the desk, the bed in disarray, you reach back up and throw the covers back up onto the bed.

Jason laughs through the phone as you hear what sounds like an elevator ding and echoing down your hall. "I hear rustling. What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to not make you think I'm a complete slob." You stop when you hear Jason's knuckles rap on your door, echoing through the phone into your ear.

You cross the room, still clutching the phone to your ear and open the door to see him end the call and pocket his phone. His smile washes away any lingering sadness, replacing it with a rush of adrenaline that sends waves of heat down your body. He steps to you and leans close, his eyes searching yours for a hint of sadness as his hands lightly touch over your cheeks and down your neck. "Alright now?"

Aside from the overwhelming urge to throw yourself at him, you're good.

You inhale slowly, his scent mixing with the still lingering hint of toothpaste on his breath. You reach up to grasp one of his wandering hands in your own. "I feel a little silly now, to tell you the truth. It just caught me off guard." You release his hand as much as you don't want to and step back to allow him to fully step into your room. With the two of you in it, you can't help but notice the room now seems quite small.

Jason's eyes fall on the script that you failed to pick up. He strides over and scoops it up, holding it out in front of him. "Is this the culprit? Mind if I take a look?"

You step forward, flipping to the offending scene and allow him a moment alone while you step into the bathroom to freshen yourself up. You don't seem to have suffered too much damage, thank god.

You stand in the doorway to find Jason, eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip. When he glances up and sees you, he says, "They're marketing this as a romance? This is a tragedy."

"I know. But.. at any rate, I'm hooked enough to want to audition for the part." You look down taking in your bare feet. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm going to make us late." You scurry towards the dresser to finish getting your look together. You turn back just in time to notice the flit of Jason's eyes run back up your body to your face.

He clears his throat, maybe a little embarrassed at being caught. He fiddles with the sunglasses tucked into his hoodie, allowing the fabric to pull down and you can't help but wonder about the skin beneath that hoodie and the chest hair you've seen in many pictures from the internet. He replies, "We won't be late. There's no real time crunch. Hopefully just a pleasant day."

You take in a moment to take in his appearance. The Arthur Bryant Hat, the Kansas City Chiefs hoodie. You need to speak. You need to stop staring at him like a starved animal.

"Um, I hope all the articles aren't causing any issues between you and Brett."

You glance up to find that Jason doesn't appear upset. "I really don't mind at all. Brett and I are fine, I promise."

Giving you one final look over, he asks, "Ready to go?"

You nod and make your way out towards the elevators. You decide to try to pester him for more info. "Any hints on where we're going?"

The only thing he offers up isn't much help at all. "Just something that gives us a little bit of a different pace than our lives tend to offer."

Someone from reception waves you down before you can make it to far from the elevator doors. "Just a heads up - going out the front entrance might be a little complicated." Jason gives an appreciative smile to the front clerk, who motions toward the other side of the building, "Someone will be there to meet you at the opposite door. Hope it helps..." You thank them and make your way towards the side door. Jason holds the door open for you and pauses to thank the employee waiting to guide out to the side street. He falls into step beside you and you steal the occasional glance at his face while the pair of your make your way down the sidewalk.

"Brett says you're planning on staying for a week, I assume from stack of scripts up there, you're deciding what project to take on next." He flashes a quick smile at you before turning his head back to mind the foot traffic.

“I’ve been avoiding making any decisions. Todd isn’t happy that I’ve taken this long. I was tempted to just run right back to theater, to something safe, something familiar..” you look up to see Jason’s face. He is nodding along. “I’m used to be known in my little community but it’s nothing like my experience out here.”

You both pause to cross the street at the crosswalk and Jason takes advantage to sway his body towards yours, briefly connecting his side to yours, burrowing next to you. “I keep hopping back to comedy clubs from time to time myself. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful no matter what path you choose.”

You soak up the contact between the two of you, particularly pleased that he seems to be the one initiating it. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” He fires back.

It doesn’t take long to cover the distance of a few blocks before Jason catches your arm as you walk past the entrance to one of the numerous public parks in the area. You give him a questioning look, “What?”

Intertwining his arm with yours, Jason leads you into the park. “I just figured it might be nice to walk around, enjoy the area, while the weather is inviting.”

You nod, silently agreeing. It’s been a while since you’ve spent an extended period of time outdoors since finishing filming.

Jason’s attention seems to be drawn towards a building a little in the distance. “What is it?” You ask.

He whips his head back to you, almost seeming a little caught off guard. “Oh - I just.. I did an interview once where they let us rent a row boat and go out into the water and I was just wondering…” he trails off. He squeezes your arm and steers you toward the building.

“It might not be the right time of year. Sometimes there’s only a limited few week period where places rent out canoes.” You reply.

“You wanna check it out?”

How could you say no to him? “Sure.”

You watch the attendant’s reaction to your approach. She does a double take at the sight of Jason. Relatable.

Jason smiles at her, “Hi. Do you rent out row boats here?”

She nods slowly, like she can’t quite believe it. Right there with you, sister.

“Yes. It’s um- ten dollars per hour… I’ll radio down.” She squeaks out a reply, eyes still wide with wonder. He thanks her and pulls some money from his pocket. As you walk down to the waterfront, the attendant seems to find her confidence and yells, “I love you!”

He laughs, flashing a bright smile back at her. “Thank you! I love you back.”

Once you arrive at the water, you tell him, “you just made her day, you know.”

“I’ll have to remember to get a picture with her if she’s still working when we’re finished. That is if you don’t mind?” He looks at your curiously.

“Of course not! I’d be offended if you didn’t. There’s so many people that adore you, it’s nice to know you aren’t a dick.”

Once you’re in the boat, Jason takes control of the oars. You take a moment to drink in his presence, grabbing your phone to snap a few photos of him, operating the boat and deciding which direction to take it.

He gives you a quizzical look, “I’ve got to document this showing off. Imagine, Jason Sudeikis trying to impress a girl with his rowing.”

He laughs and when he speaks his voice is a few octaves lower, “Yes. Determinedly so.”

God, the way this man flusters you.

He stops rowing, resting his arms against the oars and looking directly at you. “There you are. Flustered again. You have to know that only encourages me more.”

You halfheartedly glare at him. “I seem to get flustered whenever I’m near you, Jason. No matter the activity. All you have to do is… that.” You say gesturing towards his body.

He smiles at you joyfully and your breath hitches in your throat.

With a little more rowing from Jason, the boat reaches a small shade provided by a small batch of trees that sit near a tiny island in the center of the body of water. After securing the oars, he stretches his legs out.

You lose all track of time, floating around the water, tearing your way through any topic you can think of. You love his laugh and being able to be the one to elicit it brings you a lovely sense of pride.

The growling of your stomach makes you both realize that you've been out on the water for about 2 hours and some food could do you good.

"Alright, let's feed you." Jason quips, swinging the boat back around to head toward the docks.

Jason helps you out of the boat and you can hear the clicking of cameras. The photographers outside of your hotel seemed to have finally tracked you down. You just hope you don't fall and make a fool of yourself, the thought makes you grip Jason's hand harder. Walking back through the park towards the building where you rented to boats, you see the attendant that helped the two of you is still on her shift and you watch Jason pop over, taking a selfie with her and chatting a bit. There's a few in the growing crowd that recognize you and ask for some pictures, which you're all too happy to oblige. It's still something you're getting used to.

Jason makes his way back over to you, dipping his head towards your ear. "We will get food after this - though we might need to call for some help."

You decide to take matters into your own hands to try to help the situation. Addressing the smaller group of people in front of you, you decide to ask, "Hey - does anybody have any suggestions for where to grab something to eat?"

Jason smiles at you before leaning over to better hear one woman's suggestion.

"That sounds amazing. And you said they have Gelato?" Jason glances towards you and you both silently seem to agree you know where you're headed. A few moments later, park security comes in to clear out the crowd, making sure there's a path for your two of you to make it out safely. Jason's hand finds its way to your back as he guides you along the street to your destination.

[wits-writing]

“A Wonderful Experience”: Why Transformers: EarthSpark and Nightshade Matter

I’ve been a Transformers fan to one degree or another for as long as I can remember. Whether it’s early memories of watching Beast Wars, renting the G1 animated film on VHS from Blockbuster, or reading the numerous excellent comics that have come over the years, I’ve always found something to love about this franchise. So, I was probably going to find time to check out the 2022 CGI animated series Transformers: EarthSpark eventually no matter what. But one little bird changed that from an “I’ll get around to it eventually” to “I need to make watching this show a priority.”

A little bird by the name of Nightshade (voiced by Z Infante)!

I’d already heard from people I trust about EarthSpark’s quality as a series, but finding out about the franchise’s first prominent, explicitly nonbinary Transformer got me eager to dive in. I’ve discussed characters I relate to and read nonbinary themes into in the past, but getting a chance to see a show in a franchise I love feature that kind of representation with intent was exciting. Given the fact I’ve written 3000 words analyzing the character of Nightshade now, it’s easy to say I wasn’t disappointed!

The topic of gender and how it relates to the Transformers as characters has been one of many long, exhausting fandom debates over the franchise’s nearly four decade history. I’m not here to relitigate any of that, so take it as read from here on out that the Transformers as characters do have and express gendered identities throughout the history of all its incarnations. 

To give a quick primer on EarthSpark as a whole (and why it’s great) before digging into Nightshade’s character in specific:

The series is set fifteen years after the end of the Autobot/Decepticon War. The bots that managed to survive the fighting and remain on Earth are presumed to be the last of their species. All of them are stuck in a holding pattern where the only options currently viable are a life in hiding or working alongside the government-funded alien threat detection/response agency GHOST. Optimus Prime and Megatron head up the latter efforts, in the hope of finding some peaceful balance between humans and Transformers going into the future (though neither of them are fully at ease with the situation, as GHOST clearly has ulterior motives of their own.)

The grim outlook for the Cybertronians takes a turn for the better with the birth of two new Transformers. The Earth-sparks of the show’s title (called “Terrans” throughout the series), Twitch and Thrash, who are bonded to the human children Robby and Mo Malto. Helped by Optimus, Megatron, and the Malto kids’ parents, GHOST agent Dot and her husband Alex, the decision is made to keep the Terrans a secret until the extent of what their existence could mean for the Transformers future as a species is fully understood. The Terrans become an official part of the Malto Family (lovingly referred to as “Malto-bots” by the other characters.) At the halfway point of the first season, in the episode “Age of Evolution”, this unconventional family unit expands further with the birth of three more Terrans, including Nightshade.

Between puzzling out the Terrans’ existence, hiding from GHOST, and fighting threats like the human mad scientist Mandroid, there’s a lot of thematic meat on the bone of this series’ setup. The main one I’m interested in digging into through the lens of Nightshade’s characterization is how the Terrans are written to feel like kids figuring out who they want to be as they grow up. Transformers has a history of designating one or more bots in its series central casts as the rookie/kid character, not insignificantly the Terrans’ primary mentor, Bumblebee, has been traditionally positioned as that very rookie. EarthSpark adding the narrative weight of representing a potential for all Transformers, particularly in how they’ll relate to humans while living on Earth, onto these characters gives more meaning to them being under that role.

The Terrans learn lessons about who they want to be and who they can/can’t trust (not always determined by old alliances like Autobot/Decepticon) from the older Transformers and humans alike. Also proving through their actions everything new they’ll have to offer the world they call home through the gift of their existence. Each Terran has been given the appropriate space so far to have their characters develop, each in their own directions, through this theme. 

Nightshade is exemplary of this, best understood through looking at how they’re characterized before/after their first focus episode “Missed Connection”, about them forming a bond with Decepticon scientist Tarantulas.

[SPOILERS for EarthSpark beyond this point]

Before “Missed Connection”

Something that genuinely impressed me going back through EarthSpark for the sake of writing this piece is how immediately Nightshade is fully themself from their earliest bits of screentime in “Age of Evolution.” While the other two members of the second batch of Terran Transformers, Hashtag and Jawbreaker, have their names confirmed upon them by their connection to Robby and Mo, Nightshade actively introduces themself with a bow and a flourish (“It is a delight and a surprise to meet you all!”) This beat quickly establishes their self-assuredness in their identity and that, while they’re later shown to have occasional introverted tendencies, they are anything but shy. I’m also fond of how the scene establishing their pronouns as Optimus lays out their plan of attack also foreshadows their eventual alt-mode, since they ask to be represented by an owl-bobblehead during the planning. The one scene serving as a contrast to their outgoing demeanor, as they recoil at the sight of Mandroid’s cruelty, gives the first hint towards their eventual desire to protect those in need.

There’s only two episodes between Nightshade’s debut in “Age of Evolution” and their first focus episode; “Hashtag: Oops” and “Outtakes.” Since neither is their focus episode, there’s not much to say about how they’re portrayed in either one (in fact, Nightshade’s entirely absent from “Outtakes” as anything but a brief visual cameo.) “Hashtag: Oops” does still manage to establish some key parts of Nightshade’s personality. Firstly, their comfort in themselves as they proclaim they don’t need an alt-mode (“I like who I am as I am.”) Secondly, their inclination towards tech and engineering as they secretly build a new underground base to surprise their family and give everyone more room to operate within. The latter also indicates their “better to ask forgiveness than permission” approach to their tinkering and scientific work. Which comes back around in a big way during “Missed Connection.”

Which finally brings us to the episode that’s the primary reason I’m writing this piece at all!

“Missed Connection”

Being Nightshade’s first proper focus episode in the series, their current state as part of the ensemble cast gets reestablished in short order. Namely, how they feel out of place around their siblings. Their affinity for science and technology leads to them making their own fun separate from the rest of the family. A pattern that gets highlighted by Nightshade working to perfect a new training drone while the rest of their siblings are playing a game of tag outdoors in celebration of Robby and Mo having the day off school. When later questioned by Alex and Dot about why they don’t spend more time with the rest of the family, Nightshade says it feels like their siblings treat them like they’re “speaking another language.”

This sense of isolation informs why Nightshade is so eager later in the episode when they find a connection with Tarantulas’ own work with tech. Simultaneously providing an opportunity for Alex to offer them something they can connect with while trying to figure out how to connect with others. Like any good nerdy dad, he does it through the magic of reading. He offers Nightshade a copy of his favorite book from when he was growing up, “Winged Sentinel”, an in-universe fantasy/sci-fi series they immediately connect with and find new aspirations. Which we hear as they repeatedly call back to the books like about its hero “protecting those in need.” Their connection to this book quickly leads to the one they find working with Tarantulas, as they were in the local cemetery since it was the “last known address” of Winged Sentinel’s author.

(Quick aside: First time I watched this episode, that detail had me thinking the show was going to do a “Nightshade learns about mortality” type of story. I was relieved when not only did Nightshade grok what happened to the author pretty fast, but the episode in turn swiftly shifted to the dynamic between Tarantulas and them.)

“Missed Connection” finds its central theme in Nightshade and Tarantulas’ discussions on identity and finding one’s place within that world rife with conflict that can be directly hostile to those like them. There’s a recurrent motif in the dialogue of Tarantulas’ cynicism born from eons of experience and Nightshade’s youthful enthusiasm. Though cynicism is far from all the elder Transformer has to offer, as he also provides Nightshade with a new perspective on alt-modes they hadn’t considered and ultimately guides them to their choice.

Nightshade: Aren’t I sufficient as I am? Tarantulas: Alt-forms aren’t meant to complete you, as though you have a missing part, they further express who you already are.

Combining that with Tarantulas’ frustration at the “constrictive labels” of Autobot/Decepticon adds to the resonance this episode has with the nonbinary experience. The concept of “passing” gets explicitly evoked by him while discussing his plan to create a hard-light hologram projector so he can live freely as a human while evading GHOST’s forces. Which is the first proper disguise Tarantulas has taken in his life. While his giant spider alt-mode may provide plenty of utility, it’s anything but discreet.

His plan and attitude informing on it connects back to the broader central theme of EarthSpark as a series of the Transformers finding a new way to live on Earth among humanity with the Terrans representing the way forward. He can’t see a way forward besides hiding who he is and the only safety he can think to offer Nightshade is to join him in that life of discretion. His outlook’s best emphasized by his assuredness that the Autobot/Decepticon War resuming is inevitable, alongside that eventuality dragging him out of whatever peace he does find.

However, cracks in Tarantulas’ bleak worldview show as he begins to admire Nightshade’s exuberant demeanor and determination to be a protector. That admiration for a Transformer with the potential to live unburdened by all the hardships he’s seen leads to him delivering the best, most resonant line in the episode:

“It is a gift to know yourself so well, so young. Take pride in that.”

A beautiful sentiment aimed directly at members of EarthSpark’s target demographic on their own journeys to express their identities.

Unfortunately, the bond these characters have found can’t last. When Tarantulas recognizes Dot as an agent of GHOST, he acts rashly under the assumption that she’s holding Nightshade prisoner. He kidnaps Alex and her, planning to erase Nightshade from their memories so they can go into hiding with him. As a fight between the bots eventually breaks out, Nightshade commits to acting like the protector they aspire to be and chooses the alt-mode of a green armored owl, based on the hero of Winged Sentinel. (Alex’s proud declaration of “You read the book!” while witnessing this is great.) A form that isn’t a disguise but expresses themself as they are and what they want to be going forward.

Nightshade and Tarantulas’ conflict has grown intense enough by this point that the elder Transformer’s admiration for the young bot doesn’t come through in his reaction. Rather he flips it into an insult providing Nightshade their opportunity for a sharp, direct retort (and other best line in the episode):

Tarantulas: You’re still just the lost protoform I first met! Nightshade: You’ve just proven you don’t really know me, because I was never lost!

When the fight ends with Tarantulas’ hologram projector destroyed in the skirmish, Nightshade reflects on words Dot offered them earlier about how everyone deserves a second chance and convinces their family not to hurt Tarantulas any further. However, it seems to be a decision out of their hands as GHOST is drawn to their location by the fight. Tarantulas, finally understanding Nightshade’s situation as well as who they are, offers himself up as bait to lure GHOST away from the Maltos. Running off into the forest as Nightshade reflects on the broken hologram projector the two of them made.

Multiple rewatches of this episode, as well as the first season of EarthSpark as a whole, has reaffirmed it as my favorite episode of the show so far. The tight focus of the dynamic between Nightshade and Tarantulas, alongside the deeper meaning that can be taken from pretty much every exchange between the two, is exemplary of what makes this series standout wonderfully as part of the vast Transformers canon.

After “Missed Connection”

Since there’s not that much of the first season left after “Missed Connection”, Nightshade’s once again mostly off to the side doing their own thing. But there are small bits that show how their experiences in that episode have changed them. They actively spend more time around the rest of the Malto Family, like helping Bumblebee train for an upcoming race and showing that they’ve formed a bond built on mutual tech-obsession with their sister, Hashtag, as they work together to further upgrade the underground headquarters. 

We also get a fun minor bit of their “better to ask forgiveness…” way of operating when they add some high tech bells and whistles to Dot’s prosthetic leg as a Mother’s Day present in the episode “Bear Necessities.” A plot point that later gives the show an opportunity for Dot and Nightshade to have a nice mother-child bonding moment as she explains to them why she liked her leg the way it was in terms they can understand (“something like this is personal”) while not completely shutting them down over it (“I’m open to some small changes, but they’ll have to be ones we come up with together.”)

Though the biggest moment post “Missed Connection” moment for the character, as well as my personal favorite single scene in EarthSpark so far, comes from their subplot in the season 1 two-parter episode “Home.” As the Malto kids and the Terrans go into Philadelphia to see more of the wider world, we get to see Nightshade continue acting as a protector for those in need as they save a young person named Sam from getting mugged in an alley. Nightshade notices a pin that says “SHE/THEY” on Sam’s handbag and tells her their pronouns in return. The two end up having a conversation about how the things that make them who they are can also make them targets for intolerantly minded people. This interaction ends with Sam affirming they feel safe around Nightshade and giving the young Transformer a simple but effective explanation of what being nonbinary means.

This not only gives Nightshade further context to understand themself, but also has the important touch from a metaperspective of having a human character be the one to explain the concept. An effective dodge of what’s frequently cited as a pitfall of using aliens/robots to explore these facets of human identity, making it as clear as possible for anyone watching (especially the target demographic of kids) that Nightshade’s nonbinary identity is in no way just a product of their being an alien robot. Rather, it's an identity that simply feels right for some people living in the world. One that people who identify with it and explore their connections to it can find immensely fulfilling. 

Or, as Nightshade puts it at the end of this conversation:

“What a wonderful word, for a wonderful experience.”

(Before I dive into my conclusion, I want to say I deeply hope this isn’t the last we see of Sam in the series. Both for representation’s sake and because I like seeing the Terrans bond with humans outside of their immediate family circle.)

It would feel wrong to end this look at Nightshade’s character and how that reflects on the best qualities of EarthSpark as a series without giving proper credit to the creative voices involved in bringing them to life. Namely, writer Mae Catt (she/they) who wrote the episode “Missed Connection” and one of the three writers on “Home”, the other two being showrunners Nicole Dubuc and Dale Malinkowski. While fundamentally I believe anyone could write any kind of story, authenticity comes through stronger when writers from the same background are involved. Catt’s passion for writing this show comes through beautifully in these episodes and in how they’ve discussed the show on social media.

Her understanding for what these characters and stories can mean to the young people watching gets clearly reflected in recurrent elements of EarthSpark’s story. Aside from Nightshade’s admiration for the main character of the Winged Sentinel novels, we also see moments in other episodes of their siblings trying to figure out what being a Transformers means through in-universe Transformers comic books telling the story of the Autobot/Decepticon War. 

It’s also what drove me to write this piece. I see Nightshade in all their creative, expressive glory and it makes me happy for the kids watching Transformers: EarthSpark, seeing them, and relating to them. Every story has the potential to be a guide someone out there can use to move closer to their heart. Nightshade’s being that guide to nonbinary kids now in a way I never could’ve dreamed of growing up is, simply put, wonderful.

Happy Pride! 💛🤍💜🖤

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