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in1-nutshell · 1 year ago

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We’ve got the IDW characters and the Prime characters w/ a spiderman-buddy, how’d some of the Animated cast react to having another arachnid-like character around 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

Spider Bud, Spider Bud, does whatever a Buddy can--

The continuation of Spidey Buddy returns!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy Spidey with Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFA

Optimus Prime

Optimus is a bit surprised when Buddy reveals that they are Detroit’s senior superhero. Not that they were old or anything, but Buddy was doing this superhero business way before the bots came to earth.

Buddy kind of reminds him of a mini version of Blackarachnia who’s way friendlier. Which sometimes leads him to having some… unpleasant flashbacks…

After a bit of talking with Buddy about why he reacts so poorly to their spider attributes, Buddy tries to let Prime know when they are going to be using their powers.

Specifically, the webs and crawling on different surfaces.

Prime really hates it when Buddy crawls around without warning., the webs are a bit more tolerable though.

Buddy crawling on the wall next to Optimus’s helm.

“Hey Prime!”--Buddy

“Hey Bud— PRIMUS! Buddy we’ve talked about this!”--Optimus

“Sorry!”--Buddy

Buddy has taken it upon themselves to teach him how to use his grappling hooks to swing around the city.

Though, days when they have practice are eventful.

But thanks to the practice, he is know more fluid in using the grappling hooks. In return, Optimus always reminds Buddy to check their web cartridges and he always brings extras and a spare web shooter for Buddy in his subspace.

“C’mon Prime! You got this!”--Buddy

“I don’t think this isn’t the best way to do this Buddy!”--Optimus

“This is nothing Boss-Bot! You’ll be fine!”--Buddy

“Was this anything like how you did it when you first tried swinging?”--Optimus

Flashback to multiple failed attempts at singing and falling on a lot of hard surfaces.

“Trust me when I say we are doing the stuff that I know is safe and will work.”--Buddy

“Wait who taught—”--Optimus

“Less talking, more swinging!”--Buddy

Buddy pushes Prime off the building.

He appreciates Buddy’s super strength when they are around the others.

Buddy demonstrated this by casually moving a sleeping Bulkhead from his spot. In Buddy’s defense Bulkhead was sleeping on top of their comic.

Prime swears that Buddy is doing these things to get a reaction.

He likes Buddy’s Spidey sense.

This has come in handy multiple times in the past.

Optimus doesn’t mind Buddy joining them on patrol, but Buddy needs to comm in every hour and never engage with a Con if one did show up.

He is dropping everything if he hears Buddy calling for backup. He is always the second bot to get to Buddy.

Ratchet

He has questions, so many questions.

Like Prime, Ratchet is a bit surprised that Buddy is the Spider themed vigilante. He would have caught onto it quicker if he wasn’t too busy keeping the team from falling apart.

When Buddy showed him their webbing skills, they webbed themselves onto the monitor above his helm.

“This enough proof?”--Buddy

“How—how—is that stuff coming out of you?!”--Ratchet

“Umm… yeah?”--Buddy

“Where does it come from?”--Ratchet

“My wrists?”--Buddy

“But, how though?”--Ratchet

“… I never thought about it before.”--Buddy

“How do you not know?!”--Ratchet

“I just don’t know?!”--Buddy

He wants to check Buddy in the medbay as soon as possible.

Ratchet isn’t familiar with organic anatomy. He started learning a bit for Sari, which nearly turned useless when they found out Sari was Techno Organic.

Buddy’s body is a mutant one from the average human.

Primus just give him a regular patients.

He likes how durable and strong Buddy’s webs are.

He was there to witness Buddy lift Bulkhead.

Buddy was sent to the med bay immediately as Ratchet scolded them for lifting up Bulkhead like that.

“I’m fine Ratchet!”--Buddy

“Since when did you have that kind of strength?! And were you even bending your knees?”--Ratchet

“I was and I’ve carried heavier—er—I’ll be more careful next time.”--Buddy

“What?”--Ratchet

“I’m just gonna go over there.”--Buddy

“In what situation did you have to pick up something heavier than Bulkhead?!”--Ratchet

Ratchet manages to get Buddy to do regular check ups to make sure that everything is working well. While he does the check ups he takes note on what’s normal for Buddy’s body and what’s not.

He is rather fond of Buddy’s Spidey sense.

At first, he was extremely skeptical of this extra sense, until it saved him. After the first few dozen saves, then does he start to acknowledge that the Spidey sense is real.

He definitely scolds Buddy for doing unnecessary tricks in the air when they are out on patrol.

The sirens are turn on to the max when he hears that Buddy needs back up. He is one of the first bots on the scene with Buddy if they ever called in for back up.

Bumblebee

He is ecstatic to find out that Buddy is the Spidey Hero of Detroit.

But he wants proof too.

Buddy webbed themselves to the ceiling and slowly descended upside down.

“Is this enough proof for you, or do I need to web you to Bulkhead’s backside?”--Buddy

“Hey!”--Bulkhead

“Nope this is plenty!”--Bumblebee

“I thought so. And don’t worry Bulkhead I would do such torture. I’d web him to the ceiling before I’d do that.”--Buddy

“Hey!”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee wasn’t around to see Buddy lift Bulkhead. He heard it from Prime when he off handedly said it in a conversation.

He was demanding to see how strong Buddy was with his own optics. The yellow bot was slightly jealous of Prime and Ratchet to have seen such a feat, now its his turn to see it!

That landed with him being carried by Buddy through the city. It would have been fun… if he wasn’t terrified out of his mind.

“This is fun isn’t it, Bee?!”--Buddy

“You know what would be even more fun?ME ON THE GROUND AND NOT BEING SWUNG FROM ROOFTOP TO ROOFTOP WITH ONLY A SINGLE WEB STRAND FROM KEEPING ME FROM BECOMING A PANCAKE!”--Bumblebee

“If you’re scared all you need to do—”--Buddy

“I’m not scared!”--Bumblebee

“So, then you wouldn’t mind me if we swung upside down?”--Buddy

“OH, PRIMUS NO! I mean, I think I’ve had enough for today. But its not because I’m scared!”--Bumblebee

“Sure.”--Buddy

Bumblebee didn’t have a problem with heights when it came down to the swinging; it was the aerial stunts that put him through the loop. He didn’t like those too much.

He likes Buddy’s web and how they swing around in them.

Bumblebee has definitely asked Buddy to race him from one point in the city to the next to see who has the fastest mode of transportation. Those races end up in ties.

When Buddy is on patrol with the team, Bee is usually with Buddy on their route with Bulkhead.

Bumblebee is usually the first to be on scene if Buddy ever called in for back up. He isn’t the fastest on the team for nothing.

Bulkhead

Bulkhead is the most surprised by the news of Buddy being the Spidey hero, but he gets excited quickly.

The Spidey hero had become a role model of his (along with Bumblebee, but he swore secrecy not to tell anyone this) and now knowing that this hero was his friend just made things better.

Bulkhead loves Buddy’s powers.

He has see multiple clips from the TV showcasing Buddy’s webbing abilities. He doesn’t need any extra proof of this existing. Buddy’s his friend, why would they lie to him?

“How did Buddy show their webs to you?”--Bumblebee

“Oh, they haven’t yet.”--Bulkhead

“Don’t you want to see them for real? Don’t you want to see the proof?”--Bumblebee

“Why would Buddy have to prove anything to me? I’ve already seen them on TV before. If Buddy wants to show me them, it’ll be when they want to.”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead wholeheartedly believes that Buddy lifted him in his sleep. How does he know this? Simple.

If he fell asleep, the only other bot that would be able to move him would be Optimus. And even then, Optimus would either gently wake him up or if he tried to move him by himself, the Prime would most likely wake him up with his struggling before moving him an inch from his original place.

And he has seen Buddy lift heavier things.

“How are you so calm about all of this? Did you know before all of us?”--Bumblebee

“No?”--Bulkhead

“Then how are you not freaked out or something!? They LIFTED YOU UP WHEN YOU WERE ASLEEP!”--Bumblebee

“And? I’ve seen them pick up heavier stuff.”--Bulkhead

“Excuse me what?”--Bumblebee

“Bulkhead what did they pick up?”--Ratchet

“Umm…”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead, What. Did. They. Pick. Up?”--Ratchet

Somewhere in the Plant.

“My Spidey senses are tingling… but where’s the danger?”—Buddy

“BUDDY!”—Ratchet

“Oh… there’s the danger…”—Buddy

Rapid web swinging intensifies.

Bulkhead loves Buddy’s Spidey sense.

He trusts that sense with his life.

When they are out on patrol, he follows Bee and Buddy into their sections of the city.

Bulkhead does remind Buddy to take it easy on the tricks and stunts so they wouldn’t get hurt when they need them.

While he isn’t the first one on scene when Buddy calls for back up, he tries his best to make it there on time and his first concern is Buddy before dealing with the big bad.

Prowl

Prowl had suspicions that Buddy might have been the masked hero after Bulkhead introduced them.

He is introduced to Buddy’s webs when they casually webbed and swung themselves up onto Prowl’s tree as they began to tell him about their day.

Buddy swinging to one of the branches of Prowl’s tree.

“You will not believe the traffic this morning!”--Buddy

Prowl sitting on the floor trying to comprehend what just happened before just rolling with it.

He likes the webs with all their dexterity and natural beauty.

Especially if the webs are organic and not from the web cartilages.

Prowl does ask questions about Buddy’s past when the two are alone. He isn’t surprised when Buddy doesn’t give him any details and most of it is explained vaguely. Mostly he is glad that Buddy was able to share some of it with him.

“You were bitten by an organic spider, and it gave you powers?”--Prowl

“Well, I’m pretty sure that thing was radioactive.”--Buddy

“Radioactive?”--Prowl

“Yep. Moving on.”--Buddy

“And because of this bite, your body reacted by giving you these special features, am I correct?”--Prowl

“You’re saying it like this is weird. I assure you Prowl this isn’t weird for me.”--Buddy

“Oh, then—”--Prowl

“You guys don’t even know about the fangs and claws yet. Trust me there are weirder things in the subway than this.”--Buddy

“The what?”--Prowl

“What?”--Buddy

He wasn’t present to see Buddy lift Bulkhead off the ground. Like Bulkhead, Prowl believes that Buddy can do this feat. Though this was more on video evidence than faith in a friend. Also, it would make sense; they’d need it if they were going to swing across Detroit every night and still have their arms in tack the next day.

Prowl finds out Buddy has strength when he accidentally slipped off a high rooftop and started falling.

He was about to use his jetpack when something wrapped around his chassis and stopped his descent to the ground, holding him suspended in the air. Prowl would then notice that the thing wrapped around his chassis were Buddy’s webbings. Buddy was holding him by the webs while also being suspended from another web from the roof top.

Buddy got a scolding from Prowl after that stunt.

“What were you thinking?!”--Prowl

“I was thinking about saving you!”--Buddy

“You shouldn’t have done that.”--Prowl

“And why not? If you’re telling me to sit back and let my friend fall again, that’s something I’m not going to do!”--Buddy

“Again?”--Prowl

“…Listen, I know my limits with my strength and webs. I would never put you or the team in danger if I didn’t know these things wouldn’t help.”--Buddy

“…All right. Just remember, you may be a superhero, but your still human.”--Prowl

“And you remember that you guys can still get hurt. Its okay to as for help when you need it too, okay?”--Buddy

“Deal?”--Prowl

“Deal.”--Buddy

Prowl likes to train with Buddy’s Spidey sense.

Buddy is most likely the only other person on the team that could keep up with him and his Cyber ninja training.

He has yet to land any hit on Buddy.

Buddy definitely holds this on him.

When Buddy joins them on patrol, Prowl is Buddy’s back up partner if Bumblebee or Bulkhead aren’t around to do their rounds together.

Prowl ties with Optimus in getting to Buddy second if they ever called for back up.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #tfa optimus prime #tfa bumblebee #tfa prowl #tfa ratchet #tfa bulkhead #human buddy #tfa x reader #tfa x platonic reader #spidey buddy

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angelicyouth · 2 years ago

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Youth ; Chapter 13

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

“So do they like… Kiss each other and stuff, also?” My brother asks me under the soft material of the blanket the two of us are huddled under, the fleece thrown over both of our shoulders.

I loudly slurp at my instant ramen before answering, the flavorful broth of the soup it was cooked in messily spraying itself over my lips. Laughter resounds around the mouthful of food when I process the question he asks, my brother smirking in amusement as he brings a thumb up to lightly wipe the liquid off.

“Pfft! No, just me. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if they did! But they fight all the time, so… Who knows?” I bring the pair of plastic chopsticks in my hand back into the hot metal pot between the both of us, fishing for another lump of noodles to chew on.

Stan and I opted to eat our midnight snack directly from the container we cooked it in as we almost always do, the both of us usually too lazy to bring out more dishes to separate the food between us. The living room is dark with only multicolored lights dousing our figures in brightness, the television turned on in front of us.

“Hmm.” He hums at my answer as his eyes lazily flicker at the moving images being projected, the anime we decided to put on providing us entertainment for the night.

My eyes distractedly follow the rising steam getting emitted from our food, slowly wafting up as it disappears in a seamless transition into the darkness around us. The gentle murmuring of the show playing provides a dull background noise to my thoughts.

“... I’m sorry for not telling you about it right away.” I silently say into the space between us, the guilt still consuming me even with my brother back at my side and finally talking to me again.

Stan is quiet for a moment and I’m patient—whether he answers me or not. “No, don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize if you didn’t do anything wrong. Haven’t I taught you not to do that?” My eyebrows slightly crease in confusion at his words before his arms reach out to wrap themselves around my shoulders, bringing my body close to his chest.

There’s a pained expression on his face as he mumbles onto the crown of my head, “... I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep it a secret from me. It hurts to know that I wasn’t the safe haven I’ve always tried to be for you as your big brother, as your other half. It was never my intention to make you feel like you couldn’t tell me anything, that you’d be scared of my reaction.”

My brother's voice drops even lower and despite our close proximity, it’s hard to hear his next words. “… I felt like a failure, N/N. It was humiliating to find out with the rest of the guys, to find out that Kyle knew but not me.”

His eyes clench shut in deep regret for making me feel the need to hide things from him and my hand quickly shoots out to tightly grasp onto the fabric adorning his frame, his shirt soft under my fingertips. “No! No, please don’t think that. Please. This has nothing to do with your ability as my sibling because you’re the best big brother anyone can ever ask for. I’m so lucky to have been born as your sister and I wouldn’t trade this life for a different one, ever.”

When he doesn’t say anything more to my words, I wrap both of my arms around his waist to hug him back. “I understand how this might make you feel and the implications of me not telling you might be, but you’ve got it all wrong. I was only scared because you mean so much to me. I could give less of a shit as to what anyone else says to me about the things I do, but you? Your opinion matters so much to me. I’d be devastated if you thought any less of me, Stan. I love you so much that the idea of you harboring any kind of negative feelings of disgust, disappointment, shame—anything towards me, just tears me apart from the inside.”

My heart weeps at the hurt I’ve inflicted onto my brother, my hushed whispering desperate to convey my feelings. “You don’t have any idea on how much of a pedestal I put you on. We’re only a few minutes apart but I not only admire you so much, but everything that you are and do for me. It’s crazy when you think about the timeline of human history because I could’ve been born in the 1920’s or living my life in the 70’s and you in the 50’s. I often think about how I'm so incredibly lucky that I got to exist at the same time as you, much less as your twin sister. Because really, what are the odds of being born with someone else like that? I love you so much, Stan and I’m so, so sorry for making you feel this way.”

No one says anything for a while before his arms tighten their hold around my frame. His voice is soft, so low as he tells me, “I want you to know that I’m here for you no matter what, always. It doesn’t matter what it is or the consequences that may come with it, I’ll always be there by your side. Yeah, we’re twins which means I get overprotective when it comes to my baby sister. But before anything else, you’re also my best friend, you know? I may get angry or upset but that doesn’t change the fact that I’d help you bury a dead body or something, regardless of what I was feeling. I’d never let my temporary emotions dictate permanent decisions when it comes to you, ever.”

“Even more than Kyle?” My voice is wobbly and thick with tears, my brother fondly snickering at his cry baby little sister and my childish competitiveness.

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask. From the womb to the tomb, right?”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Please!” Ike whines, his smaller arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind the chair I was currently sitting on in the dining room.

“Leave us alone, Ike. We already have to babysit you, let us finish our homework.” Kyle doesn’t take away his eyes from studiously writing onto the worksheet in front of him, his eyebrows creased in intense concentration.

The curly haired teen and I were originally supposed to meet at Tweek’s cafe to get some assignments done together, that is until Aunt Sheila got called into work for an emergency. When the Jewish red head rang me to inform me of the last minute change to our plans, his brother loudly demanded for me to come over in the background.

“I pinky promise we can play when we’re done, okay? We can do whatever you want and I’ll even make you a snack. My time is all yours once this is finished, I won’t even go home until you’re tucked away in bed and fast asleep.” I softly placate the younger one and his temper, flashing him a reassuring smile. He tightens his limbs around me one last time before letting his hold go with a sigh.

The ravenette sticks out his tongue at his brother before swiping my cell phone from the corner of the wooden structure, plopping himself down onto one of the chairs across from us. I’ve always allowed the younger to use my phone whenever he wants to, most of the apps on my mobile device being games that he's downloaded for when he gets bored.

He rolls his eyes when he sees Kyle eyeing him in warning due to an incident that occurred several years ago. The younger Broflovski got a stern talking to from Uncle Gerald when he began to ignorantly make in-app purchases without my knowledge.

“Ew. Why do you have stinky Kenny and stupid Craig as your lock screen? Wait. Why do you have them as your lock screen AND home screen?!”

“Ah…” Kyle and I exchange an awkward glance, my eyes widening as I motion my head for him to take the reins in offering an explanation. He’s your brother, my eyes silently convey.

He rolls his emerald orbs, a pained expression on his face for having to clarify the unconventional relationship to his younger sibling. “They’re N/N’s boyfriends.”

“Which one?” The elementary schooler asks in irritation, furiously swiping at all of the pictures of Kenny in my digital album. The photogenic blonde has formed a habit of taking a multitude of selfies on my phone whenever I’m not looking—bonus points if he gets Craig in it too before the ravenette pushes him away.

“… Both of them.” The elder Broflovski squints his eyes, watching the younger of the two invasively go through my phone for further evidence of our relationship.

“What! But you were supposed to marry me when I got older! Don't you remember, N/N? When I asked you and Cartman said that you should accept because that was the last time you'd be hearing those words from another human being in this lifetime?” His eyes are wide at the information, his fingers momentarily stuttering to a stop as his disbelieving face looks at the both of us.

I roll my eyes at the reminder of Cartman's constant amusement at my nonexistent love life (he knows the boys and my brother wouldn't allow it, but whatever—now I have two boyfriends while his fatass is all alone!). Kyle just snorts at his brother’s childish dreams, the wishful thinking subtly painting his next words in an indiscreet chuckle.

“You’re too young for her, Ike.” But to no avail, the ravenette’s eyebrows just further creases.

“Sorry little bud, but two’s already a handful. I’m not sure if I can handle three.” I softly smile in affection as I ruffle the tufts of black on his head.

I keep my body leant over the table, comically bringing a hand to cup around my mouth to whisper in conspiracy to him. “And I wouldn’t want them to get jealous of you. It wouldn’t be fair to pit you against them.”

“Ugh!” His tiny body slumps in exasperation despite my words, causing half of his face to be obscured from our view, hidden by the wooden edge of the dining table.

“You can’t, N/N. You just can’t! You were supposed to marry Kyle so we can be official siblings by law!” I loudly laugh at the younger Broflovski’s words for changing his initial stance, trying to grasp whatever remaining straws he could to keep me in the family.

His indignation is endearing as I know that he’d absolutely despise it if his older brother dated me after years of being possessive whenever I came over. It never went away when he was a toddler despite his parents insisting that it was just a phase, much like a baby refusing to share their favorite toy.

I stand to my full height and lazily stretch the kinks out of my body before picking up the moping Ike, his head burrowing into my neck as I walk towards the kitchen. Softly, I plant a small yet reassuring kiss into the soft locks of hair adorning the crown of his head.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go make that snack, yeah?”

I smile into his hair, affection filling me to the core at the fact that the ravenette didn’t seem to care about the number of people romantically involved with me. And if I decided to add extra chocolate syrup to his ice cream sundae as thanks, only Ike would know.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My lack of vision enhances the rest of my senses, twin pairs of hands holding onto my own and settling onto my lower back to guide my walking form. When I register the sound of water falling, my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

A waterfall..?

We hadn’t walked that far from when the boys decided to ambush and kidnap me from the video games I was playing with Kyle and my brother. This causes my thoughts to wander and shoot theories in rapid fire, trying to form ideas as to where they're taking me. To my knowledge, there wasn't a location like this close to town and that information was a sure fact after going on adventures with the boys throughout our adolescence.

When the soft material of my makeshift blindfold comes off, my eyes sparkle in utter excitement after they adjust to the sudden brightness of the scenery before me. The fragrant smell of flowers strongly engulfs my entire senses, the boys having taken me to the Enchanted Garden we used to sneak into as kids during our fantasy role-play of elves versus humans. Cartman was especially notorious for getting into fights with the old man whose backyard we’re currently in whenever he got caught (his heavy body made his footsteps loud, always making it easy to hear him).

The sound that caught my attention comes from both a fountain of water made of gray marble and a mini waterfall perched high against stacked rocks. We’re surrounded by a colorful assortment of flowers and the vibrant green of well-taken care of grass and trees—their colors so vivid, as if in technicolor despite the inky darkness surrounding us. The white gazebo in the center of the garden has overgrown vines beautifully curling around the lattice of its material and I notice that the boys have added their own flourish, adorning the wood with beautiful fairy lights.

The warmth of the gentle yellow they radiate cascades down like sparkling glitter onto the picnic they set up inside the structure, a careful assortment of snacks and pillows over a large blanket. I can see from my peripherals a pretty bouquet of my favorite flowers next to a charcuterie board, my mind quickly wondering how on earth they got their hands on one as artistically adorned with crackers, meat, cheese, and fruits as this one.

There’s faint music coming in from the old portable radio that Kenny used for our first date to the drive-in, and surrounding the site are a various assortment of tealight candles. They only add to the comforting ambiance of the current illuminance, their flickering embers casting dancing shadows around the area.

I notice that from my standing position, there’s a trail of flower petals leading me to the area of surprise and for a moment it feels like I’ve stopped breathing, at a loss of breath at the effort the boys went through for me. My hand is shaky as I bring it up to my mouth, desperately willing myself to not cry again because it's felt like that's all the boys have seen me do these past few weeks.

A large hand lightly places itself onto my lower back, Craig presenting me with a small smile and a soft chuckle at my watery eyes. Kenny gently grabs onto one of my hands as they guide me with a walk around the whole garden to admire its beauty.

The blonde playfully hand feeds me the food they brought, mimicking those famous paintings of people offering vines flourished with grapes to the mouths of Greek Gods, albeit in a more sultry way. Craig is quick to admonish him about his supposedly bad hygiene and pulls me away from the teen so that I don’t get sick.

Kenny pouts at the distrust before he gently hefts my body up, our shadows joining those inflicted from the fire of the candles as we dance to the tunes of 80’s nostalgia. Our chests softly rise up and down when we lay to join the ravenette, my hands tightly linked with both of theirs as we stare up at the stars greeting us tonight.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Can my pretty girl grab the sparkling apple cider from the picnic basket, please?” Kenny adorably asks, a wide grin crossing his features.

I playfully roll my eyes at the blonde for weaponizing his cuteness before I softly smile in fondness, reaching for the basket to the side. The wicker of the bag feels rigid yet smooth against my fingers as I prop the lid open, my entire body freezing at the contents inside of it.

Because there, in the middle of the otherwise empty wooden container, is a small box covered in a soft black velvet with a white bow carefully wrapped around it. My hands tremble when I slowly reach out for it and once the object is comfortably lying on the top of my palms, I look at the boys with wide eyes as they smile at me with affection.

No fucking way...

“Go on, open it.” Craig softly encourages me from the side, his voice hushed as he tucks stray locks of my hair behind my ear.

What greets me is a beautiful ring, the silver band adorned by a simple heart shaped gem. It looks similar to that of a wedding ring with the way that the translucent stone is rather large in appearance and the main focal point of the jewelry. It's simple but cute—it's perfect.

My lips are slightly parted as my breaths come out in short yet quick puffs, my vision blurring from the build up of emotions that the gift has bestowed upon me. Kenny gently grasps onto the metal piece from my hold as he slides it to my ring finger on my left hand, my body slightly shaking in his soft caress.

Once properly on, the blonde makes eye contact with me as he slowly brings my smaller hand to his face. His lips are soft as they graze my now decorated finger, his voice gentle.

“Happy one month, my love. We hope you like your promise ring.”

Ah, I now realize their intentions with extravagantly surprising me here tonight.

A sob rips through my throat, tears of happiness rapidly cascading down my cheeks once they could no longer hold themselves back any longer. My eyes are still on the large rock on my finger, fixated on the physical commitment of love and the material promise of a future together.

Craig softly chuckles at my crying face, mumbling a low cute as he brings a hand to cradle my cheek. His thumb lightly wipes away the wetness from my skin before he brings his face close to mine, pressing a tender kiss to the skin of my forehead.

“I know in most relationships, this would be considered stupidly early. But our love isn’t like most. And well, you’re all that we’ve ever known since we were kids. So to us, it just feels like an official label got placed because this love has always been here. It has always existed and it has never changed. And this promises that it won’t, not ever and definitely not for the worse. You’re the only one for us and this is a physical reminder to you of our loyalty and devotion.” He mumbles against me, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into my sticky cheek.

Kenny grabs onto my shoulder as I continue to cry, bringing me to his chest and wrapping his arms around me. He playfully wails when the ravenette glares at him for taking me away from his hold. “My love, my light, the person I hold dearly to my heart—don’t cry!”

When he looks down at me, his tone of voice changes as he softly coos when I hiccup against his shirt. His hands soothingly run through locks of my hair as he kisses the crown of my head, a smile on his face from my tearful appreciation.

And all I can muster up at this moment are the feelings that I’m most confident of in my heart, so sure in its meaning and the people it’s for. My voice shakes but is certain in its message, in the emotions it conveys.

I love you.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When I finally calm down and happily munch away on our food, Kenny pulls out his cellphone in order to take a selfie to post on his Coonstagram story to commemorate our date. I warmly grin up to the camera with a peace sign next to my head before the blonde turns his body to face my own, a cute pout on his face.

“No, N/N! You’re supposed to show the promise ring we got you!”

I fiercely blush at his words, the demand making me stutter. “Wha-no! That’s too much, Ken! I don't want to rub it into anyone's faces!”

He rolls his eyes at me, his cellphone on standby with his camera app still open. “Not obviously, duh. Pretend you’re tucking your beautiful hair behind your ear, or something. Just subtly angle your hand so that it catches the light and shows!”

No one even knows about us except for the boys but that's besides the point, I think in indignation at my own embarrassment as I immaturely pout to myself.

“Such a fucking attention whore…” Craig mumbles around a grape he pops into his mouth, his eyes off to the side to look at a curious squirrel passing through.

“Fuck off, asshole. If I have a smokin’ hot girlfriend then I’m gonna show her off to the world—her beauty deserves to be paraded! This is the kind of thing that can end wars!” The blonde is passionate in his speech, his unoccupied hand clenched into a tight fist as his eyes brightly light up in enthusiasm.

“So… For clout?” The ravenette disinterestedly says as he reaches out for a pretzel next, a smirk on his face and clear challenge shining through his eyes as he riles the other male up.

“No, Tucker. Not for fucking clout!” Kenny slams his phone onto the hard deck of the gazebo in indignation and I wince, worried about his already horribly cracked screen.

He huffs before immediately changing his expression to take a picture and smiles when he deems it satisfactory, his fingers quickly darting along the broken glass on his device. I snicker over his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his body from behind as he captions the picture: when ur circle is small but y’all are crazy :P

“If I want to show everyone she’s mine, I’d do it in an entirely different method.” The stoic teen has a slight quirk on his lips as they move around his deep yet husky words, the ravenette roughly wrapping his arms around my waist to pull my body onto his lap.

Craig immediately latches his mouth onto the column of my neck, his tongue quickly darting out to wet the expanse of flesh he has access to before I loudly whimper at the sharp feel of his teeth breaking skin. He’s quick to sooth the area of abuse with a wet kiss and another hot swipe before he has my breaths coming out quick and short at the harsh suction of his mouth.

Only Craig Tucker can take me off guard and literally take my breath away, Lord have mercy.

A large hand comes up under my shirt, cool fingers and rings against warm skin eliciting a chain reaction of goosebumps to appear along my entire body. Unlike his mouth, the ravenette takes his time with slowly trailing his fingers along my sides higher and higher, until they skim against the underwire of my bra.

The teen’s unoccupied hand comes up from behind my back to deftly unhook the offending material, letting it fall from my body. After the removal, another one roughly massages one of the mounds of flesh on my chest and my breath sharply hitches in my throat as his fingers come around to softly pinch at the sensitive nub of my nipple. One of my hands reaches out to hold onto his wrist, squeezing at the enthusiastic onslaught the usually apathetic ravenette is inflicting in two places at once out of seemingly nowhere.

Kenny lazily lounges against the pillows around us as he watches, my eyes mesmerized as I watch the bright red of a strawberry held in his long fingers get engulfed into soft pink. His lips are tantalizing as they wrap around the fruit, his crystal eyes shining in amusement as he leans his larger body over mine.

The blonde takes his time in bringing our faces together before he uses his tongue to push the tender piece of fruit into my own mouth, both of our tongues dancing around the sweetness as he dominates our kiss. When we separate, he keeps our foreheads together as he brings two fingers against my lips. His slender digits apply slight pressure before they get engulfed into my mouth as I instinctively swallow around his fingers and the strawberries he just fed me.

Without removing the point of contact between his hands and me, he takes his time in lightly dragging his slicked fingers down from my face to the column of my neck. His other hand pushes up the rest of my shirt as he continues to trail his digits down until they come around my other breast. Craig removes his hands when the blonde gives attention to that area, using his now free hands to tug at the material of my shirt off of my frame.

As Kenny works his hand on the recently abandoned mound, his other mouth latches itself around the neglected side of my chest and I loudly wail at the wet heat and the teasing scrape of his teeth. He wetly mouths further down against my skin, alternating between dragging his tongue against the length of my body and sucking down against me.

He leaves a wet trail around blossoming shades of a mixture of deep red and vivid purple, marking his way and further claiming me as his own. The blonde hooks his fingers around the belt loops of my jeans, tugging at the coarse material until my legs are relinquished of their hold. When his mouth finally makes it to the fabric covering my heat, he teases me as he licks against the thin barrier between the two of us.

All the sensations I’m currently feeling are overwhelming my body, my nerves alight in a fiery heat. My hands shoot out to tightly hold onto the blanket underneath my body in an attempt to ground myself, my head overloaded with everything I’m feeling at once. I keep myself tethered to my surroundings as I force myself to follow along with the current melody playing around us, the lyrics profound as I listen to their words.

You know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say

I’ll speak a little louder, I’ll even shout

You know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out

“I wanna be with you everywhere.” The blonde hotly sings along, mouthing along every curve and dip of my form as if it was his own religion that he was worshiping—as if memorizing my temple of a body and committing it to his memory.

His fingers lightly trail themselves up against my thighs, so agonizingly slow before he softly tugs off the lace of my underwear. The blonde’s attractive face hovers over my body, his dark eyes watching my flushed expression. The hot breath of air that gets let out when he chuckles at the wrecked sight of me hits my slicked skin and a loud sob catches onto my throat from the desperation filling me to its core.

The sound that got caught in my throat gets savagely released into a high pitched wail when his tongue slowly drags itself over my weeping folds, his lips wrapping around that specific small bundle of nerves to lightly suck at it. One of his hands comes up to rest itself against my bucking hips to force my body down, his eyes never leaving my face as he smugly watches the reactions he invokes.

The blonde’s tongue teases my entrance, circling around it and exerting slight pressure that’s not quite enough. My slightly parted lips open wider to whine before the ravenette behind me forces two fingers into my mouth, immediately silencing my words of complaint.

“You don’t want to be a bad girl, right? Because bad girls don’t get to cum.” Craig hoarsely says from behind me and I’m drunk in pleasure as I clumsily jerk my head into a nod against his shoulder.

I harshly suck on his fingers, the wet sound erotic and crude. His voice is both deep and husky behind my ear, commanding in the firmness of his tone and the authority it holds.

The ravenette sounds absolutely wrecked, lust fiercely drowning his words. "Good girl. Just be patient, okay? You don't have to worry your pretty little head off. All you need to do is relax and enjoy—we'll take care of you."

A moan rips through my throat as Kenny begins to fuck me with his tongue, one of my hands shooting out to harshly grab onto a field of blonde hair. He deeply chuckles at my rough treatment, the vibrations sending a jolt of searing heat into my core. My erratic breathing has gotten so loud, drowning out the sounds of the music playing in the background as I can feel the steadily increasing pressure in my lower abdomen build up.

But before the growing bundle of nerves can find their much needed release, the cold air of the night harshly hits my hot core and I wail at the loss of contact from the blonde. His azure eyes bore deep into my form as his tongue lazily works on cleaning up the area around his lips, the area slicked wet from his previous ministrations and from my body’s enthusiastic response.

Kenny kisses me and I can taste myself on him before both boys level the playing field as they strip themselves from their clothes, switching positions as they throw various garments of material carelessly onto the floor. When Craig settles in front of me, his hands roughly grabs onto my waist to flip me over onto my stomach.

The ravenette’s larger hand settles itself under my lower stomach, gently pushing it up to command an arch to my back. The new position washes me in a feeling of intense excitement as I settle myself on my forearms, my body compliant to anything the boys wanted to do with me.

The teen behind me settles a fluffy cushion underneath my abdomen for comfort before pulling his hand away and I feel my lips curve into a fond smile at the caring gesture. The grin quickly gets knocked out of my face when I sharply inhale at the feeling of his length glide over my heat.

Craig takes his time in collecting the wetness from my folds to lightly tease at my skin, making the motion seamless from the natural lubricant. My eyes are creased shut at the sensation before a hand grabs at my chin, angling my head up to look at the smirking blonde above me.

Kenny looks absolutely mesmerizing from this angle, his sweat-slicked skin creating an ethereal glow to his handsome face. The sheen inflicted from our activity further accentuates his firm body, highlighting his slender yet toned form. My attention get interrupted from my admiration of the tantalizing sight as he pumps himself a few times before directing his hard member to my lips, my mouth obediently opening up for him.

He softly groans as he lightly rocks his hips into the hot cavern of my mouth, his hand sliding to the back of my head as he collects all of my loose hair into one hand and away from my face. His grip gets tighter at the eager suction of my mouth, my lips forcing out a moan around the blonde at the slight pain the tugging deliciously feels.

My tongue rubs along the vein running along the underside of his heavy length, my wet muscle alternating between that and swirling itself around his tip. What doesn't fit in my mouth, my hand is quick to tend to the neglected area as it wraps around his remaining girth.

The blonde’s other hand comes up to softly cradle at my red cheek, his thumb soothingly running along at the warm skin. Heavy breathing and small curses of fuck and holy shit’s escape from his parted lips as I hold eye contact with Kenny’s azure orbs, my nerves alight in fire at the extreme pleasure I was providing him with just my mouth.

He smiles at my eagerness to please for my first time as his breathy moans accompany his steady stream of words of praise. He commends my actions with fond eyes, encouraging everything I do.

I loudly moan around the blonde when I feel the blunt head of Craig's member exerting slight pressure at my entrance, his body shallowly fucking his way in as my body slowly eases at the intrusion. He’s careful to not hurt me, allowing my body to command the pace of how much it takes him in and when. The ravenette is patient, his hands on my waist rubbing his thumbs at my sweat-slicked skin and peppering soft kisses in encouragement along the length of my back.

“You’re doing good, babe. Just take your time, the night is all yours.” He mumbles against my skin.

When he finally bottoms out, he keeps his form still as he allows my body to adjust to his length. He doesn’t move until I press my hips against his more firmly in clear want, the motion flipping a switch that sees merciless pounding.

“Fuck, look at you. So pretty just for us, hm?” Kenny says as Craig drills deeper into me, interchanging the motions of his hips to different paces of speed to find out which one makes me the loudest.

When nothing but frantic moans of pleasure escapes my mouth, the ravenette stops his ministrations with expectant eyes.

“That’s not good enough, beautiful. You know that I need to hear you say it. For who, N/N?” Craig dedicates this break to pressing wet kisses against my spine, his hands tightening their grip on my waist in dominant warning.

“For you! For you and Kenny! Only for you two!” I babble around the blonde’s girth, desperation consuming my entire being for the ravenette to continue.

“Good—no one else will do for you after us. We’ll make sure that all your body will crave is Kenny and I after tonight.” He rewards my words by placing a hand onto my lower abdomen, slightly exerting pressure and I whimper at the sensation the actions cause. It feels like I can feel his length inside of me more, the awareness making me feel dizzy at the onslaught of sensations everywhere around me.

“You like that?” Craig speaks up from behind me again when my head starts to drop in overwhelming ecstasy, my blonde lover having to support my head up as he cradles my cheeks so that I can keep my mouth around him.

“I-I like it, I like it! Keep doing it, please.” I whine, tears profusely leaking out from the corner of my eyes.

Kenny laughs while Craig brings a hand down to rub at my neglected bundle of nerves, the combination of sensations further electrifying me. “Fuck, baby. You say things like that and I’ll cum.”

“Cum!” I cry out, eager to please both of the teens inside of me.

“Yeah? You want us to cum inside of you? Want me to fill you up and then fuck my cum in and out of you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Craig’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips, the blonde on the other end harshly bucking up into me as he fucks into my mouth at an unforgiving pace.

“So dirty, baby.”

This is the last thing I hear from my blonde haired lover before my orgasm hits me at full force, stars dancing along the back of my eyelids at the intensity of my release as they softly catch my collapsing body. A pair of hands settles me comfortably onto the pillows and blankets, a soft material gently wiping the inside of my thighs and at the moisture on my face.

Soft kisses are pressed against my damp hairline as they mumble words of praise at how good I was being and how good I felt. Against my flushed skin, they ask if I’m okay or if anything hurts, and I sleepily answer all of their concerns with honesty. Arms get wrapped around me, long fingers affectionately running through my hair in cathartic motions that threaten to put my already tired body to sleep.

Fuck, if that was just for our one month... I don't think I'll be able to handle our anniversary.

When my eyes finally flutter open and my breathing has significantly slowed and evened out, both boys are on either side of me and affectionately smiling down at my resting form. I tenderly grin up at their faces, my hands wrapping around both of the arms they have over my waist.

"So... How was it?" The blonde smirks, the slight curve to his face hugging his already knowing expression. It's extremely cocky and just so Kenny that I can't help the soft giggles coming out of my mouth.

He brings a large hand to lightly cradle my face, gently running his thumbs over the vivid blush on the skin of my cheeks from the exertion of earlier.

"I really loved it!" I beam at them as the blonde brings his face closer to softly rub his nose at my skin when a large grin overtakes his blissed out features. Craig snorts in fondness, his fingers never pausing to a stop in between black tresses when he places a kiss to my forehead.

"Yeah, well. I really love you."

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

GROUP CHAT (KENNY MCCORMICK + CRAIG TUCKER)

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): (picture of the palm of his hand)

N/N: ?

FutureAstonaut (Craig): okay, i’ll probably regret asking but i’ll bite

FutureAstonaut (Craig): what the fuck are we supposed to be looking at

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): (close up picture of his palm)

N/N: i don’t get it, ken

N/N: am i supposed to be looking at the piece of lint ur holding?

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): idk but it looks important

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): you should probably come over and pick it up before i lose it

FutureAstonaut (Craig): give it up for kenny mccormick, ladies and gentleman

FutureAstonaut (Craig): once again proving why i keep any group chat with you in it on do not disturb

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): fuck off, asshole

N/N: you’re cute for that :))

N/N: but you could’ve just asked!

FutureAstonaut (Craig): (picture of a piece of unpeeled shrimp on top of a chocolate chip cookie)

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): dude… what?

FutureAstonaut (Craig): sorry, i was just under the impression that we were posting irrelevant pictures in the group chat now

FutureAstonaut (Craig): my bad

N/N: omw ken!

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): ur a fucking asshole, you know that?

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): N/N can’t bring you to my house then

FutureAstonaut (Craig): wait no

FutureAstonaut (Craig): im sorry

FutureAstonaut (Craig): kenny.

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): fuck you

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): btw, you spelled ‘astronaut’ wrong in ur username

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): so you might wanna change it, cause i don’t think i can wait until i’m 70 years old when ur dumbass is finally able to get sent to space

FutureAstonaut (Craig): …

N/N: dw, i’m picking you up babe!

N/N: also

N/N: i’d wait for you even if i was 100 years old and if you aren’t able to by then, then it’s okay

N/N: because i’d wait until the next lifetime and the next, however long it takes if it meant getting to see you achieve ur dreams <3

FutureAstonaut (Craig): i love you

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): (rolling eyes emoji)

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When Kenny’s cell phone loudly alerts him of a call, he blindly reaches a hand out until his skin meets the cool surface of his mobile device. Bringing it up to his peripherals without ever looking away from the computer screen in front of him, his fingers quickly glide across the surface of glass to accept the call before he places it in between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hello?” The blonde distractedly asks, momentarily snickering at a flawless headshot he just executed.

There’s a moment of silence, only the sounds of quick breathing being heard over the line that the blonde briefly wonders if someone butt-dialed him.

“Kenny.”

Registering Craig’s distinct monotonous voice, he begins to childishly pout through his next words in impatience. “Where the fuck are you guys? I’m starving my fucking ass off, and that’s a lot coming from me.”

The ravenette doesn’t answer for a while, a beat of silence stretching between the two teens and for a second, he starts to think that either the signal is terrible or the call got cut off.

“She never came.”

His eyebrows crease in confusion at the vague words, his hands dropping the controller in his hands to properly hold his phone closer to his ear. As if increasing the pressure would allow him to hear better, that he wrongly misheard.

“… What?”

“Y/N… She never picked me up. I went over to her house because I thought she got held up or something but she’s not here. Her mom told me she left more than half an hour ago and I didn’t even see her on the way to her place.” It’s at this moment that Kenny notices the uncharacteristically weak tone of the ever confident ravenette on the other end of the line, his voice unstable as his words come out shakily.

The usually stoic teen’s words get increasingly hysterical, his panic bleeding thick through his tone. And while Kenny would’ve jumped at the opportunity to make fun of the rare display of emotions, in this particular situation he doesn’t—he can’t.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The next day on the South Park morning news, Y/N Marsh is officially declared missing.

song: [everywhere - fleetwood mac]

a/n: the ambiance and feel of this song is what influences this entire scene! it's got that sort of soft, warm nostalgia that the romantic tune invokes under the essence of yellow fairy lights ♡

#south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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bookofmirth · 1 year ago

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first off - sorry if you have already covered this topic! i tried searching your blog for it but tumblr’s search function is not the best. on reddit and tiktok, i’ve recently seen people saying that feyre devalues “feminine labor” (housework like cleaning, cooking, sewing/mending, etc) by implying that her sisters do nothing at the cabin while she’s out hunting all day, when it’s likely nesta/elain are doing the “unseen feminine” household labor. and they usually throw in that feyre is an unreliable narrator too, which… sigh.

i’m curious your thoughts on this and if there is any textual evidence supporting this? bc in my opinion, reading between the lines made it clear that feyre and her father do most of the household labor or it just goes neglected, nesta might chop wood but feyre has to beg her to, feyre/her father prepare/cook the hunted animals, and feyre’s boots are falling apart so no one seems to be mending her clothes. i always thought feyre said she couldn’t cook bc all she used to do was roast meat (rather than prepare full meals), not bc nesta and elain were the one’s actually cooking. and feyre strikes me as the person who would literally be grateful if nesta and elain did anything, so the fact that she doesn’t notice this “unseen labor” seems ooc to me

i also just don’t like that this interpretation seems to “villainize” feyre for having internalized misogyny against her sister’s contributions to the household by not placing any value in the “feminine” labor they do…. while unseen labor is def a real problem in real life, it seems like a reach to apply to this situation where a young girl is risking her life everyday to provide for a family that is either cruel or indifferent towards her. we could talk about what labor sjm views as important enough to discuss in her novels but that’s a whole different topic

Ummmm I haven't heard this take before, but it's a big no from me. There is no evidence in the books that Nesta or Elain were picking up any of the slack unless Feyre harassed them into doing so.

Nesta says that Feyre should chop wood because her hands are already so rough - meaning Feyre does it all the time, Nesta's hands aren't calloused from working with them or doing any sort of manual labor. Was Nesta trying to insult Feyre by pointing out the state of her hands, and perhaps exaggerating the situation? Maybe, but that doesn't make it untrue.

Feyre says that they can dry the meat, and then thinks that she will end up doing the bulk of the work. I don't see how any of them would be good at cooking, since they grew up pampered and then once they were in the cabin, didn't have the means to learn, and who would have taught them? Assuming that Feyre didn't know how to cook because someone else was doing it is simply not proof. Otherwise, why were they eating Feyre's plain ass roasted meat in chapter 2?

Re: Elain, Feyre thinks "it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty". Tell me how that means Elain does a bunch of work that we just aren't noticing.

The thing is, Nesta and Elain were created to be stereotypical evil sisters, especially at the beginning of acotar. They weren't meant to have any depth beyond showing how hard Feyre worked for her family. I agree with you that this take seems to come from people who just don't like Feyre, and so they're stretching the truth of what we know happened in order to make up some reason why Feyre (and by extension sjm) is unfeminist. It's a pretty popular fandom thing. Decide you don't like something, then come up with reasons why it's problematic. People aren't content to simply have preferences.

In a related note, I've noticed a thing in the fandom lately where people like to argue about things we have no evidence of. So for example, "Rhys has never spoken French on page, and so you can't argue against my claim that he is fluent in French." That's... obviously ridiculous, right? It's a logical fallacy, it's called an appeal to ignorance.

If I also said, "someone must have been sweeping the house and since you can't prove to me that Nesta didn't do it, then you have to accept my claim that she did" then that's also an appeal from ignorance. There is no evidence that Elain or Nesta did any of the labor in the house to make their lives easier, whether we are talking traditionally masculine or feminine labor, and so it's really a stretch to say that Feyre just didn't give a shit because she thought that kind of labor was useless. Like you said, she would have absolutely been grateful if Elain had mended her own cloak instead of asking for the money for a new one, or if Nesta had learned some cooking skills (or chopped wood without being harassed into it).

By the way, Feyre is the one who rations their food, she keeps track of the money and the budget. She doesn't just hunt to make sure they stay fed, she also keeps track of the household chores, what needs to be done, and who can/should do it. She's the mother of the household, which makes it ironic that people would devalue the work she did to keep the family going, since that's also part of the invisible labor of daily life. That also, to me, means that Feyre would have absolutely noticed work getting done without her having to harangue someone into doing it.

#feyre #acotar #ask #anon

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alter-ipse · 11 months ago

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Day 5

My ankle still hurts. I was taught never to complain, of course– back in school, complaining made you look weak, and weakness made you look like a target. The day I had the temerity to look tired after I finished up in the gym was the day I got ambushed in the locker room. It wasn’t as if they could do much to me– we all had the same standard-issue equipment, so I had nothing worth stealing– but most of my face was a ruin of bruises for weeks. It was midway through my first year, so my schoolmasters didn’t care. If anything, it let them know that they weren’t working me hard enough. I was going to replace a hero! I was going to have to kill a hero. If she was good, I had to be better. Didn’t I know how lucky I was to have this chance? I wouldn’t want to let them down, would I? So I got extra time as a punching bag in the sparring ring, and my classmates got to see my face turn all the colours of the rainbow. Call it a bonus art lesson.

Like I say, some people took the false memories a bit too well. Picture this: you’re a shining new person, blank as a sheet of paper. You have opened your eyes for the first time, to take in the most beautiful thing you have ever seen: the face of a human. The lab fluorescents glint off their goggles and illuminate their fly-away hair. They are ethereal and animate, and you don’t know what this world is but if it has more things like this in it, you want to discover it all. And they take your hand, and they lead you out of your pod and into a chair. They slide a sort of helmet over your head, and you’re not afraid, because you don’t know how to be afraid yet. So you lean back and watch the way the lights flicker across the consoles at the back of the room, miniature moving constellations laid out just for you. You’re sure they’ll tell you why you’re here in a moment. And then something hits your brain so hard your vision judders and blurs around the edges. You feel it like a physical pain, like somebody’s dropped a rock on your head, but you can’t worry about the agony because the information is already racing through your skull, faster than you can process. And there’s so much of it. You try to cling to a thought, any thought, but they all slip through your fingers like so many grains of sand, and your head spins. And then everything goes dark, and when you wake up, all you feel is deep, primal rage. It’s the anger of a person you didn’t know existed, but at that point, what’s the difference between their rage and yours?

Or so I imagine, anyway. I blacked out halfway through the information upload, but when I woke up, the memories were fuzzy and indistinct, disappearing as soon as I tried to catch hold of them.I realised that something was meant to have happened, except, apparently, it hadn’t.

I felt exactly the same as I had before, but that was clearly the wrong way to feel. I knew that from the second the doctor came over to ask how I was, with an expectant weight to her sentences. So I smiled hesitantly, and told her that it was all a bit strange, but I thought I’d be alright soon. Thank my intuition that I was assigned someone as drippy as Alter, and not somebody with an actual backbone. For the next few hours I smiled and nodded in all the right places, and once they fitted me out with a uniform they mostly left me to it.

I still don’t feel much these days, if I’m honest. I don’t know how that works– perhaps clones can only have feelings if they’re taken from natural humans. I’ve always considered it to be one of my strengths. After all, it was something like sentimentality that moved Alter to save me, and you’ve seen how that’s working out for her. All I am is my mission: simple, clean and uncomplicated. I can live or die by the orders of my creators, and that’s the way I like it. They seem to know what they’re doing, which is more than you can say for anyone around here.

#fiction #writing #creative writing #stories #storytelling #my writing #oc #ocs #my ocs #cw violence #cw doctors #cw pain

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whythehellnaut · 2 years ago

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Why’s Super Mario Bros Movie review

Wow, I might be late on the Super Mario movie, but I'ma be straight up honest, that was my least favorite movie of the last five years, roughly. Sorry to be negative right after praising John Wick, Dungeons and Dragons, and Power Rangers, but man did this rip me down to Earth after that high point. This was a boring, predictable slog with mediocre performances (Jack Black included), a script with zero thought, and the worst humor I've seen in an animated movie in years. I think there are exactly two things I liked about it: that it was colorful, and that it included plentiful references to Nintendo properties that were often used as creative camera shots, e.g. a side-scrolling camera setup. But even then, the references lack soul. If the panned "Epic Movie" pair of Friedberg and Seltzer taught us anything, it's that you can't just throw blatant references at a screen and assume everyone will eat it up. There has to be subtlety or humor to it. Chip and Dale got this right by using tons of properties and using them sparingly with quick, rapid-fire jokes that subvert your expectations about how cartoons would work. The references in Mario don't have that humor or nearly that much creativity. It seems as if the writers made a list of references ahead of time and sloppily wrote a script around it. The script, incidentally, feels like it was written by an AI, or perhaps a child that never watched anything past 2000s Nickelodeon. It is so riddled with tired tropes and cliches that I was mouthing the lines ahead of time, before they were spoken. It's so formulaic that you can tell exactly how each character will respond to anything before the line comes out of their mouth. I've seen kid-oriented movies and shows that do this, but never to this massive extent. I was practically predicting every single plot point before it happened so absolutely nothing surprised me. I tried to find some excitement in the action and set pieces, but even those were dull to watch and predictable. There were so many instances of slow-mo a la Zach Snyder, that it ultimately just felt arbitrarily thrown in, and broke up what fun there was to be had. Even the Rainbow Road kart sequence was chaotic and uninteresting. Maybe this all would be forgivable with some humor, but my god, I didn't laugh a single time. There were so many opportunities to put something funny into the script, and all were wasted. Often times they come close to being funny, but end up sucking out the humor by having Donkey Kong do a Seth Rogen laugh in response, or having another character yell at them, as if to say, "that was a joke, please laugh." The performances weren't even enough to amuse. I can say that Renfield wasn't a hilarious movie, but Nic Cage's performance was so well done and entertaining that it was still laughable, so I know that Mario could potentially make up for lack of humor with entertaining performances. Unfortunately, the characters have no chemistry and feel like they're there only to deliver lines in sequence and nothing more. Jack Black was clearly brought in to ham it up with no direction, as he wastes time singing a boring song about Peach, which they apparently thought was so funny that they had him sing it twice in the movie. Even Jim Carrey, the king of annoying ham, didn't ham it up when playing Dr. Robotnik across two Sonic movies as much as Black did while playing Bowser. Keegan Michael Key as Toad is, dare I say it, reminiscent of Jar Jar Binks. He's completely useless, even causing much of the conflict in the third act, is pretty much always ignored when he delivers terrible one-liners, and has a voice that I'm certain was modified to be higher and to make it more annoying. Chris Pratt has phoned in his performances for the last 4 years or so, and this isn't that much different, albeit not one of his worst performances, as he at least attempts a Brooklyn accent. Anya Taylor Joy is a great actress but has a low, dark voice that's meant for drama, and not for a feminine cartoon princess. Her performance as Peach is sadly mostly monotone. I'll finish by bringing up the whole argument about how Peach is handled as a character, because I do have a stance on this. I expected that it was hated by right-wingers for being too feminist by making her strong, but it actually ended up being worse than I expected. Aside from maybe Mario's mom, she's the only named female character in the movie, and Bowser's evil plan is nothing more than to marry her, which basically puts this at the writing level of a movie written the same year as the NES game's release. Thus, the writers needed to make her strong for female representation to counteract the outdated plot, but ended up completely failing at feminism and empowerment by making her flawless to an uninspiring degree, and with no personality, charisma, or chemistry with other characters. I feel in their attempt to be feminist, they backfired and showed how little they understand female characterization. It's amazing how nearly every single aspect of this film disappointed me, even as someone who preaches that the video game adaptation curse has been over for 5 years. I went in expecting something middle of the road, so I don't think I was influenced by any preconceived notion of how it would be. It boggles my mind that this is now the highest grossing animated film of all time. I can understand this being catered to young kids, but if Sonic can be fun for the whole family, and even Minions can be funny at times, was this just made for literal toddlers? That's the only excuse I can think of. Sorry again to be so negative, but I'm really quite rattled by this movie, and with how badly animation is being disrespected by film companies, I feel this is only going to reinforce that disrespect, and I need to express that.

#movie review #super mario #super mario bros #super mario bros movie

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nella09archive · 1 year ago

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Marriage. 69

Chapter 69: Know you

As we watched Gohan answer the door, I noticed my parents had very big smiles. I couldn’t help smile, too, especially knowing who’s at the door. Videl has an angry face when Gohan opens the door. But I don’t think she’s actually angry. From all the times I’ve seen her, I stop thinking that was her angry face. They were, for some reason, talking boring school project. Points to Trunks for calling Gohan a nerd. I was starting to get disappointed that Gohan wouldn’t talk about anything else. Well, till dad shouted out. “Videl would you like to stay for dinner?” The look on their faces were priceless. They actually were the matching redness. Trunks is gonna like this.

Videl finally said that she would love to, just that she has to let her dad know. Well, since now he knows she’s seeing a boy. Mom said she could use our phone, but Videl tried to decline. Saying something about, it’ll be better she went home, so she can change. For a brief moment Gohan looked sad. “Nonsense, you look fine.” Ha ha. Videl is trapped. There’s no way she can say no to mom. Even if she tried, mom was already on the move, to pull her inside. Gohan looked speechless. My parents are geniuses.

…

I can’t believe this! My parents are trying to kill me. They’re absolutely evil. This is the second day dad’s alive, and already he’s making it hell. Know what. Thank you. This actually feels good. It was taking me a lot to actually ask her myself, so, I’m glad dad did it. Not in the best way, but still. And now mom has Videl trapped on the couch. She looks like she needs help. I do! CRAP! How the hell? I have to ask Veg… Wait! I can ask dad, since he’s back. But does dad know why this is happening? I looked over to dad, and he’s smiling at me. You do know! Tell me! He just points at Videl and mom. Crap! They’re staring at me. What am I going to do?

…

You do know! Tell me! I just point to the girls. My poor Gohan is freaking out. I can’t help but smile. Just then I felt a small tug of my pants. I looked down, and it seems Goten was trying to get my attention. “What is it, little guy?” He was doing that thing Gohan did when he wanted to be carried. I felt honored to do just that. “So, what’s the matter?”

“You said we’ll go hunting, for today’s lunch. Can we go now?” Looked over at Chichi, and she was smiling at us. I told her that we were going hunting now, and will be back soon. She nodded and continued talking with Videl. Gohan tried to ask to come with us, but. “Oh, no you don’t! You always go! Not this time.” He then held tight to my neck. “It’s my turn! And only dad gets to come.” Gohan looked ready to say something when Chichi caught his attention. He gave one final glare at Goten and sat on the couch, next to Videl.

Once we were outside, something told me I need to find out exactly what he knew about hunting. “Since you never hunted before, what do you think it is?” Turns out he thought that Gohan found already died animals, and just cut them us. Or at least, that what Chichi told him. Oh, this is either going to very bad or it’ll be ok. “When we hunt animals for food, we’re the ones that kill them.” He gave me a shock look, and then started crying.

“So, it’s possible Gohan probably killed Mr. Tiger, without me know?” Oh boy.

“Maybe he didn’t, since he knew him. Gohan never kills a friend. He probably killed different tigers, and left Mr. Tiger alone.” That seemed to cheer him up, for now. As I was teaching him how to hunt, boar of all things, I was feeling a wave of familiar joy. It almost feels like when I was teaching Gohan. Only difference was Gohan was much order, and he had some practice, when he lived on his own. I even taught Goten about different plants. He was very happy. Along the way, he did stop a lot to look at all the different bugs. He even talked about some of them. That made me happy.

When we was on our way home, with our game, Goten seemed to be very quiet. From the little I spent with him, this seemed to be off. I tried asking if he was ok, and just said he was fine. Did I do something wrong? Just before we got to the house, he asked me, if it’s possible, I could teach him more stuff. “Sure thing, little guy. Is there anything you want me to teach you?” I seemed to fidget with his fingers, before he looked up at me. He wants me to teach him everything I taught Gohan. “I don’t think your mom would allow me right now, but I’ll definitely teach you. Just a little at a time. Ok, buddy?” He nodded, and we finally made it to the front yard. I wonder if the tools are still into the same place. Not like I need them anyway. I looked down to tool Goten. “Does Gohan use tools when he cuts the meat?” He shook his head. “Have you seen him do it?” Another no. “Good. I get to show you.” He looked so excited.

…

When the boys got back, they were covered in blood. That much blood usually meant they got boar. I was going to argue with them, about dirtying my floors, but Goten looks so happy. You only get this one pass. You sure? I just nod, and my Goku smiles at me. I asked Videl if she wanted to help me, and I was very pleased she said yes. As we worked in the kitchen, I couldn’t help feel motherly pride. I wonder if this is what it feels like to have a daughter.

It was clear she never worked in a kitchen, and I was very happy to show her around. It felt so wonderful to teach someone what I knew. It also felt nice to have another girl around. When lunch was ready, I saw she had a look of impressed. “You should be impressed with yourself. You did a great job.” Aw, she was blushing. When we sat down for lunch, I couldn’t help admire my Goku. It’s been so long since he’s been home. Yesterday felt like a dream, and this morning it became reality. What surprised me, and everyone else, was the fact he had a spoon up to my face. He hadn’t feed me in years. I took the bite and was so happy. I was feeling somewhat special. Goten looked shock, and then looked over to Gohan. Gohan started blushing. I could only get what Goten told him. Now even Videl was blushing. Oh my, can it really be? This is really is a special day.

As I cleaned, the house, for our soon guess, I couldn’t help to hum a happy tone. I just finished cleaning the living room, when I spotted all four of them looking at me. Is there something wrong with me. “Why are you all staring?” It was Goten that reply, saying how he never heard me hum this tune before. Videl just say how she was memorized by my speed, and strength. Gohan was also surprised by the tune. Goku just smiled, and didn’t say anything. For some reason I felt I was placed in the spotlight, and was getting special attention. I didn’t like it. So, I kicked them all out, so I can finish cleaning.

…

Mom really kicked us out. But it’s not our fault she was being so amazing. Dad is looking back at the house smiling. Gohan and Videl looks like they’re trying to make a break for it. Why’s that? I looked back to dad, and he’s already standing up. Haha! Dad caught Gohan before he went too far. Dad is telling them not to stay out too long, since we’re having guess soon. I then follow dad to a tree nearby, and he’s just sitting down. Gohan did say that dad was super relaxed. So, I sat down next to him. I was feeling bored. Just doing nothing is boring. I want to play. Maybe dad would play with me. But what would he play? Maybe I could ask him, but I don’t know.

That’s when it really started to sink in that I truly didn’t know him. I also don’t know what I’m supposed to do with a dad. Even thou I know he’s my dad. He’s really nice, and comforting. But what can we possible do together? Whenever I see Trunks with his dad, his dad is always going about training. Sometimes they play video games, but most of the time, uncle Vegeta keeps to himself. Is my dad like that? Gohan tells me how he’s always training, but same time, every chance he got, daddy would spend time with him. Gohan said how dad loved it when Gohan told him stuff he learned and did, when he was away. Gohan says dad is always telling him how proud he is. But what I am going to do? I’m not Gohan. I don’t know dad like Gohan or mom does. I don’t know what to do.

That’s when I felt tears sliding down my face. Oh great. I’m crying. I didn’t want him to see me cry. But I just don’t know what to do. That’s when I felt I was being picked up. When I looked, dad was carrying me. I then just couldn’t stop crying, and I ended up crying in his chest. I felt him hold me, and rub my back, just like mom does. It just made me cry more. Why am I crying? “It’s ok, Goten. Just take it one day at a time.” I then looked up to him, and he was smiling. “You got all the time in the world now. So, don’t you worry.” He then rubbed the tears away. “I’m here now. So, don’t you worry. Daddy isn’t going anywhere. That means we get to learn about each other every day.” For some reason that made me feel all warm inside, and I hugged him. He kept rubbing my back and holding me. So far, he’s the best daddy ever.

…

I’m not Gohan. I don’t know dad like Gohan or mom does. I don’t know what to do.

Goten sounds so distressed. I looked to the little guy and I see him crying. Oh no. None of that. My sons aren’t allowed to cry, and it’s my job to make sure of that. I go and pick up Goten. He takes a quick look at me, before hugs me and starts to sob into my chest. My poor little guy. I try to calm him down, but it just makes him cry more. What I am going to do? It’s been years since I’ve calm one of my sons. How am I going to calm him down? Uh? That’s right. We don’t really know each other. Maybe that’s why he’s like this. Poor kiddo. “It’s ok, Goten. Just take it one day at a time.” I rubbed his tears away. I never thought I would be being doing that again. “I’m here now. So, don’t you worry. Daddy isn’t going anywhere. That means we get to learn about each other every day.” That seemed to make him smile. He then hugged me tighter, and I couldn’t help hold even closer.

As the guess were arriving, Chichi was nowhere to be seen. It was up to me, the boys, and Videl to greet everyone. I left the boys in charge, as I went in search of Chichi. When I found her, she was in our room trying to pick out an outfit. “Just stay with what you have on. You look fine.” She argued how she was cleaning in those clothes. “But this is your home, you should be allowed to wear whatever you like.” She didn’t seem to like that answer. “Please.” She still didn’t seem to like the idea, but she did at least put the clothes down, and walked over to me. “Don’t pout at me.” I kissed her nose. “But if you are, can it wait when everyone leaves.” I kissed her lips, and then walked out our room.

…

I can’t believe the boys actually broke it! Now we have to buy a new one. On top of that, the boys were naked in front of our guess. They have no shame what so ever. And poor, innocent, Videl witness that. So, improper. The boys finally unfused, and were clothed. Also, a certain husband was properly clothed. After everyone left, I tried cleaning up all the mess. But the boys were trying to stop me, and clean themselves. No way! I tried stopping them, but they keep at it. I am so angry. I dragged all three out, and closed the door. “If you step inside you get no breakfast!” There was a loud groan, but none had entered. Good!

Once the cleaning was done, and I had calm down, somewhat, I finally let the boys in. Goten hugged me and cried for my forgiveness. I told it was ok, and that I forgave him. He then asked if I forgave Goku. “I’ll think about it.” With that I sent the boys to bed. Once in our room, my anger was slowly coming back. The minute the door was closed, I turned to him. “How could you do that?” I tried to keep my screaming to a whisper. “You were very indecent in front of our guess, and even Videl! Poor Videl. She didn’t have to witness her future father-in-law naked body. So, improper.” I then turned away from him. “Nobody is supposed to see you like that. that was embarrassing.” I then felt his strong arms around me, and a kissed to my neck. I tried to get out of his hold, but he only hugged tighter. “Oh, no Goku.” I then felt him lick my neck. I was trying to fight back how good that felt. He did it one more time, and then nipped my earlobe. I found myself breathless. I was trying really hard to fight it. Then he just let me go.

When I turned to him, he was smiling. How dare he! “Sorry. You know how I get when you’re all like this.” He then backed away, and held out his hands. “I’ll stop. Unless?” He had that one grin that always got my heart beating, to where it feels it’ll burst. He’s not being fair. He’s being super mean to me. I just turn away. If I can’t see him, then he can’t affect me. I felt him rubbing my shoulders. “That hurt, you know. But I’ll let it slide.” He then purrs into my ear. “This once.” My husband is pure evil. I then felt him pull away. “Fine, I’ll behave. It’s just that miss you so much.” With that, we went to bed, and he wasn’t allowed to touch me.

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starry200156 · 2 years ago

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I feel like I should come clean with this post because I feel guilty for not posting on here as much as I would like. When I first came to Tumblr I was a teenager and just starting out in the anime community and I have loved all my time here on this platform. I have been about to interact with wonderful people. I love writing my one-shots and fan fictions for all of you to see. I never thought I would be to do that. I’ve been away for so long from posting at least and I do feel bad.

So what happened to me?

I believe if I’m correct I join Tumblr around 2015-2016 I don’t know they exact date. I wouldn’t start posting until like 2016-2017. When I was posting I was in high school and had a lot more time on my hands and it was before I started working and going to college is when things changed for me. On July 10, 2018 my grandma who I was extremely close to passed away after lover 10 years of fighting her lung disease that killed her. She was my best friend and taught me a lot about myself and always encouraged me. Her death literally destroyed me and I fell into a really bad and deep depression. My depression would continue to worsen and made not want to do anything at all. So I still tried to post back then thinking it would make me feel better but it didn’t. I’m open talk about my grandma because it’s been 5 years since her passing which is crazy to think. I miss her everyday!

This next thing I want to talk about it’s something that is exactly easy for me but I want to be transparent about the subject. My dad abused me when I was a kid maybe even now since I still live with my parents. He ever physically hurts or sexually but he has emotionally, mentally, and verbally has abused me. It’s really weird to talk about this to people. My father is a narcissist used it to abuse my mom and her kids including me. I grew up with a lot of fighting and things being broken and slammed. There is just this constant chaos in my house. The only I had to get away from it was seeing my grandma and now I don’t. When I was younger I didn’t realize my abuse was happening to me until I was about 18-19, I’m 22 now. I didn’t want speaking up about it or standing up to my dad until I was I was in my 20s and it’s hard. I think there is people don’t tell you about standing up to your abuser is that everyone in your life will make you look like a villain I’ve been dealing with that lately. I easily became the problem child. I’ve literally come the black sheep of the family. I’ve gotten to the point of where I’m so tired of it. I’m tired of being treated so horribly and then blame for things I can’t control. I’ve dealt this really bad depression because of but almost a year ago I met some people who are really incredible that makes things better! Don’t worry guys I won’t be planning on with my parents for much longer.

Thank you my loves! I don’t know if anyone is going to read this or cares to. I’m back and excited to be. I want to reconnect with everyone!

#foryou #trauma #abuse mention #tw depressing thoughts #sorry for being depressing #women writers #writing #my apologies #sorry guys #sorry

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thevoyageurmoteplass-writing · 2 years ago

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Rules: Answer 12 questions from the point of view of one of your OCs, ask 12 questions, tag 12 people

As I’m still trying to work on my Superpowers Story, I’m going to do these 12 for a different perspective character: Mathias ‘Matt’ Francis.

1. What is your biggest guilty pleasure?

‘Fast food,’ Mathias admitted easily. ‘I know I shouldn’t eat it, but some of it tastes so good. And it’s so convenient.’

2. What would you do on a day off?

‘Anything but work,’ he said, with a little shrug. ‘I’ve usually got chores and things to catch up, so nothing too interesting. Then maybe some gaming with Jonah.’

3. How is your relationship with your parents?

For a moment, Mathias is silent. The question is easy, but it’s not easy to admit to any of it.

‘My relationship with Dad was great,’ he admitted, the pain of loss coating his words. ‘He taught me a lot, and was constantly listening to my ramblings. With Mum?’ An almost bitter scoff escaped him before he could stop it. ‘Yeah, that’s never been too good. At least, not that I can remember from when she was around.’

4. Dog person or cat person?

‘Dog,’ he answered without much hesitation. ‘I don’t have anything against cats, I just prefer dogs, personally.’

5. What are you most proud of?

‘My little brother,’ he said, a small smile curling onto his lips. It was something he’d tried to tell Jonah before, but his brother seemed to rebuff any possible positivity shown towards him most of the time.

‘But, if we’re not talking about a person, then probably the promotion I got at work after finishing my training.’

6. What do you think is your worst quality?

‘Probably being a little bit of a workaholic,’ he answered, awkwardly running his hands over his knees.

7. Are you in a relationship with anyone?

‘Not currently,’ Mathias said, wondering when on earth he’d even have time to meet somebody new.

8. What is the best thing that has ever happened to you?

‘Getting my job,’ Mathias admitted. ‘It was tough at the time, and finally having somebody give me a chance was the first step in a lot of good in our lives.’

9. Who do you trust the most?

‘I’m not sure,’ Mathias said, thinking about all the people in his life that he could rely on. ‘Though, I’d probably say my uncle Harry.’

10. Do you/would you ever want to have kids?

‘I think I would,’ he said uncertainly, ‘but it’d depend on what my partner wanted as well. But I think I’d quite like to have kids.’

11. What kind of clothes do you like to wear?

‘Mostly jumpers and jeans. Anything that’s comfortable but can be seen as smart,’ he answered.

12. What animal are you the most like?

Mathias chuckled softly, a small smile curling his lips. ‘I really don’t know. I couldn’t even hazard a guess, sorry.’

#Repost #Made By Me #Tag Games #Superpowers Story #Mathias Francis #Matt Francis

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luaspersona · 1 year ago

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[sounds of glass shattering] [screams fading in the background] [people running around desperately] [compulsive adult tears] [scandalous baby tears] [heart-clenching and coma inducing trauma]

*deep breaths*

every DAMN time i read something of your i feel like going to you regardless of place and time and just kick my feet and cry and scream and punch the air in front of you to try and make you grasp an ounce, a SMALL PORTION of just how much your writing affects me. i’ve told you this before and i’ll tell you again, you’re the queen of angst and i’m nothing but your mere subject (leia súdito). there’s not a single time you fail to elicit the most guttural reactions out of me, and this time was NO different, so buckle up ‘cus i’ll comment every little thing

let’s start with the repetition.

When he was 8 years old, since he was too young to properly hunt for food, Jungkook was only taught how to make an animal trap. Despite his best efforts, he could never make it right. Jungkook failed. When he was 12, both Jimin and Namjoon tried to teach him how to use a bow and an arrow. But even after months of practicing, his aim was terrible. He couldn’t do it. Jungkook failed. At 15, Jungkook was tasked with putting down his injured horse. And, even though he knew the animal would die anyway, he walked away from it and begged Namjoon to do the mercy-kill instead. Jungkook failed. Four years later, at what would’ve been his first mission - an ambush for a raucous vampire - Jungkook got so anxious about it that he threw up for hours. Namjoon took Jungkook out of the mission. He failed again.

i’m a big advocate for repetition when done properly and this is just an amazing example of such skilled use. the way you set up this jungkook to be a person that simply cannot deal with violence or articulate anything harmful on any level is just so interesting and though he can’t set a trap for his life, you sure as fuck can cus omg i was hooked

…

(sorry)

but i just really love the information that’s laid out here. i love smart exposition and the decision to reveal some backstory through the lens of his relationship with violence is so so creative and it shows the reader that first: jungkook is a softie harmless bean; second: violence is the default language of the world he lives in; third: violence is expected of him; fourth: he was raised, to some extent, by (mostly) namjoon and i just feel so ughh 😠🔪

[sounds of glass shattering] [screams fading in the background] [people running around desperately] [compulsive adult tears] [scandalous baby tears] [heart-clenching and coma inducing trauma]

and the way you smoothly transition from the past conducted repetition to the present is also really nice so i want to point it out:

Now, he has another fail to add to his life, because no matter how many times he hears your explanation, he simply cannot skip a damned rock. The awful thing only sinks with a loud splash.

also not jungkook edwarding here:

Jungkook lead you out of the city, down the river and towards the forest.

another thing that happens a lot throughout this fic (and i’ve noticed in a lot of your stories in general) is the way you juxtapose things and elicit tension. for example:

Except, of course, for those looking for a little privacy. And privacy is exactly what Jungkook needs if he’s going to get any information out of you.

this escapade would naturally be associated with something romantic, the intimacy of a couple seeking refuge — but jungkook seeks it to find information, corrupting this image of romance. it’s always juxtaposed: romantic expression x ulterior motives. idealization and romantic themes versus death and deception. it’s SO SOUL CRUSHING I LOVE IT

another example of said tensions can be found right after:

And he knows he shouldn’t think so, but you look absolutely stunning right now. Your once pretty dress is now ruined with mud all over the hem and some on your sleeves too. But what’s really killing him is how the wet light fabric clings to your skin, letting him see your curves very clearly. A few drops of water drip down your face past your beautiful lips, down your collarbones and dip into your cleavage. It’s really a test for him to not keep following that drop of water with his eyes. With his lips. God, he needs you to be as far away from him as possible.

like omg let the boy THIRST

the whole concept of being her lover and berating himself for finding her pretty, the desire, the temptation that surrounds her and how much he wants to be as close as possible but the farthest away at the same time. this is good.

also lmao:

“Maybe I need more attentive lessons, my lady. It’s very hard to properly understand the movement with you so far away.” Damn. He tried.

and thirst he did

and i also wanna talk about how jungkook’s such a complex character and how much i just wanna cry whenever we get a snippet of his feelings and how painful and conflicted he feels to be so attracted to something he was taught only to fear, and you write it in such interesting and heartbreaking way, how he fights it only to go on and try to reason, make sense of it in some way:

“We did it, then”, you say firmly and he relents. Because he always does it with you. Especially when you are like this, chest to chest and noses brushing against each others’ in a slow caress. He could almost swear he even feels your own breath tickling his mouth, despite him knowing it’s probably only his own or maybe the wind. Jungkook tries not to think about it too much, but he knows it must be a weakness of his that he simply doesn’t care to figure out if it really is the wind he’s feeling. Not now. But, well, that’s his mission, isn’t it? Getting close to you, getting you to trust him. He can’t do that properly if he’s interrogating you if you’re breathing or not.

[sounds of glass shattering] [screams fading in the background] [people running around desperately] [compulsive adult tears] [scandalous baby tears] [heart-clenching and coma inducing trauma]

“It was”, Jungkook holds your waist “You know, my lady, seeing how successful this endeavor was, perhaps we should look for more activities to do together.” You give him a bright smile and Jungkook sees your eyes twinkle with mischievousness.

jungkook: it’s only for the mission, i will focus just as namjoon said

also jungkook: how about we fuck

In response, he holds your face in his hands and angles your head, giving him a better position to kiss you more deeply. The hand you still have on his waist slides down and squeezes his ass, and Jungkook’s hip presses against your body, resulting in a moan from both of you.

safados!

and omg this part here

“Proper ladies should always speak clearly if they want to have their desires heard”, he teases.

………….. girl i was silenced🧍🏽‍♀️

also this part:

The beast stands still, looking at the both of you. After a moment, it starts walking, circling around you but keeping it’s distance.

not jacob cockblocking people AGAIN, s2g this man has no life

ok, going back to the serious analysis again, let’s bring BACK the repetition cus here:

Truly, the wolf makes no move to come closer. It doesn’t even assume an agressive stance. It simply seems to be avaluating what’s in front of him. Jungkook thinks that what he and the wolf are doing is bizardly the same thing. Both analysing the risks of attacking first or letting your opponent choose for you. Strike first, strike true. Namjoon’s words ring in his mind. Still, Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t move. And he can’t help but feel like he’s at the edge of another failure.

here we see all those themes resurface so they can be challenged. jungkook is a man who has known nothing but violence, but has never been able to reproduce the circle – he hesitates, he fails, and here, he even sees that default response being challenged by the reader, which is yet another juxtaposition: a vampire, a creature that he was taught as being vile and moved by its killing thrist, questions and ultimately rejects violence. it’s an unnatural movement, just as jungkook, a kid who was nothing but sweet and kind, acts unnaturally by being violent. she breaks the cycle!

You leave your position behind him, “Even predators have families.”

yes queen! speak your truth.

also why is that something yoongi would 100% undoubtedly say:

“You cannot imagine my relief to see I am not an unwilling witness of an improper act.”

btw i really loved yoongi’s intro here. the way you describe him as this ethereal, mesmerizing and charming creature, the way you word the weight of time on his eyes is just beautiful, really.

You two turn to see a man standing among the trees, clearly coming from the town. The man is beautiful, his fair skin being gently touched by sun beams, his raven hair framing his ethereal face like a curtain of shadows. Clad in fine black garments decorated with gold and wearing recently-greased black boots. The appearance of a man who has never worked the land, and never will. His feline eyes righ with a weight that only comes with age, age far greater than what he appears to be. The man exudes grace and refinement, an alluring aura coming off him that Jungkook’s only experienced once before. With you. He needs no more information to deduce who this man is. Your family.

this part here:

[...] She seemed to think she’d be lashed for allowing her lady to disappear while in her care, as it was custom in some of these parts.”

feels like another contradiction in the sense of associating vampires with a fair, humane treatment of their employees, while yoongi implies that humans aren’t so considerate. so you keep breaking those expectations we make, especially as we look at everything through jungkook’s corrupted and prejudiced eyes, who questions if the maid was truly spared.

also why is the final paragraph so funny, i cant 😭😭

Dinner. At your house. With your family. Your vampire family. Jungkook decides not to ask about the menu. As Yoongi said, he’ll see for himself.

ok, so! you know how much i love your writing. i love how you suck us in (pun very much intended), how well thought and crafted each sentence feels.you articulate themes and tools with such skill and intention that reading from you is always rewarding. i can’t WAIT to see more of those characters, to continue to follow jungkook’s conflict of realizing what he’s been told all his life simply cannot be applied to the reader.

thank you for being PERFECT, i love u, sorry for taking forever

“Thus with a kiss, I die.” - William Shakespeare (pt. 2)

pairing: vampire hunter!jk X vampire!reader

genre: fantasy!au, historical!au, forbidden/secret relationship!au, angst, smut

warnings: mentions of murder/death, mentions of lashing

summary: as the Easter Sunday’s festivities begin, jungkook can no longer delay the inevitable. with his parents’ deaths weighing his heart down and the locket you gave him weighing on his neck, he’s about to find out if blood really is thicker than water.

author’s note: hi, sorry for the delay, i know it takes me very long to come out with all the parts. so i decided to make them shorter so i can post them earlier. i definitely have a 3rd part fully planned and maybe, depending on how the fic is received, a 4rth part - that now is just a vague idea in my mind. comments are always appreciated!

words: +2.7k

taglist: @luaspersona @cuntessaiii @kookpeas

part 1 || main masterlist

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When he was 12, both Jimin and Namjoon tried to teach him how to use a bow and an arrow. But even after months of practicing, his aim was terrible. He couldn’t do it. Jungkook failed.

At 15, Jungkook was tasked with putting down his injured horse. And, even though he knew the animal would die anyway, he walked away from it and begged Namjoon to do the mercy-kill instead. Jungkook failed.

Four years later, at what would’ve been his first mission - an ambush for a raucous vampire - Jungkook got so anxious about it that he threw up for hours. Namjoon took Jungkook out of the mission. He failed again.

Now, he has another fail to add to his life, because no matter how many times he hears your explanation, he simply cannot skip a damned rock. The awful thing only sinks with a loud splash.

“I told you to flick your wrist, Jungkook”, you say laughing at him.

“But I did! I flicked it!” His defense is met with more laughter from you.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s managed to convince you to go on a little escapade with him again. This time he took advantage of the fact you were already out with your maid at a trade fair near the city limits. All he had to do was take your hand and tell you to run. You were very cooperative. In no time, you two got lost in the crowd, leaving your poor, frantic maid behind.

Jungkook lead you out of the city, down the river and towards the forest. You stopped when you finally reached your usual place: an area where the river is larger and calmer, forming a small lake. Although not exactly a secret place, as anyone who followed the river could reach it, the fact that the next closest and bigger city was in the opposite direction allowed this little area to remain almost forgotten. Except, of course, for those looking for a little privacy. And privacy is exactly what Jungkook needs if he’s going to get any information out of you.

“There’s a difference between flicking and turning, darling”, you tell him.

God, he needs you to be as far away from him as possible.

“Maybe I need more attentive lessons, my lady. It’s very hard to properly understand the movement with you so far away.”

Damn. He tried.

You come to his side, smiling just as bright as the sun above your heads. Your giggles blending with the lively sounds of the forest.

“More attentive lessons, you say?”

You position yourself behind him and Jungkook feels you pressing yourself against his back. Your left arm hugging his waist while your right hand caresses him from his upper arm down to his hand, where you place another flat rock. With your chin on his shoulder, lips brushing his ear you tell him:

“Shall we try again?”

Jungkook lets out a breath, he feels shivers down his spine and almost rolls his eyes out of pleasure. You really are going to kill him.

He lets out a breathy “yes” and you begin pulling his arm back, putting a little bit of pressure on his wrist. Jungkook follows along and lets you move his body. When you swing his arm forward, you flick your wrist and he lets go of the rock. It skips twice before sinking in the water.

“Huh”, Jungkook smiles a little.

“See? You did it!”

“You did it, love.”

Jungkook turns around to face you, but makes no further effort to pull away your two bodies or remove your arm from his waist.

Yes, Jungkook tells himself, it’s not a weakness. It’s focusing on what needs to be done. Besides, hadn’t Namjoon told him exactly that? Hunters focus on the mission, they focus on what’s in front of them. Right now, you are in front of him, batting your beautiful eyes. “It was a joint effort, both of us, together.”

“I believe we should. But, oh, poor me, I can’t seem to think of any act other than skipping rocks that would have us joined as we are now.”

Your coyness rips a laugh from him.

“Hm, I suppose such acts aren’t part of your proper upper class lessons, huh?”

“They aren’t. Would you be kind enough to show me these kinds of acts, sir?”

Jungkook nearly moans. He loves it when you talk like that, loves the way you’re always so ready to give him whatever he asks of you. You lift your chin slightly, lips pouting and your batting eyes glimpse at his mouth, he leans towards you and gives you a sweet kiss, tasting the berries the two of you shared earlier on your lips. When he slightly pulls away, you let out a whiny moan that has Jungkook smirking.

More. Jungkook wants more. No, he needs more. He unceremoniously entangles his hand into your silky soft hair, he pulls strands of it out of your careful updo until he has a fistful of hair. When Jungkook yanks it back, your head goes backwards with it and you let out a lustful hiss that goes straight to his hardening dick and sends shivers down his spine.

In his eyes, you’re always beautiful, but Jungkook thinks you look even more so like this - head thrown back, unfocused eyes heavy with desire, messy hair, and, most of all, that mouth of yours open just begging to be shut up by his own.

“Jungkook”, you moan.

Oh, he loves that too, your breathy moanings of his name. That might be his favorite thing of it all, in fact.

“Proper ladies should always speak clearly if they want to have their desires heard”, he teases.

After swallowing hard, you gather yourself together enough to bite back. “Proper gentlemen should never point out a lady’s lack of etiquette.” Jungkook smiles “They should never deny a lady of what her heart desires most either.”

“Then tell me, my lady, what is it that your heart desires most at the moment?”

You bite your lower lip for a second, before looking behind him. Your lips form a deliciously wicked smile and your hands grab the hem of his shirt.

“Do you know how to swim?” 1.3k

One quick lustful glance at you and Jungkook doesn’t even bother vocalizing an answer. He reaches for the back of your dress, eager and ready to rip this cage off your beautiful body when a sound of ruffling leaves and heavy feet break through. On instinct, Jungkook pushes himself away from you, who lets out a surprised gasp. The silver dagger Jungkook keeps hidden on his back appears in his hand as he positions his body between you and the sound, assuming a defensive stance. His mind is now far gone from the lewd acts you’d implied and, instead, countless hours of Namjoon’s teachings go through it in a rapid sequence.

and Jungkook curses himself. Had he not been so “preoccupied” with you, he could’ve heard and seen the wolf from further away and not let it get so close.

The beast stands still, looking at the both of you. After a moment, it starts walking, circling around you but keeping it’s distance.

Jungkook begins to move towards the wolf, dagger in hand, but…

“No”, you say. You put one of your hands on his arm that has the dagger.

“Y/N, it’s a wolf.”

“It’s not doing anything.”

“It’s a wolf” he repeats “it could kills us tomorrow or just as we turn around.”

“Then you can defend yourself tomorrow. Or when we turn around” You force him to lower his dagger with your hand. And he has half a mind to notice that, were you any other girl, his hand wouldn’t eve budge from the stance. But you don’t have the strength any other girl has.

The lowered dagger seems to the wolf to be enough of a sign that you won’t hurt it. It looks back and a baby cub trots to it’s side. Wolf and baby cub pass you and begin swimming across the lake.

You leave your position behind him, “Even predators have families.”

Jungkook looks at you wordlessly. There’s a different look in your eyes, one he can’t quite recognized. He’s seen you look at him with happiness, michieviousness, coyness - fake and real -, but never

A big gray wolf jumps over a fallen trunk, landing mere feet away from you and Jungkook curses himself. Had he not been so…preoccupied with you, he would’ve heard and seen the wolf from further away, keeping it from getting so close.

The beast stands still, looking at the both of you. After a moment, it quietly begins to walk around you keeping its distance.

Jungkook means to move towards the wolf, dagger in hand.

“No”, you put your hand over his.

“Y/N, it’s a wolf.”

“It’s not doing anything.”

True. The beast makes no move to come closer. It doesn’t even assume an aggressive stance. Seems more like it’s analyzing what’s in front of it, and Jungkook thinks it’s not very different from what he himself is doing. Both thinking of the risks between attacking first or letting your opponent choose for you. Strike first, strike hard, strike true. Namjoon’s words ring in his mind. Still, Jungkook doesn't move. And he can’t help but feel like he’s at the edge of another failure.

“It’s a wolf” he repeats “It could kill us tomorrow or as soon as we turn our backs.”

“Then you can defend yourself tomorrow or when we turn our backs.” You force his hand to lower the dagger. And he has half a mind to note that, had you been any other girl, his hand wouldn’t budge. Any other girl wouldn’t be strong enough.

The lowered dagger seems to be enough of a sign to the wolf that neither of you will do it harm. The beast grunts at something still behind the trees and a baby cub emerges to join at its side. Wolf and cub pass you and begin swimming across the lake.

You leave your position behind Jungkook to tell him “Even predators have families.”

When he looks at you, he doesn’t really know how to act. He’s seen you look at him with happiness, michievousness, coyness - fake and real -, but this look…he doesn’t know what to make of it, only that he doesn’t like it. He glances again at the lake, and Jungkook knows that whatever thoughts either of you had concerning that lake are long gone now.

Silence falls between you while Jungkook makes a point to not look your way. From his peripheral vision, he sees you opening your mouth. Whatever it was you were going to say, he’ll never know. Because before you can say it, another voice breaks through the woods. And it’s not lost on Jungkook that that would be the second time today he doesn’t notice something approaching because he’s too stuck thinking of you.

“You cannot imagine my relief to see I am not an unwilling witness of an improper act.”

“Yoongi”, you say.

Yoongi. Ah, Jungkook knows this name. He recalls the information he’s gathered about him. A musical prodigy whose rumors tell was orphaned when he was a teenager. Since then, he’s been living with your family and all of you have been profiting off his gifts. You’ve been to several cities, going to wherever Yoongi’s most recent and generous patrons comission him to go.

“I believe Seokjin will be equally happy to find that out”, he steps closer to you “Though, if that happiness will quench his desperation to learn from your maid that you had been, seemingly, kidnapped “ Jungkook sees you shrink with the scolding “remains to be seen.”

Seokjin. One more name. Your older brother, head of your family. A sharp mind that has managed to triplicate whatever money Yoongi got for his talent.

Yoongi continues “If it’s any of your concern, Mina was frantic. The poor girl nearly threw up. She seemed to think she’d be lashed for allowing her lady to disappear while in her care, as it was custom in some of these parts.”

At that, your eyes widen “Yoongi, we didn’t mean to…”

“Please, we’re well aware there’s no need to waste my time…or your breath, cousin, with your explanations. Not when I’m not the one you need to convince.”

A tense silence settles between you all.

“So, she wasn't, then?” It’s Jungkook who first breaks it. Yoongi turns to him with the same expressionless face he’s been keeping the whole interaction. “Lashed, I mean. The maid.”

The man’s face betrays no emotion. “I suppose you’ll see for yourself.” Jungkook can only frown as Yoongi continues “My cousin, Lord Kim, has the pleasure to host you for a lovely feast tonight at his estate. Follow me.” The last phrase an order, not a request. Just as the invitation for dinner was an order, too.

Dinner. At your house. With your family. Your vampire family. Jungkook decides not to ask about the menu. As Yoongi said, he’ll see for himself.

#jjk:fic #luareads

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hanemiso · 4 years ago

Note

...dazai, Fyodor, akutagawa and atsushi with a bilingual s/o ?

Also I love Ur writing so freaking much, I've been bringing through posts for ages now lol. (◕ᴗ◕✿)

a/n: awww thank you nonnie!! that means so much to me 🥺💞 thank you for requesting, pls enjoy!! i hope fyodor isn't ooc!! i’m not caught up in the manga so fyodor is based off of what i’ve seen in the anime or remember

characters: dazai, fyodor, akutagawa, and atsushi

bsd characters w/ a bilingual s/o

- i’m gonna start this off by saying

- you fckin cuss him out in your other language LMAO

- and whenever you do he’s like 👁👄👁

- “i’m too scared to ask…”

- “you should be 🥰”

- that’s usually all you use your other language for

- but dazai is enamored with your accent and your pronunciation in your other language

- you could legit tell him to eat shit and die and he’d still look at you like ❤️👄❤️

- like

- accents are sexy 😏

- he also just thinks your intelligence is sexy, the fact that you know more than japanese is enough to get him hot and bothered

- he’s very much the embodiment of “i like your funny words magic man🤩”

- and also like “go oooooooon”😃

- listen this man-

- i’m sorry but he generally doesn’t care 😔

- but if you speak russian 👀

- you’ve peaked his interest

- it’d surprise him the first time he hears it

- he’s looking at you like 😃 “hello yes you speak russian?”

- he uses you to gather intel if you speak other languages other than russian

- if russian is not your first language, he finds your pronunciation adorable

- he considers you both the dream team, neither he nor you considered just how much language can play a role in a master plan

- he wants you to teach him words and phrases in your other language so that he has another way of discreetly giving orders

- i’m sorry i can only envision you calling him a rat in a different language if you ever got mad at him and he would take it as a compliment 😭

- the biggest “this you?” LMAO-

- he’s just like ☺️ “you have a way with words”

- i know i said fyodor wouldn’t care

- but aku is even worse

- you’d say something to him in your other language and he’d straight up be like

- “i can’t understand you, idiot. you know how to speak japanese. use it.”

- he’s one salty bitch i’ll tell you that much i love him anyway

- if you keep speaking in your other language even after he says that to you, he will walk away

- in his mind, if you’re not going to say anything to him that he can understand then you’re wasting his time

- but if it sounds like you called him a name?

- ohhhh he’s gonna turn on his heel and look at you with the deadliest stare

- “wanna run that by me again?”

- if you’re bold you’ll say it again >:(

- he’ll ask what it means before marching over to you and getting in your face

- he would never hurt you, of course, and you know this. these kinds of fights happen quite often anyway

- but what you weren’t expecting was for him to ask you to teach him the bad names LMAO

- it’s like that one panel in wan

- he uses them to insult atsushi (i’m sorry precious boi)

- he’s another one who finds your ability to speak other languages fluently hot 😏

- except he gets more flustered than dazai

- when you speak in your other language he’s like 😃 “eh?”

- i can see him like tanjiro asking kanao about her coin

- you know when he’s like “nani nani??”

- you teach him because he seemed interested in your other language

- one of the phrases you taught him was “i love you” 🥺

- and when you told him what it meant HE GOT SO RED AWWWW

- and tried to say it back to you, but he was stuttering the entire time with a red face because it made him nervous

- you know how i said akutagawa uses the names you teach him to insult atsushi? well one time roles were reversed on accident

- he had heard you call dazai a dick one time and when he saw akutagawa iT SLIPPED-

- when he realized he said it he was like 😳 meanwhile aku was like 🤨

- “what did you say, jinko?”

- “you heard me! >:(“ he just didn’t wanna repeat it

taglist: @justmycupoftea93 @loveliestmolly @darlingimawitch @browneyespinkhair @silverstar22x @anotakugardener @jhopesstickeredcarrier @spacedoutcoffeebeans @puddingowo66 @pcytheeve @stupidfrogfreak @joyfulartisanstudentlamp @kaeyapng @beomluvrr

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years ago

Note

Would you rather be BFFs with Steve and have unrequited feelings for him OR be BFFs with Jensen and he has unrequited feelings for you? 😘

Bonus: How does the unrequited love discover the feels of their BFF? 🥺

This is a cruel and vicious attack!!! I think I would have to go with Jakey 🥺 I’ve spent my whole life having unrequited feelings for people, so I just can’t put myself through it again for Steve.

I think Jake is incredible at hacking and tech and safety measures, but he’s probably not as careful with his personal stuff or maybe he’s a little too trusting of his BFF 😉

(I wrote my first lil Jake one-shot, beta'd and titled by my bestie @the-sal-del-mar! And it's holiday-themed! I hope you like it!!)

Hack the Halls

Jake Jensen x fem!reader

WC: ~1.7K

The holiday season was practically in full swing, and for the first time in all the years you'd known Jake Jensen, you genuinely couldn't think of a gift for him. It had to be perfect. Jake's gifts for you were always exactly what you wanted or needed, and you prided yourself in your ability to choose quality presents on par with his.

This year, though, was proving impossible. Every time you came up with something, you found out he already owned it, did it, tried it...

So it was time to use Jake's expertise against him. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? At least, that's what you told yourself.

You knew he had been texting with his sister to find out if his niece was still into Descendants before he dropped some hard-earned cash on custom-made Mal and Evie costume replicas. Maybe he happened to mention some items that were on his own wish list in that thread. He had left his laptop at your house the night prior, having to leave suddenly for a short mission, granting you the perfect opportunity to sneak a peek at his messages.

Jake had taught you some basic hacking in the past, but before you tapped into that knowledge, you thought about his tips for creating simple yet secure passwords.

"Jake, I can't possibly remember a sequence of 19 numbers and symbols. That's ridiculous."

He chuckled, giving you that toothy grin that made your heart beat just a little bit faster (though you would never admit it). "You don't have to, bub. You're not securing nuclear codes."

He helped himself to your bag of chips sitting on the coffee table while you chewed on your lip, brain about to explode while thinking of a password for your new online banking account.

"Okay, here's what I do when I'm putting a password on something. Think of someone or something close to you, not necessarily immediate family or a pet because those could be too obvious. Capitalize a random letter in the name. Maybe use a middle name? Add numbers that are significant to you, but again, not the first thing someone would think of when they think of you. Switch letters for symbols." He talked about this as if it were common sense. "Just make sure it all means something to you so you remember it."

He became so much more animated when talking about anything related to his work. The way he talked with his hands and raised his eyebrows was simply adorable, reminding you of when you were kids in his treehouse, discussing whatever book you were reading together. He was your first crush, but then he kissed Anna Mae Waterloo when you were 12 and you tried to let it go.

"Y/N? You still with me? I went overboard, didn't I?"

You shook your head, coming back to your senses. "Not at all. Maybe you should just come up with one for me?" He huffed at you, but his eyes were playful. "Please, bubba?"

"That's it!" He jumped up from his seat and sat next to you on the couch, the warmth radiating from his side familiar and comforting. "You call me bubba."

You looked at him, cocking your head like a confused puppy. "Okay..."

"How's this?" He took your laptop and typed: bu88A321!

"The first part is bubba, but I replaced the middle Bs with 8s. We always spend New Year's Eve together, so that's the 3, 2, 1... random exclamation point to meet the symbol requirement."

You smiled at him in wonder at the way his brain worked, tiny butterflies taking up residence in your belly at the implication that you meant that much to each other.

"You're a genius, Jake Jensen."

"Okay, here we go." You cracked your knuckles, albeit pathetically, and got to work, knowing you only had a few attempts before you were locked out of the system for 60 minutes.

Your first guess was his niece's name and birthday. Too obvious, you thought. Next was his sister's middle name and their old house number. "Damn it."

Tries three and four were unsuccessful, leaving you with one last chance. You remembered the advice he gave you, though, and tried your middle name, ending with the date of the day you met, your first day of first grade.

It worked.

Before you could process whether or not his password choice meant something, a text alert for a group message popped up on the screen.

Clay (10:02 AM) just tell her, idiot. she's not gonna shave your goatee if she doesn't feel the same way.

Aisha (10:02 AM) i wish she would. she'd be doing us all a favor.

Pooch (10:03 AM) LMAO srsly, dude, Y/N's not gonna be single forever.

Jake (10:04 AM) idk, i don't think she feels the same.

Jake (10:05 AM) what if i ruin it?

Pooch (10:05 AM) if u don't ask her out, i will

Jake (10:06 AM) 🙄

Jake (10:06 AM) fine. let's finish up here. i'll talk to her when i get home.

Cougar (10:15 AM) 👍

Your heart started racing. It wasn't that you didn't have feelings for Jake. You definitely did when you were kids and again when you were in high school. They never really went away, but you'd been squashing them down for so long. Could you really be with him, knowing he left you hanging for literal decades? Did you really want him, or was it just convenient? You loved him more than anything, but what if it didn't work out? What if you lost him altogether?

"Honey, home, I'm high!"

Shit. Normally, you'd burst out laughing at his cheesy, dad-joke greeting, but you needed to hide the evidence of what you'd been up to while he was out.

"Fuckfuckfuckityfuck," you hissed, trying to shut down his computer properly. As your shitty luck would have it, though, Jake walked in the room and saw what you had just seen.

"Oh, no." The smile fell from his face, and you wished you could pick it up and put it back on. He dropped his duffel bag from his shoulder, groaning as he ran a hand over his goatee. "What were you doing on my laptop, Y/N?"

You couldn't look at him, your head in your hands wishing you could disappear. "I wanted to look at your texts to see if you mentioned anything on your wish list because I was having a hard time figuring out what to get you. I didn't mean to see anything more than that. It was just... there. I'm sorry, Jake."

A tear rolled down your cheek before you could stop it, and of course Jake saw it. He rushed over, kneeling in front of you and gently placing his hands on your knees. "Hey, bub, look at me, okay?"

You shut your eyes as tight as you could stand to ward off the tears yet to fall before you looked at him, his eyes bright and hopeful, as always.

"I'm not angry. I'm impressed, really. You actually listened to me enough to guess my password." He smiled at you before taking one of your hands in his, running his thumb over your knuckles as he contemplated what to say next.

"I just wish you heard it from me instead of reading it like that. But now that you know, what do you think?"

You entwined your fingers with his and took a deep breath, considering your response.

"Jake, I'm flattered. Really, I am. But I guess I'm wondering where this is all coming from?" His head dipped a little, but he held your gaze, letting you know he was still listening to what you had to say.

"I've had a crush on you on and off since we were in the fifth grade. Maybe you didn't know the whole time, but you can't tell me you never knew. So why now?"

He exhaled, dropping his hands to his lap and rocking back onto his haunches. "I caught on after a while, but I didn't want to mess things up between us. You're my best friend, and I'd lose my mind without you." You could see him chewing the inside of his cheek as he gathered his thoughts.

"When I started feeling this way about you, I thought you would realize you deserved better than me, and it wouldn't work out. So I turned my attention to other people. I guess I hoped I'd be able to find someone else and it would make you look elsewhere, too. I'd rather keep you as a friend than not have you at all, you know?"

"Oh, I know." You laughed wistfully. "That's why I never said anything. It seems like we screwed up anyway, huh?"

He frowned, poking at the outside of your calf. "Did we? Did I?"

You sunk back into the couch, wanting nothing more than to bury yourself underneath the throw pillows.

"I don't think so. Not totally? I just- I don't know, bub."

"How about this?" He got up from the floor and plopped down next to you, like everything was just as it was half an hour ago. "I didn't buy your gift yet. You don't know what to get me. Let me take you on a date."

You smacked his bicep playfully, willing yourself not to think about how big it felt under your hand. "What's your logic, Jensen?"

"You give me permission to take you out as your gift to me. I pay for the date. Dinner and a movie, maybe? That can be my gift to you. If it doesn't feel right, we can just consider it a normal night together."

You looked over at him, unable to resist the puppy dog eyes he was giving you and had given you so many times before. "Come here, bubba."

He scooted closer to you, excitedly falling into your open arms and wrapping his own around you. "That does sound nice... Low pressure." You felt him squeeze you a bit tighter. "I feel like you're trying to hack your way into my heart."

He laughed and looked up at you, waggling his eyebrows. "Is it working?"

He gasped an ouch when you flicked his forehead with your finger. "It's not a yes, but it's not a no," you giggled.

He kissed your cheek before settling his face against your shoulder. "I can live with that."

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen fluff #jake jensen fic #maggie answers #maggie's writing #jake jensen x fem!reader

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the-bejeesus · 3 years ago

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When people talk about anime that inspired them to work out, the examples they give are usually JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Dragon Ball Z, or Baki. Some shonen with extremely muscular men who accomplish incredible feats.

But for me the anime that inspired me is to excercise is Mob Psycho 100. The one with an underweight protagonist with no stamina. As a comedic plot point, he joined a workout club even though he does not excel in exercising and has amazing talents that negate the need to be fit.

I’ve tried to work out or diet a lot of times. But there were always one of two problems that would make me stop. 1: A lack of results. Fluctuation of weight or stagnation of weight can be quickly discouraging. 2: A selfish reason, like trying to be more attractive to girls. A reason that once served as motivation can turn into guilt if it’s seen for the vanity that it is.

Power dieting and swearing off junk food and fast foods can feel torturous, and the desire to eat something unhealthy can be tempting. When working out I did a lot of heavy lifting, and avoided cardio. This is because a lot of gurus said cardio doesn’t burn much fat, and intense exercise turns your fat into energy and uses it to build muscle. Thus began a vicious cycle where I was either on a death mission trying to become super fit in 6 months, or gave up and was incredibly unhealthy and depressed for 6 months.

What Shigeo taught me is that exercise can be more than a means to an end, it can be an experience. For Shigeo this experience is friendship.

The incredible character trait of everyone in the Body Improvement Club is their extreme friendship. They don’t care why Shigeo is doing this, they don’t care if Shigeo catches up to them in body fitness any time soon. They are all so proud and are quite literally willing to die for him.

For me, my experience in excercise is exploration. The cardio I once swore off as “ineffective” is now my primary form of excercise. Biking on trails, jogging across towns. Rather than trapping myself to a treadmill in my living room, I try to see the beautiful planet I live on. On a treadmill I could step off the second I was exhausted, but outside any distance I run/bike has to be ran/biked back home. There’s an excitement to pushing my limits, making sure I have enough water, and weighing my risks.

My dieting is exploration in a difference sense. Grocery shopping, trying new fruits or small snacks, going organic or finding healthier alternatives to things. No counting carbs, no counting fats, no counting calories. Just planning out a month of affordable produce and small meals. I don’t think I could ever get a huge meal at McDonald’s again, because every time I’m just going to think “14.67 huh? With that kinda money I could buy 16 pounds of apples, they’re .89c/lb at Sprouts. That’s a lot of apples.”

“But what about vanity, huh?” you might ask. Shigeo is not a shining example of selfless body improvement. He wants to get fit so that he has the courage to ask out a girl, the most popular girl in his school at that. And he doesn’t even like her for her personality or anything, just looks. It’s one of his biggest character flaws. Well the lesson here is to not find a selfless reason. Self-body improvement is called that for a reason, you’re improving your body for yourself. Getting a partner, being healthier and living longer, popping your pecs. Most reasons to excercise are selfish, but that’s okay. Selfishness is not always a negative thing. There’s a saying “you gotta help yourself before you can help others.” that includes fulfilling your own wants and being happy.

Once you’ve truly realized a goal and set to accomplish it, the vanity doesn’t matter. You’ve become one with the craft, and can look past your endgame. In one episode, Shigeo spends weeks training for a marathon, even though he’s never run nearly that far without fainting. All to impress Tsubomi. But when she’s cheering him on at the marathon, he’s too focused to acknowledge her. He can’t stop because he wants nothing more than to reach top 10 in the marathon.

This circles back to what I said about the Body Improvement Club, and how they don’t care why Mob joined. They all once had their own reasons for wanting big muscles, or less fat, or more stamina. But they’ve all been in the game so long that none of that is that important anymore. They know so much about muscles, excercises, food, the human body.

Power dieting and heavy lifting have actually worked for me once or twice. I’ve been skinny, and even had some visible muscle buildup. But I never saw a skinny man in the mirror. I always saw someone that was quite chubby and had a long way to go. Other people saw a healthy young man but that didn’t matter to me, because I convinced myself I wasn’t doing this for others and my reasons were completely selfless.

Accepting that my reasonings for being healthier are selfish, in some ironic way, made me care less about fat loss and my appearance. I like the feeling that my blood is flowing that cardio gives me. I love the energy I get from eating vegetables. I don’t check the scales for at least a month. Sometimes I’ll eat a burger or wings about once a week or so, I haven’t sworn off anything like the plague. I just make sure not to overtreat myself. And for the first time in years I weigh under 250. I don’t know how much I weigh exactly right now, but I don’t care. I have healthy habits, and I know if I keep it up maybe one day I’ll weigh even less than 225, or less than 200.

#Mob Psycho 100 #Shigeo #Shigeo Kageyama #anime #also watch Mob Psycho 100 III this fall it's going to be peak fiction :3

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue have a good day together and bond. What was their relationship like before the qi deviation?

Boys - ao3

“Two paths, hmm?” Lao Nie said, squinting at the road markers in front of him. “Well, I don’t see why we can’t go down this one to the right –”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because little uncle asked me not to let you meet any new dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue said, looking as serious as ever – only his little hands, swinging to the side, revealed that he was just a ten-year-old. Still a child, no matter how mature he tried to act. “And a place called the Springtime Ghost Valley sounds like it probably has dangerous women.”

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

In all honesty, Lao Nie had no idea how he’d ended up with a son as serious and sincere and earnest as Nie Mingjue – he himself hadn’t taken anything seriously in years. Probably it was his mother’s influence.

Now that was a woman.

Not that his foxy second wife hadn’t been woman enough to blow him away either…

Hmm.

Perhaps they had a point about his taste in women.

“How about men?” Lao Nie suggested. “If it really means so much to you, I could swear off of women entirely –”

“A-die.”

“Mm?”

“Leave Sect Leader Wen alone.”

Lao Nie cracked up.

Because Lao Nie was the father, however easy-going he might sometimes be, they ended up heading down the right-hand path regardless. They were supposed to be night-hunting, after all – it was the perfect bonding experience according to Jiwei, though Lao Nie suspected his saber of having selfish intentions there – and deliberately avoiding a place with ‘Ghost’ in the name was hardly appropriate for scions of a Great Sect like theirs.

Although the reference to springtime was admittedly a little worrisome.

If it turned out to be a brothel, with the ghost thing being just a clever if somewhat tonedeaf marketing ploy, Lao Nie was turning around and taking them both home at once. He wasn’t going to risk little Nie Mingjue turning out anything like that awful Jin Guangshan – or, nearly as bad, having to explain anything more about the joys of sex to those earnest little button eyes and dimpled cheeks with no time to prepare first. He still hadn’t recovered emotionally from the last few times Nie Mingjue had asked him a question like that.

When they finally reached the end of the path, turning a corner to behold a clearing that was probably completely ordinary during the daytime, Lao Nie found that he’d been both right and wrong.

“It’s a ghost brothel,” he marveled. He’d never seen anything like it in his life.

“Dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue reminded him.

“A-Jue! Let your father live a little!”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes.

Lao Nie virtuously ignored his slightly judgmental brat of a son. It wouldn’t do him that much harm to go visit for a while, with the risk of Jin Guangshan-ness being relatively minimal; they were ghosts, after all. It was the duty of every cultivator to fight against evil, wherever it lived, no matter its form –

“Fighting? Is that what it’s called?”

“Who taught you sarcasm?” Lao Nie asked, knowing perfectly well that the answer was himself. “I ought to smack them.”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at him. “Fine, it’s fighting, we’ll go fight them. Do you want me to start drawing ghost-repelling talismans?”

“Liberate first!” Lao Nie sang out. “Come on, let’s go see what they’re like – er, that is, I mean, see what grievances they have that are keeping them here, of course. There’s no harm in dangerous women. Just don’t let them eat your yang energy!”

“It’s not my yang energy that I’m worried about, a-die…”

The ghostly madame was an extraordinarily charming person and Lao Nie liked her at once.

Not liked her liked her – he’d fallen head over heels with both of his wives from the first word, and that hadn’t happened here – but still, conversing with her was an extraordinarily enjoyable way to spend time.

She was witty and clever, with a broad range of knowledge and a gift for keeping a conversation lively and exciting; she could meet every verbal riposte with ease, and looked utterly gorgeous and composed the entire time. Sure, she kept trying to lure Lao Nie into an orgy in which all of his yang energy would be slowly sucked out before his body was ripped to pieces and his bones cracked open so that the ghosts could consume the marrow within, but what a way to go, right?

Nie Mingjue spent his time making friends with the ghost prostitutes.

Lao Nie wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

Well, he supposed he’d been expected a range of things – anything from Nie Mingjue getting suckered in by one of the ghosts and needing to be rescued by his father to Nie Mingjue just pulling out his Baxia and trying to stab them because he felt offended by their existence. He wasn’texpecting his ghostly conversational partner to suddenly frown mid-sentence and say, “What is he talking to them about?”

Lao Nie turned his head slightly and started listening.

“– just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean you have to work allthe time, surely,” Nie Mingjue was saying, completely serious and earnest in the way he so often was. Lao Nie’s son had in fact inherited his sense of humor, only it tended to be buried fairly deep down and make its way up to the surface in an understated way in the most unexpected times; the rest of the time, he was straightforward to a fault, treating everything sincerely. “The birds in the trees, the animals in the fields – even among prostitutes, even the street-walking ladies know they need to take time to rest! I can’t believe you really have to work every single night. How long has it been since you had a night off?”

The ghost prostitutes around him had contemplative looks on their faces.

“Isn’t the whole point of becoming a vengeful man-eating ghost that you have more power than regular humans? I don’t know, it kind of seems like a bad deal if you have even worse conditions after all that –”

“I’m sorry,” the ghostly madame said, looking irritated underneath all her carefully painted smiles. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

Lao Nie had to bite his hand to keep from laughing out loud.

“I think we’ve all learned a valuable life lesson today,” Lao Nie announced.

Nie Mingjue was pouting again.

“I don’t think we did,” he said, sounding profoundly skeptical. A filial child like Nie Mingjue shouldn’t sound so skeptical of his beloved father’s words of wisdom, really; if Lao Nie wasn’t so heartless, he might be offended. Of course, the skepticism might have originated from the heartlessness, so it was all six of one, half a dozen of the other in the end. “Those poor ghost ladies! They were still fighting each other by the time we left!”

“I’ve never seen a ghost pull another ghost’s hair before,” Lao Nie conceded. It had been brilliant. “One day, someone’s going to figure out a more reliable way to use ghosts to fight ghosts, mark my words.”

“Isn’t that demonic cultivation?”

“Oh, sure,” Lao Nie said, still cheerful. “If whoever it is does too much of it, eventually it’ll build up into a backlash that’ll kill them in some grossly horrific manner. Probably ripped into pieces by the backlash. And that’s not even counting how they’d be ostracized and hunted by the cultivation world first! But still, imagine how exciting it’d be in the meantime!”

“A-die…”

Lao Nie patted Nie Mingjue on the head again, earning another glare. “Immortality is a lie, A-Jue. We’re all here for a short time, each and every one of us, and only the length determined by fate and man. All that matters is what we do with the time that we have, and whether we’ve used it well.”

“To fight against evil wherever it lives, no matter its form?”

“To leave the world a better place than when we entered it, and to let our memories linger in the hearts of those that love us,” Lao Nie said. “Fighting evil is the best way to accomplish the former, and living a good life the latter. And you might as well have a good time doing it, if you can! Everything else is just extra.”

Nie Mingjue thought about that for a moment. “And a-die likes to have second helpings of extras?”

That was true. Lao Nie was a man of prodigious appetites of all sorts.

Despite that, he protested, “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I was being serious for once.” Seeing Nie Mingjue’s skeptical look, he made a face. “I can be serious, sometimes!”

“Can you?”

“It’s been known to happen! A date written on a wall will be right once a year.”

“Not if the wall gets painted over.”

“Ouch,” Lao Nie said. “I don’t even understand the metaphor you’re making, and I’m still going ouch.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Mingjue said, utterly unimpressed. “You know, if you wanted one of the ghost ladies to be Third Mother, you would’ve been better off with the one playing the qin, not the ghost madame. She was much more powerful.”

Lao Nie arched his eyebrows. “Was she?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “She had claws like a lizard.”

Lao Nie tried to remember which one of them had been the ghost girl playing the qin. He couldn’t quite remember at first – the women there were all surpassingly lovely, almost to the point of over-saturation – and then suddenly an image came into view, a beauty with a veil and sharp sword-like eyebrows, leaning over the qin with the shining pearl hanging in the center of her forehead dipping down.

And, yes, claws like a lizard.

“Hmm,” Lao Nie said. “That might have been a dragon, actually. You should be careful of those, they’re tricky.”

They’ll rip you and three dozen other cultivators besides into more pieces than can be picked up without blinking an eye, he meant, and you won’t even know what hit you. Avoid at all costs.

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, blinking. “Oops.”

“…what do you mean, oops?”

“Nothing bad! If I’m not supposed to interact with her, does that mean I should go and give back the gift she gave me?”

“She gave you a – give me that,” Lao Nie said. “This instant.”

“But a-die, you said there’s no harm in dangerous women –”

“For me, you foolish child!”

“I suppose it’s fine,” Lao Nie finally concluded, having inspected the dragon pearl from all angles several times over. “I don’t know how you do this, A-Jue.”

“Do what?”

Lao Nie thought about how his foxy second wife had cooed over his eldest son with a (slightly disturbing) fervor that she otherwise reserved only for eating snacks, and how viciously she’d dealt with anyone who’d even thought of interfering with Nie Mingjue in any way. He was fairly sure he himself had only survived his second marriage on account of having such a charming son.

“Don’t worry about it,�� he finally said, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain – or if he even entirely understood. “Anyway, it’s nothing dangerous. Rather the contrary! Dragon pearls like this are given to baby dragons to protect them.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “What feeds on baby dragons?”

“…I think it’s mostly to protect them from themselves,” Lao Nie said, feeling a little uncertain about it himself. “And if it’s not, I don’t think I want to know, to be perfectly honest. There’s fighting evil, which is only right, and then there’s suicide, which is a waste – a wise man should know how to judge the difference between them. Anyway, that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”

“It wasn’t?”

“It wasn’t, and you aren’t allowed to start worrying about the fate of theoretical baby dragons – I forbid it.” Nie Mingjue scowled. He’d probably started worrying already. “My point was actually that a pearl like this is a remarkably powerful protective tool for cultivators – one of those things that can only be found by chance and not made. Keep this on you, and you’ll never have to fear your opponent in battle.”

Nie Mingjue looked thoughtful.

“What do you want to do with that pearl, anyway?” Lao Nie asked after they’d gotten home and split up just long enough to take a nice long relaxing bath and gobble down dinner. “Do you want to put it in the treasury?”

Nie Mingjue blinked twice, which for him was practically the same as looking terribly shifty-eyed.

“You already did something with it,” Lao Nie deduced. “Something that isn’t using it as intended.”

“Oh, no,” Nie Mingjue said, looking shocked at the mere suggestion. “I’m definitely using it as intended.”

Lao Nie looked him up and down. “You’re not wearing it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t use it. Protection from your opponents in proper battle – that seems like cheating!”

Lao Nie felt a slight headache coming on. People who said they wanted a good boy for a son had no idea what they were getting themselves into, he reflected. Why couldn’t he have birthed a complete rascal instead?

“All right,” he said, instead of saying any of that because at the end of the day, bewildering as he might be, Nie Mingjue was his son and he loved him more than anything. “So what did you do with it?”

“I gave it to Huaisang.”

Lao Nie blinked. He supposed that really was using it for its intended purpose – protecting babies from themselves – although he suspected the dragon lady had been thinking of Nie Mingjue as the baby.

“Although…”

Lao Nie raised his eyebrows.

“…I think he may have swallowed it.”

My boys, Lao Nie thought, and had to sit down and hold his ribs because he otherwise feared he might split his sides from laughing so hard. Only my boys.

#mdzs #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #boys

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lovenona · 3 years ago

Text

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.)

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox.

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong.

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met.

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago.

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover.

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.”

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–��

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say.

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up.

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay.

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.”

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda.

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think.

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.)

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.”

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.”

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes.

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full.

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you.

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.”

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.”

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs.

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it.

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?”

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–”

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.”

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly.

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.”

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth.

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?”

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time.

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.)

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?”

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away.

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.”

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.”

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.”

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.”

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is.

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.”

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power.

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name.

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind.

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he��s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans.

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.”

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight.

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for.

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being.

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.”

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind.

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.)

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer.

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.”

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge.

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat.

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you.

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water.

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch.

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.)

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone.

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies.

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?”

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way.

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.”

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–”

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.”

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it.

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter.

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence.

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.”

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love.

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone.

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.”

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs.

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.”

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother.

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth.

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets.

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you.

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being.

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos.

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum.

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return.

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want.

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”)

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover.

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you.

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now.

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun.

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso.#it's dark in here #it's hot in here

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