#JUST FUCKING TELL ME I’M SO CURIOUS AND I DON’T HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE THIS TWINK

[lemonlover1110]

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

Satoru Gojo

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Your dad's best friend visits to find you sunbathing topless, and you try your best to make him feel comfortable after witnessing the unusual view.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, age gap (Reader in 20s, Satoru in 30s), Satoru is best friends with her dad, oral sex (m. receiving), titjob, vaginal sex, creampie, semi-public sex (by the poolside outside)

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Moving back to your parents house after college wasn’t the ideal plan. You had bigger and better plans at this age– You were already planning to become a homeowner and a successful business woman but life had different plans for you. You were shooting for the stars and you were aiming too high. Your parents always encouraged your unrealistic goals too, and you’re blaming them for your disappointment instead of your own naivety. 

It’s fine though, they have a pool in the backyard where you can lounge around and take in the hot summer sun. And you have the whole house to yourself which allows you to undo the bikini top and lay there nearly naked. There’s a fence around the house so no one can see you– Maybe if the neighbor was curious enough he could go to the second story of his house and peek over. But the old man is a prude, he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this. At least he wouldn’t stare.

You look at the glass screen door that separates the house from the outside, and you lift up your arm to wave at the familiar man. You completely forget you’re topless until he slides the door open and walks out to join you. You rush to put your top back on, and when he realizes he says, “Don’t worry. I’m the one intruding here.”

“What are you doing here, Satoru? My parents aren’t home.” You tell the man that takes a seat on the lounge chair that’s right next to yours. You take advantage of your sunglasses, looking him over. Black slacks, a light blue button down shirt with the top two buttons undone. He always manages to look so fucking good–

You often wonder if wanting to fuck him is wrong. He’s your dad’s best friend– He’s way younger though, probably only ten years older than you. He’s been a family friend for the past three years or so and he’s managed to get your parents’ trust. Enough that your father calls Satoru his best friend. Every time you came to visit you’d find Satoru in the house with them, so you’ve gotten familiar with each other.

“Just came to say hi to you since your dad told me you moved back in. Granted… I didn’t expect you to be…” He doesn’t have to say it, simply signaling at your bikini top. You chuckle.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t care, neither should you.” You respond. His brows raise.

“You don’t care?” He asks, and you hum in response.

“If I cared I wouldn’t be topless in the first place, right?” You tell him, and he ends up laughing. He’d agree if it weren’t for the simple fact that you were scurrying to put your top on when he walked out.

“Is that why you rushed to put your top back on when you saw me?” He questions, and you take off your sunglasses and put them on the small end table. You sit up, a smirk on your face before you say,

“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Now why would that make me uncomfortable?” He doesn’t waste a second in replying, and you reach behind to undo your top again. You take it off and toss it to the side, and his eyes stare at your plump breasts. You watch him, seeing how he moves uncomfortably, making your eyes go to the tent in his pants. Your hands go over to cover your nipples.

“I thought you wouldn’t be uncomfortable.” You say, and Satoru has no idea what to say.

“I’m not.” He claims. Moving around, hoping that it’ll help with the bulge in his pants. You smile at him as you get off the chair and on the ground. Your knees will absolutely hate you for this, but your pussy will thank you.

“I can help you get comfortable.” You look up at him, batting your eyelashes. Your hands go to the buckle of his belt and you begin to undo it, and Satoru stares. He shouldn’t– But he wants it. He wants to fuck you so bad, it’s unbelievable how no one catches on when he looks at you. When his cock is out, you lick your lips, looking up at him, waiting for him to say something, “Please.”

You take a note on how big he is, which you aren’t surprised about. But you know that you can’t fit him all in your mouth. There’s a cocky smile on your lips, you love a challenge and you surely want to impress the man in front of you. You lick from the base of his cock to the tip. Your tongue circles around the tip, working him up until you hollow your cheeks and lower your mouth on his cock, taking as much as your mouth can take. Satoru lets out a low groan as he feels your mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Oh, shit–” He throws his head back in pleasure as you bob your head. You take pride in how he reacts, knowing that you’ve barely even done anything. The thought of you has been driving him wild for the longest, and finally you’re on your knees for him. He moans again, “Your mouth feels so fucking good–”

You try to take all of him in your mouth, gagging on his length which makes tears well up in your eyes. Your hand goes up to play with his balls, while you take more than you can in your mouth. You take a big breath when you detach yourself from his cock. A string of saliva connects your lifts to his dick, and Satoru would do just about anything to take a picture of you like this.

You put his shaft between your tits and you squeeze them together before you move them on his cock. Satoru swears he’s died and ascended to heaven– He might actually die if someone catches him, but that’s the last thought in his mind while your tits are on his cock. He can’t help but comment, “Oh you’re so fucking pretty. So fucking beautiful.”

You lower your head, your tongue circling his tip. He keeps moaning your name, and just as he’s about to cum, you stop. You get up from the floor, satisfied by your stunt. You take off the bikini bottoms and toss them on the other lounge chair before getting on top of him.

“Do you think you can handle it all?” He asks, and you furrow your brows before you chuckle in response.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You respond as you align his cock with your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself on his cock. He stretches you out and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You can handle it, but it’s certainly a lot. When he bottoms out, you take a moment to adjust to his size. “Fuck… It’s s’ big.”

You begin to move slowly, much slower than what he’d like but you need to adjust to his size. Satoru loves the way your cunt feels around him, just like he imagined. How is he supposed to go back to normal after this? 

His hands roam your body before his thumb lands on your clit and he begins to play with it. Your cunt squeezes around his cock and he could just finish inside of you but how pathetic would it be to come so early?

“You’re so tight.” He comments through gritted teeth. He begins to move for you, setting a pace that’s much faster than the one that you had set. He’s glancing around, looking for any of the neighbors that could tell on him, but there’s no one around thankfully. This can be your little secret. “You feel so fucking good.”

You moan his name, loving the way he feels inside of you and how well he fits inside your body. He’s treating your body so well too. Maybe you should’ve gone to him sooner, even if it was inappropriate to. His free hand begins to pinch your nipple. You keep moaning his name, getting louder and louder with each movement.

“Oh Satoru–” You feel your orgasm build up slowly, and he doesn’t threaten to slow down. Your breathing gets heavier, and your hands grip to his shoulders that he’s sure he’d be bleeding if it weren’t for the cloth that protects his flesh. You’re sure the neighbors hear you moan his name when you finally reach your climax but you don’t care since it feels so fucking good.

“Shit shit shit, gonna need to do this again.” He groans, and he’s so close too since you’ve got him worked up. Your pussy is just so nice and warm, he can’t control himself. His thrusts get unregulated and he asks, “Inside or outside?”

“Inside!” You’re a little too excited when you answer, but he understands the sentiment because the thought of coming inside of you is something he’s fantasized about. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he fills you up with his cum.

He gives a couple more thrusts until he finally pulls out.

“Leave before my parents get home.” You tell him, grabbing your bikini and putting it on again.

“We have time. We can go for a round two in your bedroom.”

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous stories— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin-like expression stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything is going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart raced uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

His demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

...

Was that just a dream? Were you even real?

Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"... I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this was too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, of all people, Ford should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "but, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news—!"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[misctf]

I love your VR drone tf so much. Being transformed and controled by the hive mind is just so hot!

A sequel to Careful with VR (hypnosis, muscle growth). Glad you liked it! I have a few asks to still get through, but slowly working on them!

“I ain’t gay.” Joey whispers to himself, “Jus’ curious.” He continues, staring closely at the VR headset, “Fuckin’ Derek.” He grumbles, his words garnished with his typical southern accent, “Nobody’ll find out.” He reassures himself.

He was taken aback when Derek came out as gay. In hindsight, there were signs. Even Joey couldn’t help but admit that his buddy was attractive- he should’ve had no issues hooking up with some sorority bimbo at all the frat mixers. But he always brushed them off, never really trying with women.

“You better not be pullin’ my leg.” He thinks, placing the wrist and ankle cuffs on, “Gosh darn, this feels gay already.” Joey holds up what looks like a waist-trainer and chuckles, “Paid all this for Hive X and this is the best they got.”

It was only a few days prior when his buddy came out and Joey couldn’t seem to comprehend it. He berated him with questions, “are you sure?” and “why would you fuck around with men? Haven’t you ever squeezed a pair of tits?” And they kept coming. Derek was never the type to get angry, but Joey could tell his questioning was bothering him.

“Trust me,” Derek finally said, “men are 1000 times better at sucking dick than chicks. And don’t even get me started on the male G spot.”

Joey couldn’t believe that- the very thought of letting some guy wrap his mouth around his dick... it felt wrong. He didn’t even want to get started on anal. But as he sat in his room, thinking more on Derek’s words, he grew more curious. Derek wasn’t gonna suck him off, and the idea of letting some actual guy in real life do it felt wrong. But it kept nagging at him.

“Can’t believe they got it here so quick.” Joey picked up the headset, “Only two hours after I ordered it. Talk about efficiency.”

If he felt put off by the real deal, he figured a VR experience would suffice. Besides, once he proved it to himself, he’d know Derek was full of shit. And with a smirk, he entered the world of Hive X. It was strange- Joey realized that the cold air of his apartment no longer bothered him. Instead, he was greeted by the warmth of a fireplace.  

“Oh god.” He quickly went to cover his junk, realizing he was naked, “Seriously?” He looked around and sighed, “Guess ain’t nobody around, besides...” He let his arms rest at his sides, “Sure they’ll appreciate the show.”

He wandered down a lengthy hallway, walking past various numbered rooms. There was no indication of anything that went on behind those doors- he was just glad he hadn’t bumped into anyone yet.

“Welcome to Hive X.” Joey jumped and turned to see a normal looking, fully dressed man standing behind him, “You appear lost. I am NPC 202. I am programmed to assist guests find their desired location.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for anything special.” Joey replied, “Just gotta prove to my gay friend that men don’t know how to treat another man right.” NPC 202 cocked his head, “Jesus, I’m sayin’ gays...”

“On assessment of user preferences and subconscious, I’ve determined your ideal experience and NPC.” NPC 202 replied, “Please follow me to room 506.”

“Subconscious?” Joey raised an eyebrow, “And what...” But the NPC was already walking off, “Ain’t nothin’ in my subconscious” He reassured himself, before following behind his guide.

“Please enjoy.” NPC 202 says, standing outside room 506.  

Joey nods, his heart pounding in his chest. Was he really about to do this? Was he really going to let some guy suck him off? He could feel his dick getting hard at the thought, part of him feeling ashamed at his response. But with a heavy sigh, he entered the room. He nearly jumped when the door closed behind him, but he tried to keep his cool. The room was nothing special- it looked like a typical hotel room. But then he heard it- the lumbering footsteps.

“So you’re the guy.” Joey’s eyes widened when the NPC made its appearance, “I’m NPC 719.”

Its voice was gruff and commanding. It was taller than Joey, and far bulkier. A mat of body hair covered its chest and abdomen- its beard framing its face. Its eyes were dull, drinking in the sight of the leaner, toned man in front of it.

“You don’t think a man can make another man cum, right?” It approached Joey, and Joey could only stare, “You wanted to prove that to your friend, right?”

“Yessir.” Joey whispered as NPC 719 pressed him against the door, its musk invading Joey’s nostrils, his dick now stirring even more, growing harder.

“You’re in the right place.”

It happened quickly- the man picked Joey up and threw him onto the bed. Joey’s eyes widened as the NPC’s mouth wrapped around his cock. It was aggressive, and Joey couldn’t help but moan as his dick throbbed with pleasure. Joey’s mind was in shambles- he never... he never felt this good. There was no comparison. The sensation around his dick was so intense, his eyes rolling back in his head. And this went on and on... and on some more.

“Pl-please...” Joey gasped, his balls aching, “I need to...”

“This NPC and room are designed for edging only.” NPC 719’s voice was monotone now, “This was determined to meet your needs.”

“But I....” Joey couldn’t finish- another moan escaped his lips as NPC 719 continued to suck him off.

And in the intensity of his pleasure, Joey could feel his legs being pushed up over his head. His eyes widened as he watched NPC 719 line its massive cock up with his virgin hole. Part of him wanted to say no. To resist. But another part of him... another part of him wanted this. He wanted to feel what Derek meant by the male G spot...

“Oh fuck....” He gasped as NPC 719 entered him, its hips rhythmically moving, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him, “Oh god... fuck... please...” He never felt this way- this stimulated. Yet he couldn’t cum. His balls ached bad now, his cock throbbing desperately.

“Conclude experience or initiate NPC trial period.” NPC 719 said, while still pounding Joey’s ass, “This will allow user to experience climax and additional unlimited NPC sessions.”   

Joey could barely process the words or understand what they meant. But he did know that it sounded like whatever this trial period was would let him finally release. He needed this. He needed to feel release. Fuck it- didn’t matter if Derek was right...

“Trial period.... oh god please....” He moaned.

NPC 719 stopped and Joey looked up at it with needy, desperate eyes. Before he could ask why it stopped, he felt a searing pain in his arms and legs. He grabbed at them to no avail, writhing as his body was slowly digitized. But what scared him even more was the apparent changes. As the digitization process moved along his arms, he watched as they lost their muscle- becoming slender and more feminine. His abs becoming smooth, his pecs deflating.

“No please... I didn’t!” He grabbed at his neck- his voice. Gone was his south twang- his voice higher, desperate, and slutty, “Oh god I don’t....”

He moaned again as pain exploded from his backside as his ass expanded- inflating into an irresistible bubble butt- perfect for squeezing and fucking. NPC 719 grabbed a fistful of his new ass and grins, watching as his body hair and facial hair vanish- Joey’s face and lips shifting into that of a pouty, desperate slut.

“Initiating directives.”

Joey’s jaw goes slack and eyes dim as the mainframe connects to his mind. Memories are sifted through and repressed. His repressed homosexual desires unleashed. His pleasure receptors enhanced to mind numbing degrees. Joey can feel his name vanish from his mind, replaced with his new designation- NPC 904. His directives clear. His ass was to be used by visitors to Hive X. He would serve them obediently and in doing so would be allowed to cum. Any sense of resistance or fear being overcome by devout obedience and pride in his servitude.

“I am NPC 904.” It said, “Serving is pleasure. Being used is pleasure. I am loyal to the Hive.” It continued.

NPC 719 watched as NPC 904 was led away, a wave of pleasure from the Hive rewarding NPC 719 for a successful acquisition. Meanwhile, NPC 904 was led into its new room, the warm water from the shower caressing its sensitive body. It grew familiar with itself, squeezing its juicy ass, teasing a sensitive nipple. It couldn’t want to meet the first guy who entered. And luckily for NPC 904, it wouldn’t be waiting too long.

[bitterrsweetly]

my big brother and i have been stuck on this unknown island for just over two years. we adjusted quickly, we’re both resourceful, the camping trips we took when we were younger really helped. we had a little hut set up, it wasn’t cute or cozy but it was shelter, we each had our own room. we learnt how to cook with the plants growing on the island, we learnt how to fish, everything. this life was normal for us now and it may sound stupid but i was happy i got to spend every waking hour with my favourite brother. one night, my brother is making us soup for dinner while i sit and watch. finally, it’s ready and we eat up quickly, it tastes so good. “what plant did you use for this?”. i ask, curious. our parents were both botanists and loved to teach us stuff about plants. “oh, i used this flower i found on the other side of the island”. i furrow my eyebrows. “flower? what flower?” he shrugs “i don’t know, it was white with purple spots”. my heart drops and my eyes go wide, i stand up frantically. “no no no” he stands up after me, confused “what? whats wrong?”. i run my hands through my hair, my heart racing “thats an aphrodisiac you idiot!” he doesn’t follow “it kills you if you don’t have sex.” he goes red and i roll my eyes. real mature. “you just killed us both” i mumble as i walk outside. i sit on the grassy beach and look out at the water, trying desperately to enjoy my last moments. a few minutes later, my brother comes out, he almost looks miserable, i know he feels really guilty. he sits next to me, i look up at him. “it’s okay. we were always gonna die anyways.” i huff. he frowns and stays silent. after a while i feel my skin start to heat up, especially my core. the flower is starting to take effect, meaning we have less than an hour left. i look over at my brother and i can tell he’s feeling it too, his face is pink and he’s not-so-subtly covering his crotch. i look back out at the water with a sigh. suddenly, my brother speaks up “y’know… we don’t have to die” i barely hear him, he’s so quiet, my eyes go wide and i look over at him “what?” “i mean, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?” he looks embarrassed. “would you rather die or have sex?” he says, sounding desperate. he really doesn’t wanna die. finally, i agree. “okay. we’ll do it”

this is my first time posting anything like this so i’m sorry it’s kinda shit!! i just thought of it randomly and quickly wrote it down, i didn’t edit it or anything, i just really liked the idea. also i have more if you want them to actually fuck!!

[howdoyousleep3]

Pairing: Daddy Steve/Baby Bucky Rating: E (Explicit) Word Count: 4.4K Tags: Porn Without Plot, Established Relationship, Drunk Sex, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/Sub Relationship, Brat Taming, CNC (Consensual Non-Consent), Dirty Talk, No Prep (there is an obscene amount of lube though lol), Spanking, Anal Sex, Manhandling, Feminization, Rough Sex, Light Exhibitionism, Light Subspace, Breeding Kink, Size Kink, Spitting, Coming on Face, Ruined Orgasm A/N: It's about time. The current state of my life and my mental health called for a mean and selfish Daddy Steve who doesn't give a fuck. In this fic, these two rely on their established relationship and deep understanding of one another. Daddy Steve has never talked or acted like this. Bucky loves it even if he is frightened by the thrill of it. I hope you trust them and love it too. ❤️

Read here on Ao3

“Listen, Buck— I’m going out to dinner with my friends and that’s that.” 

Bucky isn’t used to being told no. 

“I don’t know what else to tell you. You’re just going to have to deal with it, baby. I’ll be home later tonight.” 

Bucky doesn’t react well to being told no. 

“I love you,” Steve had told him to obviously end the conversation, something akin to annoyance evident in his tone, digging into and burning at Bucky’s skin. Being told no feels like rejection, feels like betrayal, feels like nothing his Daddy should be forcing him to feel. 

So, Bucky hung up without another word, without a proper response. 

Without giving Daddy his “I love you”. 

If Steve wants to be mean, Bucky can be mean too. He can be mean even through the tears and through the sting of rejection and through his admittedly unnecessary pouting. So, he ignores Steve’s calls, ignores his texts, ignores his warnings. 

Buck…

Don’t do this. You know this won’t end well. 

Pick up the phone, Bucky. 

He goes about his night alone at home, ignoring Steve’s attempts at communicating, at apologizing, at getting back onto Bucky’s good side. He orders takeout and ignores the immediate urge he’s met with to order Steve’s meal of choice as well; he doesn't deserve it. He drinks half a bottle of red wine as he scrolls through Instagram, watches reruns of Real Housewives of New Jersey, and waits for his food to be delivered. 

By the time he’s done with his meal, he’s finished off the bottle of wine and ignored three more of Steve’s texts and two more calls. 

Why are you being such a brat? 

Pick up the damn phone.

You’re fixing to piss me off, Buck.

Daddy’s been drinking. 

Bucky decides to shower. He takes a long, hot, luxurious shower. He shampoos his hair twice, uses his expensive body wash that smells like pumpkin cinnamon rolls. He drenches himself in the matching body oil once he’s done showering, takes the time to put on his best skincare, his favorite oil for his hair. 

He feels like he’s floating on a cloud as he falls into bed naked and wraps himself up in their flannel sheets and heavy duvet. He doesn’t even bother going in search of his phone; he has no plans to respond to whatever Steve sends him anyway. 

Steve can kiss his ass.

Bucky is pulled slowly from his sleep. 

It isn’t in an instant or a sharp awakening; it feels like he’s being pulled slowly through syrup from his dream-riddled sleep by something curious. 

Bucky furrows his brow. Is that—?

It’s a noise, a consistent noise. 

A familiar, wet noise that immediately sets Bucky on fire from the inside out. 

The recognition of that noise forces his body and mind into a state of almost panicked awakeness then. A sharp wave of premature arousal wracks his body, something of a Pavlovian response, and it sends his heart pounding against his ribs. He opens his eyes and blinks a few times in order to help adjust to the darkness of the room, the lights from the city just outside their windows helping to keep the room not fully encased in darkness.

Once his eyes adjust, he finds the source of the sound immediately. 

He was right.

Steve stands within reach of Bucky’s bedside, close enough to touch, his cock pulled through the zipper of his pants and held in his hand. 

Fisting it.

He doesn’t even say anything when he locks eyes with Bucky, his mouth slightly dropped open and a sharp gleam in his eyes just past his glasses that leaves Bucky on edge, curious and hesitant and hot. He tries hard not to let his eyes drop back down to the sight of Steve’s impressive cock, digs his fingers into the mattress in an attempt to ground himself, but it’s useless. It’s always useless. 

He loves his Daddy’s cock. 

Bucky doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He watches on as Steve reaches for an open bottle of lube he must have pulled out of Bucky’s bedside table, watches on as he squirts some messily into his palm before reaching for his cock again. He tosses the bottle onto the bed carelessly. 

Something deep, deep within Bucky begins to grow restless. 

“Still ain’t got nothin’ to say to your Daddy?” 

Steve’s voice cuts through the air and the tension like a hot knife through butter. Bucky feels the bass of it in his toes, the bite of Steve’s growl curling around his neck. 

He curses himself for once again not thinking his tantrums through to the end, for thinking he ever stood a chance against his Daddy. 

“Yeah, forgot how much of a fuckin’ punk you can be when you don’t get your way.” 

Oh.

That’s how it’s going to be? 

The thrill of uncharted territory skirts up Bucky’s spine, the nervousness of the same curling into a ball in his belly. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t spoil me so much then,” Bucky weakly tries, but Steve only scoffs and strokes his cock harder, the girth of him making Bucky’s mouth traitorously water. 

“I’m not responsible for your fuckin attitude, Buck,” Steve bites out in a tone Bucky has only heard a few times before. It nearly forces tears to spring to his eyes, nearly pulls a whimper from the back of his throat. It also makes his balls begin to ache. 

He chooses not to say anything in response, but Steve fills the silence after a minute or two. 

“Thought about comin’ home to just blow my load all over your pretty face while you slept before crawling into bed, but…don’t know. Think I want you to be awake when I take out my anger on your pretty body.” 

Jesus. 

“Andy said I should do it, mark you up all over your face, maybe smack you around a little. But James said I need to take it out on your ass. And I gotta say…I’m keen on taking it out on your ass.” 

Bucky’s head spins. He grows dizzy from where he lays, his jaw going slack as that dizziness morphs into fuzz, into familiar heaviness. The erotic image of Steve sitting amongst his friends and discussing Bucky’s punishment pulls his hips into the bed beneath him, forcing his next few breaths to grate against the front of his throat. His dick fills out, chubbs up, fattens between his legs and in the sheets. 

Steve talking about him, about something so sexual, seeking advice from his friends on how to handle his baby— it’s all far too much to process at once.

The added layer of them all drinking, of knowing what Steve gets like when he has amber liquid slipping through his system, intensifies Bucky’s reaction. 

He’s certain Steve was spewing filth, was sharing intimate details of their relationship. He was surely discussing Bucky, what he likes and dislikes, how he reacts to Daddy’s decisions and hand. 

Fuck, Bucky shouldn’t find it so hot, but he’s damn near drooling for it. 

“Yeah, that’s right— it was a group decision. Had to tell ‘em all how bad you were bein’, had to explain why I was so fuckin’ fired up when I got there. You don’t even want to know the fucked up shit Levinson and Walker said I should force you to do. So, we decided on your ass, that your ass deserves the punishment.” 

Bucky will never be able to look Steve’s friends in the eyes again. Or maybe he will, but he’ll surely pop a boner the moment he does.

Steve’s groan is somehow thunderous yet low, long and drawn out, as he resumes stroking his cock, as he reaches into his pants and pulls his balls out. Bucky barely has time to whine at the sight before Steve is speaking again.

“But that works out ‘cause if I’m making you fuckin’ take it, I’m gonna be selfish about it. Yeah sure, I’m your Daddy and I’m supposed to teach you a lesson and make you aware of the consequences of your actions, blah blah blah—” 

Bucky’s not once heard Steve talk like this.

“— but not everything has to be a fuckin’ lesson. Sometimes I just wanna…just wanna make it hurt, lay you out a little bit. Don’t wanna make your punishment about you; I want it to be about me.” 

Bucky thinks for a moment that he has no footing, has nothing to grasp at to ground himself in the slightest. But Steve is his safety, is his other half; he’s safe here. He’s safe with Steve and he doesn’t need to question that. And because of that, because of the foundation of trust and love they share, Bucky comes to the decision that this? 

This is hot. 

It’s hot as fuck.

“Roll over,” Steve sharply and suddenly demands. “I wanna see that boy pussy I’ve been thinkin’ about fucking all night.”

Bucky whimpers, his legs spreading on instinct, his next few breaths shaking loose from his lungs. His noises sound almost like a hiccup, like a set of sobs, and he’s rising up onto his knees before he can think twice about it. 

Where he’d normally receive a noise of praise or appreciation, he instead receives a bark of, “Turn the fuck around, show it to me the way I deserve.” 

Bucky scrambles. At least he feels as if he’s scrambling, as if he’s moving quickly and awkwardly, but if the thickness of his thoughts and the difficulty of thinking a second ahead is any indication, he probably looks as if he’s lazily moving through molasses. 

Bucky still doesn’t get the noise or words of praise he’s used to when he’s finally turned around, when he’s got his back in a deep arch and his cheek pressed against the sheets as he faces away from Steve. He instead soaks in the noises of the sound of Steve beating himself off, the slick noise of his fist as he drags it up and down his— 

“You’ve been a little bitch tonight. The guys made me promise them I wouldn’t give into you the moment I saw your pretty hole, but fuck me— that’s a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” 

Bucky does moan this time, loud and ragged with tight emotion. His dick hangs heavy between his legs, achy from the suddenness and surprise of his arousal, and his hole clenches easily and involuntarily at the compliment. 

“Fuck, look how small it is, look how little that fuckin’ hole is. It’s a miracle I can fit my dick in there, my big fuckin’ dick. Your Daddy’s got a big dick, doesn’t he?” Goddamn. Bucky wants to shuffle around on his knees so he can choke on his Daddy’s big dick. He wants it in his mouth, on his tongue, in his throat. He wants—

“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” Steve damn near growls, and the sharp sting of a slap on the meat of his ass shocks Bucky’s answer from him. 

“D-Daddy’s got a big dick.” 

“Yeah, that’s right— say it again. Tell me again.”

Bucky tucks his arms under his chest, spreads his legs even more, offering himself up. 

“Daddy’s dick is so big.” 

Steve chuckles into his next groan. “Fuck, I love hearin’ that.”

He listens as Steve moves next, hears him take a few steps, hears him shuffle around before Bucky then feels a cold glob of liquid hit his ass cheek. He gasps, jumps even, but Steve just moans and spreads the liquid across Bucky’s ass with his hand. 

Bucky doesn’t even have time to ask questions or think of how messy or obscene smearing his ass in lube is when Steve’s hands are on him like this. It’s as if Bucky isn’t there as a person, as if Steve is alone in this room with his ass, as if he were a toy. Daddy’s hand rubs the lube into the cheeks of his ass carelessly, smearing it around and covering him in the slippery liquid simply for the selfish enjoyment of seeing Bucky’s ass oiled up. 

So much for his luxurious, self care shower. 

Bucky’s head is so far in the clouds that he barely registers more of it being squirt onto his ass, the feeling of Steve’s hands rubbing and moving almost hypnotizing, but then Steve is rubbing it over his hole, circling it with his fingers and thumb, pressing his thumb into his hole as he moans. 

Bucky squeals.

These touches are indicative of Steve meaning what he said about this punishment being for him; these are selfish touches. 

The slap of Daddy’s big cock right over his soaked pussy makes him whine. But the feel of Steve then resting his cock between Bucky’s cheeks, of pushing his hips forward in a rhythmic motion draws his whine out further. 

“I’m gonna be mean about it because it’s what you deserve. What I deserve. M’gonna fuck this little pussy the way I want to, for me— don’t give a shit about you right now. You wanna come? Fine. But this ain’t about you.” 

Steve pulls his hips back in order for his hand to come down over Bucky’s wet hole hard, just the once and then three more swift times, spanking it and forcing another squeal out of Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fuck…!”

He’s barely able to jump away from the sting, barely able to feel the burn of such a harsh touch, before Steve is stepping close again and pressing the fat tip of his cock back against Bucky’s soaked hole. 

“You better bear down on it, baby— didn’t spend my sweet time training this pussy for nothin’.” 

Bucky’s body and mind come together for a moment of panic, mesh in an effort to preserve what they perceive to be Bucky’s safety that is in danger. It’s too fast, too quick; it’s not what Bucky’s used to. He gasps as he shrinks away from Steve’s touch, his thoughts getting the best of him and— 

Steve’s strong hand on his nape is like a warm blanket, like an off switch, even when it’s a touch that makes it difficult to breathe. 

“None’a that now. Bear down, here we go…”

Claiming. 

Breeding. 

Steve’s always shown mercy, is in tune with Bucky’s mind and body, holds Bucky as a priority in life and in the bedroom; that is what Bucky is used to. But that Steve is nowhere to be found in their bedroom shrouded in darkness tonight. That Steve has been pushed past the brink of the vast amount of patience he holds, has been filled with amber liquid that takes away his softness. He’s nowhere to be found as he spears Bucky open on his cock, as he uses his big hands to press into the deep arch of Bucky’s back and use it as leverage to fuck into him faster, harder. 

Bucky tells himself it’s a lot, that it’s overwhelming, but that it doesn't hurt. He’s used to sex; they have sex frequently. His body doesn’t need to be warmed up to taking Steve when he takes Steve on the regular. But rarely does he take Steve’s cock this fast, this quick, this harsh. His stream of noise is constant, is veering on feral in nature, and he all but thrashes underneath Steve’s hands and on his cock in response to being split open. 

“This is my fuckin’ pussy,” Steve grounds out between what sounds to be gritted teeth, and Bucky can’t tell if it’s a reminder for Bucky or filth for himself. 

Bucky can’t breathe. He chokes on his breaths, on his noises that won’t stop pouring out, his breaths caged up in his chest. Steve has his waist in a brutal grip, pressing his body further into the mattress, and with Bucky’s arms trapped under his chest it makes it cages his breaths up further. 

He wills himself to breathe, begs himself to focus and to open up his willing body to his Daddy. It’s not difficult for him to want this, even as they tread new waters together, but he is quick to come to peace with his body taking the brunt of this…whatever type of punishment this is. 

The only moment of mercy Bucky is shown is when Steve’s hips meet the curve of Bucky’s ass, and even then Steve only stills long enough to press and grind his cock impossibly deeper into Bucky. It’s as if he wishes to crawl inside of Bucky with a growl, as if Bucky’s body taking the entirety of his cock isn’t enough and he needs more than Bucky can give him.

Bucky feels drool on his chin. 

His blinks are slow and lagging, or maybe that’s his eyes rolling back into his head. 

“God fucking damnit,” Steve groans, his tone showing evidence of both relief and frustration, the smack he gives Bucky’s ass driving that frustration home. He jerks his hips back, pulls out of Bucky halfway before filling him up to the brim again. The lewd, wet noises of his pussy makes his cheeks burn in embarrassment, makes him moan at the easy slide and overwhelming sensation of stretch.

Bucky doesn’t know why he pretends to be a brat. A few harsh words and a smack on his ass and here he is face down, ass up for his Daddy. 

Steve pulls his hips back again, is quick to slide them back home, beginning to fuck Bucky in earnest. 

Bucky’s head spins. 

“Pretty fuckin’ pussy for a pretty fuckin’ boy,” Steve tells him in a rumble, rubbing his thumb around Bucky’s stretched and wet rim. 

On the other hand, maybe he should be a brat more often. 

Steve fucks him without mercy. 

Bucky is used to mercy.

He’s used to eye contact and pauses and little, “You good, baby”s. He’s not used to feeling the entirety of Steve’s strength pressed into his body, not used to feeling bruises form in the moment. He’s not used to feeling like Daddy is simply using him for his hole, for somewhere wet and warm to stick his dick and fuck into. 

This is different. 

This feels so good even if it is a lot. 

It has his emotions twisted up in his stomach. 

The way his body rocks forward with every brutal thrust, the force of the stretch of his pussy, the feeling of spreading his legs and being bent over for his Daddy; he’s almost embarrassed he can very realistically come from this kind of treatment. 

He doesn’t realize he’s saying things until Steve is laughing, groaning, the noise of it swirling around Bucky’s empty brain like a marble. 

“Oh sugar,” he moans long and slow, his hands coming down to cup Bucky’s ass as he fucks it, spreading it wide. “You got nothin’ to apologize for— none of that fuckin’ matters now that I’m inside’a you.”

Was he apologizing? He can hear himself now, the drawn-out, almost mournful noises he’s making as spit pools into the sheets underneath him. It’s all nonsense; he can tell that even though his brain is having a hard time processing his own words. 

“Stretch me out, Daddy,” he hears himself whine. “I’m sorry— M’so sorry! Make it better, Daddy.” 

Steve only fucks into him harder, the slick smack of his groin and his heavy sac slapping against Bucky’s lube-covered ass adding to the cacophony of noises swirling around the room and muddying up his brain. 

“Whatever you say, baby.”

“Daddy…” 

“Of course I fucking am. Who’s your Daddy?” 

“You are…you’re my Daddy.” 

Bucky feels a hand wrap roughly around his nape. His face is shoved further into the mattress. The force of the touch and the angle of his body makes him sob.

“Yeah? And whose pussy is this? Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” 

Bucky hiccups, sputters.  

“Daddy’s! S’Daddy’s!” 

His balls begin to tighten then, his groin stirring, the moment his hole relaxes and embraces the obscene stretch of Steve’s cock in full. Steve has always told him he has a sensitive sweet spot, a sensitive pussy, and this example is his Daddy’s checkmate. 

He bucks against Steve’s harsh touch and thrusts when he feels his orgasm rapidly build and stir. 

“M’gonna come, m’gonna…come,” he hears himself slur, a pitiful warning that he’s almost certain Steve can’t hear. 

“I don’t give a shit.” 

Oh.

He was wrong.

Bucky says the only thing that makes sense to him in this moment— 

“Come in my pussy, Daddy.” 

Steve roars, shoving at Bucky’s nape before letting go and reaching for his hair, all without pausing his thrusts. 

“Don’t you fucking do that. You motherfucker. Don’t do that, Buck.”

His orgasm must possess him, push him into doing things Daddy said not to do, because he’s immediately defying his Daddy and pouting out, “Come in my pussy, Daddy. Fill my pussy up,” just as his first spurt of come hits the sheets. 

It’s the only moment of his orgasm he is allowed to enjoy. 

He’s still coming, dick continuing to shoot off and body continuing to ride the waves of a shattering orgasm, when Steve pulls out of Bucky’s body and drags him to the floor by his neck. 

He hits the carpet with a thud and a shout, knees knocking and hands flying out to catch himself. He whines, cries, at losing such a memorable orgasm, at being pulled out of the experience of such, and tucks his chin to watch himself experience the end of his climax between his legs. 

“Open your fucking mouth. Look up at me.”

Even with his ruined orgasm, he listens easily. He’s slow to do so. He turns his head up to do his best to look up at his Daddy, but the tears in his eyes make it impossible to see Steve. 

He can see his fist though, see his cock as he uses his fist to fuck himself as they nearly come full circle for the night.

“You don’t let me come on your pretty face enough,” Steve accuses, voice hot and low, labored and barely audible over the ringing in Bucky’s ears and the sound of Steve aggressively jerking off above him. 

Bucky doesn’t respond, can’t bring forth any words in his brain. He sits there with his tongue out, tears in his eyes, hips doing what they can to rock from the aftershocks of his shattering yet unenjoyable orgasm. 

Steve groans and the noise hits Bucky right in the balls. He feels the result of it in his bloodstream, in his being, a noise that, at its core, is centered around Bucky being good. It’s gluttonous and selfish and sexy and Bucky could weep hearing it. 

He thinks he is weeping at this point.  

When he opens his eyes again, Steve is coming on his tongue. 

And then his cheek.

And then over his other cheek, onto his forehead. 

All Bucky can do is sob and moan, an odd combination that makes it sound like he’s begging for his life while also in heat. 

“Fuck, that’s good. Fuck yeah, look at’chu. Look at my fuckin’ baby. My baby…” 

Steve’s come feels as if it scalds his skin, the warmth of it both a shock and a comfort to him. Bucky lets it slide from his tongue, down his chin, has to close one eye in order to avoid a painful mess. 

He does nothing to fight against the urge to pout when Steve feeds him the last bit of come from the swollen tip of his cock, letting it fall onto his bottom lip. Steve’s fingers immediately follow it, two of them reaching forward to rub the mess into his lip, then across his chin. Bucky watches from the floor as Steve’s chest heaves up and down underneath his crisp dress shirt, his thick fingers pressing and smearing his warm come into Bucky’s skin.

Bucky chases after his Daddy’s fingers like a starving animal, gasping and groaning, tongue lapping up whatever Steve has to offer. 

Does he have no pride? 

Daddy answers that question with two fingers shoved in his mouth, stroking the back of his tongue so harshly Bucky’s left with no choice but to gag loudly. 

He still moans.

Steve lets out a long, happy noise that sounds like a sigh but feels like another groan in Bucky’s balls. It’s akin to the noise he lets out when he stands to stretch as the halftime show begins during the football games he watches on Sundays, deep and satisfied. He follows the noise up with a tight grip on Bucky’s jaw from the inside of his mouth, a hold on his teeth as he pulls Bucky further towards him. 

Where Bucky expects a kiss, he instead gets no warning of Steve spitting down between his open lips.

“Fuck yeah…”

He uses his fingers to spread that around as well, allowing for the combination of his come, his spit, and Bucky’s spit slip over Bucky’s bottom lip and slip down his neck before letting Bucky go with a bit of a shove. 

Bucky’s not used to this. 

Bucky thinks he’s fallen in love with Steve all over again.

His spent and heavy cock still hangs from the open zipper of his pants, framed by thighs that Bucky swears are the size of tree trunks from down here, when Steve lets out one last, resigned groan. 

“That was exactly what I fuckin’ needed,” he casually tells Bucky with more than a tap on his cheek. He turns on his heel and begins to walk away from Bucky and towards their shared bathroom. 

Bucky can barely follow him with his eyes, can barely hold his head up.

Steve’s sharp whistle rings in his ears. 

“C’mon, sugar— let’s see if you can wring another one outta me,” he hollers from over his shoulder, not bothering to look back at Bucky. Steve almost sounds like himself again, as if he hadn’t just hate fucked Bucky to the brink of psychosis. Bucky thinks he hears the shower.

Maybe that was all Steve needed to get out of his system. 

Bucky begins to maneuver himself to stand, ass already sore and come still covering his face, when Steve snaps from the door of their bathroom. 

“Nuh-uh— you crawl to your Daddy, kid.” 

Maybe not.

[majoryeager104]

Could you pretty please write something for hawks and dabi (separate) with their s/o who has a hard time believing they’re pretty and like people don’t usually compliment their appearance so the first time their bf does they’re like “HUH?” I hope that made sense I’ve just been a tad insecure lately :(

omg yes I gotcha

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Touya

It had been a while since Touya had last convinced you to let him take you somewhere nice for dinner. It had been even longer since he’d dressed nice. But you always seemed to look amazing, at least to him, and so he told you, leaning against the doorframe as he looked you up and down.

“you always look effortlessly stunning don’t ya?”

silence

“…huh?”

Touya paused, scratching his head. “I said you look nice, what do you mean ‘huh’?” He furrowed his brow, tilting his head as he leaned closer to you. He was genuinely curious, and you couldn’t blame him. It seemed like an odd response to such a sweet compliment.

“I…well, I’m not used to getting compliments…thanks”

you said nervously, laughing as a blush crept across your face. At this, Touya raised his eyebrows, his eyes impossibly wide.

“my turn. Huh?”

You blinked, and he scoffed, resting his hands on your hips.

“you’re fucking stunning, y/n. Are you serious? How many compliments have you gotten in the past…year?”

silence

“one”

“Not including mine”

even further silence. Touya scoffed, running his hands up and down your sides. “People are probably too scared to approach you” “why?” “Cause you’re so pretty, of course! They probably get nervous. Good.”

“good? What do you mean?”

“Leaves the job to me”

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Keigo

“I look terrible”

You said quietly, looking at your new outfit in the mirror. You loved it, but it felt to you like every time you tried something on, it lost its charm, like you just didn’t look good in anything, and vice versa. You and Keigo were going out on a date soon, meaning the media would probably say the same things you told yourself about how you looked.

“hey!”

Keigo’s voice cut through your thoughts as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re perfect”

you scoffed, looking down at your clothes, which would presumably be criticized as soon as the two of you stepped outside

“the media doesn’t seem to agree”

“the media is full of a bunch of morons who have nothing on you. Don’t listen to people you don’t even know. Listen to me.”

Keigo kissed your shoulder, glancing up at you.

“I for one, think you look absolutely amazing right now. The outfit is a perfect color combo, and for the record everything fits you really well”

“you seem to know quite a bit about fashion”

“of course I do, sweets, which is why you should listen when I tell you that you’re perfect.”

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Banner creds to @ Sharlock and other artist I couldn’t read the signature for to save my life! (If anyone recognizes the artist lmk)

[lenreli]

The Red Line

[AO3]

E, 6.3k. Hob gets a new life - and a new job. Dream begins to appreciate it, in his own way.

-

Dream steps into the Waking, more following Hob’s presence on the Earth, steadfast for centuries ― and looks around, Canadian wilderness reaching his senses. Hob did say, last time they met, that he’s overdue faking his death. 

Blinking, he knocks on the door in front of him, once. He knows Hob’s not asleep, and still Dream worries if he’s intruding, even with the way Hob had said― 

“My friend!” Hob beams, the door opened while Dream was pondering, “come in, come in!” Hob says brightly, gesturing him in with an arm. “This’ll be the first time I’ve seen you outside of jolly ol’ Landon, actually,” Hob says, excitement all but palpable as Dream looks around at the small house, Hob talking more about other places he’s lived in. Hob’s swearing a knitted sweater and jeans, matching the rustic insides of his new home. 

And Hob talks about ― friends he misses, moving to Canada, and so on. With no mention of his job, which Hob is usually happy to tell him about. “And what of your job?” At that, Hob pauses, “or have you decided to not get one this time?”

“No, still many things I want to do,” Hob says, voice suddenly quieter, and Dream frowns, unused to the other’s almost―evasiveness. 

Dream gives Hob a narrow look, suspicious. “Do you have an abhorrent trade, like in 178―”

“No! Never again! Definitely not!” Hob shouts, arms in the air as he shakes his head, eventually sinking into his blue sofa with a sigh. “No, not. It’s just. I don’t know. We’re not the friends to talk about this, and I don’t know how you’d react, so I haven’t,” Hob mumbles. 

Dream keeps silent as Hob pulls at the edge of his sweater, and eventually Hob heaves a sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll bite the bullet. I’m a sexline operator,” Hob says and Dream blinks, unsure what the problem with speaking about is, as he searches the subconscious for Hob’s new job. “I dunno, we’ve never talked about that before, and the prudishness of this century probably got to me a bit. I talk people into giving themselves orgasms, and it’s fun,” Hob mutters, shrugging as he explains. 

“I fail to see the problem.”

Hob laughs and rubs his face, “of course. Just ― weird human customs. My new job is usually more of a raunchy punchline or scandalous, terrible thing for some people.” 

“It’s not the worst job you’ve had,” he points out, and Hob laughs again, a bit more manic. 

“That bar’s in the Earth’s core, Dream,” Hob says, face hidden by a hand. “The literal fucking burning lava core,” Hob grouses, and Dream follows Hob into a small kitchen, windows letting light in as Hob puts on an electric kettle, leaning against the kitchen counters. “It’s been a thing, getting used to living here, and my new job, which is a more night-shift job than I was used to with teaching. At least seeing you again is helping with all that.” 

Dream swallows, emotions sticking in his body at the way Hob’s smiling at him, that he’s helped Hob. “I am here to help.” 

Hob laughs again, shaking his head as he gets a mug and a teabag. “Not just as your entire thing, but you, as my friend,” Hob clarifies. “Didn’t even realise how weird I was getting in my head until you popped in.” 

“You are the most normal man alive,” he replies dryly as the kettle whistles, and Dream smothers the smile he can feel as Hob laughs once more. 

=

Dream ― hasn’t been curious, knows what it requires, on a sexline. A discreet orgasm, or a filthy one, operators being given prompts, or not, until the one who pays is satisfied. 

However, he’d like to know, Hob on a sexline is a different thing, one he can’t help thinking about idly. And so, slipping into the Waking, into Hob’s new house, which is ― quiet. Soundlessly, he walks around until he reaches a closed door. The study, Hob showed him, and Hob behind the doors, imagining waking up early to go to the market. 

And Hob is speaking, words muffled by the door, so he leans closer, ear to the door ― and Hob may be thinking about market produce, meeting vendors, but the words are filthy, talking to someone. 

A woman, matching that voice to―strong hands, pressing inside herself, all the right spots as he moans, Hob’s speech rolling over her in waves of pleasure as she imagines. 

The door is cold against his body, but Dream’s only half-there as he makes the man’s hands coarser, marks and scars of Hob’s hands, hairier as she gasps. Closing his eyes, Dream smoothes out the man in her imagination ― green eyes changed to brown, grey at his temples, stubble and body hair, as the man ― Hob ― speaks to her to come, coaxing her along softly. 

Suddenly, the lack of imagination, daydream having served its purpose leaving him against the cold door, body hot as he listens to Hob laughing, him and the woman talking. And Dream wants to―phase through the door, has a hand on it, melt through the flimsy wood to reach Hob, body aching in arousal. 

Pressing his cheek to the refreshingly cold wood, he stops as the call ends and there’s a sigh. There’s shuffling around, and soon footsteps, a shadow moving to the door and Dream moves away with a soundless step as Hob starts to open it.

Hands twitching, he steps back again before going back to the Dreaming.

-

It happens again. Dream in front of the study, door shut as Hob speaks into the phone on the other side. He can’t even muster up any internal protests, that he was sure that Hob would be free, and not like some part of Dreaming wasn’t dedicated to keeping an eye on the time, on when Hob wouldn’t be working or sleeping. 

The door is cool as he touches it, pressing his ear against the door as Hob’s voice washes over him ― and in another province, a man is hearing the same voice. 

This time, Hob is vaguely thinking of pale skin and dark hair― 

Dream moves his focus to the other man, insides hot as the man fingers himself, Hob’s voice making him whine as he has vague images in his mind, nothing concrete and more focused on Hob’s voice. 

And he can’t help it, tweaks the vague image into Hob’s visage and the man whimpers as he imagines Hob going inside, and Dream shivers, can feel it in the imaginings of it. The man comes with a cry and Dream stares at the wood of the door, can feel it under his nails with how hard he’s grabbing it, body pulsing in arousal but unable to end it, just out of reach. 

Dream takes an unneeded breath as he thinks of melting through the door, where Hob is now laughing with the man, wanting to, wanting to feel more than illusory touch, can go insane with wanting the reality of it― 

No. he forces himself back, can only see the trail of ruin that’d leave Hob hating him, as he steps back into the Dreaming.

-

“Uh, boss,” Matthew says and Dream looks up from his census, then pauses, taking a moment before he stands up from the steps. Hovering in front of him, a large bubble, the transparency of it showing a red phone box, glass-panelled windows and a phone ringing.

Reaching out, he relaxes, can feel Hob’s ― daydream, behind it. “It is my friend,” he says softly, smiling as he walks into the bubble, and he pauses as he’s encased in warmth. Matthew and the throne room melt away as he opens the box, phone ringing still as he closes it. Reaching out, the phone stops as he picks it up, putting it to his ear. “Hob?”

“Woah,” on the other side of the line, Hob breathes, voice crackling as Dream presses the phone more against his ear. “Wasn’t sure that’d work. That’s really you?” Hob asks, voice getting slowly more excited. 

“It is. Matthew alerted me to ― you,” he frowns, the daydream brightening in vibrancy with Hob’s excitement, a joyful sound coming from the other side of the phone. 

“I dunno, I’ve been using phones so much lately with work, and so I thought what if. Well. This,” Hob says, voice crackling over the line and Dream smiles, happy to hear from him ― and reminding him guiltily, of why he hasn’t visited lately, “and like, I’m getting new friends here of course, and getting used to it all, and I just hope you’re not too busy with, uh. All that you do.” 

Dream sighs, resting against the glass behind him, “I am sorry, I―”

“No, it's fine! I get it, you’re a busy, hard-working entity and before we only met every century! Even with us being friends and everything―”

“Hob,” he cuts in, smiling as Hob stops, “I am glad you called,” he says, and Hob lets out a sigh, can feel the warmth of Hob’s home, his presence of the daydream around him, a balm for his tired self. 

“Didn’t even call for anything important. Just that I found a place that sells the best poutine I’ve ever tasted. Have you had poutine?” Hob asks and Dream can’t stop his smile, bright emotions fizzling inside him at the inane question. 

“I have not,” he answers. 

“It’s really good,” Hob says, words trailing into a groan, making Dream feel slight heat at the sound caused by the memory of good food,  “one time when you’re here we’re going to get poutine. Also, the moose here are insane. Recently I saw one as big as a car and it was so beautiful. And terrifying. Was just walking down the road! This is why I love moving all the time!” 

Dream looks down, fingers curling around the red curled line of the phone as he listens to Hob talk.

-

Somehow, Hob’s house always feels so welcoming, the immortal somehow infusing his home in the short time he’s lived there, compared to The New Inn, as well as the flat he had nearby in London. As Dream sits on the sofa, he can feel himself unwinding as Hob gets a cup of tea, the book he was reading left flat on the coffee table, revealing the summary and Dream hums at the sci-fi. “Aren’t you usually doing something at this time?” 

Hob lets out a sound, partly indecisive and partly thoughtful, “I do plan on going to a music festival tomorrow, so I’m getting things ready since I’ll be out all day,” Hob offers as the kettle whistles, and Dream blinks as Hob comes back over, sitting next to him and getting a coaster on the table to put his cup on. “Planning to go with some friend’s, so it’s just like. Water, and money, especially for merch and food,” he shrugs. 

“What type of music?” 

“Metal festival! Speaking of, I need to figure out my―wait, you can help me decide!” Hob says, getting up and rushing to his room, and Dream smiles, staring at the cooling mug on the table. 

“Your tea is cooling,” he points out as Hob moves around in his room, eventually coming out with a pile of clothes in an arm, as he pointedly stares at him before drinking half the mug. Hob’s throat working is ― mesmerizing, and Dream can’t make himself look away as he has half-thoughts of touching the other’s beard. 

“Okay!” Hob says and Dream doesn’t twitch, mind still stuck on the edge of the other’s stubble on his throat to notice that he’s moved back, holding up a mesh shirt and ripped jeans in one hand, “so, this?” Hob tugs out his other clothes, revealing a dark blue shirt and a different pair of trousers, black with studs and chains, “or this?” 

Dream tilts his head, thinking about the choices, “the first one.” 

Hob beams, nodding as he puts the clothes back into his room. “See, that’s what I was thinking too. Plus one of my leather jackets, since it’ll be cold, but also I will be in the moshpit, but eh,” Hob mumbles, voice lowering in frequency as he comes back out, sitting near him as he drinks the rest of his tea. “I’m so excited!”

“I can tell,” he replies dryly, and Hob’s brightness doesn’t even dim as he picks up his book, practically vibrating next to him. 

-

He does try to come after the festival. 

He doesn’t try hard enough as he stares at the closed door, can hear Hob’s low voice, muffled but getting clearer as he presses against the door. “And I would,” Hob pauses, and Dream tenses in anticipation ― and on the other end of the line, a man lets out a small whine, close to the edge from Hob’s voice. “Eventually, I’d let you come.” 

The man whines and Dream shivers, can almost feel the firmness of Hob’s voice in his body as he takes an unneeded breath. 

“The anticipation of it, it’d be worth it, don’t you think?” Hob asks, and the man agrees blindly. Dream swallows, body flooded with arousal. “I’d take you to the edge, again and again, until your mind is nothing but me, the way you’d beg for it,” Hob continues, voice dropping even lower as the man cries out ― and Hob thinks of pale skin, daydreams of― 

Dream forces himself out of it, would be sure that his face would be a fierce red if ― the wood doing nothing to cool him down as he presses into it, a hand lightly gripping the wood. There’s the taste of it on his tongue, like he can replace it with Hob’s confident words, the ease he can feel from the other side of the door. 

“Please,” the man begs, sobbing in a way that Dream can feel, wants to be the one crying it out. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want. You’re touching yourself for me, aren’t you?” Hob breathes and the man lets out a cry and blurbled yes. “Just relax into it, into my voice,” Hob soothes and Dream shudders, a hand reaching into his robe as he soundlessly pants against the door. “Follow the flow, you don’t want to resist.” 

The man keens, mindless and full of Hob’s voice ― like Dream. Who wants to reach through the door and hang Hob up, wants those low tones focused on him, as he strokes himself, can feel how close to the edge he is― 

―Of making a mess of Hob’s door, and the thought is cold water as he pulls himself away, taking his hand off himself as he forces himself back to the Dreaming.

-

Dream doesn’t keep a solid track of time, but even he knows that this is a bad day. Pinched annoyance at himself for not visiting Hob, basking in the comforts of his home ― and not when he’s working, and so just sticks to the Dreaming. 

And today, an envoy of planets and galaxies, relatively small, which is the only good thing over all the fake politeness and the exhausting politicking. 

The bubble appearing to life in the room is the icing on the cake, Hob’s daydream-call as the celestial bodies look over at the phone box with worry. “It is nothing,” he grounds out, and feels even more exhausted as he pops the bubble, crunching it into nothing.

After, he promises himself as he forces the conversation back on track, and Dream feels vaguely like screaming.

-

It’s days before he shows up at Hob’s ― reasonably sure that Hob’s not working as he knocks on the front door. Dream feels tense, every non-existent bone in his body clenched as he waits, and as he thinks that Hob’s gone out, the door opens. “Dream!” Hob smiles and ushers him in, and it feels like his teeth grind less as he enters the other’s home. 

“I apologise. For not taking your call,” he recites stiffly as he sits, and Hob freezes, then smiles, sitting next to him, warmth radiating off of him in a way that makes Dream want to curl into him. 

“Felt a bit weird when that happened, but you are a busy entity. Nothing to apologise for, of course,” Hob beams, and Dream swallows the sound as the smile dims, expression becoming concerned. “Your hair,” Dream blinks―and wonders when his hair became long, it feels like ― stress, the weight of the envoy, of his actions last time he was here. “You seem a bit,” Hob bites his lip, “tense.” 

“I am fine,” he replies, and Hob gives him a skeptical glance. 

“Dream,” Hob says softly, a hand coming up to hover over the ends of his hair, “may I?” Blinking, he looks at Hob’s earnest expression, “I want to help. I’ve heard I give a pretty good head rub.” Dream blinks once more, then nods stiffly, and he watches as Hob moves around ― lighting candles that smell of lavender and getting some food before sitting back next to him, turning on the TV as he does. “Any preferences?” Hob nods to the TV, and Dream shakes his head. 

Dream tenses as Hob’s hands move slowly, making their way to his head―and Dream lets out a sound as a fingers stroke and dig into his scalp. The other hand joins in and Dream can’t help but cry out in relief, the touches unlocking some tight part of him as he can only manage to plant his face on Hob’s thigh, who doesn’t object, hands stroking and petting, massaging his scalp and hair. 

“You’re perfectly fine, just relax,” Hob whispers and he shivers, can feel the stress and tension melting away from him as he goes boneless on the sofa, breathing in the musk of Hob underneath him. Every pass and press of Hob’s fingers, nails into him releases even more tension, and he― 

Unfurls, the black mass of his body, tentacles flopping onto the floor, the machine creak of a black metal tail, as well as various other appendages, can feel them stretching out onto the carpet. Hob makes a sound but doesn’t comment, only taking a hand away and Dream looks up, seeing Hob eat some of his biscuits before Dream shuts his eye. 

“I’d rather not get another record player,” Hob says, and Dream doesn’t get why he says it until he opens his eyes, a feathered limb knocking said record player, and Dream makes a sound, softly moving his limbs around the coffee table, tentacles and a limb of black teeth curling around it until they circle to Hob’s feet. “Much appreciated.” 

And even with the stress lifting, his hair seems to grow, can feel it falling over the sofa as Hob doesn’t stop, seemingly happy to massage his scalp, other hand stroking his hair. 

-

Dream opens his eyes with a jolt, confused as he looks around, mind lagging from― 

The sleep. He had. He can’t remember the last time he slept. It was probably while the Earth was still a mass of dust and rocks, still to be pulled together. 

And now, one of Hob’s hands is still in his hair, touching it softly, the other arm touching his chest as he blinks. Can feel Hob in the Dreaming, can feel the night sky above him, the TV still playing softly as he huffs, relaxing back into the hold, putting his face into Hob’s hip. 

The hand in his hair pets him, fingers stroking through the long strands in some automatic motion, Hob still dreaming even as the fingers continue their movement. 

Dream allows himself more of it, hoarding the feeling of having Hob’s body so close, hands in his hair, then he sits up, Hob’s body heat still sticking to him as he turns the TV off. Hob only groans as Dream picks him up, carrying him bridal style to the other’s room, and Dream smiles, patting Hob’s hair as he puts the immortal under the covers. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, stroking the grey of Hob’s temple, making sure Hob’s dreams will be full of the feelings he gave Dream, the warmth and calm. “I feel much better now, my friend.” 

-

“I’m not boring you, am I?” Hob asks, voice cutting out over the phone line, and Dream hums, relishing in the familiar comfort of Hob’s presence inside the daydream, phone to his ear. 

“Of course not,” he says, making Hob do a skeptical noise. 

“Feel like I’m boring myself with this line of thought. Instead ― I always imagine you with a smartphone when we’re like this,” Hob says, and Dream blinks. 

“It is not a smartphone for me,” he replies, “it’s a phone box.”

“Like in Doctor Who?” Hob asks, voice curious, daydream brightening with the emotion. 

“No, a red one,” he clarifies, and huffs as he reaches out to the connection between them, “I will show you.”

Dream knows when Hob can see it ― can see him, can feel the invisible eyes on him as Hob lets out a breath. “Oh. Hello,” Hob speaks softly, and Dream gives him a small smile. “Cosy. I like it.” 

“It―“ feels like you, the bone-deep comfort, Dream doesn’t say, lulled into the sense of it, “it is beyond adequate for when we converse.” 

He gets the feeling that Hob blinks as he takes a moment, “I’m glad for that, then. Beyond adequate is one of my favourite descriptors about me,” Hob says teasingly. “Don’t think I would’ve done the black glass though.”

Dream looks at the sides, surprised to see the clear glass replaced with black glass, opaque and matte. “I didn’t realise,” he frowns, not touching on why he’d want to change the glass, what feels like the part of him still in that cursed basement. 

“How about stained glass, then? That’d be nice,” Hob offers, “just an idea.” Dream stares at the glass, the squares changing to varying hues, mixed in with the black glass. “Beautiful.”

-

Dream stares at the door, at the quiet behind it ― which soon changes as Hob gets a call, and Dream comes closer, pressing an ear to the door. Hob talks to the person ― his higher-up, most likely. The conversation is loud, Hob joking and laughing as he says that sure, I can do another.

The person greets Hob nervously once they’re connected, but Hob easily makes them feel at ease, and Dream feels a pang of envy for those who interact with Hob throughout the days, wanting to keep it all to himself, but knowing he can’t. 

And it’s not like he thought of Hob doing his job in detail, but as Hob gently coaxes out a fantasy, light-hearted and soft, Dream can feel the words prickle under his skin. A part of him thought that Hob would ― list out fantasies, easy to pick and choose from a menu.

His hands ball on the door, unwilling to move as Hob talks, as the person’s imagination sparks, and Dream holds himself back from changing the figment of imagination meant to represent Hob, keeping still. 

Hob’s words, practised and filthy, wash over him as he considers what Hob would coax out of him, can’t even fathom it as the person whines, getting louder in their cries, and Dream presses his forehead to the door, can’t even fathom the thought of Hob doing that to him. 

But still, he wants it, can taste it as the person comes, Hob gently coaxing them on, and Dream vanishes back to the Dreaming before he’s aware, mind sticky with thoughts.

-

Hob isn’t saying something, Dream can feel it in the way the daydream of the phone box twists and pulses. “Feeling an urge to go back to England ― not permanently at this point. More of a holiday, but I’ve been over there too long, so,” Hob grumbles, then sighs. There’s a pause, and Dream waits for Hob to speak.

“Hob?” He asks, straightening up on the glass panel, can feel Hob’s gaze on him. 

“Do you know,” Hob says quietly, the words careful and measured, “you have a presence?” 

“A presence?” He echoes, brows furrowing, and there’s another pause, can feel Hob putting the words together carefully. 

Hob hums, and Dream gets the impression of nervousness, “when you come here. To the Waking. Never noticed it much when we were at the White Horse, probably because of all the people and alcohol, but since we’ve met up outside that, I’ve noticed it. There’s a certain ― change to the gravity, to the air around you, when you’re here,” another pause, another drawn out sigh. More silence. “You’ve been listening to me. While I work,” Hob states, and Dream freezes. “Can feel you, on the other side of that door.” 

Dream swallows, thoughts screeching to a halt, too thrown off to even comprehend saying anything. 

“Why? Eldritch curiosity?” Hob asks, and Dream shuts his eyes, grabbing the out offered with both hands. 

“Yes,” he says, voice scratchy, “I am sorry for. Overstepping.” 

There’s a tiny laugh on the other end of the line, “I don’t care. How am I? Any critiques?” Hob asks, voice lightly teasing, and Dream takes an unneeded breath as he relaxes against the glass.

“You are adequate,” Dream says gravely, and Hob laughs gleefully. Dream intimately understands the meaning of dodging a bullet as Hob begins to talk about something else ― dinner, Dream catches, and he takes another useless breath. 

-

Dream does truly forget this time, as he looks around at Hob’s house, then pauses at the closed door, can faintly hear Hob speaking and Dream pauses. Can feel you, on the other side of that door rings in his head, and Dream ― reaches out, can feel how he changes things, presses onto the fabric of reality as he pulls it inside of himself, like a flower folding back up. 

Can feel the particles and dark matter buzzing inside his form as he walks closer and presses his ear against the door, closing his eyes as Hob’s soft voice washes over him, the laughter warm. 

And the other side of the phone ― Dream blinks, brows furrowing, because she’s a regular. A regular not there for sex, more for companionship, the familiar English accent of Hob’s voice, easing her homesickness. 

Sometimes she does get her self off after, but it’s more ― casual, Hob talking about recipes and both of them missing home. Serendipity of one day her wanting someone to masturbate to, and being struck by hearing the familiar sound. Crying and feeling embarrassed as Hob soothed her and made her laugh. 

Dream frowns, feeling put off, hackles rising as they talk and―Dream swallows, can feel the presence of him straining, not used to it, now that he’s aware of it, crawling under his skin― 

And on the other side of the door, Hob laughing and talking, and Dream can feel anger building, expecting ― filth, not this, which he can’t articulate why he hates it. 

Taking a deep breath, he steps back into the Dreaming, his presence blooming into nothing as dark clouds rumble in the sky. 

=

Dream slowly blinks, aware of a sound in his ear as he looks around ― the red phone box, black and rainbow-coloured glass, the phone’s curled line leading to the phone next to his ear, a dial-tone as it.

Tries to connect to Hob, Dream’s aware of, unable to feel Hob’s warmth, or his unseeing gaze as he sits on the floor of box, holding his knees with his free hand. He’s so tired. The bone-deep weariness, the work on keeping the Dreamling stable even when he doesn’t feel it. 

The way he ― didn’t contact or go to Hob, anger soon fading away, but by then there was political talks and treaties, a flurry of people counting on him, when he just wants to tend to his Dreamers, wants to make new dreams and nightmares, but can only manage nothing. 

Sighing, he presses the phone to his ear, dial-tone still ringing, and Dream considers that―”Dream?” A voice connects, confused as the daydream lights up, warmth infusing it and Dream relaxes at the sound of Hob’s voice. “So that was―you were calling me,” Hob says, voice confused and giving way to awe, and Dream smiles. What feels like his first smile in a while. 

“I was not sure it would work,” he says quietly, feet pressing against the corner of the box as he holds the phone closer to him. “I am sorry if I interrupted.”

Hob laughs, and Dream lets the sound wash over him, “nah. Just had some groceries to get ― then had this peculiar pushing feeling, like a knocking, which I ignored until I got everything home and put away. And it was my precious friend calling me,” Hob says, and Dream can easily see the smile with how Hob speaks. “You seem,” Hob pauses, and Dream looks up at the ceiling, can feel the other’s gaze, the concern and worry palpable. “Out of sorts,” Hob settles on. 

“I didn’t even realise I was calling you at one point,” Dream offers, and Hob makes a distressed sound. “It is nice to hear your voice,” he says with a sigh, curling around the phone. 

“And it’s nice to hear yours,” Hob says softly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You already are,” smiling, he rests his chin on his arm, can feel Hob’s affection pouring through the daydream wrapping him up in heat. It intensifies and he shivers, can feel it press into all the empty and dark places, the bits of him still in cold and glass and pain―”I want to escape,” he blinks, only aware of the sentence after he said it, “but I cannot leave.”

Hob hums, and Dream can feel the phonebox flickering as Hob thinks, “a story, then? If you want,” Hob says softly, and Dream nods, the phonebox flickering, the red phone and it’s red wire only staying, “you said that to a friend, and this friend ― cares for you, can see how you need to get away,” Dream hums, falling into the highs and lows of the other’s voice easily. “And so, they kidnap ― nicely, taking you to some far-away cabin.” 

The phonebox changes, expands, becoming a wooden cabin ― a fireplace on the wall, fire crackling, a huge bed and Dream smiles, any kneejerk reactions fading into nothing at the constant warmth, Hob’s invisible gaze on him. And a shadow person, standing in front of him, hand outstretched, and Dream takes it to stand up from the carpeted floor, can feel Hob’s touch in the shadow. 

“Always working too hard, can see how it burns you out, putting too much on yourself, just wants to let you forget about it for a bit. It’ll all be there after, of course,” Hob says as they sit down on the bed, and Dream soaks up Hob’s voice, putting his head on the shadow’s shoulder, an arm moving around his own shoulders. “But you’re allowed time away ― especially with your friend, who took you so nicely, implored you to leave with them.”

Dream hums, can feel the Hob’s hair brushing against the back of his neck, the beard on his jaw as he presses his nose into the shadow’s neck, pleasantly scratchy. “Hob,” he breathes, insides twisting and hot, can’t help but to ― kiss him, and the daydream―Hob, hitches a breath. 

“Oh,” Hob’s voice is lightly strangled, but the shadow still kisses him back, hands on his jaw as the daydream heats up even more, can feel prickles of Hob’s growing arousal. “And―well―that is,” Hob stumbles, voice more breathless than before as Dream’s hands go into dark hair, thumbs stroking the grey of where Hob’s beard would be, and Hob lets out another sound. “Of course, your friend―that is,” a cough, “has wanted you, but wasn’t expecting this, was happy for just―” 

Hob swears as Dream licks into the shadow’s mouth, can feel hands going down to grip his hips as they kiss, can feel Hob’s gaze on him, hooking under his skin as he presses into the void-of-his-friend, can feel the other’s hard cock in jeans as he bites the shadow’s lips. 

There’s a gasp, a keen as the shadow’s hands go under his shirt, nails scratching up his torso. Hob lets out another sound, a tinge frustrated and the shadow moves, tugging him down onto the bed, pressing him against as Dream whines, shivering at the lips and stubble as the shadow bites marks into his neck. “This friend thinks you shouldn’t be working even in this,” Hob says, voice octaves lower as the shadow touches his robe, his shirt vanishing under it, “should focus on feeling good, on how maybe,” Hob’s voice cracks. 

“Maybe?” He purrs, can feel the other’s intense stare as his pants vanish, hands reverently going down his hips to his thighs. Can feel the daydream shaking with arousal ― Hob’s arousal, can feel the Dreaming beyond the little black bubble this is all placed in before he focuses back on the shadow, the room and Hob. 

And the shadow, fingers slick as they trail up his inner thighs, can feel Hob’s gaze zeroing in on him, focused to a point as he shudders, grasping at the shadow’s soft hair, “as a courtesy,” Hob rasps, voice deep as the shadow licks at a nipple, hardening under it quickly, and Dream gasps as a finger slowly enters him, pressing against walls with heat, “you should be fucked, taken care of, until you can’t think anymore.”

“By you?” He asks, keening as another finger enters him, stretching him slowly ― even though he doesn’t need it, body loosening around them easily and Hob whines, more fingers entering him. 

The shadow kisses him, beard rough against his face as they kiss, and Dream gasps, staring at ceiling as fingers graze his prostate, and Dream can only dig into the shadow’s shoulders, arching up into the feeling as thoughts vanish, the shadow moving down to nibble marks into his collarbone. “Yes,” Hob says, voice rough as the beard that scratches against his skin. “Would be happy to do that, for you, until you’re only just pleasure.” 

Dream groans, squirming under the shadow, wanting it so desperately as fingers continue to press that spot, and Dream grinds down on the feeling, chasing the orgasm in front of him, hearing Hob pant and moan. “With only your fingers?” He asks, voice tripping over itself, and he shivers as they crook inside him.

“To start with,” Hob answers, voice low and gutter-filthy, “a start, to get you out of your head, out of your work,” Hob says, fingers twisting and stretching even more, and Dream lets out a wail, arching into them mindlessly, body shuddering with pleasure. “With me.”

He comes with a cry, white coating the shadow’s front as Dream holds on, the press of warm nails verging into over-stimulation, into a shuddering, maddening amount of bliss. The fingers leave and he groans as he’s turned around, face pressing into pillows as the shadow forces him up by the hips, arse in the air. “Hob?” He slurs, can feel a nose ghost against his spine, thumbs digging into his waist. 

Hob lets out a breath, and he shivers as a tongue comes out, hot against his spine as it makes it’s way down. “There’s still so much to do, and there’s time for it all,” Hob promises.

-

Dream comes back to himself pleasantly, form faintly twinging as he stares at the wall of his bedroom, a stained glass window showing golden light that keeps him warm. His mind is clear, only one thing ― one person ― occupying it as he stands up, loose black robe forming around him. 

It’s only once he’s stepped into the Waking, and knocked at Hob’s front door, that maybe― 

Just a fantasy, Hob’s job, a one-off, his mind spirals as he crosses his arms, feeling the cool air with only his thin robe― 

“Dream!” He blinks and the door has opened, revealing Hob’s smiling face, and Dream relaxes at the sight. Hob doesn’t show any signs of what happened, which―of course, since it was a daydream. 

As Dream sits on the sofa, a part of him settles that if this doesn’t―become anything, he might be content with that. Since Hob didn’t throw him out at first sight, he can be happy with Hob’s friendship. 

“You, uh,” Hob says, tone faltering and Dream stares down at himself, at the small black robe. At the marks and beard burn he can feel on the inside of his thighs, the bruises on his neck. Hob’s face gets redder as he stares, brown eyes wide. 

Wide, and interested, can feel echoes of their daydream ripple through the air, Hob licking his lips and Dream’s form tingles, wanting. Not just a shadow, not just a daydream, wants to see Hob’s eyes get darker, like they are right now―and Dream surges up, grabbing Hob’s threadbare shirt to kiss him roughly. Dream’s hands clench as they go up, and he moans at the feel of the other’s beard, of the way Hob leans into the kiss, automatic― 

Hob breaks the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide with wonder, a hand in his dark hair, fingers curling around Dream’s dark strands. “Curiousity?” Hob asks, breathless. 

“No,” is all he says before going back in for a kiss, Hob’s other hand quickly grabbing his waist as Dream spins him around, pushing him onto the sofa. Hob gasps, hands tugging him down onto Hob’s lap, and Dream shivers at the affection and want he can feel coming from the other’s daydreams, Hob just as hungry as him as he grinds into Hob’s lap. 

[Fin]

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Previous part: part 4.

Next part: part 6.

A/N: High School Musical references (watch the movies!!!). I recommend you to read part 1 again, because a lot of references I made here are also said in the first chapter. This could look like a filler chapter, but it’s really important for future developments!

Word count: 2.2k.

You’re relaxing on your bed on a deserved day off, brand new AC on and a cold glass of orange juice in your hand. You’re scrolling on your phone, chuckling at various memes and sending most of them to Ochaco, who will probably complain about finding 62 videos from you and having to react to each one. You’re planning on doing absolutely nothing today, just munching on snacks and sleeping. Maybe you’re going to put on that show you’ve been wanting to see. This is the life, you think.

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

You’re startled out of your mind, again. Katsuki has been screaming at the top of his lungs since this morning, but you don’t even know the reason why. You hear his stream of curses from the wall between your rooms.

You’re very annoyed: he’s ruining your perfect day off. How dare he. You throw punches on the wall for the upteenth time, hoping he will stop or go outside to do whatever is bugging him.

“Stop fucking doing that!” He screams back at you, and you get even angrier. You decide you had enough, so you get up from your bed and march towards his room. You throw his door open without caring about his privacy.

He snaps his head towards you, scowling worser than usual.

“D’you ever heard about fucking knocking?” He barks at you. He looks disheveled: his usually spiky hair is a mess, and you assume he keeps on yanking it; you can feel his eye bags, and he probably didn’t have a good night of sleep in two weeks.

“Damn, you look bad” you mumble looking at him from head to toe. You lose a bit of your anger and almost feel bad. Almost.

“Well, I don’t care, you’re ruining my perfect day, so if you need to scream go out” you say glaring at him.

“This is my fucking house too” he snarls. “If I want to scream because I don’t want to do this shit, then I’m gonna do it. You’re free to leave and never return” he responds looking you up and down. He’s got a point.

You scoff. Sometimes he really has the audacity to speak when he shouldn’t be speaking. “What are you even doing? What’s this big thing that’s bothering you so much?”.

He grits his teeth and stays silent. The way he doesn’t want you to know the reason why he’s so angry just makes you become more curious. Oh, I’m about to get so annoying when I find out. Just so you wait, Katsuki.

“Come on, don’t be a kid. Let’s make a deal: I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate if you tell me” you try to bribe him. In one of his nicest moments, he complimented the way you know how to “make it just right”, just to take it back immediately after noticing those words left his mouth. Also, your roommate likes to eat and drink hot things even if it’s summer. He’s a weirdo.

He looks conflicted. He really wants a sweet treat, and he knows that he’s not capable of doing it the way you do (he already tried and failed). He blames it on the fact you keep on saying that you add a secret ingredient that he doesn’t know, because there’s just no way he’s not good at doing everything he puts his mind into. He ponders about it for what feels like 3 minutes, where you both stay completely silent.

“I’ll even add whipping cream.”

You try suppressing your grin: he’s sold, you see it in the way he grits his teeth even harder. “I’m revising my thesis’ grammar.”

You instantly become smug, all your anger forgotten. Bingo. “The big buff Bakugou Katsuki is mad about some grammar? Really? I thought you were stronger than that, pussy” you tease him with a smirk on your face.

He tries throwing you one of the books he keeps on his desk, but you dodge it. Then you lean on his door and cross your arms, while he goes on and screams “GET OUT! You’re bothering me even more”.

“Stop screaming, oh my god”, you whine. “What would it take for you to return being the quiet kid at the back of the class? You’re so annoying like this” you say exhausted. You get one day off in 3 weeks, there is no way he’s ruining it. You’re finding joy in annoying him, though, it’s so fun.

“I was never the quiet kid, I ain’t no loser like you. Get the fuck out of my room” he bites back. He doesn’t need to know it, but you were indeed the quiet kid.

“Well, guess I won’t help you then” you reply, shrugging. You didn’t even ask if he wanted your help, and you didn’t come in his room to help him, but now you’re just rubbing in his face that you can go and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, while he boils himself away in his despair.

You start closing his door, yawning and teasing him some more. “Continue screaming while I go and watch Love Island without you”. You have to turn around to hide your expression.

You hear him curse under his breath. “Fuck, wait, I really wanna see that”, he says, sounding desperate. “Aren’t you enrolled in literature or some shit?”.

You face him with the biggest devious smile you can muster. “Yeah, why?”

The vein on his forehead is about to pop. “How good are you at correcting grammar?”, he says.

You look like you won the lottery. “Ooooh you want my help? Do you want me to revise your little thesis for you? Little ol’ me? Weren’t you saying to get the fuck out?” You say walking towards his still sitting form. He’s super rigid, like asking you to help him is requiring him all the strength of the world and the planets and the solar system together. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He tries the breathing exercises they taught him in highschool to manage his fury, when he really started managing his anger issues. You’re getting on his last nerves, but revising all he wrote in months is also getting on his nerves.

“Can you at least pretend to not enjoy this as much as you currently are? You’re a devil” he spits out. Well, he could’ve said something meaner, so the breathing exercises must have worked a little.

“Mean. I guess you don’t want my help then”, you respond, feigning innocence.

“Let’s make one thing clear: I’m a boss at doing shit like this. I’m just tired of doing it, ‘cause I’ve been at it for a day straight. I’m good at everything, so you’ll probably find a comma that I forgot to type, not much more than that”, he adds, glaring up at you. You’re now standing next to him, but the fact he’s still sitting has you staring at him from above. This simple act is driving him insane: if he’s not in control he gets antsy, and you seem to know it, because you’re standing really proud.

You decide on dropping the facade a little, because you enjoy revising things. And he does look exhausted.

“Sure, send me the file and I’ll look into it” you say. Now you’re going outside of his room to make his chocolate, but he thinks you’re just running away.

“Wait. What do you want in return?” He says squinting at you. There’s no way she’s doing it because she’s nice, he thinks.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Don’t fucking “huh” me. What do you want? Why are you doing this?” He responds, serious.

You raise one eyebrow and stay silent for a bit, then you tell him “Because I’m nice? Have you ever heard about kindness? Not everything is a transaction, business man” then you close his door without waiting for an answer, leaving him confused and somewhat angry.

You start doing his hot chocolate while singing to yourself, when suddenly his door is thrown open and he exits it, staring at you.

“Tell me what you want” he says coming closer to you and crossing his arms. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You look at him and respond “Tell me what you neeeed”, singing.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“High School Musical? That one scene in the second film where they all sing in the kitchen? Really?” You ask, and he looks confused.

“I’ve never seen those films. They look pathetic.” He responds, rolling his eyes and looking at you putting whipping cream on his hot chocolate. You look shocked, and you hang your mouth open.

“You’ve never seen High School Musical?!” You almost scream.

He winces, rubs his ears and then proceeds to say “What’s so weird about it? It’s not like it’s a cult or something”.

“Yes! Yes it is! You know what? We’re going to watch it right now. And you can’t refuse, or I won’t revise your thesis” you tell him while poking him in the chest. Soft.

He kisses his teeth, huffs and goes to sit himself on the couch.

“I knew you weren’t doing it for free, manipulator” he glares at you.

You shrug, while putting his cup in front of him and bringing him some cookies. He mumbles a thanks, relaxing.

“I was going to help you regardless, but if I can make you suffer it’s funnier” you tell him, positioning yourself next to him and stealing one of the biscuits you brought for him.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“A bitch who’s going to do your work, so shut up and watch people fall in love in highschool” you bite back. You both roll your eyes.

Neither to say, he hates the movies with a passion. He thinks that high school is portrayed poorly, that Gabriella is the real villain, that they’re all pretentious bitches, that Troy should’ve went away because none of them were truly his friends since they weren’t supporting him.

You keep on huffing while he tells you all these “that”s.

“Katsuki, it’s not like it’s reality. It’s a musical. Just focus on the songs and the love, damn” you whine while throwing a punch at his bicep. He doesn’t budge and your hand hurts.

“That’s not my definition of love” he simply states.

“Yeah? And what’s your definition of love?” You ask him, curious.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “Why would I share something like that with you?”.

“Because I’m doing your work. And we’re friends. Sort of. And you like my chocolate” you respond, while blushing a little. You know you tend to be a little too curious and nosey, but it’s just because you pay a lot of attention to details. Details are everything to you. You’re quick to backtrack seeing his hostile behaviour towards this topic, and you start saying that it’s not a big deal and you should’ve minded your business, when he interrupts you.

“And what is your definition of love?”

He looks relaxed, like asking this isn’t that bothersome. Like he wants you to know you too. Like he cares, in some way.

“Love is a lot of things for me” you resort to say. Just how much can you be specific without scaring him away?

“Yeah, you’re waiting for me to talk about it first. I get it, dumbass. I’m not very good with words on this aspect though, so I’m sorry, but your curiosity won’t be quelled” he responds, rolling his eyes. From the start of this conversation he hasn’t stopped breathing normally, almost as if this is a regular conversation for him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, too, but you’re trying to ignore that.

“Then let’s make a deal. Saturday we’re picking a thing that we think helps us explain what we think about love” you burst out. He’s about to protest, but you’re not finished.

“Love as in general love! Love can be outside of romantic relationships too, so let’s settle on love between friends! I’d never go out with you like that” you add. You jump out of the couch. You feel like you might catch on fire if you stay near him one more second. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re something he wants to dissect.

“Okay” he simply responds. You’re dumbfounded.

“Really? You’re okay with this? I thought you were going to say no” You say.

“Yeah, but let’s say that we can both decide on either going out or staying in. This is not a date, you said it yourself, so I don’t see a problem with it. It will just be like one of our movie nights, it’s not like we never spend time together, dumbass” he says, getting up and stretching his hand towards you.

“So? Are you in? Or are you scared of doing something much less meaningful than me?” He tells you, smirking.

You glare at him and compose yourself. Then, you stretch his hand.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Taglist:

@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo

I couldn’t tag the ones in pink :(

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Your assistant?

Devil!reader/Wanda maximoff

Words: 2,400

Summary: So your typical story of a devil being owed money from a family but instead of paying Wanda’s parents give her to you instead, her first day with you is an eventful one to say the least, I’m sure you two will get along great!

Not a slow burn but we don’t have Wanda in our grips yet, not willingly anyway

Warnings: 18+ only! MINORS DNI swearing, some inappropriate language I think, lmk if I missed any more

*********************************************

You glared at the woman across the table from you, her whole body stiffened when she glanced up and saw you looking, that made you chuckle glancing at the redhead next to you “I think she’s nervous Natty” you chuckled but the Russian just rolled her eyes “you snatched her up from her dorm room before her classes, she’s probably worried about her attendance”

You nodded “I never understood why humans are so concerned with keeping schedules, life is short just go out and enjoy yourself, kill some men and fuck their wives, what else do they need to do?” You looked back at the woman across from you leaning forward to be closer “hey pretty girl, sorry for snatching you up but I really needed to talk to you”. She finally looked up again at you “if this is a way of asking me out then it’s really fucking stupid” you heard Natasha suck in a breath and you smirked knowing full well how Nat gets when someone younger than her swears, she was weird like that “watch your fucking tone miss Maximoff and don’t you dare speak to us like that!” See? Weird, she hates swearing but will swear at anyone who swears at her.

“Natty my aggressive little spider monkey how about you go outside and find Maria, use her body for a little bit to calm down okay?” You patted her slammed fist and she sighed agreeing to leave you alone with the woman, when she exited the room you moved across the room sitting next the woman smiling “little one do you know how much debt your family is in?”

Wanda shook her head “I know mama and papa like to bet on the horses but they said we were okay and had nothing to worry about” you nodded along with her and held out your hand for her take which she did “I understand they told you everything was fine but unfortunately you’re still in debt and as you can imagine I would like to be payed Wanda, be it money or other favours I choose”

Wanda snatched her hand away standing up shocked “oh so that’s why you snatched me?! Am I becoming some kind of prostitute for you and the crazy bitch out there to pay off my family’s debt?!”

You eyes widened and you had to hide your laughter “I mean if you wanted to skip around the place wearing barley nothing while the women here grope and use you then sure you can become our little plaything” her face dropped in horror and she went to speak again but you held your hand up stopping her “no pretty girl I won’t make you become our plaything, but I do need your help, you’ll become my assistant, you know helping with documents and accompanying me to events and meetings, your parents have already agreed”

Wanda was shocked, her parents really agreed to this? How could they, she had to call them.

“You can’t call them honey, from the moment you were taken by my security all communication was terminated between you and them, I can’t have you telling them what kind of activities you have gotten up to”.

“Like what?” She was curious but also nervous, you couldn’t do things that bad right? Also how did you read her mind?

You stood up stalking toward Wanda pressing her against the wall “I need you to trust me Wanda” your hand found it’s way to Wanda’s waist rubbing small circles there “do you trust me?” She shook her head no “I don’t know you, you literally snatched me up from my dorm and now you’re touching me inappropriately”.

You laughed “inappropriately? My fingers are on your waist not inside your pussy so don’t you dare tell me I’m being inappropriate right now, so I’ll ask you again, do you trust me?”

Wanda sighed relenting “sure” you smiled “good, your first job is to accompany me to a meeting in 20 minutes, you’ll stay quiet until I say you can speak, if you step out of line Natty will slit your throat faster than you can say sorry, got it?”

Wanda nodded her head so quickly you thought it would fall off “well done princess now to business” she didn’t have time to do anything before you lent down to kiss marks down her throat, sucking harshly against her skin she tried pushing you away but your hands gripped her keeping her in place “stay.still” you said sternly and Wanda relented standing still and letting you continue, you pulled away admiring the dark purple mark now blooming on Wanda’s neck “perfect”

Wanda let out a breathy sigh “I thought you said I was just your assistant, why’d you do that?”

You smiled kissing Wanda on the cheek “you are, but if I don’t mark you as mine then our conversation about you not becoming our plaything would’ve been for nothing Carol can be ravenous with an unmarked human”

“Why do you keep saying humans? It’s a little strange” Wanda had an idea but she really hoped it wasn’t true, being snatched was bad enough but adding in some weird supernatural thing would be even worse “it’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about, just know that you belong to me and I won’t let them touch your pretty body, now come on my assistant we have a meeting to go to”

**************************************************************************************************************”Took you long enough” Nat looked at Wanda’s neck and smirked “you work quick Y/n, that should keep the others away, maybe Carol will behave herself for once-

The double doors before you slammed open and the before mentioned Carol appeared with dark red eyes honing in on Wanda who quickly moved behind you clinging to your arm “are you our lunch? You look delicious!”

You growled at Carol keeping her in place “she’s mine and if you don’t stay away I will tear you limb from limb and make you eat the limbs” the woman held her hands up smiling at you “I love it when you threaten me Y/n, gets me all hot and bothered” she stepped towards you kissing you and biting your lip

“I miss you baby” she whispered and you rolled your eyes “you can’t say that when I walked in on you eating out Val, clearly you don’t miss me that much” You pushed the blonde away from you and Wanda and laughed at Carol’s expression, “you know she tricked me”

“How? Did she tell you there was candy in there? I’m guessing it was something sour” it was Wanda’s turn to let out a laugh now but she immediately shut up when everyone turned to look at her “was that funny princess?” You asked and she nodded “you’ll fit right in Wanda”

You pushed her through into the room and dragged her to a chair where you sat and she looked around confused “where do I sit?”

You pointed to your lap “either here or the floor” you stated matter of factly and Wanda blushed “w-why don’t I get a chair?”

“Because you’re mine and it’s a great way to keep a close eye on you if you’re on my lap, now sit” you pulled her onto your lap clumsily making the group laugh “god she’s adorable” Carol chuckled making her way next to you “forgive me yet?” She asked kissing your neck “no and I probably never will” she whined sadly “please forgive me I haven’t done anything since-

“Carol sit the fuck down!” Nat shouted jolting both Carol and Wanda “fuck me Nat you need to calm down” Carol scoffed moving away from you and avoiding the angry redhead’s gaze “I’ll calm down when you learn to not to stick your tongue where it doesn’t belong, I had to deal with Y/n’s heartbreak for weeks after she found you”. Carol rolled her eyes “we’re not children okay, how about we just carry on with the meeting”

You laughed “for once being an adult Carol, well done” you turned back to Wanda kissing her cheek “we need you to do something special, will you do that for me?”

Wanda shrugged knowing she couldn’t really say no “sure- she squeaked, when you jumped up with her in your arms suddenly “perfect!” You stood her up pointing to a bag on the table that she didn’t notice to begin with “can you take this dagger and stab the bag?”

Wanda looked at you questionably “what?”

“Just simply take the dagger and pierce the bag like a cook in the bag chicken” you pushed the dagger into Wanda’s hand making her face the bag guiding her hand “there’s nothing to worry about, stab right here” you pointed to a slightly raised part of the bag “what if I don’t want too?”

You shrugged “then I let Carol have her way with you” she glanced over at Carol who had her eyes glued to Wanda’s body and when she met her eyes Carol smiled “I would ruin you-

Wanda didn’t hesitate stabbing the bag but instantly regretted it when the bag spurted out blood and all over her, she heard roars around the room and heard Natasha’s voice “she hit the jugular vein! Like a pro!” Wanda couldn’t move her hand still grasping the dagger and the voices being drowned at by the blood rushing to her head

You cautiously removed Wanda’s hand from the dagger and pulled the stunned woman away from the group whispering in her ear “you did so well princess, what a good girl”.

Your voice went unnoticed by Wanda still shocked at what she did, she didn’t register you took her away until your forced her into a room and she could breathe again

“I can’t believe I did that….I killed someone…I fucking killed someone!” Wanda was shouting and panicking unable to calm herself down until you wrapped your arms around her waist leaning in close to her ear “shh shhh honey I understand come on now…shhh everything’s okay, I’m so proud of you” while your words did calm her down they didn’t stop tears from falling “I hate it here” she whispered and you kissed her cheek turning her around to face you “it’s been 3 hours, give it time”

Wanda had no fight back, instead she fell into you letting you lay her on the bed “rest for a while princess, take it all in”

*****************************************************************************************

Nat found you drinking whiskey like a movie villain in your chair in a dark area of the front room “why are you sat in the dark like a movie villlian?”

You shrugged turning on the light illuminating the room and making you squint “why are you dripping blood all over my floor?” Looking at Nat covered in blood wasn’t anything new, in fact if she don’t have blood on her you’d be very concerned “Carol and I went out hunting and she can’t keep things clean”. You nodded along passing Nat a comically small napkin to wipe her face “thanks bud soooo helpful, how’s the assistant?”

“She’s a little upset about killing someone which is typical but I’m sure she’s fine” Nat sat down opposite you taking the bottle from the table and taking a long drink “I guess human’s do struggle with killing another living person, silly really”.

You agreed taking the bottle back and taking a swig sitting in silence with the woman for a few minutes. “I think she’s awake” Nat spoke up, you hummed in response turning your head to the stairs seeing your new assistant standing nervously on the stairs “feeling better Wanda?” She didn’t say anything instead she just walked downstairs and sat herself on your lap “oh? What do I owe the pleasure of this?” She pulled you into a kiss surprising both you and Nat, while you were definitely enjoying this you didn’t notice Wanda pulling a small knife from her pocket and plunging it into your stomach

You both stilled and Wanda’s breathing was heavy while you remained stoic staring into her eyes “did you really think that would work princess?”

Wanda felt a hand grab her hair and drag her off of you and throw her to the floor, when she looked up she saw Nat pointing a gun at her “give me a reason not to shoot you right between the eyes”.

You gently pulled the knife from your body discarding it on the floor and standing up and looking down at Wanda “you kill one person and now you want to kill me? Nat couldn’t even kill me so you don’t have a chance”. The tears gathered in Wanda’s already red and you started to feel bad making Nat lower her gun “Nat give us a minute”

The assassin sent you a questionable look but you just repeated “give us a minute” Nat sighed and put her gun away sparing Wanda one last glare and then she left you two alone “get up” your voice was stern yet gentle and Wanda immediately stood up wiping the tears that had fallen

“I know you don’t want to be here and I don’t want your experience to be horrible but you need to help me too, you’re here because of your parents they’re the ones you should be angry with, not me, if I didn’t step in for you you would’ve been sent to Steve and his group, they wouldn’t of hesitated to make you their plaything”

“I feel like I’m in a bad nightmare”

“Do you like to paint?” Wanda cocked her head to the side at the sudden change in sentence direction “what?”

“I said do you like painting? I have an art studio and it helps when I’m stressed, maybe it’ll help you adjust here”

Wanda gave a genuine smile “I do like painting, that would be nice”

You nodded walking through your house followed by the girl keeping close to you she didn’t get lost, finally coming to a door you opened it revealing the huge room with canvases and paints and even some pottery pieces

“Wow, this is a stark difference to a few hours ago” Wanda commented and you held back a laugh by biting your tongue “well I do have layers to me, take some time to paint or just look at some paints-

Wanda turned to face you stopping you talking

“Are you okay?” You asked and Wanda shook her head “I’ve killed someone, stabbed you, been threatened with a gun between my eyes by a crazy woman and now you’ve given me a nice room to paint in”

You shrugged “I need you be in a good mood to be working with me, otherwise I don’t have any use for you”

Wanda’s smile dropped “oh okay, I thought you were being nice”

Why were you being like this? What is the human doing to you, god Nat would never let you hear the end of it if you started to soften

“I just don’t want you to put yourself in any danger, then I’d have to deal with the consequences”

Wanda have a halfhearted smile and turned back to the room sitting down on the chair “can I have some time on my own, to process all of this?”

You sighed “sure, I need to do things, I’ll have to lock the door though and you’ll stay here for the next two hours then I’ll come and get you, the bathroom is over there” you pointed to a painted door “enjoy yourself, I won’t be this generous again”

You quickly left before she said anything and make you feel weird again, Natasha was waiting for you outside the room making you jump “fuck me nat what the hell?!”

The woman crossed her arms “why didn’t you let me kill her?”

“What?”

“You could find another one, she stabbed you and instead of killing her you just show her your painting room? Is the devil becoming soft?”

You pushed her hard against the wall and kept her pinned there with your arm “I’m not soft! She’ll break I’ll break her, todays just a learning day”

The Russian rolled her eyes “sure you will-

“Y/n!” Carol ran up to you stopping whatever Nat was going to say

“What do you want Carol?” You sighed and she grabbed you kissing you hard “please take me back! I need you I’m really sorry about Val I swear she means nothing to me”

Nat laughed at Carol’s poor attempts at getting you back but then you did something unexpected “I don’t forgive you Carol but I need to do something stupid and here you are, come on”

You dragged a happy Carol away to your room leaving the shocked demon behind “why do I put myself through this? Take me back to poking humans with a hot poker in hell over this any day”

[midnight-melancholiaaa]

‘what the fuck was up with that first sol and mae conversation’ - an acolyte ep6 theory/analysis post

I think the start of this episode unfortunately put to bed the theories that Sol was aware of Mae’s identity and baited her onto the ship. So that got me thinking — at what point in the conversation did Sol realise he wasn’t speaking to Osha? What tipped him off? And, generally, what the fuck was that conversation??? Sol??? Hello?????

I think all of this can be explained, and the layers of their conversation peeled back in an interesting way, if Sol realised Mae’s identity earlier than I’d first assumed. I now think a few flags early in the conversation tipped him off, and a lot of his later lines are his response to Mae clearly projecting her own feelings onto “Osha”.

Theory/analysis below the cut!

First off, Mae’s lines and behaviour when she emerges from the engine room are dispassionate in a way we don’t expect from Osha. There’s an argument that this could look to Sol like someone numb with grief and putting on a functional face, but I’m going to list this as Red Flag Number 1. When she asks Sol what’s up with him, she sounds more confused and curious than she does concerned, again not something that tracks as Osha.

However, I think the red flag that dooms Mae is in the following exchange.

“How could I not have sensed that villain’s true intentions when we first met him on Olega”

“I think when you really want something, it can cloud your mind” (Sol looks up) “You see what you want to see. He fooled us all.”

These are some JUICY lines. We’re clearly encouraged to think of their pertinence to Sol, and the Order’s current ignorance of the dark side threat, as well as Sol’s own personal blinders with the Brendok mystery. But this is also the first time we see something key for the rest of this conversation - Mae blatantly projecting her own feelings onto half-hearted mimicry of what she assumes Osha might say.

In her projection, she expresses her own frustration at being misled by the Master, at wanting to believe his structure for Mae’s revenge against the jedi, and hence his shaping of Mae’s life path, was meaningful. I’ve seen Osha’s loneliness discussed a lot by the fandom, but Mae is winning a gold medal in the loneliness contest. She’s spent 16 years desperately searching for someone who understands her in the way she thought Osha did, and whatever kinship she hoped the Master had for her has just shattered. This adds another layer to her too-casual reaction to Sol’s grief. She doesn’t expect a Jedi to feel such love for their padawan, not just because she views the Jedi as dispassionate (which we’ll come back to later), but because her master never felt that way about her. In all these lines, Mae’s betrayal comes across beautifully.

But the mimicry of Osha? Mae failgirls that one. We know Osha to be a straightforward, direct person, rather than someone to speak in riddles, or spout superficially Jedi-style wisdoms with a distinctly-Mae core of cynicism.

This touches on another repeated theme of this scene — Mae clearly doesn’t understand how Osha feels about the Jedi, in a way that speaks to larger issues with understanding her sister as a person separate from herself, with different thought processes and values. When Mae speaks as Osha, it’s hard to tell what’s Mae speaking directly as herself, or Mae as how she thinks Osha thinks, but there isn’t much difference between those two — Mae assumes Osha reacts to situations as Mae would, treating her as a half of the same whole.

Feel free to skip this tangent if you’re just here for the Sol theory!!!!

I think it goes beyond not understanding Osha’s point of view — as the lovely @animazi put it, it’s as if Mae cannot conceive of Osha being a person outside their sisterly relationship and Mae’s coven-derived identity. It’s a complete disconnect of empathy, in that it doesn’t occur to Mae that she should try to empathise.

Mae wants to believe that they are fundamentally the same person. “You see what you want to see.” Mae wants to believe the only reason she and Osha are different is because one has been “corrupted” by the Jedi. She recognises that outside influences and different formative experiences have torn her apart from her sister, but she wants to believe that if Osha was plucked away from the Jedi, if she was taught rather than corrupted (haha I love this episode title), if she knew the ‘truth’ about Brendok, they could revert to a perfect sisterly harmony. A harmony based on Mae’s conception of them.

So of COURSE she doesn’t try to empathise with Osha’s current way of seeing, when she views it as both temporary and fixable, corrupted and false. Mae believes that, as soon as the falsehoods are stripped away, Osha will be herself again, in that Osha will be Mae. Mae believes Osha is simply Mae under a fragile Jedi veneer, explaining why so many of her lines in this scene are essentially Mae talking, with a half-hearted Osha bent.

Apologies for that detour, back to the scene. It’s very striking to me how Sol looks up for the first time in the middle of Mae’s mini-speech. There’s many interpretations for this look, yes, and you could argue he’s having a crisis about the Sol-related clouded vision stuff I mentioned earlier.

But he seems confused, almost frightened, and then the camera comes back to him after Mae finishes, and I think this is the moment.

Please look at these shots and tell me that’s not the face of someone for whom a thousand things have just clicked into place. We see him harden into some new realisation, and then…

“You found him.” (meaningful pause) “Your PIP droid.”

This line is such a non-sequitur that it’s actually what drove me to take another look at this scene. I assumed it was some janky prequel-esque dialogue, but now I’m not so sure. Saying “you found him” so soon after some ominous looks from Sol and the discussion of Qimir could, at the very least, be a nod to Mae’s role in everyone’s brush with the dark side. But, even then, Sol’s deflection to the droid doesn’t make full sense. And then I thought ‘oh shit’…………

After rewatching Episode 5, I’m convinced that Sol is aware PIP was sacrificed and really should not be back with “Osha”. For somebody afraid and grieving and running for their life to calmly find and fix their droid is… not Osha. It’s as if Sol raises the incriminating subject right after his realisation, just to confirm it to himself. And Mae, though slightly nervous, hands him that confirmation on a platter.

To bring back the clouded judgement line again, Sol was blinded. He wanted to have saved Osha, because he could not save anyone else. He wanted to have not failed Osha for the third time. Brendok, leaving the Order, now. It’s Sol in that room, looking at the holo. He wanted to have learned from his mistakes.

But now he knows it is NOT Osha, and the conversation gets 5000% more interesting. To me, his next few lines are gently testing Mae, playing along to see if he can evoke a reaction or a slip from her — if she’ll come clean or double down into the lie. It’s fascinating the way he’s half addressing a hypothetical Osha, and half addressing Mae.

So, first the droid lines, to see if Mae notices her mistake, and then…

“I noticed the way you take care of him, talk to him, love him. Even though he is just a machine.”

This seems like something meant for Osha. It’s something Mae would expect of her sister’s overabundance of compassion, and so something that won’t make her suspicious. But I think the implication of Osha’s loneliness is deliberate, in that we know Mae is also deeply lonely and searching for connection in places it isn’t reciprocated. Down to you if you think the machine allegory is in reference to Mae’s master, and what that might say about Sol’s view of Qimir, or if this is a more take-it-as-written line, but I think it still emotionally resonates with Mae even if she doesn’t want it to. Her expression in this pause does seem to imply as much.

At the end of this speech, Sol moves into that area of shadowy lighting, which I WILL discuss later.

Mae’s response, “I’ve always been like that. Even when I was little,” is also very telling. It’s her reminiscence of child Osha, as loving the small things, and having more reservations about… force-manipulating space hummingbirds? But, with Sol’s double meaning, this line is true of Mae too. Mae’s tendency to love clingily, desperately, in ways that aren’t “appropriate”, as we see in flashback Mae’s attempts to make her sister stay.

And then Sol’s response, a simple “I know”, fits this double conversation too. There’s a parental exhaustion, a heartache for his padawan, and his own (involuntary?) empathy for Mae, the abandoned sister. I think this’ll hit even harder once we know what happened on Brendok — Sol clearly knows more about Mae than he ‘should’.

The pause after this feels heavy, tense, even disappointed. Sol knows that Mae’s resigned to the act. With all this context and lead-up, Sol’s cagey behaviour in the last part of this scene now makes SO much more sense to me.

“I had to lose a lot of myself in order to become a Jedi. Even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

I think this is said to provoke Sol into guilt, but speaks to Mae’s false conceptions of the Jedi, and they way they approach love — she assumes Osha must have had to lose her compassion. More importantly, this shows Mae still does not understand Osha’s motivations for joining the Jedi, and remains emotionally raw about it. How could her “compassionate” sister choose to leave the family who loved her? How could she abandon Mae if the Jedi had not “corrupted” her, had not taken that compassion and loyalty away?

She wants to believe in the Jedi as a stealing, malign influence, because she wants to attribute Osha’s departure to anything other than the fact that Osha and Mae are, at their core, different people. In believing they are the same, Mae still cannot fathom why Osha would choose to lose their family, their coven, their grander destiny, and above all their sisterhood, because this is something Mae would never choose. So of course Mae does not see what Osha loved about the Jedi, of course Mae views the Jedi as merely an agent of loss. A false dream that she must “kill” to bring Osha back to her.

(And this is without even going into whatever the hell the Jedi did on Brendok!)

“I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

All this contextualises Sol’s cagey almost-apology. His body language is SO closed off and suspicious. I don’t think he’s even pretending to speak to Osha at this point — this is directly to Mae. He loves his padawan and supports her decision to join the Order, but regrets the collateral of that decision — a decision he still views as right.

I think that explains a lot about his reaction. He freezes up in the face of Mae’s depth of feeling, and is caught between his empathy and his loyalty to Osha. I’ll agree this is NOT the way to apologise to someone, but what he says is true to Sol — he’s not sorry Osha made the choice she did. But he’s sorry that Mae feels this way, has processed her loss the way she has. The reveal of what happened on Brendok will finalise what level of dickish this is, but it is at least LESS dickish than him saying this to Osha 😭

“How could I feel any other way” is exactly what I’ve said earlier. Mae cannot fathom how Osha could feel any differently than Mae does.

And Sol avoids her eyes and sighs. I think it’s a mixture of regret, of resignation, and of still struggling to confront his own mistakes. That avoidance comes through in the final part of their conversation — a part I’m still struggling to unpack, though I think next week will reveal all.

We’ve seen Sol make several insistences that he’d tell Osha the truth about Brendok, and even this episode we see him prepared to tell the council. So his avoidance now is intriguing. You could argue that he was always going to quail from telling Osha, the way he kept promising it and then delaying it, but I think there’s something else going on.

I think now he knows it’s Mae, the person most damaged by his actions on Brendok, he falters. Aside from Mae’s specific victimhood, there’s also a difference between facing up to someone you trust and hope will have sympathy for you, and facing up to someone who’s just shown how wedded she is to her own way of seeing. The realisation that this is Mae has come so suddenly that in this moment he freezes and avoids. His coldness here is also notable — you could almost think that he resents Mae a little, for ruining this moment that was supposed to be Osha’s.

But is he really doing this for Osha? Did he want Osha to know for her own sake now she’s an adult and the protection excuse is wearing thin, or did he want to seek absolution from her? Is he hoping for a level of forgiveness that he cannot get from Mae? I guess we’ll find out next week…….

A few more notes on Sol before I finish…

Yes this is finally about the shadow thing. My first reaction to this was “hey leslye, what the fuck, OW.” Aside from the classic symbolism of a character stepping into shadow, this specific barred shadow is super reminiscent of the scene where Anakin speaks to Yoda in Revenge of The Sith. Given the topic of that conversation was about fear, passion and anger as paths to the dark side, a topic that Qimir also brings up this episode, I don’t think this is coincidental.

That said, I don’t think the shadows are straightforward Sol-will-fall symbolism. I think they’re emblematic of the emotions he’s struggling with as soon as he realises Mae’s identity. Fear, of the consequences Mae represents more than any other person. Defensiveness from her anger at him and her challenges to his worldview (and, lest we forget, the fact that she could still try to harm him). Perhaps some anger towards HER, for taking Osha, and this moment with Osha as he’d envisioned it, away from him. Anger for her role in the deaths of the other Jedi, at himself for the role HE had in creating Mae’s revenge. But, warring with these darker impulses, also regret, pity, sorrow for his padawan’s sister. That final remorse, in the way his face just slightly changes before the lights come up and the shadows disappear. Such symbolism Leslye I am eating the walls.

Don’t get me wrong, Sol is a man on the edge and I’m excited (afraid?) to see which way the narrative takes him. I think he’s written deliberately enigmatic this episode, and his later scenes will make more sense next week. I have no idea why he switched off his comms and hyperspace jumped instead of facing up to the council. Well, that’s a lie, I have a few ideas…

The scene of Mae in restraints is also ambiguous, though I think it links back to Sol’s surprise at Mae’s identity, and initial freezing up when he realises he’s lost control of the Brendok-reveal. That final scene is him grasping for control back, to control some of his fears and put him in a (metanarrative) place where he feels able to monologue on his own terms next episode. I actually have a lot more thoughts on this scene, and the hyperspace jump, AND some predictions for next week, but they won’t fit in this post. Here [part 2] they are instead!

We’re absolutely meant to doubt Sol this episode. I think Teach/Corrupt is, like much of Episode 6, a title of deliberate double meaning. But I’m also struck by the fear and sorrow in his face in that lovely shot where he shoots Mae through the doorway. His fond, regretful tone of voice in “Oh, Mae…” Not to be Star Wars cliche, but I suspect the good in Sol will win out. If it doesn’t then that’s a heartbreaking twist and I’ll probably throw myself into the ocean!

Either way, this is an episodic mystery show and, much as I can unpick some of Sol and Mae’s behaviour, we’ll only know the full story with hindsight. Here’s to hoping at least some of my theory holds up, and thank you for reading!!!!!!

The Sol Patrol shall forge bravely (and perhaps delusionally) onwards! <3

[itsjusthockey]

Maria - Jack Hughes (pt.1?)

I’m back from the dead. It’s spring break

Part 2?????? (prove to me u want it)

I’ve missed you guys. Enjoy

w.c: 1,218 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

In the year and a half of your life that you spent dating Jack Hughes, you found out that he was great at two things. One, he’s nasty with a puck. Two, he’s fucking fantastic at pissing you off.

Six days post break up, you learn that he still dramatically possesses this particular set of skills.

You’re trying your absolute best to ignore the set of blue hues that you currently feel burning into the back of your skull. You know he’s watching, and you know he knows that you’re avoiding.

“He’s not being very subtle, is he?” Claire, your fellow media personal and work best friend, motions her head toward Jack.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “No, but that’s never been his MO.”

She gently pats your shoulder twice, and you force yourself to focus on the task at hand. You’re technically on the clock, and you have duties to attend to.

You try to blackout and put yourself in the headspace that you and Jack aren’t even on the same planet, let alone the same red carpet-event. So you grab out your phone, plaster on a wide and grateful smile, and look for the man you actually came for.

You and Claire spot Mat making his way toward the entrance to the All-Star events, stopping to sign a few photos and greet some fans. You watch him throwing smiles left and right, and when he finally escapes, he sees you two standing with your phone and all but rolls his eyes.

He makes his way over to you, letting you both film some media, and once you’re satisfied with what you've got, you both place your phones down. The second your job is done, you are no longer distracted, and you feel yourself tensing up a bit.

“Do you wanna start drinking?” Mat asks, noticing your state.

You bark out a laugh, and once your boss gives the all-clear, you take him up on the offer. Minutes later, you’re nursing a cute NHL-themed cocktail and gossiping with the rest of the Islanders staff. You’re feeling better, knowing Jack is nowhere near your protective bubble, and you relax. It’s fleeting, however, when your boss struts up, drink in hand, giving you a puzzled look.

“And here I thought Hughes would be glued to your side.”

Mat snorts beside you, and you dig a quick elbow to his side and throw on a weak smile.

“Yeah,” you pause. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

You trail off awkwardly, and thankfully, your boss understands the message. She’s quick to apologize, but like everyone else you tell about the recent breakup with the golden boy of the NHL, they’re very curious.

You dive into brief detail. Telling her about the situations at hand. You explain that it was a mutual agreement because of conflicting schedules and distance, and you’re both deciding to act as amicable as possible with both of your careers.

As you explain the breakup with as little detail as possible, the rest of the table shifts uncomfortably, and you’re quick to change the subject. You bring up all the events about to unfold over the weekend, and soon enough, the energy levels out, and you hope that’s the last conversation you’ll have about him. You’re not going to let your Jack ruin possibly the biggest weekend of your career. He’s already ruined enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s late in the evening, and you’ve just finished your skincare when a knock sounds at the door to your hotel room. You’re confused as you spit some toothpaste into the sink and wipe your mouth. You make your way to the door, checking the peephole, and your heart drops out of your body.

Jack is standing outside your door, hair half hidden by a backward Devil's cap and looking directly at the peephole.

“(Y/N)?” He knocks again. “I know you’re standing by the door.”

At lightning speed, you open the door, and he looks a bit startled to actually see you as if he wasn’t knocking on your door.

“Can I help you?”

He smirks at you, and his eyes flick behind you to your room.

“Absolutely not.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Fine, we can do this out in the hallway in a public space.”

You roll your eyes at the boy and walk inside, leaving the door open for him to follow. Of course, he does.

He steps into the room like he owns the place, and as soon as he crosses paths with your bed, he sits on the side he usually sleeps on.

“What do you want, Jack?”

He stretches out on the bed, and you hear a couple of cracks and pops from his joints.

“To talk, obviously.” He leans forward a bit. “I didn’t love how our last conversation ended.”

You scoff at him.

“You mean when we broke up?”

He cringes at the word and shakes his head at you.

“I don’t think we really broke up. I think we’re just going through a rough patch.”

You’re genuinely shocked by the boy in front of you. You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure despite the frustration bubbling inside you.

“Jack, let me make this clear. We are broken up. We aren't getting back together. And you have no business showing up uninvited like this." You pause, locking eyes with him. "I need you to leave. Now."

He chuckles, dismissive. "You can't be serious."

Frustration boils within you. “Dead serious Jack. I’m actually done this time.”

He gives you another slight smirk, and he gets up from the bed. You put some distance between you to let him walk toward the door, but he stops right in front of you, taking a step toward you.

You meet his stare with a stern glare as he stands in front of you; you can feel the tension crackling in the air, his presence almost overwhelming. Before you can react, he leans in swiftly, capturing your lips in a kiss that's both familiar and electrifying. It’s quick, soft, and a harsh reminder of the last years of your life, but it’s also a jolt back to reality.

Breaking away, you push him back away from you, your heart racing. "Kissing me doesn't change anything. We're done."

He steps back, his expression the same arrogant, cocky stare as before, but with a hint of determination glinting in his eyes.

“We're not done, (Y/N). We’re just getting started.”

With one smile, smirk, and a wink thrown your way, he exits the hotel room like he was never there. You let your gaze linger on the door, and you’re left standing there, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions his unexpected visit has stirred up.

You know he’s doing this on purpose. He’s messing with you and your emotions. You know he isn’t going to stop, and this is a long weekend.

Jack Hughes wants your attention. Fine. You’re going to make him regret it.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie didn’t even remember falling asleep. One second he was cradling the love of his life and the next his phone was blaring by his ear, forcing his eyes open.

That wasn’t even right, it was too loud to be his phone. It was two loud shrieking noises, bad enough to wake them both up. Steve blinked up at him, seemingly just as confused on how they’d gotten here as Eddie was.

Emotional exhaustion was a hell of a drug.

He didn’t know how long they were asleep for when he grabbed his phone, sleepily answering, “Hello?”

“Where the hell have you been?!” Chrissy’s voice greeted him, “I have been hiding in a damn airport bathroom for forty minutes! Like three people have already recognized me and I swear to God, if you aren’t here before that catches on-”

Fuck, “Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m on the way. Forty minutes, tops.”

“That doesn’t answer where you’ve been.”

Eddie glanced over at Steve, watching as he answered his own phone, “Steve came by and we talked.”

“He did?” Chrissy asked, on the edge of hopeful, “What did he say?”

“Well-”

“You SAID you would call me if it worked out! And did you call? No! You didn’t! Nancy and I are literally circling his apartment building because for all I know he could have killed you-”

Eddie watched, amused as Steve scrambled to take his phone off speaker. He tried to calm her down, “Robin, I’m fine. I’m sorry, we just got distracted.”

Eddie could still hear her yelling on the other end, muffled but still clear enough, “And how the hell would I know you’re fine? You had one job Steven, one!”

“Eddie? You there?” Chrissy voice asked, one more added to the madness, “Don’t leave me on a cliffhanger here! What happened?”

But Eddie’s mind was already wandering. As much as he loved Chrissy, leaving Steve here wasn’t high on his list of priorities. There was still a lot to talk about and shoving his best friend into his face after they just made up probably wasn’t a great call. But Robin was right outside.

His mind settled on an idea, it was a little out there but Eddie was selfish enough to try. Besides, if Chrissy hated it he could just take Steve along. He was going to meet her eventually anyway.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Eddie reassured, still half-listening to Steve’s conversation, “But things are still kind of fresh. How would you feel about someone else picking you up from the airport?”

“Who?”

“Steve’s sister?” Eddie tried, fully ready for her to call him crazy. He’d have to give her that one. He did technically make her fly all the way out here just to try and ditch her at the airport.

But Chrissy didn’t sound very put out. If anything she sounded curious, “Wait, you mean the girl from the pictures?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the plural, “I only sent you one picture.”

The silence that followed told him everything he needed to know, “Have you been stalking this girl’s instagram?”

“I-no? Wait a sec, I’m not the one on trial here! Don’t interrogate me!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he’d give it to her, “But you’re open to the idea?”

“If you can guarantee I won’t be kidnapped and murdered maybe.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie said, turning to nudge Steve, “Hey baby, can you ask Robin a weird question?”

“Eddie wants to know if you’ll pick up Chrissy Cunningham from the airport,” Steve immediately asked. Evidently, Eddie hadn’t been the only one eavesdropping, “As long as you promise not to kidnap and/or murder her. But I’m going to add drooling too. Neither of you can make her uncomfortable, got it?”

It was kind of impressive how easily Steve turned that conversation around, like he knew exactly what Robin was going to say. Probably because he did.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, yes! We’ll do it!” Eddie heard from the other line, from what sounded like two separate voices, “But can you warn her we’re fans? We can only act so normal for so long. But we can keep a secret! We won’t like expose her or anything!”

Steve rolled his eyes, “All you have to do is drive her to her hotel. You can handle it for that long.”

“I’m paying for your hotel by the way,” Eddie said on his end, “And warning her and her girlfriend are both fans.”

“Damn right you’re paying for it,” Chrissy agreed, “I still have your credit card from the last time you were here. And uh, you said they’re both fans? Nancy too?”

Eddie paused, “Just how deep into the cyberstalking hole did you go with these people?”

“J-Just give me her number! I’ll let you know when I get there. Then you owe me every detail the second you are officially back together.”

Eddie bit his tongue, as he glanced over at Steve. He was running a hand through his hair, trying and failing to calm down the still screeching duo. Yeah, he was going to take one more day with him.

“I will,” Eddie promised, “When we figure it all out you’re the first stop. We’re coming straight to you, okay?”

“Good,” Chrissy said, appeased, “Enjoy him alone while you can.”

“I will. Thank you, Chrissy,” Eddie said, completely sincere, “For coming all the way out here for my dumbass. I love you, dude. See you soon.”

“Love you too.”

He hung up around the same time Steve did.

“I feel like we just started something,” Steve yawned as he laid right back down, “But I don’t know what.”

From the latest chapter of this fic

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

TWST As Lines I've Written/Said

Content Warning: Shitpost, suggestiveness(idk?) & swearing

Author's Note: These are either things I've said, or things that I've written down but haven't used... yet, might use them in the future, might not. Feel free to guess which is which.

Let the shenanigans begin!

Yuu, upon entering TWST

Yuu: “I’m motivated by spite and getting the fuck out of this damned place!” 

Crowley: “This damned place just so happens to be my school!” 

Yuu: “Yeah? Well, guess what Mr. Mystery Man, I fucking hate it here!” 

Crowley: “Rude.”

Typical Ace Behaviour

Yuu: “Behave, my friends are coming over.” 

Ace: “Weird. I didn’t know you were capable of having those.” 

Yuu: “You know what? You can go out and wait on the fire escape until they leave if you want to act like that.”

Capitalism Isn't Attractive

Deuce: “Do not fall for the pretty man with the fancy clothes!” 

Yuu: “Why not? He’s hot as fuck.” 

Deuce: “... He’s a capitalist.” 

Yuu: “THAT WHORE!”

Pissy Kitty

Leona: “Great, you again.” 

Yuu: “I’m thrilled to see you too, asshole.”

Floyd, just Floyd

Floyd: “Why not?” 

Yuu: “Unlike you, I don’t want to die!” 

Floyd: “Boo, you’re lame.”

Yuu Needs a Raise

Yuu: “My therapist will be thrilled to hear about this revelation.” 

Everyone: “What’s a therapist?”

Why Are You Like This?

Vil: “You are a blithering buffoon.” 

Yuu: “Takes one to know one.” 

Vil: “...Listen here you little piece of -”

Cryptid Hours

Yuu: *walks into room to find Idia sitting in the dark, facing the corner* “Did the voices win today?”

Idia: “Undecided.”

Yuu: “Okay then, let me know if that changes. Since I would like a headstart before you go all *insert demon noises* on me.”

After Any Overblot

Yuu: "I feel like a baked potato." *passes out*

The Adventures of Malleus

Malleus: “Tell me, Child of Man; do humans typically court through the acquiring and displaying of fish?”

Yuu: “Why?”

Malleus: *has been secretly using your phone for research and found himself on Tinder* “Just curious is all.”

Yuu: “... No, it’s not typical.”

Malleus: “Alright then, noted.”

Dear Professor Vargas, I regret to inform you that your attempts to woo a potential mate through your acquiring of fish may not be successful. And does the "DILF" shorts mean, "Darling, I Love Fish?" ... Asking for a friend. Sincerely, Malleus Draconia

Octopus Eyesight

Yuu: “Do you have astigmatism?”

Azul: “Do I have what?”

Yuu: “Astigmatism, like when you look at lights at night do you see lines? Since you have weird ass pupils.”

Azul: “...wait, that isn’t normal?”

Should I Be Nervous?

Yuu: “Have you ever been overcome with the lust for broccoli?”

Trey: ". . ."

Yuu: *squints, thinking* “Break glass in case of sudden lust for broccoli...”

Trey: "Should I leave?"

A Question to Ponder

Yuu: “Why do fictional men slap so hard? Like damn.”

Riddle: “Because they are not real and do not come with any of the negative consequences that often come with real men, also you can better idealize them… And anime, ‘Makes you go brrrrr,’ as you put it.”

College Life

Rollo: “I am running off 3 hours of sleep and a single croissant, do not test me.”

Baby Talk

Rook: “Ah, bonjour chatton!" *proceeds to babytalk to the cat in French*

Yuu's Type

Yuu: “I have 4 types; wet cat, malewife, girlboss, and whore." tag yourself

Crewel: "... You need to focus on your grades, not on some mutts."

What Do You Have?

Jamil: "What's that?"

Kalim: *hiding a cat that he stole from outside* "Uhhh, my love for you?"

Jamil: *annoyed* "Put it back outside, Kalim."

Kalim: *puts the cat in his face* "BUT LOOK AT THEM!! THEY BABEY!!!!"

[the-west-meadow]

Normal People

Lukas Matsson x (fem)Reader, Roman Roy x (fem)Reader

word count: 3k - read on Ao3 here!

NFSW: 18+ ONLY

You first met him at Kendall’s birthday party.

Roman was being obnoxious. All he could talk about was finding Lukas Matsson. He and Shiv were relentless in their pursuit of the man. It was all business, no pleasure tonight. So while Roman and Shiv stood with their heads together, compulsively sipping vodka tonics, you slipped away unnoticed to try and have some fun before the night was over.

You found your way upstairs, where for some inexplicable reason Kendall had built a replica of his childhood treehouse. The inside was bustling with people yet the two buff men outside wouldn’t let you enter without an armband. Dejected, you started to turn away, when you heard Kendall’s voice from above.

“Hey! Let her through, she’s cool!”

He was pointing right at you with a grin. The guards moved aside, letting you in.

Upstairs, Kendall greeted you with a hug.

“Nice treehouse,” you said.

“Thanks. It’s pretty infantile, right? Sort of the vibe I was going for.”

“Definitely. You nailed it.”

“Hey, I need a favor while you’re here. See that guy over there?”

He nodded over his shoulder to a tall blonde Scandinavian-looking man slouching alone in a plush leather chair.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Lukas Matsson. He’s pretty disgruntled and I need someone to keep him from wandering. I can’t do it anymore, I need to mingle. Also, Roman cannot know he’s here.”

“Roman’s entire purpose in life tonight is to find that guy.”

“Please don’t tell him he’s here. I’ll owe you one. Seriously.

“Don’t worry. Roman’s driving me fucking crazy at the moment.”

“Amazing. You’re amazing. Let me get you a drink and I’ll introduce you.”

Kendall stepped away. You glanced curiously in Lukas’s direction. He glanced up from his phone, met your eyes, and did a double take. He stared at you for a long moment across the room.

Kendall returned with your drink, breaking your gaze.

“Let’s go. You’re about to meet one of the weirdest rich guys out there.”

Drinks in hand, you approached the man. He kept his eyes fixed on yours.

“Yo, Lukas. Meet my good friend Y/N. I promise she’s not going to network you to death.”

Kendall clapped him on the shoulder.

“You guys have fun.”

You thought you saw Kendall wink, but it was too quick, and then he was gone.

“Kendall thinks I need a babysitter tonight,” Lukas said. “Too many sharks in the water.”

“Thankfully I don’t have any interest in what Kendall and his family does. I’m just along for the ride.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“What do you write?”

“Words, mostly.”

Lukas cracked the smallest grin.

“Is that, like, meaningful for you?” he asked.

“I don’t really care if it has meaning or not. Mostly it keeps me entertained.”

“Cheers to that.”

He raised his beer bottle and clinked it against your glass of gin and tonic.

“So you know all of the Roy siblings?” Lukas said.

“Too well.”

“Which one’s your favorite?”

“Do I have to have a favorite?”

“It’ll say a lot about you. I’m still figuring out who I’m talking to here.”

You considered briefly.

“I think I relate to Kendall the most.”

“Daddy issues?”

You laughed. “I’m not going there. But if I had to pick a favorite… Roman is the most fun to be around.”

“So you like fun.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t relate to what most people think of as fun.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Partying. Getting drunk. Rollercoasters.”

You burst out laughing.

“What?” he said.

“Rollercoasters?”

“People find them fun, right? You tell me. What’s fun to you?”

“Not rollercoasters.”

Lukas considered you with a curious, calculating look.

“I’m starting to think you’re not a normal person,” he said.

“I could tell you weren’t normal the second I looked over here.”

You gave him a sly smile. He set his beer down and folded his hands in his lap.

“I’ve got to get out of this treehouse,” he said.

“You don’t think the treehouse is fun?”

“I’d like to find out what your idea of fun is. You still haven’t told me.”

You gazed at him for a long moment. Then you heard an all-too-familiar voice over your shoulder.

“There you are. Both of you.”

Roman was leaning over you with his hands on the back of your chair.

“This is a weird pairing. What are you guys even talking about?”

“Rollercoasters,” Lukas said.

You smiled, catching his eye once more before you stood.

“I’ll let you guys talk.”

“I’ll see you later, though, yeah?” Roman called. You glanced at Lukas, who had put everything together in an instant.

“If you can find me,” you said as you left.

When you glanced back over your shoulder, Lukas was staring at his phone again and Roman was sitting cross-legged in your chair, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention.

Not long after, you found yourself in Italy, lying poolside beneath the mild northern sun. Eyes closed, you felt a shadow pass over your vision and cracked your eyes open. Roman sat in the neighboring beach chair, squinting in the light.

“I forgot how much I hated the sun.”

He leaned back uncomfortably in the chair.

“So, I have a mission for you. For both of us.”

“What?”

“Guess who lives right across the lake.”

“Who? Stop making me ask questions.”

“Our old buddy Lukas Matsson.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Who?”

Roman grinned.

“You know who. You’re literally blushing.”

“It’s the sun.”

“I know you’ve been wondering how big his dick is.”

“Roman, what the fuck?”

“Hey, it’s fine. I mean, you still haven’t seen mine. It’s only healthy to think about other men’s dicks every now and then.”

“Jesus…”

“Look, seriously. I need your help. I have to convince him to make this deal. But I don’t think he likes me all that much. If you’re there, maybe he’ll perk up enough to listen to me. I mean, the man’s practically comatose.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I need you to get him a little hard, metaphorically speaking. He’ll want to show off his big dick in front of you by making this deal.”

“Stop saying ‘dick’. This is sounding really fucking weird.”

“Like I’m trying to whore you out to him?”

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

“Come on. You don’t have to do anything. Unless, you know, you want to.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. You gave a sigh.

“When are you leaving?”

“Soon. Now, actually. Can you put some clothes on? The bikini might be overkill.”

“God dammit, Roman.”

You stood up and grabbed the towel from the back of your chair. He grabbed your hand gently.

“Hey.”

You paused, gazing down at him, the quirky smile flashing, eyes obscured behind his dark sunglasses.

“You’re my secret weapon.”

You were on the boat less than half an hour later, speeding across Lake Como in the warm air.

“That’s his place,” Roman said, indicating the approaching villa. Tall cypress trees swayed in the lake breeze, revealing a stuccoed exterior and red tile roof. A hidden paradise nestled at the foot of the Alps.

“You’re shitting me.”

Roman grinned.

Lukas was waiting for you on the dock. He was barefoot, in a black t-shirt and white linen pants. His dark blue eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the lake.

Roman disembarked first, turning to lend you a hand. You felt Lukas watching the two of you.

"There you are, you tall motherfucker," Roman said, stepping forward to greet him. He shook Roman’s hand, then turned his gaze to you.

“You remember Y/N, right?” Roman said. “I think I interrupted your little party in the treehouse.”

“So you two are together?”

“Well, we haven’t fucked yet if that’s what you mean,” Roman said.

Lukas glanced at you. You rolled your eyes discreetly.

“I feel like I shouldn’t ask,” Lukas said.

“Oh, it’s all me. Not her fault.”

Lukas led the two of you to a patio shaded from the sun. His property was quiet, beautiful, secluded. It was strange to imagine him padding around the villa in his bare feet, alone. He reclined on a wicker sofa while you took a seat nearby.

Roman was looking at his phone, suddenly serious.

“What is it?” you said.

“I gotta take this. Sorry, guys.”

He stepped away, leaving you alone with Lukas. He reclined on a beige sofa, glancing at you with his hands folded in his lap.

“I was wondering if I’d see you again,” he said. “Where did we leave off?”

“I don’t remember. It was a long night.”

“When you said Roman was your favorite, I didn’t realize why.”

“It’s pretty complicated.”

“Sounds like it.” Lukas paused. “You guys really haven’t fucked?”

“It’s just… not like that. I know it sounds weird.”

“How long have you been together?”

“About a year.”

He let out a low whistle.

“So does that mean… I mean, are you guys exclusive?”

“So far. Yeah.”

You gazed at each other silently. Roman returned, phone in hand.

“Hey guys, I gotta run. But I’ll be back. Is it cool if she stays?”

“It’s fine,” Lukas said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just family stuff. Kendall,” he added, glancing at you.

You nodded, unable to tell if he was bluffing or not.

“Try not to talk business without me,” Roman said. He turned and jogged back towards the dock. You heard the boat engine start as he sped off across the lake.

“Fun,” Lukas said.

You looked at him in confusion.

“We were talking about fun.”

He was gazing at you, broad shoulders in the dappled sunlight, his eyes calm.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

You followed him inside, bare feet on the cool terracotta floor, a warm breeze moving through the open rooms. The villa was exquisitely decorated, a blend of modern art and traditional Italian motifs. Green and gold curtains, plush beige sofas, a gleaming oak dining table.

“You live alone?”

“Yeah. To be honest, I don’t like living with other people.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You and Roman don’t live together?

“Let’s stop talking about Roman.”

You paused in the doorway of a bedroom that opened onto a patio overlooking the lake. The sheer curtains lifted in the breeze. You felt Lukas glance at you.

“The downstairs is all for show. I live upstairs. Do you want to see?”

The upstairs was a loft with exposed beams and skylights. In contrast to the overblown downstairs decoration, everything here was black, white, grey. This was where Lukas’s preference for Scandinavian minimalism became apparent. He was so tall that he had to stoop in certain places. You peered into his office, sparsely decorated with a wooden desk, MacBook and high-end stereo system.

“This is where I get my thinking done. I really don’t like having visitors in general. Present company excepted.”

His bedroom was adjacent to the office. Again you lingered in the doorway, hesitant to enter his private quarters. He leaned on the doorframe across from you and folded his arms. He looked straight at you.

“So,” he said.

“So...?”

“Kendall’s birthday party. I had every intention of inviting you back to my room.”

“Roman ruined your plans, huh?”

“Pretty much. But then he brought you here.”

You went silent, gazing back at him. The blonde stubble, heavy brow, hard blue eyes. Something in him both frightening and compelling. Impenetrable but vulnerable. He was tan from the summer sun, calm and cool. He seemed curious to see what your next move would be. And he was willing to wait you out.

You meandered into the bedroom, glancing around at his possessions. A shelf full of books: classics, modern novels, books on tech. A stray pair of headphones. A solitary person’s existence.

He followed you in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. You turned around to face him.

“Roman brought me here to help make the deal for his dad,” you said.

“I know that. I don’t care. I’ve already made my decision.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You stepped up to him, feet nearly touching. He watched you with the faint smile of someone who has been alone for a long time observing a newcomer in their space.

“Let’s not fuck around any longer,” he whispered.

Almost before he had finished speaking, you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed you back, long, deep kisses, like he had missed you intensely in your brief, inexplicable absence from his life. His hands slid up your back. You sank onto his lap, straddling him as his hands moved lower, exploring your unfamiliar form.

You ran your hands through his hair, along the back of his neck, across his broad shoulders. You slid your hands beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling his toned arms. You kissed his neck, the sound of his rasping breath in your ear.

“Did you think of me at all?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t stop,” you breathed.

You felt a throb as he grew harder beneath you. You pushed him back onto the bed and ground against him as he swiftly unbuttoned your shirt then shed his own. He pulled you down against him, kissing your neck, your shoulders, his stubble brushing your skin.

“You really haven’t been fucked in a year?”

You shook your head, gasping at his touch, unable to speak.

“Time to change that.”

He deftly changed positions with you, so that you were lying half-dressed beneath him. Now you had a full view of him, his bare torso, ruffled blonde hair, the intensity in his eyes. He unzipped his pants and slid out of them.

“Oh my god,” you said, unable to stop yourself. Lukas grinned, breathless.

“What?”

“You’re fucking huge.”

He tugged your pants off, gripping his cock, and without any further delay, slid swiftly into you.

You let out a long, vocal moan. It had been too long. Everything in you had been aching for him. He watched your every reaction, the slight grin on his face, his eyes glittering. You bucked against him, running your hands over his lean body as he slowly, firmly pounded into you. You gripped his forearm for dear life.

“Fuck, Lukas”

“Yeah? Is that good?”

You groaned in response as he leaned into you, his hot, sticky skin against yours, running along the length of your body with his bulk. He gripped your wrists, pinning you lightly as he pulsed in and out of you. You sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, and he held you down harder.

“You feel like you want to come,” he murmured.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You dug your fingers into his back, feeling your entire body tense up.

“It’s been so long. You’re ready to fucking burst.”

He slid his thumb into your mouth and you bit down on it. There were starbursts behind your eyes. His voice in your ear.

“There you go. Let me hear you. I want to hear you.”

That was it. You let go, back arched, thighs tensed, warmth spreading across your body as you let out a half-moan, half-scream. You heard Lukas groan and stiffen, his hand twined in your hair.

You stayed like that for a long moment, breathing into each other’s mouths. Finally he rolled off of you, shining with a light cover of sweat. You lay side by side, recovering.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Fuck yes.”

You felt his fingers brush along your forearm. He was gazing at you from his pillow.

“You can come closer. If you want.”

You gladly complied, feeling his arm encircle you as you found a place against his chest. Your eyes traced his unfamiliar body. A tuft of blonde chest hair, a scar below his ribcage, a small birthmark near the belly button. But you didn’t touch him further. This was still new, the boundaries not yet established. Perhaps Lukas didn’t want to be touched in a tender, loving way. Perhaps you didn’t either.

“I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “There’s a lot more I want to do with you.”

“I was very pent-up,” you said, half-apologizing.

“No, it’s fine. It’s good when it’s fast sometimes. Plus I’m not great at seductive gestures.”

“This is only the second time we've met and you made me come. That just doesn’t happen.”

He gave a slight laugh, a low sound deep in his chest. He stroked your shoulder with his thumb briefly.

“I mean I’m not a normal person. Some things people want from me, I just can’t give them.”

“You’re talking to someone who’s been dating Roman Roy for a year and a half. I go without a lot of things.”

You gazed down his body, his skin soft and tan in the natural light.

“Plus, there’s probably a lot I can’t give you,” you murmured. “Remember, I’m not normal either.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want normal. I get bored easily.”

From the open window, you could hear the sound of the lake lapping against the shore. Then, growing in the distance, the high whine of a motor.

“Well,” said Lukas with a note of finality.

“What do we do?”

He turned on his side, looking straight at you again with that penetrating gaze.

“I think we need to see each other again,” he said.

“Okay.”

Without another word, he sat up, sliding into his pants. You savored the sight of his torso as he pulled on his shirt. You dressed quickly then met him in the doorway, where you paused. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, then leaned down and kissed you once, warm and deep. He held your eyes for a long moment. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he smiled slightly to himself and started down the stairs. You followed, eyes lingering on the back of his neck, his shoulders.

Roman met you on the green lawn. His hair and clothes were windblown and disheveled but he was grinning.

“Hey kids. Have fun without me?”

“Just showing her around the property.”

“I bet you did. Hey, I know it was shitty for me to run out like that, so if you want to talk about the deal another time, we’ll get out of your hair.”

“We don’t need to talk about it. I want to do it.”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Well, shit. Are you sure, man?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m sure.”

Roman grabbed his hand and shook it with a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“I guess we will.”

Lukas’s eyes flashed in your direction. You smiled slightly and looked away.

On the boat ride back, Roman was strangely silent. He had a secretive grin on his face and his eyes were obscured behind his dark glasses. Then he unexpectedly turned to you, grabbed your face between his hands, and kissed you on the mouth.

“It worked. It fucking worked.”

He held your hand the rest of the way back to his mother’s villa. It was the first time in a year and a half of dating that he had done so.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi wtf!! That rude anon was not me, this is my blog. I created it and then had some problems with verification so I couldn’t send anything. (I only had my main😭) I’m sorry, we can tots cook together now🫶

Anyway, as for robot!König making you squirt, there are no questions asked. Rusty old robot doesn’t even know what the hell he just did. And omg yes your way to make him respond was exactly what i had in mind. He obviously knows what squirting is, because he’s so perverted, but he’s never seen it in real life - outside of the countless porn he’s downloaded.

He likes watching your face, eyes practically staring into your soul. He watches your mouth pout and listens to the little ah ah ah sounds you make, as your hands grip his strong shoulders.

He’s caging you in with one arm, forearm laid next to your face, and the other is gripping your thighs - angling your leg in a way as to encourage you to wrap it around his waist. His hands slide down to your ass ever now and then. Perhaps it’ll be a squeeze, maybe a slap or they’ll continue their journey until he’s reached your clit. He rubs and rubs and squeezes your poor little clit between his harsh fingers.

He mirrors your moans, seemingly unaware of the sounds he lets out in response to your own. And he finally breaks eye contact when he feels you starting to clench on him, “gonna cum..? Hm..?” He almost says nonchalantly. You find it unfair, how he’s not even half as affected by the fucking session. His eyes dart back up to yours when you don’t answer, and he turns on a low level vibration to which you immediately respond with “y-yes!” to. He hums, and turns up the vibration.

The thread snaps and you’re closing your eyes, gasping for air. He always tells you to keep your eyes on him, but this time… he’s not saying anything. He’s not even fucking your, the vibrating dick ongoing and prolonging your high, though. When you finally come home, eyes watering and throat dry, you quietly look at König to meet his eyes. He’s pulled back, sitting on his knees, and keeping your thighs open for him. He’s not looking at you, though, but down at the mess you made. You can’t even excuse yourself because you’ve ‘never done this before’ and you’re ‘so so sorry’ because he tilts his head to the side and lets out a short breath of air.

“Interesting.”

And he starts his painful rubbing on your clit again, grinning horribly at your yelp.

Yay!!! If trolling anon made you start your own writing blog to let us enjoy your Köni thoughts then I'd say we won :D Definitely waiting for what you come up with next! ❤️💋❤️

As for robot!König, can I just say I love how unemotional but piercingly intense he seems?? I mean they must have programmed some emotional responses into him, but you can never tell how organic they are. Is he curious in the way that artificial intelligence is, or is he actually developing feelings for you...? Is it all just electrical impulses or is there some form of human consciousness somewhere in there too?

Because one day he brings you a kitten, says it’s a gift but he gives it to you inside a grocery bag – he’s heard humans and especially women like pets, but he doesn’t understand the concept of giving gifts... So he just hands it to you like that, and when you look inside the plastic bag there’s this shaky little creature inside, meowing at you in minor shock.

Other times brings you “souvenirs” from war, and you never know if you’re going to get chocolate, cigarettes, pantyhose or a human skull :/ And he has at least some sort of self awareness and pride because he likes his new reputation as not only a killing machine, but a fucking machine as well. The container that serves as your home is echoing with your moans and mewls as he fucks you so of course everyone knows how good he is.

You always wonder if he's boasting to his comrades about the things he does to you, but then there are times when he looks almost tender while sitting on the old wooden bench, watching how you play with the kitten he brought you. Lets you put the cat on his shoulder so that it perches there small, wiggly and cute, on the slippery metal plate of his armor he never takes off.

You tell yourself it's affection, not curiosity, that makes his turn his head... It must be, a genuine attempt to seek connection when he slowly, gently, extends a gloved hand and lets the kitten shyly sniff at his finger, then rub her scent on it...

[crazylittlejester]

I’m gonna go on a crazy ass rant because I’m upset and also very tired

A huge reason as to why I characterize Warriors the way that I do, regarding his fear of being poisoned and his food anxiety, is a way to explain myself and my own anxieties caused by my allergies, because when I say to someone I don’t think I can eat the food at the party/function/their house EVEN IF it was specifically made to be free of my allergens, they just don’t understand why I can’t eat it. They just don’t understand that just because it’s ‘safe’ doesn’t mean I feel safe enough to eat it, because there’s always that lingering ‘What if’ in my mind that food made outside of my vision is contaminated somehow.

It is so HARD to explain to people the genuine fear that you are going to die because a food created an odd texture in your mouth and you gave yourself a panic attack over nothing. It breaks my heart every time I go to my friends house and her mom offers to make me food because I’ve been at her house for thirteen hours and haven’t eaten a meal with them, because even though she cleans everything and offers to let me watch her make it, there’s still this loud screaming voice in my mind saying that that food is not safe to eat. And it just NEVER goes away. I feel awful because her mom is so sweet and willing to help me, and I just can’t ever accept because I manage to convince myself it’s contaminated every time

I have been dealing with this for my entire life and never not once have I been able to get someone to understand what this feels like or seen it shown in a media form anywhere. I’ve had family and therapists both just tell me to get over myself, because I’m being ‘ridiculous’ and the craziest thing to me EVER is that for the first time in nineteen years, I have had an outlet to throw this frustration into. Warriors and the food issues I have given him are so important to me because for the first time in my life I can explain this fear through a character and even if people may not relate or really, truly get what it’s like, they understand. They understand and they recognize it as a valid fear, and it’s because of a fanfiction about a traumatized war hero. (which is INSANE to me that this is what it took for people to understand, but you know what, I’ll take it)

This rant was inspired because I opened a sealed container of ice cream and the allergen labels were incorrect and now I can’t eat it and I’ve wasted money and I’m so upset and it’s been a really long week, but also because I never saw anyone talking about this when I was a kid, and if I’d had someone there to represent me like this, or just be there for me to connect with, I would’ve felt a lot better. Understanding allergies and food restrictions is so important for so many reasons, the most important being that if you know how to help someone, you can save their LIFE. And for other people who feel the same way I do, it’s so GOOD to know you’re not alone and that there’s someone out there who gets what you’re dealing with

If I can make people understand what it’s like to live life this way, then that is so important to me. If I can explain to people what to do in an emergency situation because their friend is having a allergic reaction, I will, because not enough people understand how allergies work, and I’m sick and tired of hearing stories about kids with allergies who were peer pressured into eating when they didn’t feel comfortable and then suffering the consequences, and I am TIRED of seeing companies mislabel their fucking food.

Also do NOT be afraid to ask any friends or classmates or coworkers with allergies how to use an epi pen because You Could Save Their Life. If anyone is curious, I’LL tell you, or look up a youtube video I’m sure there are some on there

Anyways, this is why I give Warriors the food issues I do in my fics, for anyone else out there with allergies who’s ever felt invalidated by people telling them their anxieties were stupid, and so people who have no idea what it’s like to fear your food will kill you can try to understand that this is the irritating reality for some of your peers. (not that everyone with allergies has this exact experience, I have a friend with allergies who just eats whatever and prays it wont kill them, but I know now that there are plenty of people out there with allergies who DO have this experience)

Sorry for kinda ranting, (I’m just a little guy 🥺), but this is something that is so hugely important to me, and sorry Warriors but you had too similar of a problem so now you get my exact issues 🫶