#Look to be fair that sort of thing has never happened before

[weeping-statue]

Oml I love your work sm, I’ve been reading you’re blog for a while and I’m obsessed 😭

If you end up having the time, may I request Naib, Ithaqua, Joseph and Richard—or just the first two if that’s too many! 🤍—with a s/o who was almost fatally injured in their matches and sort of comatose but eventually woke up? Feel free to ignore this if this is too much, thank you for your time~

Aww thank you so much my love<3 you’re so sweet!!! I didn’t really think that many people liked my stuff so it’s amazing to hear that they do! I try my best on these things and I hate when it takes me years to post something out.

I’m working on another fic that’s similar to this for naib so he won’t be included but I hope you’ll take Norton instead

Ithaqua, Joseph, Richard, and Norton with a fatally injured reader who finally wakes up!

———————————————————————

Basic background first before the good stuff<3

You were supposed be decoding, out of the way, and out of danger.

You weren’t supposed to take the hit. You weren’t supposed to be here.

It wasn’t fair when your body fell to the ground, blood splattering out underneath you into a pool of crimson liquid.

It wasn’t fair when he called out to you, and you didn’t answer, only to feel your pulse fading.

It wasn’t fair that he had to carry your limp body to Emily’s office in a panic, begging her to help.

And it wasn’t fair when she had said you might not wake up.

Ithaqua

He couldn’t sit by you the entire time you were in bed. It just reminded him of his mother.

He didn’t want to put himself through more with those terrible memories.

He’d visit you in the morning and at night.

Kissing you goodnight and kissing you good morning

Like some strange routine.

When he got the news you were awake he had dropped everything, but he didn’t run, he just had to make himself believe you were okay first.

He had to make sure this wasn’t some sick joke, and that he’d wake up in his bed only to be told you didn’t make it.

Stopping in the doorway, looking at you who seemed to be looking back at him with those surprised eyes, that beautiful smile he loved etched onto your face.

He knew after a blow like that there would be some damage, a large scar going from the side of your cheek and up to your forehead would forever be a reminder of his fuck up.

He feels terrible and sometimes it’s hard to look at you without guilt seeping in.

He doesn’t want to be like this but it’s his way of working through it.

He loves you a lot, he has dreams of marrying you and building a home far away. But now those dreams are plagued with the possibility that he’ll accidentally become the monster he tried to tell himself he wasn’t.

Joseph

Alcohol.

A lot of it.

Bottles and bottles of it by your bed side.

He refused to leave you. He couldn’t live with the fact he might of killed the only person he loved more than anything.

The only person that made this bearable. And they might be gone.

He would drink himself to sleep and he would drink the moment he opened his eyes.

Not a lot of people ever saw him cry, but now? Everyone did.

When he had a moment of soberness he’d look over and break down.

Joseph would barely shower, having to be dragged away from you and told to clean himself up, only to repeat that process.

During one of the times he was forced to bathe, he had stumbled back in, bottle in hand, only to be met with your disappointed gaze.

He knows how much you hated when drinks, and because of that barely touched liquor anymore.

“You said you’d cut back on drinking.” Your voice broke the silence.

Joseph rushed over to your side, falling onto his knees and sobbing. “Stop it. Now’s no time for lecturing. I thought I had killed you. I thought you weren’t going to make it. I thought you’d be like Claud, and leave me all alone again.”

Your hand makes its way to his cheek, “I’m okay. I’d never leave you alone, I promise. These things were bound to happen. But I’ll be more careful.”

He nodded leaning into your touch.

Richard

He’s fuming mad. And of course concerned.

He was made to do one thing, protect, and he couldn’t even save the one he loves?

“What bullshit.” He’d say through gritted teeth. Watching over your body, breathing raggedly. His hands smoothing out your hair to look nice with a not so gentle hand. He’s holding himself back.

He believes this is partially your fault. You should have been out of the way. Doing your job and letting him rescue.

But no, you had to disobey, you just couldn’t listen.

He’ll look like he doesn’t want to be there when his facade slips around the others, but he really does. He hates the fact that you have a terrible possibility over your head.

And he can’t control it.

He’d make sure you look stunning even in your condition. He’d brush your hair, and make sure you’re somewhat clean. Because when you wake up he’s going to want to kiss you, remind you of the way it should be.

When he’s informed by Emily that you’ve made a recovery, hes immediately speed walking towards your room.

He wanted to be the first thing you saw, but oh well. He’ll have you back in tip top shape soon.

“Richard!” You exclaimed, reaching your hand out to him.

He takes it, kissing the back, “___, my dear. You gave me quite the scare.”

“I know.. I shouldn’t have been so foolish but-”

His lips are against yours before you can finish. It’s passionate and deep with his feelings. You can tell how much he missed you, how worried he was.

“Foolish or not, you’re still here, with me. And that’s all that matters.” He says softly, loving yet serious eyes looking into yours.

Norton

Out of everyone, him and Joseph are the two absolute messes.

Joseph might be a bit worse with his drinking but Norton becomes violent and agitated.

He’s freaking out, shoving people out of the way with more strength than necessary just to get to you.

He wasn’t there to help, maybe, if he was you’d be okay.

The possibility’s are running through his head and causing him to become anxious and angry.

Fools gold is right there behind him. Sitting in a corner silently waiting for you to awake.

Fools golds matches are either quick surrenders or he’s chairing everyone immediately.

Norton doesn’t know how to comfort himself and doesn’t particularly want his hunter version to even touch him let alone tell him nice things so he’s just suffering until you wake up.

This man actually wouldn’t leave you, even if he was dirty because he’s been like this before. It doesn’t bother him.

He had watched you wake up, your eyes being blinded by the bright light of day.

He was silent until you noticed him,

“Norton-?” You began, but the minute you spoke he jumped on you. Holding you tightly.

“Don’t you pull this shit again. You.. don’t know how worried I was.” He mumbled into your neck.

A lot of apologies were given that day and fools gold was right behind you when Norton had to go.

He may not have liked his other self but he shared the same love for you like he did. And if playing guard dog for a bit would ensure everyone to be happy and safe, then sure.

———————————————————————

I fear I only like Richard’s..

[caterpillarinacave]

I may be stupid

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 3

Finally getting a tiny bit of Bruce's monologue!! And uh oh, looks like you've gotta clock in!

As the car began to move, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of panic. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on you. You tried your best to focus on anything but the Waynes, your mind desperately attempting to process what just happened in the parking lot. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. It was then that Damian decided to break the awkward silence.

“Father, what is the meaning of bringing her along with us?” Damian spoke curtly, disdain marring his voice when mentioning you.

As much as you disliked him as well, he had a point. Why the hell are you sitting here with them?

Bruce glanced at Damian. Truth be told, he didn't quite know why. While you were his child, one out of the only two biological children he had, he had never really had the time or care to acknowledge you. You coming into his life abruptly disturbed everything, so he paid you no mind. He’ll admit, it wasn't fair of him to do so, but he had bigger things to worry about. He was tired, and a child that wasn't involved with his night business, who did not understand what his life of vigilantism took out of him, would never understand the sacrifices that he's had to make. It wasn't until seeing you on the football field, happy, talking to your friends and acting in a way he'd never seen you do, he'd begun to realize what he missed. 

When did you get so tall? He could have sworn you were no taller than his waist. And when did you join the cheerleading team? And who was that girl throwing her arm around you? Who was that boy? Gods, just how much has he missed? 

But he couldn't say all of that. So instead he just replied, “She's a part of this family, Damian and she needed a ride back home.”

He could feel Cassandra’s knowing stare, she could read him better than anybody and she knew the inner turmoil brewing in his heart. That's coupled with Stephanie’s smirk and Dick’s predatory grin. Jason grunted in response, clearly not pleased with the arrangement. Lastly, he could see the disbelief on your face, as if you couldn't believe you'd even be considered part of this family. And he’s mostly to blame. 

He internally sighed. He'd have to work on that. You were his daughter. His. It was his job to keep you safe and happy. It was his job to make sure you felt loved. And right now? He was no better than Jannet and Jack Drake leaving poor Tim to fend for himself. But that would all soon change, starting with himself and his children.

You on the other hand were still reeling from Bruce’s words. “Family”? Is he fucking kidding or what?

Dick, always the one to break the tension with his charm, spoke up next. "Hey, (Y/n), when did you become a cheerleader? I didn't know you were into that sort of stuff." Dick said with that condescending tone.

Your eyes twitched. You did not like his tone.

“That's none of your business Dick.” You shot back before you could even think.

Everyone looked your way. Whoops, that was your bad. 

It was Jasons turn to get upset, “Watch your fucking mouth.” He growled, ever possessive over his older brother.

You immediately froze up, offering a quick and quiet apology before retreating into your own head. Jason–Jason scared you more than any of the others. You knew about his pit rage, you knew about the bloody and beaten bodies he's left in the wake of his rage. You knew he’d never dream of hurting his family, the pit often aiding in his possessive tendencies over the rest of the bats but– you weren't family. And you'd hate to be on the receiving end of Jason’s wrath.

If anyone had continued talking to you, you wouldn’t know. The sound around you was muffled like your head was filled with cotton and you could feel yourself shaking. You wanted out. Now. Thankfully, the rest of the ride was mostly quiet. Sure, everyone would occasionally turn their eyes towards you, making you shrink further in on yourself, but you were almost at the manor. The vehicle barely came to a stop before you were throwing yourself out the door and into the manor. You bid Alfred a quick “goodbye” and “thank you” before bolting up the stairs and into your room. 

You locked the door, not that anyone would bother coming up to your room, but still it gave you security nonetheless. You stripped and hopped into the shower, the soreness in your body now making itself known. God it was gonna suck tomorrow. Why? Because it was Friday today, that meant tomorrow would be Saturday, and that meant that you'd have to go to work at the ass crack of dawn, 5 am. Plus, you didn't even have your bike, so you’d have to rely on Alfred to take you and bring you back. Great.

So with a heavy heart and heavy limbs, you tucked yourself into bed ready for the worst sleep of your life. 

You wake up to the grating sound of your iphone alarm, as you groggily get up to brush your teeth, shower and get ready for the long day ahead. Making your way down for a cup of coffee, sleep still in your eyes, you fail to notice the looming figure of Tim Drake already sipping his own coffee. It was dark downstairs and you were still fighting off exhaustion from the day before, so who could blame you for not seeing the corner of the cabinet. Before you knew it, you were hunched over on the floor grabbing your pinkie toe in pain. 

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurt! Holy shit, kill yourself, kill yourself! Who the fuck puts a cabinet there, oh my god.” You wailed in pain, cursing at the damn cabinet. You’d blame it on delirium and exhaustion. Honestly, it was an expected crashout.

You laid pathetically on the floor for a couple of more seconds before you heard a monotone, disinterested voice make itself known.

“Are you done now?” Tim says from behind you.

You yelp in surprise, before clumsily scrambling up and turning around. And there he was, sitting at the counter, coffee in hand and an almost (dare you say) amused look on his face. You blanche. Shit, how long has he been sitting there? Oh god, please don't say he’s witnessed the entirety of your embarrassing crashout? 

And as if reading your mind, he cryptically answers, “Yes, I've been here this entire time.” All while sipping his coffee as his calculating eyes scarily bore into your figure.

You don't know what to say, embarrassed out of your mind, so you just apologize. 

“Right–um, sorry about that. I’m just tryna get some coffee. I'll be out your way.” You hastily say before turning, tail tucked back towards the coffee pot. 

You could still feel the weight of Tim’s stare on you but you're too tired and embarrassed to care. You pour yourself a big cup of straight up black coffee and proceed to chug it while walking towards the sink. After finishing it, you proceeded to gag for a few seconds, the bitter taste still permeating your mouth. God you hated the taste of black coffee, but you’d do whatever it takes to not fall asleep on the job. You discard your cup into the sink before you decide to find Alfred, it was 4:37 am and you needed to clock in by 5:00 am or else your ass was grass. You conveniently ignore Tim who has watched all of your misfortune happen this morning. He doesn't say anything when you leave the dining/kitchen area, just eerily watches. 

God, he made you nervous.

Anyways, your quest to find Alfred was short lived as he seemingly appeared out of nowhere, Damian in tow (you could feel the scar on your face burning). Great, was everyone up at this ungodly hour or was it just them two? You avoided the heat of Damian’s glare as you relayed to Alfred your predicament, apologizing profusely since you did ask him last minute. He simply smiled at you, letting you know that “it is never a hindrance when you need something Master (Y/n).” You smiled back in relief, thanking him once more as Alfred got ready to drop you off.

But of course, Damian just had to break the silence. 

“What could you possibly need to do at this hour? Alfred has better things to do other than encouraging your galavanting.” Damian spoke sharply.

You just sighed, “Not that it's any of your business, but I have work.”You don't offer any more information as your hand unknowingly caresses the scarred tissue on your face. 

Damian’s eyes draw to your face at the movement, seemingly fixated on the scar he left on you. He doesn’t think much of it, but sometimes, something green and dangerous purrs inside of him. Yes, his mark. It was his mark on your face. As much as he hated you, you were his only other blood-sibling no matter how weak and useless you were. He had bested you, and usually would pay you no mind, you knew your place and would typically remain docile. But recently you’ve been showing a new abrasive side, one he is not particularly fond of.

He’d have to talk to father about it.

Silence permeates the air as he doesnt bother to dignify your disrespect with a response. You’re saved when Alfred comes back with keys, both you and him rushing to whatever vehicle he's pulled out from the large, large selection of coveted cars Bruce owns. Looks like it's a BMW today. You practically throw yourself in, as Alfred speeds away to the cafe you work at. You arrive at work in record speed, bidding Alfred a “goodbye” before rushing to throw your apron on and clock in. 

You’re greeted by the one other person working your shift, Matheo. He’s a sweet boy, very soft-spoken and mostly sticks in the back near the kitchen to bake the pastries while you work the register. Of course he comes and helps with drink orders when it's particularly busy, he’s too kind to leave you to fend for yourself. Regardless, you have a pretty straight forward agreement, which is what spells your doom. It was a regular Saturday shift, with the pilate moms coming in, middle schoolers loitering, and the occasional customer with an attitude. Everything was fine and dandy till three familiar faces walk in.

You were ever the busy body, finishing one last drink before yelling out a quick “I’ll help y’all shortly!”, to whoever just walked in. You quickly rush over to the register, not even bothering to look up from the register.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait! Now what can I get you?” You said in your regular customer service voice.

“Well, well, well, turns out you were right Dami, she does work here.” A chillingly familiar voice jests.

You freeze, slowly looking up only to be met with Dick smiling at you. It was not a kind smile, no, there was something dangerous about it. Behind him, you could see the familiar figures of Cassandra and Damian. What the hell are they doing here? God, you should have never mentioned anything to Damian, now you had to deal with this.

“R–right, what can I get you?” You shakily say, putting back on your customer service persona. 

Dick’s smile grows, his teeth now visible, almost as if he was baring his teeth. Danger. Something inside you screamed.

“I’ll just have a vanilla cold brew, extra cold foam. Dami, Cass, what do you want?” Dick grinns.

“Tch, I don't want anything from this place.” Damian says, uninterested.

“Cass?” Dick asks, looking at her.

She comes up to the register, giving Dick a one-off-glance. Worryingly, her eyes seem to be fixated on you. She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, holding immensely uncomfortable eye contact with you before relaying her order.

“Just a caramel latte.” Cass says, still looking down at you.

You frantically fill in their orders on the register.

“Will that be all?” You ask. You hoped that was all, you didn't want them spending another minute talking to you.

Dick says a quick cheerful “no” before you ring them up and get started with the two drinks. It doesn't take too much time before you’re calling out their names to come get their drinks. You hope they leave right after. But of course, nothing goes according to your wishes as they grab their drinks and seat themselves at a table. Great.

The minutes after result in further disaster. After a couple of more customers, a lady comes up to you, face already molded into a scowl with a half empty drink in her hand. Oh great, a “karen”.

“Hello ma’am, how can I help you?” You kindly say.

“You! I need a refund. Right. Now!” The lady booms, wagging her finger in your face.

“A refund, right, is there a reason you’re requesting a refund?” 

“A reason!? You made my drink wrong and I want my money back!”

“Please correct me if i'm wrong, but I believe you ordered a double mocha cappuccino, correct?” You ask slowly.

“Yes, that's what I ordered! Why are you asking me all these questions?!”

“Sorry ma’am, but that is the drink I gave you. Is there something specifically wrong with the drink?”

“The drink that you gave me is wrong, you made it wrong! It doesn't taste anything like regular coffee!”

“Oh, well sometimes different cafes use different recipes for the same drink, i think maybe that's why–”

“–Well I don't care! I want a refund!”

You could feel eyes on you as the other patrons start to notice the commotion brewing.

“Ma’am, i'm so sorry but i can't give you a refund, you��ve already drank half the drink. If you would have let me know sooner, I could've remade it for you, but–I'm sorry ma’am I can't give you that refund.”

“Are you serious! Why I never!? It's always bitches like you who try scamming people out of their money!”

“Ma'am, I'm really sorry, it's the company policy. I just work here–” You gently say, trying to calm her down.

“–Go to hell you bitch!” Is all you hear before you’re doused in the face with warm coffee. 

You just stand there is shock, blinking through the coffee. There's no way that just happened. Theo, comes out having heard the commotion (albeit a little too late), only to be met with the sight of you covered in coffee.

“Oh my gosh (Y/n)! I should have come sooner, are you okay?”

“Peachy.” You say, voice audibly watery and cracking.

“I'll take care of everything up here, you go take some time in the back. Clean up or honestly if you don't feel like it, just rest in the back–”

“–It's okay Theo, I–I just need a couple of minutes. I'm fine.”

He gives you a quizzical stare.

“I'm fine. I promise.” You smile, although you could feel your eyes starting to water. 

You hastily walk off to the break room and proceed to cry for a good 2 minutes before deciding to start cleaning yourself up. You do your best to get the coffee that's dried into hair out while wiping down your now sicky arms and face. Changing your apron gets rid of most of the mess, but your shirt underneath still has a couple of large patches of coffee. Sighing, you tidy yourself up as much as possible before heading back to the counter, Theo worriedly waiting for you. You just shoot him a thumbs up and let him know that it’s okay for him to retreat back to the kitchen; he lingers for a moment, hesitant to leave you alone, but drudges back regardless.

There are eyes on you. You look up perturbed, only to find Dick, Cass, and Damian still sitting at their table, sharp stares pinned on your figure. They saw all that happen, didn't they? You mentally cringed. 

Checking your watch, you realize that there are still four more hours left on your shift. Great, that's great–just another four more hours, which is technically thirty minutes eight times, which is technically fifteen minutes sixteen times–and you’ve lost it. Jesus you were losing your mind, which was understandable (honestly you're surprised it hasn't happened sooner) during one of the worst shifts of your life.

It’s fine. You got this. Just four more hours, and you can have your “Mental Breakdown Part Ⅱ™”.

Tag-list!!:

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[cleolinda]

Phone scam gothic

So my mom sits down and starts telling me about two weird-ass phone calls she had today—she was returning a missed call, and the woman who answered just… sobbed for a minute. I’m sitting here asking, like, a whole minute? Nothing else, just sobbing? Who did you THINK you were calling back?

“United Healthcare, they have my Medicare plan. They’ve been calling me for weeks without leaving any voicemail.”

(Are you sure it was United Healthcare? “It was the same number that’s on my card, I checked, and that’s who the caller ID said it was.”)

Are you sure it was a whole minute? Did YOU say anything?

“Yes, like sixty seconds while I kept going ‘Hello? Hello?’ It sounded like she was having a nervous breakdown, I kept waiting to see if she’d tell me what was even wrong. Finally I just hung up.”

And then my mom turned right around and called back again, because she was gonna get to the bottom of this.

This time she got a different woman, perfectly calm, who wanted to set up “your in-home direct patient care home health visit.”

At this point (at this point?) I’m staring, because no one here currently has anyone coming to the house to help with any kind of medical care. My mom might honestly be the healthiest member of the household, but even I don’t use any home services, herniated discs and all. “Did they have you… confused with someone else?”

“No, she repeated my full name and phone number back to me.”

This lady then started ARGUING with my mother. Why don’t you want us to come to your house to manage your direct patient care? Don’t you need home health care to be managed? Why don’t you need home health care? Why would you not want home health care? “I JUST KIND OF HAVE HIGH CHOLESTEROL?” But don’t you want us to manage your home health care? “WHY DO YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HOUSE TO MANAGE HEALTH CARE I DON’T USE?”

My mom finally hung up on this lady as well, without giving her any real information.

The more we talked about it, the more things we started to notice:

I was incredibly creeped out by the unsolicited use of the word “manage,” for some reason. Very sinister “write me into your will” vibes for some reason—I don’t know what these people want, but they’re gonna get you to sign something over.

My mom got especially stuck on “WHY DO YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HOUSE?!”

My mom has used home health services before… years ago, before she was on Medicare. But this company wouldn’t know about that. However, if you’re on Medicare, you’re over 65. Having not ever dealt with my mother before, someone calling a Medicare user might be playing the odds that a person over 65 is 1) in frail health and 2) old enough to get easily confused.

Fair play to my mom, she’s the one who thought of number spoofing. I’m so busy not answering the phone ever and arranging all my medical communications to happen through passworded portals that I didn’t think of it.

Hey, are you guys, like… holding someone hostage…?

So at this point, I google “United Healthcare scam.”

The “health insurance counselor”

This fraudster will offer help navigating the health insurance marketplace for a fee, capitalizing on people’s confusion about the state-based health exchanges created through the Affordable Care Act.

What to know

This sort of assistance is indeed available and is legitimate, but the people who offer it – also known as “navigators” – aren’t allowed to charge for their services. Also, remember that people with Medicare coverage don’t need to use the state health exchanges. The exchanges are for people under the age of 65, who are looking to enroll in an individual health plan.

Change “navigate” to “manage,” and I think this is it, although the lady on the phone never mentioned any fees. Either my mom didn’t let her get that far, or this is the point of actually getting into someone’s house: persuading them face-to-face to pay something, and potentially refusing to leave until the scammer has worn their target down.

Medicare does not make unsolicited phone calls.

Okay, so it was a scam no matter what it was about. As far as I’m concerned, my mom should contact Actual United Healthcare about it, and I’m here to spread the good word of Never Believing Anyone on the Phone 2k24. I don’t know what to tell you about the lady having the nervous breakdown though.

[mochiwrites]

Grian is a hypocrite. He knows. God, does he know it. He’d never acknowledge that fact, however, would never admit to it. He isn’t exactly the type that goes around readily confessing his flaws, after all.

He had told Jimmy he wouldn’t restart the session if he died, right after he’d been knocked down a few lives. Grian said it without hesitation, as amusement spilled from his voice like it had been paint in a can that tipped over. It wouldn’t be fair, nor right, to restart the session. And if he restarted it for Jimmy, what kind of message would that send the others? It might become expectation if someone permanently died so early on.

He needed to be firm about it—even if Jimmy’s misfortune came from bad luck, things out of his control.

Grian can’t go giving out special favors. He can’t be biased.

He’s a hypocrite for it.

It happens on the mountain, right by the long staircase made of soft pink cherry wood. He doesn’t even notice at first, attempting to avoid his personal harbinger, a snail. Honestly, Grian didn’t mean for things to go this badly. As with most things with him, Grian thought it to be a silly joke. A hat tip toward a well known hypothetical query.

But in typical fashion, Grian overestimated his friends’ survival capabilities. With their own personal snails tailing them constantly, he watched as death after death rolled in, giggling over each one (unless it was Mumbo or Skizz).

Maybe by now he should know better.

“Who would make my snail invisible?! Who would boobytrap my snail like that?!”

Grian looks over at Lizzie, both flabbergasted and impressed, “That’s—that’s devious.”

The second he turns, it happens.

(Sandy domes under their feet, a ravine cutting right through their path. Mischievous giggles shared between them before they’re torn apart, the sound coming to an abrupt end.

With a shout he pushes his hand out, but to no avail. Yellow turns to red and all that’s left are their foot prints in sand, a pile of items below.

He’s left at the top, lips curling around the syllables of a name as hysteric laughter follows it, distress wrapping around it like a ring.

He never did manage to catch him.)

Grian is a hypocrite, because the moment Scar dies right in front of him, he panics. That invisible snail wasn’t Lizzie’s. It was Scar’s. He stops, breath cutting itself short on its own blade, body freezing itself in ice. He gets a second of eye contact with the man, seeing the shock and fear lacing his expression before he’s gone.

“Oh, Scar!” The outcry is loud as it crackles with distress.

This is it, he’s on his final life now. If he dies it’s permanent. No do overs. No restarts. No special favors. Scar will die. Grian can’t stomach the thought, can’t let it happen. He’s failed every other time and this world has only just begun. It’s too early. It’s… it’s not fair.

END THE SESSION. END THE SESSION! END IT. SAVE HIM. END END END END END END END!

Grian is a hypocrite.

Whether it be out of some sort of twisted and tangled guilt, or the lingering feeling of a debt to Death that never truly went fully repaid, he isn’t sure. There is no hesitation, just a natural instinct, an ingrained habit. If it were anyone else he’d let it happen, let the game run its course.

But his choice is obvious when it comes to Scar, even when he doesn’t want it to be. He’s always going to be drawn to him, always going to feel this pull. He’ll sacrifice it all, twist himself up in however many different contradictions he needs.

For Scar.

“The session is over!” he shouts, rapidly typing in the world chat for the others. He spams the message a few times in his hurry before switching to turn the wild card off. And he does it just in time, with Scar’s snail just a few inches away from the man. It disappears, along with the others, and a collective sigh of relief is released from those among them.

He feels Them watching, unhappy with their meal being cut short. But Grian doesn’t care. He never has.

“Man, that was a close one! I thought I was a goner,” Scar laughs over to his side, drawing Grian’s attention. “Thanks for the quick save there, G-man.”

Grian smiles at him, some small thing. “Don’t get used to it,” he returns.

There’s a knowing look in Scar’s now ruby eyes, and the sun on Grian’s hair feels warmer; heated, nostalgic. “Of course.”

He’s not supposed to play favorites, not meant to be biased. He’s not supposed to interfere to keep a player alive (something he made very clear to Mumbo and Skizz prior). But existing in a world like this without Scar feels wrong and near painful so early on. He couldn’t stand around and do nothing. He couldn’t just watch.

Not when it’s Scar.

Grian pretends not to notice the glance Jimmy throws at them, a brow raised. He’s been seen right through.

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[jjkamochoso]

How JJK Characters React to You Describing Them as Your Type When Todo Asks

Fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: pretend you’re in a huge group with all of the students present when this question was asked :) also, I went with the anime adaptation of the characters rather than the manga, just fyi!

There’s a part 2 here! in which you react to them describing you as their type :)

Yuji:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

“Yeah y/n, we wanna know!” Yuji said, excitedly. You figured there was no harm in sharing, Todo and the group were just looking for fun to distract them for a little bit.

“Okay, well I like guys that are average height, not too tall or short. Super strong, of course, with a cute, goofy smile. Oh, and colored hair is always fun too!”

“Oh man, he sounds so cool! If I find any guys that look like that, don’t worry, I’ll send them your way!” Shaking your head and laughing, you got into a conversation with Megumi while Nobara yanked Yuji out of your earshot.

“Yuji! Don’t you realize what y/n said?!”

He rested his chin in his fingers, deep in thought for a few moments before he answered.

“No? Should I have?”

Nobara didn’t hesitate to whack him on the top of the head.

“They literally described you, idiot! Don’t you own a mirror?!” Yuji’s mouth opened in a big smile. This was great news since he had a big crush on you!

“Y/n! I have to talk to you!”

Megumi:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

You sighed. You didn’t want to join Todo’s antics but you had no choice.

“You don’t have to answer him. It’s a stupid question anyway.”

Megumi’s voice came unexpectedly from behind you. You smiled inwardly at his protectiveness.

“I appreciate that Fushiguro, but I might as well. Let’s see. I like moody boys on the lankier side with dark black hair and dark blue eyes. He has to love animals too.”

You looked at Megumi to see if it registered that you were talking about him. All of a sudden, he sported a deep blush and excused himself from the group. Todo gave you a hearty smack on the back for your response.

“I’m proud of you for baring your soul like that to the one you love,” he said, tears rolling down his face. “Y/n, go get your man!”

You turned to look at your friends who all just shrugged their shoulders. Looks like you’re off to find Megumi then!

Nobara:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

You had no hesitation answering this question, you loved to talk about things like this, gossip and crushes and the sort. Besides, it was time Nobara knew how you felt!

“I thought you’d never ask! I really like short girls with short hair. If it’s a vibrant color, that’s a plus. Spunky personalities are the best and I need someone who’ll keep up with me when I go shopping.”

Looking over at Nobara, you saw her jaw drop and you knew she understood what you were getting at.

“Y/n! You liked me and you never told me?! This whole time?!” she shouted, running towards you. You didn’t know whether she was going to hit or kiss you so you took off running as well. Gotta love the feisty girls!

Maki:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

“This stupid question again?” grumbled Maki. You were a bit nervous to reply to Todo. You had a huge crush on Maki but she was, well, intimidating, to say the least. To be fair, so was Todo, and you heard what happened to Fushiguro so you went with the safest bet.

“I like girls who are on the taller side and insanely strong. Light eyes, dark hair. Straight to the point, always. And uh… glasses.”

Maki hadn’t moved a muscle and you cringed, fearing the worst. Best case scenario, she would ignore you ever said that. Worst case, she’d beat you up. When she came over and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, you gulped.

“Y/n. We’re talking about this somewhere else.”

(Spoiler alert: when you were somewhere else, you kissed🤭)

Inumaki:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

Todo was on your last nerve. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but why should you be expected to tell everyone your personal business like this? In front of both schools’ students, no less! When you were filled in on what happens when you don’t answer truthfully, you resigned to the fact that you were exposing your true feelings to everyone today, whether you liked it or not.

“I like shorter men, preferably with medium length blonde hair, and bright purple eyes. He doesn’t talk much but more than makes up for it with his top tier sense of humor.” You noticed that Inumaki never broke his gaze from you as you spoke. You shuffled over to where he was sitting to explain yourself, but this time it was you who couldn’t find the right words.

“Mustard leaf?” Inumaki broke the silence first, basically asking you what was wrong since you marched over there and hadn’t said a thing.

“Look, Toge, I’m sorry if I—”

He tugged on your sleeve, stopping you. In his hands was a note that read, “I like you too” with a little smiley face at the end.

Yuta:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

You weren’t sure how to answer Todo. On one hand, you didn’t want to expose your crush on Yuta. On the other, would be it so bad for the truth to be out there? He was a kind person that wouldn’t drop your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way.

“I really like average height guys with longer dark hair and big, dark blue eyes. Personality wise he has to be extremely loyal and caring. Oh, and good with a sword.”

“Sooo… Yuta?” questioned Panda, and you nodded in agreement, your face warming with a blush.

“Wait, me? Really?” Yuta’s eyes lit up as he broke out into a hopeful smile. You nodded again.

“Oh man, that’s great!” he exclaimed, and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve liked you for awhile too and I just thought maybe you didn’t feel the same but you do! Which is amazing!” You laughed softly at his rambling. This school year just got a whole lot better!

Gojo:

“Y/L/N sensei! What kind of man is your type?”

“Todo, isn’t that wildly inappropriate to ask your superior?” you answered, a joking tone present.

“Maybe, but we’re curious! Please, sensei?”

“Yeah, sensei! It’s just for fun” Yuji chimed in.

“And it’s a team building exercise to know something so personal! You’re always saying we need to communicate better,” added Nobara. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I meant that to be an exercise among you children, not me. But I will entertain this for only a moment, so listen carefully,” you told the group and they cheered like their favorite baseball player hit a home run. As you were about to spill your secret, you spotted Satoru leaning against a wall, clearly interested in the secret you were about to spill.

“I like super tall men who are lean but extremely strong. He has to be very funny and goofy but with a kind heart. White hair and striking blue eyes are also a must.”

Maki’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she exclaimed, “You like that blindfolded idiot?!”

As the kids clamored at the newfound information, Gojo took that time to approach you and the students.

“Excuse me everyone, but me and my new lover must depart,” he announced, taking your hand dramatically while leading you away to laugh at what just happened.

Noritoshi:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

You groaned. You really didn’t want Noritoshi to know about your infatuation with him. It was no secret that he had more important things to deal with than schoolyard crushes so you were afraid to confess in case it made him uncomfortable—or worse, dislike you!

“You don’t have to answer the immature question, y/n,” Noritoshi spoke up when he noticed your discomfort. You were grateful for him but you wanted to keep the peace among your classmates and judging by the death glare Todo sent to you two, you’d better start talking.

“Thank you Kamo, but I value harmony among friends so I will answer this for Todo’s amusement only. I like tall men with a bit longer dark hair and gray eyes. Having an honorable character and being good with a bow is the way to my heart.” You felt Noritoshi tense up next to you and you refused to look at him out of fear of rejection. He took you by surprise when he leaned over ever so slightly to whisper to you.

“I was caught off guard by your confession but I can’t say I don’t feel the same. Can we discuss this later?”

Todo:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

Your eyes went wide when Todo’s booming voice reached your ears. You were super into him but no one knew. You knew you couldn’t fool him with a fake answer, though, and if you were going to feel his hand for the first time, you’d rather it be from holding it with your own than having it curled in a fist and connecting with your face.

“Um… I like men that are extremely tall and buff. Dark hair, tan skin. And passionate, of course.”

“Hm! That’s a great answer! He sounds hot,” replied Todo, smirking, “but unfortunately for that perfect fake man, I’m taking you on a date first because you’re my type!”

You definitely weren’t expecting this!

Mai:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

You rolled your eyes. This big oaf is going to jeopardize your friendship for sure. You really liked Mai but you figured she wasn’t into dating and all the lovey dovey stuff.

“Do I have to answer?” you asked, praying Todo had a change of heart.

“No, y/n, we all wanna know. What’s your type?” Mai chimed in, a sly grin on her face. You gulped.

“I… like women that have short, dark hair and dark eyes. If she’s taller than average that’s cool, and I love a snarky personality.”

“No way!” exclaimed Momo when she realized who you were talking about. You refused to look anyone in the eyes out of embarrassment and fear. What you weren’t expecting was Mai grabbing your hand and leading you somewhere else. Hopefully it was to talk and not get beat up!

Momo:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

You huffed in annoyance. There were always some sort of antics with this guy! You had liked Momo for awhile now but she was like an enigma to you. You could never get a good read on her so maybe telling her how you felt outright would be a good thing?

“I really like girls with blonde hair and blue eyes, and short, too. Having a cute personality is a plus as well,” you answered, hoping that was straightforward enough.

“Wait a minute, that sounds exactly like me!” Momo exclaimed, blushing slightly. You sheepishly nodded your head.

“Because it is. I have a crush you.”

The whole group erupted in a chorus of “aww’s” and “how adorable.” You were nervous that you had accidentally made her uncomfortable but your fears disappeared as she came over to sit next to you. When the students were distracted by another topic, you felt Momo’s hand rest over so slightly on top your own and you knew you made the right decision to confess.

Miwa:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

Before you spoke, you met eyes with Miwa. It almost seemed as if she was anxious to hear what you had to say!

“Girls with dark blue eyes and are average height are my type. I also really like girls with kind hearts and are down to earth. Blue hair isn’t too bad, either,” you finished, smiling nervously. Both of you were blushing messes while Mai scoffed “Get a room!” Your classmates were just happy that the secret was out in the open—they were tired of you two dancing around your feelings for each other!

[sunderwight]

disciple luo binghe, running errands for his shizun one day, somehow manages to be in the exact wrong (right) place at the exact wrong (right) time and catches shang qinghua meeting with mobei jun

in order to keep luo binghe from tattling right away, shang qinghua dissembles in a panic and claims that his clandestine meetings with mobei jun are happening because they're lovers and definitely not because shang qinghua is betraying the sect and handing their secrets over to demons in order to save his own hide. when that almost doesn't work, he also tells luo binghe that he knows he's part demon, and that if luo binghe rats him out then shang qinghua will take him down with him. mutually assured destruction

it works, and even though luo binghe threatens him quite a bit (jeez kid calm down, you might be the almighty protagonist but also you're like sixteen) he agrees to keep shang qinghua's fraternizing a secret. but if ANYTHING BAD should happen to the sect or especially to luo binghe's shizun because of this, luo binghe will take shang qinghua down even if it does ruin his life too

shang qinghua, now sweating even more bullets about the impending immortal alliance conference: cool! cool cool cool sounds great cool yeah

so shang qinghua can add "being blackmailed by the punk ass brat I sort of created" to his list of stress-inducing woes. which gets even worse when luo binghe keeps somehow sensing if mobei jun is around for more than a couple hours and showing up, and picking fights with him?? kind of??

wtf has the protagonist been taking tips from liu qingge or something...?

shang qinghua feels like he's gonna have a heart attack when mobei jun just snorts and tosses luo binghe by the scruff like he's an annoying yappy dog

mobei jun actually knows what's up though. teenage half-demon who has never been around his own kind has become spoiled by the lack of competition on this front, and now his hackles are all up because he wants to claim the whole mountain range as his territory, and his instincts are screaming at him to challenge mobei jun about it so that they can decide who is actually top dog. since mobei jun could easily kill him, especially with his blood sealed, and has been clawing rocks and pissing on trees along the borders of an ding peak since before luo binghe was born, he's clearly got seniority here

and since qinghua doesn't want mobei jun to just kill the little shit (fair enough -- that sealed bloodline does look kind of interesting) that means it's up to mobei jun to teach him how to do things like interact with other demons without making a complete fool of himself. lesson one: what to do when you challenge someone out of your league and they win, assuming they don't just kill you

so luo binghe reluctantly gains another demon tutor

meng mo actually approves. he's been out of the loop on demon high society for a long time, and has lacked a body for long enough too that he's forgotten a lot of the particulars of socializing. it'll be good for luo binghe to pick up some manners that aren't just silly human tea ceremonies and things. maybe he'll start addressing meng mo more respectfully for a change!

(lol no)

luo binghe is partly like "I don't need to learn demon social skills since I'm spending the rest of my life as a disciple of qing jing peak" but partly like, well, if shizun knew about this and didn't freak out about it, he'd probably say that knowledge is power and learning how to handle politics and diplomacy of all kinds is important. and despite himself luo binghe is also interested, because this is a whole perspective on his own nature that he's never really gotten advice about

also, mobei jun is the lover of shang qinghua? mobei jun is a demon who successfully seduced a cang qiong peak lord? does he have any advice about that?

(he does -- all of it very bad)

anyway all of this sort of fucks up the immortal alliance conference developments really good, so the system kind of gives up and settles on some other big transformative achievements that luo binghe has to complete in order to be suitably heroic

but shen qingqiu has no idea and so the reprieve just seems to come out of nowhere until several years later, when he walks in on luo binghe with his claws out and huadian gleaming in the company the demon king of the northern desert, the two of them playing weiqi or something while they wait for shang qinghua to get back from some random logistics crisis he had to rush off to

shen qingqiu: ...?!?

luo binghe, panicking: wait shizun I can explain it's not what it looks like SHIZUN I SWEAR I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU PLEASE DON'T BE MAD--!

shen qingqiu: all this time I thought you were sneaking out to meet a girl, and this was what you were doing instead?!

luo binghe: WHAT?? shizun no I'd never do that I swear I don't even like girls!

shen qingqiu: that's not -- wait what do you mean you don't even like girls?!

mobei jun, unperturbed and still focused on the weiqi board: he's gay

[princessbellecerise]

Worth The Wait

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Jace spends your entire courtship denying you the pleasures of what you really want. Now that it’s the night of your wedding, he has every intention of making it worth the wait

warnings | husband!jace, first time wedding smut, creampie

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys never let himself have his way with you until your wedding night.

Before that, he’d always cut you off, not letting anything get too far because of his honor. He was so righteous that it nearly made you blind with rage every time he stopped you when you were right there, so close to having him inside of you but stopped every time by his last minute morals.

Jacaerys was a good man and you suffered for it; always being left aching and denied what you truly wanted. But of course, as heir, he knew he couldn’t touch you until your wedding night. The gods, his mother and his reputation frowned upon it. Jacaerys would do not such thing as dishonor you, so he waited.

And waited.

And suddenly, it was the night of your wedding feast and Jacaerys could not bring himself to think of anything expect for you. How good you looked in your gown, the lights seemingly adorning your face.

Marriage looked so good on you that he can hardly contain himself. He grows desperate with each passing minute, strained smiles and polite yet brief words being exchanged with everyone that approaches to congratulate him. A few people even make him laugh and like the future king he is, Jace does not show his true emotions.

He does not show how desperately he wants you, his wife whom he’s denied pleasure so much. He keeps his composure but Jacaerys is suffering, agonizingly and and eagerly awaiting for the sun to go down.

Of course, you take note of his angst and worry that something is wrong with your husband. Or worse—that he’s unhappy to the point where he doesn’t even want to eat.

He hasn’t touched his food since it was brought out and worriedly, you lean over to ask him about his lack of appetite.

You have to admit; you weren’t expecting the response that you got. Words from his mouth that send pure heat through your body and made you feel hot from your heels to your head.

“I am fine, my princess. I am simply not hungry because it is not roast I wish to feast upon right now,” He tells you, and suddenly everything makes since.

Why he’s so tense. Why Jacaerys looks like he cannot wait to leave this damn dinner. And suddenly, your mouth drops into an ‘o’ shape. A smirk slowly adorning your lips because now Jacaerys knows what it feels like. He knows what it’s like to be left waiting, wondering and lusting for the opportunity.

In a way, it sort of makes you satisfied that he has to wait.

Only when the sun goes down is it proper for him to finally announce your fair wells, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you towards your now shared chambers.

Everyone is looking at the two of you, cheering and congratulating you both as you walk though the congregational of people. Friends and allies alike clap Jace on the back and wink at you as your grip on his hand tightens.

With a strained smile, Jace politely nods back but does not entertain their jesting. You’re grateful, because even though what you’re about to do is an open secret, it’s still embarrassing.

Thankfully, there would be no bedding ceremony, Jacaerys way too much of a gentleman to let that happen to you. Instead, it’s only you and him and the flames of desire that grow between the two of you as you walk through the halls.

It burns—it really does. The heat and the longing between you two is almost unbearable as you finally make it behind closed doors, barely locking it before Jacaerys grabs you and jumps you.

You’re surprised, yelping when your husband scoops you into his arms and kisses you without so much as a word.

His hot mouth covers your groans and while it is unexpected, you welcome it.

His kiss is fierce, so passionate that it nearly knocks you to your knees. Jacaerys has clearly grown desperate during the hours of waiting, the future king nearly rabid as he pokes and prods at your clothing.

Never have you seen him in such a way, so ungentleman-like as he drags you to the floor. You don’t even make it to the bed because Jacaerys is so needy, getting you naked in no time while also landing sloppy kisses on your neck.

It ignites an unimaginable fire in your belly to see him so frantic for you. To see him finally give in and want to fuck you like you’ve previously begged for.

Now that his honor isn’t at stake, Jacaerys is not holding back. He’s adamant about what he wants and he wants you; all of you.

You two lay bare before one another and then it’s time; Jace settling himself at your hole and running his cock head against your slick folds.

He’s done this many times before. You’ve been here before, and every time this was the moment that Jace pulled back. Just when he was about to push into you, his sense would smack him in the face and off of you he went.

This was always the stage of stopping but this time there was no return. You found yourself almost opening your mouth, so used to having to beg him for friction.

“Just the tip, at least the tip. Please Jace.” Is what you used to beg for.

Now, it shocks you when he says nothing. Does nothing to pull away, only kisses you so hard it makes your head spin and your lips throb from where he cut it earlier.

He’s so feverish that it hurts, hurts so good to know he finally desires you. To know that this will be the time he doesn’t stop, the time you don’t beg.

Now, it is him that is at his wits ends as he lays his forehead against yours. When it’s time to push himself in, Jacaerys finally speaks. Brown eyes blown from desire, the future king is barely able to hold himself back, but he does.

“Do you wish for me to warm you first, sweetling?” He asks, and it’s not so much as an offer as it is his morals shining through. Jace wants absolutely nothing except to fuck you into oblivion, but he’s kind.

He asks before taking your maidenhood even though he’s shaking at your entrance, will power faltering the longer you contemplate your answer.

He almost cries when he sees you shake your head, breathing a sigh of relief and pursing his pink lips together while nodding. He understands.

“They’ll be time for that later,” You tell him and he’s relived. Back to the mission of penetrating you before you suddenly get an idea, finding yourself stopping him one last time just to be cruel.

“Wait!” You take the role of Jacaerys, and he you as he stares at you with wide eyes. Hungry eyes that are confused and frustrated as you look at him.

“What is it, my love?” He asks slowly.

A crude smirk falls upon your lips. “Maybe we should wait,” You tell him bashfully, loving the way he reels back. The bewilderment in his expression is finally enough to satisfy your revenge for a lifetime, and you want to laugh when he finally feels what you feel. “Maybe we shouldn’t…dishonor ourselves this way. We should wait for marriage, you know? That way—”

You gasp to the high heavens as your cruel joke is suddenly cut off by Jacaerys pushing himself inside of you. In no mood to jest, he takes what he wants and finally eases himself in your core.

You were being cruel to him, he justifies. Jacaerys is a kind man that does not take lightly to cruelty.

You moan out as pleasure graces your lower regions and stare at your husband in shock as his face shows all seriousness. Out of all things, you weren’t expecting for him to do that. To take control in way he’d never shown before.

“Do not jest with me, wife. Not tonight of all nights. Do not deny your husband such pleasure,” He growls in your ear as he finally stills.

Still stunned, you simply lay there and relish in the feeling of him on top of you. Seven hells, you have half a mind to cry with relief but you don’t want him to mistake yours tears for pain.

In fact, it’s quite the opposite and though you told yourself no more begging, you find that you do it anyways as you wrap your legs around him. Pulling him close so that Jacaerys is really and truly inside of you, just as your husband should be.

“I’m sorry, my love. Please forgive me—I won’t do it again,” You whisper desperately, desire clawing at your every atom. You need him to move, you need him to finish what he started; to complete what you’ve craved for what seems like forever now.

It would only be fair after denying you that pleasure for half a year.

“Good.”

Jacaerys growls this and that is when you feel him start to move, his hips snapping into yours as his lips find your own. You moan as his cock thrusts his way through your unexplored folds, reaching depths and pleasures you never thought possible.

You clench around him and move your lips, loving the way he groans and pants into your mouth. Your legs still find themselves wrapped around his waist, enticing your love to go deeper, faster, harder.

You need him and he needs you.

His strokes are those of desperation, chasing every feeling he had ran away from you. Chasing those previous nights where he had denied you his cock, denied himself of the pelasure that he was feeling right now.

The feeling of you wrapped around his cock was one that was indescribable. If anyone ever asked, which he doubted they would (expect for Luke, maybe) then Jacaerys would simply have to stare at them, mouth open like it was now.

For what could he say, other than his beloved was inciting things from his body that he had never felt before? Providing him with pleasure and ecstasy that took his breath away more than his first dragon ride.

These feelings lifted him higher than that, higher than Vermax souring through the clouds and he screwed his eyes shut as he saviored the flavors of your cunt.

Soft and wet and warm and his prison that he’d gladly rot away in. If Jacaerys could spend the rest of his days inside of you he’d be a happy man. He’d give up the iron throne, burn the skies and every village if it meant feeling your warmth.

He’d do it all.

He would give you his all, steadying his pace so that you might taste the same drops of pleasure he was experiencing. So that you might throw your head back in ecstasy like he did, identical moans leaving the two of you as you came undone.

For you, it came in the form of clenching down on Jace’s cock, crying out as your peak hit you violently. You panted, biting into his shoulder as he did yours and rocking your hips to the sensation.

For Jacaerys, it came in the form of hot spurts, coating your walls with his seed like a good husband should. Like a good king, who would surely need to provide heirs one day.

You were all too willing to compete this task, sucking him in, milking him of his children until Jacaerys had nothing left to give. Until he was an empty shell above you, eyes closed and utterly exhausted as he rolled to the floor beside you.

It took a few minutes for anything expect for your heavy panting to fill the room. Both you and Jace were dazed, still out of it and not quite sure what had just happened. Still experiencing the bliss from your first night of marriage. One, that if anything, indicated that a good marriage was on the horizon indeed.

For you, the night had been everything you hoped for and more. Worth the wait, which you were sure that Jacaerys appreciated now that his honor and his cock reminded satified.

Perhaps the two could co-exist now, you concluded. Staring at your beloved as he turned to face you too, a small smile peaking at his lips.

“Iksin ziry worth se umbagon syt ao pār, ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asked, as shallow breaths overtook his body still. (Was it worth the wait then, my love?)

You grinned as you looked into his brown eyes and eagerly nodded, reminiscing on your peak that had happened only minutes before.

You were still dazed, still hazy but your mind was clear enough that you knew your answer before you uttered it. You loved this man, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

“Kessa, īles worth se umbagon indeed, ñuha jorrāelagon,” You promised softly, using the High Valerian he had taught you. Gazing into his eyes that had gone soft for you. That held love for you and silently promised you that this was it, that Jacaerys would always be worthy of anything till the end of your days. “Kesā va moriot sagon worth ziry naejot nyke.” (Yes, it was worth the wait indeed, my love. You will always be worth it to me.)

[causenessus]

Realizing He Loves You. | Haikyuu

inc. akaashi, bokuto, oikawa, iwaizumi, kuroo, kenma

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: my loves get special treatment and all get a song or quote of their own again but just for fun </3 sideways by cleo sol

word count: 1922 words

summary: "when does he realize he loves you/what does he do to show that he loves you?"

little bit of crack? nekoma performs a psychology experiment (??) i just had a little bit of fun writing this and projecting onto like all of them <3 but i just love them all sm and i'm making up for not including kenma in my last post mb guys

akaashi

"don't shorten your speech. i love your details."

if you thought he paid attention to bokuto, you’re not ready for what he gives you

he gives you everything <3 anything you could ever ask for, he’ll get you it

he’s always hoping to see you, when he hears a door open, he looks up, hoping it might just happen to be you

it doesn’t click at first that he’s purposely looking out for you on instinct, but he starts to realize it as he finds himself orbiting around you more and more

he gives you his full attention whenever you say something, and if you get sidetracked or forget what you’re talking about, you best believe he remembers what you’ve already said and will try and prompt your memory by explaining what you’ve already told him

will also check in and remember things that you have said in the past, like you told him about a new book you were reading and the next time he sees you, he’ll ask you how it's going. or if you guys are too busy and he doesn’t ask you about it then, he’ll ask you about it another time he sees you. but either way, it always surprises you and touches your heart when he remembers <3

you best believe he’s always making time for you too

burst into the gym, his classroom, or bedroom and he’s already dropping everything for you

“keiji, you’ll never guess what happened!”

“what happened, love?”

the moment he probably fully realized how much he loved you was when he started holding your hands to stop you from picking at them

he’s always paying so much attention to you and he cares so much about you that he lovingly tries to stop you from habits like biting your nails or picking at your skin <3

he’ll notice that you’re doing it when you’re sitting beside him and with all the care in the world he’ll be gently holding your hands, running his own pretty fingers along them and rubbing them

you know he’s doing it to stop you and help you but you’ll pout, saying, “that’s not fair, keiji, you pick at your fingers too :( ”

but he’ll only smile as he takes his eyes off his fingers playing with yours to look at you, “i know. but you're not allowed to because i love you.”

bokuto

everyone adores you (at least i do)

he couldn’t stop talking about you

he didn’t do it on purpose, but genuinely just kept bringing you up to everyone because you’re his everything <3

he does it with such love and adoration, the biggest smile on his face that no one can say no to him or interrupt him, they just keep listening

in all sorts of conversations, he’ll find a way to bring you into it and people know that if he doesn’t have practice, there’s a 99% he’s with you (that 1% is simply when it’s absolutely impossible for him to be with you

if anyone ever asks him what he did over the weekend, he’s always mentioning you, “my weekend? oh, my girlfriend and I…” 

he has literally no reason to be vague he’s so proud of you and to be your boyfriend he’ll say it whenever he can <3

and just like how his his energy and determination is contagious on the court, so is his happiness when he talks about you

at some point someone on the team brought it up with a grin on their face to match his purely joyous one,

“man, you really love her, don’t you?”

he’d already thought about it a ton before, but to hear someone say it for the first time, it felt different

his face felt a little warm but he couldn’t help but nod,

“i do. i love her.”

oikawa

"jupiter couldn't keep me from you / oh, i'm yours."

he realizes it when seeing you makes him flustered and he can’t stop thinking about you

definitely talks about you a lot to anyone who he can get to listen

like it’s worse than bokuto

but it goes past that, you’re on his mind all the time, throughout his classes and afterschool

and this is NOT basic i swear let me explain

he’s smiling stupidly to himself all throughout the day, his head filled with moments he’s had with you

they’re just showing up in his head without him even trying but he’s not complaining

he’ll see you in the halls and he just can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face

he’ll be listening to songs and suddenly he’s relating them all to you, asap he started making a playlist for you as soon as he became the slightest bit interested in you, he just couldn’t stop thinking about you but at first he thought it was just normal

but then he’s there, helping clean the floors after volleyball practice and he’s in his own head, a lovesick smile on his face and his heart brimming with adoration for you

seijoh 4 is looking at the scene in confusion and worry, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the sight

“is he really that happy to be cleaning the floors?”

“maybe he’s imagining that his serve had hit kageyama in the face and not yahaba??”

“it irks me. trashykawa if you don’t wipe that stupid grin off your face–”

suddenly maki and mattsun are holding iwa back by the arms from marching over to the boy who's still stuck in his own world, smiling with a mop in hand

eventually maki pieces it together, the three of them approaching the boy once iwa has found the will to keep the rage inside again <3

“whose the lucky girl that’s got you smiling like that?” he asked with a taunting smile

to his surprise, tooru was completely transparent, no jokes or comebacks, a pink hue dusting his cheeks as he rested his chin on the handle of the mop with the same lopsided smile as always, “this girl i’ve been seeing…god, i think i love her.”

iwaizumi

"calling my lover 'mine' but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, 'mine' like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. 'mine' not like possession but devotion."

he realized he loved you when he found that he just wanted to do everything for you

the definition of “i know u can do it urself but let me spoil u <3”

he has a list of everything you like so that he always knew what to get you

he’s always coming up with special plans and gifts for anniversaries, birthdays and holidays

i just know he comes up with the best ideas

and i know everyone says this BUT HE’S SO walking on the open side of the sidewalk to guard you from passing cars omg <3

definitely a man whose skipping whatever he has going on that day to take care of you when you get sick or if you’re taking a mental health day

he just wants to make sure you’re completely taken care of and that you know how much you mean to him <3 he’s always reassuring you when you have even the slightest doubt that you are not and will never be an inconvenience or anything of the sort

is 100% holding your bag when you guys are walking at school

and ofc is holding your bags if you guys go out shopping is that even a question??

he’s always asking to take you out places and do something with you

unless you catch him in a gracious mood and give him three good reasons why he shouldn’t pay for something for you, you’re not winning

he’s paying and he’s happy to <3 if you’re really adamant about it, he’ll let you pay (sometimes) but will still try to get you to at least split it

he loves you so much he will give himself wholly to you whenever you ask for it

he can go from completely abusing oikawa to holding you so gently and speaking softly and lovingly in a split second <3

recovering from his beating, oikawa approached iwa again, as you left to take care of something else, “she’s really got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

iwa only continued to watch your leaving figure, “i guess so. but i’d burn the world for her if she asked.”

kuroo

"hold on. hold on. i have to protest. do you think i would choose to live without you?"

he shows how much he cares for you by always making you his first priority

he’s always with you and always on time for you

it didn’t really click with him at first but he realized he loved you when he was thinking so much about making sure you knew that you were cared for and that you deserved nothing short of the best, including a man that is always there for you

i feel like tetsuro (with love) is the type of man who shows up late to things unapologetically at least ever so often

but never when it comes to you

expect him to always be there on an agreed time if not earlier

as researchers (the nekoma volleyball team) found in their experiment (completely unbiased and empirical), by just saying that the group was going to hang out and that you were going to be there, he was guaranteed to show up on time. but any other time, if you weren’t involved, there was a chance he was showing up at least 10 minutes late

(kenma was most certainly their control group to see what tetsuro’s normal behavior was for the people closest to him <3)

when yamamoto presented these findings to tetsuro himself, he simply shrugged

“so you’ll show up completely ready, hair styled and all for her but when it comes to us you come looking like a tornado hit you in the two blocks it takes to get to the convenience store and it set you back like 10 minutes??”

“well duh, i love her, not you.”

kenma

"so you see her / she's over in the corner / and you can't ignore her / there must be a reason"

he realized he loved you when he noticed that he was always keeping an ear open to listen for you 

he’s not used to really working with others. like he’s either listened to (ie. brain of his team) or he’s working independently because he’s not going through the effort of putting up with people

you and kuroo on a good day are the exceptions

bc with you, it’s like he wants to hear from you

he doesn’t often love talking to people, and he hates when people interrupt him when he’s doing something, but when he’s playing games and you're around, he has one side of his headphones pushed behind his ear in case you say something to him

even before you guys were dating, when he sat next to you in class, because you sat to his left, he’d only put in his right earbud when he listened to music so he could hear you

and even when you guys are walking together, hand in hand, if he still has an earbud in, he makes sure to walk on the side of you that doesn’t have an earbud in <3

before practices have officially started, he’s completely unavailable and does not care for what anyone has to say to him

but then he sees you walking in and he’s got an earbud out or his headphones are pushed to the side immediately <3

kuroo notices this after some time and teased him about it, “oh? you never make an effort to listen to anything I have to say if you have your headphones on. does she mean that much to you?”

kenma didn’t even look up from his switch, but there was a small smile on his face at the question, “yeah, she does.”

[eveningepiphany]

need | h.s oneshot

summary: the two elite enemies of St Jacklyn college finally cave against the mass amounts of sexual tension they’ve shared… at a campus sleepover of all things.

warnings: SMUT, hot and heavy, enemies with impulsive benefits, dirty talk, fingering (fem rec), piv sex, classic supply closet sex!!

a/n: after being gone for a little while (basically M.I.A let’s be fr) I wanted to post a little smutshot🤍

———

At college, things happen, and they happen fast.

One minute you’ll be doing homework, and the next you’ll be at a party after a spontaneous invite.

Or you’ll plan for a night with friends but find yourself hooking up with a campus stranger.

It’s the way of life, you’re either going from one extreme to the other, or you’re not really in college.

And that’s exactly what’s currently about to happen to you again. It’s about to be zero to a hundred with you and one of the worst people to walk St Jacklyn halls.

It had started out as you both being out on a walk for fresh air, somehow at the same time. Which turned into a run in as it always does with the two of you— Harry Styles, the colleges token ‘golden’ boy immediately tutting out, “well well, look who else has snuck out for a walk around the halls.”

“How unfortunate our walks have coincided.” You had drawled at him, shaking your head as your feet clacked against the smooth stone flooring.

He had morphed a solo stroll into a joint one, because now he trailed by your side as you wandered the schools dim corridors, “don’t sound so upset, I know y’truly excited by the prospect.”

“Harry, can you fuck off?” Originally, this walk was purposed to clear your muddled head.

One of your ex-friends, Belle, had come up to you in the library— which was turned into a sleeping quarters— with a snide expression written all over her face. She was imploring that in around 2 hours, you check the St Jacklyn gossip page.

It sounds fickle, because it is fickle. The site is dedicated to the drama that goes on at the huge school. And you had been on the front page more than you would’ve liked lately, especially after your fall out with Belle.

“Why would I want to do that…? Plus, I’ve heard word that a story is bubbling about you.” He supplies, and your gaze slants over to him.

His long untamed hair is set free over his shoulders, and his green eyes were already trained on yours.

A sigh breaches through your mouth, the news coming from him is as unfortunate as being murdered before a month long holiday in the tropics. Because if he knows about it, then it just means Belle is telling everyone.

“Do you happen to know what it’s about too?” You ask, half prepared for him to avoid the question.

Which good thing you were expecting it, because that’s just what he did, “She’s being rather venomous. I really didn’t think she’d find footing after what she did to you. Shes much like…” he pauses in thought, brows furrowed as he files through his mind, “like a pest you can’t quite catch.”

“A pest.” You repeat in agreement, the first time you’ve ever sided with him on a statement, despite it being a backhanded dig at the fact you can’t seem to sort it out once and for all.

“Indeed, dove. And from what i know, the news that’s going up is nothing good.” He smirks, hands coming to clasp behind his back.

“Ah, bad news about me on St Jacklyns gossip page. Something you would know nothing about, of course.” You sneer at him, a reminder that you have neither forgiven or forgotten.

“All is fair in love and war, darling.” He justifies with a shrug, “you can’t claim to be a saint either.”

“Never did.” A scoff pasted your lips, “however you cant claim you didn’t start it.”

He overlaps you with his steps, now walking backwards in front of you, his eyes trailing up and down your body, “Just as bitter as ever…”

“Of course I’m bitter.” You spat out, flaring your hands out in quickly bubbling anger.

“You’re acting as if you weren’t the one to tell the blog I was sleeping with Sherman! Which was a fucking lie!”

“And like you didn’t egg my house after it.” He fires back.

“You stole my cat and dyed him green.”

“Well, y’shouldnt let your cat outside.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

“And you know what, Y/N, I think you are too.” He smiles, as though he’s proud of you.

“God.” You frustratedly huff out, stopping all together.

He smirks, coming to a halt as well, “Not my name, but I can appreciate the confusion.”

He steps forward into your space, lips curling upward, something mischievous sparkling in his green gaze.

“You are unbelievable.” You shake your head, face contorting with disgust. Trying to ignore his muscles that are popping as he crosses hims arms over his chest.

“Oh, but I have a feeling you love it.” He coos.

“I hate you, Harry.” You grit out, mimicking his stance— turning the sight of the two of you into the likes of a stand off.

“Mmm, you do?” A low hum comes from his throat, licking his lips as he looks at you.

“Harder than you’d ever be able to fathom.” You almost stutter out, mind fumbling as you’re sure he is mapping out some kind of move he’s about to make on you.

Things around here imitate a game of chess, every play as calculated as the next.

He is smiling at your constant digs of his character. You’re so this, you’re so that, you’d kept saying to him. Finding the most offensive describing words you could.

“So unbelievable that if I kissed you right now, you’d be shocked?”

You scowl at him, “not that I think you’d have the balls, but yes, I likely would be.”

“Is that a challenge?” He further perks up at your quip.

You have doubts he’d ever follow through, because you nod, with a cock of your brow. And oh how you were wrong about that. You should’ve known with the way he was eyeing you off like a meal.

He leans forward into your space, fast like the wind, yet his kiss like a breeze. Quick and gentle, and his point proven with a smug smirk being felt against your mouth hardly a second before he pulls away.

You— however shocked and slightly appalled that the enemies mouth just touched yours— are frozen to the spot.

He soaks in the look of surprise on your features, and a part of him tingles with the thrill of kissing someone who he knows could try and ruin his life. Just as you had countless times before.

An adrenaline rush spiked in him, along with something else, something stronger that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Want your own challenge?” he suggests, derailing from his original plan. He doesn’t wait for an indication of an answer from yourself.

“You wouldn’t dare admit that you enjoyed that.” He muses.

“I didn’t.” You try to force confidence in your voice, certainty. But you’re only sounding defensive, just like a liar.

His words kick you into gear, and you shove his shoulder with the flat of your hand— yet it hardly budges his firm figure in the dim hallway.

“Should we try again?” The direction of the wind had changed, clearly. His voice a low constant hum, leaning forward again, hands brushing gingerly against your waist.

You swear the warm lights upon the walls flicker as though they were a flame being licked by the shift in the air around you.

“No.” You scoff, hands grabbing his wrists where they hung loosely on your hipbone— you’re tempted by his scent, but cautious of his habitual lying.

A wrong move and he will use it against you.

“And why not?” He says, and you choose your next words carefully.

“Because. You have to admit it first.” You state, deciding not to entirely close off the idea of kissing him again, but atleast removing an aspect of vulnerability from it.

“I’ll show you,” he pulls your body further into his, nose nudging against your own. It pushes your face up so your mouth is more accessible to his.

You’re suddenly flushing at the action, this was too far to prove a point— even for you— you decided.

He feels you squirm, “Do you not want me to kiss you? Or are you just nervous around me.”

“Don’t be conceited…” you scowl against his cheek, “you still repulse me.”

His throat makes a deep sound, and he grazes over your mouth. A tease, he does it again, and again.

The heat of his mouth is brushing yours in a torturous cycle— one that doesn’t seem to be ending on his terms. A soft pass of his lower lip, and you’re eager for more, but he pulls away just a fraction. All you can feel is the hot air passing through his parted lips. He doesn’t give in.

“I wouldn’t make you do something you didn’t want t’do…” His voice is no more than a whisper. It is truth as much as it is a trap. He’s instating that if you make the next move, you want this.

Everything is in the fine print around here.

You can feel him talking almost against your mouth, the small vibration of every syllable that passes through his lips. It’s tempting beyond belief, beginning to forge a sense of desperation in your body that not even you can condone.

His plan is working to a tea. You hate him so much for it.

He brushes his hands over you, heat radiating from his body. But not pushing into your mouth, just lingering.

Not making a move until you cave against him first.

He somehow knows you like the back of his hand, because you couldn’t resist pushing back into his mouth after all that. Despite the alarm bells absolutely blaring in your head, you went against them completely.

Three minutes of teasing was practically all it was, but it was enough to leave the hairs on your body standing up, and your lungs panting for air.

Enemies spend so much time carving stakes to throw at each other, that along the way they find out more about one another than anyone else. Idiosyncrasies that you somehow learn from warfare, has now stemmed into to being used with the art of… romance or whatever you call it.

Probably not romance— actually not at all romance— but whatever this is.

You know it’s true because right now, your hands are itching to pull his hair. You know he’s into it, since a whole post got aired out about it and you tried to use it against him hardly a few months ago.

He only played it off with a smirk, and an offer to see just how riled up it got him.

Just as now he bites at your lip, a thing he worked out of you when you were absolutely trashed at Belle’s end of semester party.

Something he cant lie he’s been craving to do since he found out.

This kiss goes from teasing and something that’s merely testing boundaries to an entirely fueled makeout session.

There was no room for words suddenly, except muttered curses being shared between the two of you.

Both of you are moving in sync, stepping backwards until his hands fumble with the door of a conveniently placed supply closet.

Your mind is whirling as he guides you into the even darker room. Hardly lit, it made everything feel like you were imagining it. Only outlines are visible, thanks to the thin warm rays of light snaking their way through the gap in the door.

Christ, he is tugging you hard against him, and you want it… his hands skating over your hips and dipping teasingly down to your ass are hardly helping your case.

Finally you get something out of your mouth, “fuck— is this still a part of your stupid agenda? Or do you actually want something?

He grabs your wrist, suddenly guiding it down to a place you can feel just how much he wants something.

You bite down hard on your lip to contain the gasp that almost slipped out as you feel the bulge he’s sporting beneath his jeans, “feel that, baby?”

Fuck… this is going to completely fuck you over. You need him? It hits you like a tonne of bricks, and also straight between your own legs.

A whine exits your mouth quicker than you can hold it back, and you wish for an ounce of shame that Harry just heard that. But you can’t seem to find it.

And infact, he revels in the noise, that high pitched sound of need that comes from you. It fuels him, because he wants to hear more of it.

Neither of you are thinking about circumstances right now. All you can feel is the intense sense of desire.

At least for yourself, the idea of finding a way to royally fuck Harry over is on the back burner.

You remind yourself this is just how college is. Things happen, and that’s fine…

Well, thats how you’re justifying right now. Because in reality, you don’t have a lot else to vouch for yourself with.

Overall, you’re stricken of breath from your actions, both figuratively and literally.

The way Harry’s lips are melded to yours, hot and smooth— kissing your mouth with such keen intent, anyone from the outside would think the situation laid on completely different grounds to the reality.

His body is moving insatiably against yours now, like you’re two people who have been longtime acquaintances or friends that have finally managed to make a move.

His hands skate the skin of your back with fervour, as though you both were strangers that really hit it off at an event.

But you still think those circumstances wouldn’t feel nearly as good as this one did. The hatred that flooded you everytime he was around fuelled you all the same.

Your hand is still placed over his bulge, cupping it as you both half devour each other. It’s hot to know you’re currently placed over his most vulnerable spot, and the fact he’s allowing it.

Especially when there’s enough history to warrant a punch to the groin.

It’s a reminder to how horrid an idea this technically is. That you’re fraternising with the worst person you possibly could.

You pant against him, spitting out a much needed reality check, “Fuck— I still hate you.”

He is your enemy. Your adversary. Your opponent. Not friend, only foe. Yet you’ve landed yourself in this supply closet with him. At your college. While half of your grade level is mingling downstairs.

You can’t tell if you regret picking a college that does so many random community activities. Such as a college sleepout, camping on campus as they’d deemed it.

It was set to strengthen connections with peers and mesh with those you haven’t before upon a familiar location.

And oh, are you meshing with someone you don’t usually…

“Hate me, hm?” He hums against the skin of your throat, baring his teeth and grazing them against it. Evoking a shudder from you at the sensation, which zipped down your spine and furthering the pool of warmth that gathered at the peak of your thighs.

Your hands tightened as they clutched his waist, nails scratching against the muscled flesh as you searched for a response.

“You’re an ass, Harry, I cant forget that even with your tongue in my mouth. And…” He licked a stripe up your neck, drawing back to meet your eye level as you spoke. Suddenly words weren’t coming out again.

“And?” He prompts, “Can’t forget tha’ even when im making you feel this good? When im getting you this worked up? And, probably when you know im able to give you the best orgasm of your life.”

You shoved his chest, yet balling his shirt up so you could immediately pull him closer against you. The idea of going further made you flushed, despite that being the only way everything is headed with the make out session you just had.

But it’s hard to miss the way it’s exactly what your body is rioting for. Not to mention the way his gorgeous and pouty face that’s hardly visible in this light works you up even more.

“Just… shut your mouth. Keep it closed.” You pleaded, letting your hands slide underneath his shirt and scratch against his taut muscles. A part of you longing to see the tattoos hidden beneath.

“How would I do this, then?” He guided his lips back against yours and licked into your mouth. His skilful tongue made you weak against him, the way it swirled around your own.

The exchange almost made your knees buckle where you stood pressed up against the door. Hands wringing against the oddly soft skin of his back, his mouth tasting of mint.

Every part of him was unfairly perfect, down to the way he tasted— which made you almost drool it was that good. But regardless, it’s messed up he’s allowed to walk around being so flawless.

Well, physically flawless anyway… given what flaws he lacks in that department, he makes up for with his subpar personality.

As his warm mouth moves against yours, your hands dipped back down to where his belt laid, toying with the buckle.

He drew his mouth back, yet pushing his thigh forward— slotting it between your legs with a satisfied hum. “Pretty thing, pullin’ on m’belt like you’re desperate for something.”

His words made you shudder, and you know he’s trying to ease you into some kind of submission. And you hate the way it would probably work.

“Desperate? Coming from the one who is already pushing his cock into my hand through his jeans.” The scoff he let out gave you a rush of satisfaction.

Although he didnt verbally retaliate, a hand tucked into your hair and pulled your head back. Exposing your neck so he could suck a harsh mark into it.

“Y’all talk, darling…” he whispers, letting your hair go and slipping his fingers nimbly under your fitted shirt.

His hand is pressed into your breast firmly over the top of your bra, held down by the tight fabric of your top.

It renders you senseless, the feeling of his warm palm atop your skin. Hand held over the heart you swore a million times he wanted to rip out of your chest.

Your own fingertips glide along his arm, feeling the soft hair dusting them, and coming to instinctually clutch his bicep.

There was both fear and arousal pumping through you, it was a sick and twisted adrenaline high that pushed you further into his game.

You unconsciously ground yourself against the thigh his had worked its way between your legs, a whimper slipping out as he gently squeezed your tit.

His name slipped from your mouth, sounding like a desperate plea.

“Y/N, baby.” He mocks almost, “just tell me what you need.”

It’s a shame you didn’t have the strength to even hesitate, “You.”

A satisfied hum from his throat embarrassed you, yet not enough to stop grinding down onto his jean-covered thigh.

His hand retracts from where it was inside your top, and disappears south. Fingers dipping below the fabric of your leggings, and touching over your core like it was nothing.

Your legs nearly gave out as his fingers drew over your fabric covered clit. A noise rattling in your chest as he adds a hint of pressure.

It feels heavenly even over a layer of fabric. Nails were now dug into the flesh of his arm, and your brain starting racing even faster than your heart.

Need, need, need.

That’s the only chorus you could hear in you head, you needed to feel his fingers press inside of you. You would even resort to begging if it came to it.

“Everyone always acts like you’re such a good girl, dove.” He shakes his head, already foreshadowing his disagreement with his tone.

He delivers a flick of your clit, “but you’re not really. Not at all.”

The dampness of your panties could almost make him moan aloud, but he holds himself back, continuing his little speech.

“If only they could see how wet your pussy’s gotten for me. Just how badly you want something from me.”

“Shut up.” You wish it held even a hint of venom, but it was yet another plead to him.

He leans forwards and captures your lips in a short but searing kiss, licking into your mouth for hardly a second before retracting.

“Want my fingers inside of you?” He asks, ignoring your previous complaint.

The idea sounds like a fucking dream right now, and you nod feverishly despite him hardly being able to see it.

“Yes, just do it, please.”

He waits hardly much longer before pushing your soaked underwear aside, allowing his middle finger to slip through your wet centre.

The sensation of the first contact skin-to-skin releases a full body shudder from you, and then furthers into a groan as he eases into your soaked hole.

He wastes no time curving it upward, eager to hear your moans. There’s no resistance as he touches you, you melt into him.

“Fucks sake,” he curses as you rut into his palm, craving the friction of it against your clit.

“So keen to grind yourself all over my hand, huh? Who would’ve thought I’d have you in here tonight, making a mess on my fingers.”

His voice is idilic as it enters your euphoric mind, even though his words are a dig at you, you can help but be turned on even more by it.

“Please…” you whine, although you’re not even sure what it is you’re begging for.

He starts to move his hand faster, there’s a level of skill behind it, he knows what he’s doing.

The pressure of his upper palm against your clit, and the circles he’s rubbing inside of you. Pressing at a sweet spot that’s making you drip.

It’s not long before you can hear how wet you are, hardly masked by the moans flying from your mouth.

“Already going to come?” He chuckles, kissing at your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck— Harry…”

He pushes in a second finger, making your back arch in pleasure. Christ, it felt so fucking good.

You are so unbelievably wet, and in the back of your mind you can’t believe he’s got you in a state like this.

Palms fisting at his shirt, pulling him as close as you can get. He can tell you’re starting to unravel between him.

Your hole is pulsing in response to his fast and firm hands, and profanities flying from your lips.

“Cmon, show me how much you hate me, Y/N.”

“I hate you!” You cry, and the feeling of your impending orgasm is taking over your whole body. It’s burning in your stomach, aching in your chest.

His fingers somehow curl faster inside of you, and finally make you snap.

A cry falls from your mouth and your hips jerk harshly against him.

“Ride it out, good girl…” he coos to you, and your head is spinning.

Somehow, as you come down from your high, it was not enough.

“More, Harry.”

A silence envelops you both for a second, “what?”

“Need you inside of me.”

When he doesn’t move to action your request, you start fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

“Woah, slow down baby. Think for a second, gotta let you settle first.” His tone translates as unsure in your mind.

“Do you not want to?” You frown at him, “Just say that, im not going to be—

“No.” He immediately interjects, “not sayin’ that at all dove, just want you to clear y’head for a second.”

His hand has slipped out of your leggings, and his reminder makes you take a deep breath. It was almost sweet, even though it was the bare minimum.

“I’m fine.” You sigh, “thank you, though.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

You’re surprised he has any decency at all in that regard.

“I know…” your hands have now slid his belt off him, “but I want you to fuck me, like fuck me absolutely stupid.”

“God, Y/N.” He rasps, “trying to be so gentle with you right now, an’ y’just want to be filled with my cock.”

“I do, so help me take these off.” You work to slide his jeans down.

There’s a fumble with eachothers clothing that quickly follows, all the sudden shirts are being torn off and pants shucked down from eachothers legs.

Thrown in random directions to be dealt with a later time, because right now all the can be felt is the desire.

“I’ve got a condom.”

“Why the fuck do you have a condom at a school camp out?” You scoffed, but typical of Harry to cart around a condom ‘just incase’.

“Ah well, yknow. Prepared for any occasion.”

You rolled your eyes, hands pressed on his chest, “God you have a way of making a girl feel special.”

“Darling, if you’re worried about that let me show you.” He runs his fingers down your body, lingering on the low of your belly.

“I shouldn’t be so surprised, I know better than anyone you’re one of St Jacklyn’s biggest man whores.”

“Not a man whore, just have an appreciation for a woman’s beauty.”

You lean in to kiss at his jaw, “I’ll pretend that’s not a bit objectifying.”

He groans, subconsciously cocking his head back so you have more room to peck at, “you’re impossible to please.”

“You haven’t tried that hard yet.” You sing, swinging the topic back to its original starting point.

“Oh yea?” He grips at your waist, tearing the condom he pulled from god knows where and moving his briefs down his thighs so he can roll it down his length.

He quickly pushes you back, so your body is pressed into the wall again, and a heat envelopes your body all over again.

His hands are now toying with your underwear, his lips back over yours as he teases you all over again.

You can feel his cock pressed against your thigh, and although there’s hardly enough light to get a good look, you can tell he’s big. Perfectly equipped, if you will.

Your hand finds its way to wrap around him, wishing for a second he wasn’t covered with a condom so you could really feel him.

Nevertheless, you give him a slow and steady stroke, taking great pride in the pleasure-filled sigh that gets drawn from his lungs.

“Fuck Y/N…”

“Look who’s whining now, good boy.”

He doesn’t even have the mental resolve to quip back at you, he simply cranes into your touch, mouthing at your chest absentmindedly.

“You’re gonna make m’come before im even inside of you. C’mere.”

He tugs your underwear down all the way, letting you step out of it. Wasting no time sliding his hand around the back of your thigh, lifting it up around his waist.

Your hands run over his shirtless frame, palming at the taut abs he has, trying not to salivate.

“You tell me if you want to stop or change something, alright?”

You nod, but it wasn’t enough for him, “need an answer, darling.”

“Yes, thank you.” Your answer was sighed, a flutter of your eyelids as he presses his cock against your clit.

You whine as he runs his tip through your slit, coating himself in your pooled arousal, his breathing heavy.

He takes his time here, teasing you, pushing into you just enough to have you clenching around him yet still leave you begging him for more.

“Harry, Harry please.”

He knew exactly how to work you so he got this. The begging and pleading to be filled up with him.

“Tell me what y’want.” His voice is raspy, yet drips with honey.

“You.”

He tuts, flicking your sensitive clit, “need more detail than that.”

“Want… fuck.” You roll your hips against him, “want you to fuck me so deep, please. Need to feel you all the way inside of me.”

There was no shame for you right now, all you could focus on was the pulsing need deep in your core, aching to be stretched out by him.

“That’s it dove,” he finally pushes in, moaning in sync with you.

“Fuck, you feel so nice around me.”

Your hole is already clenching around his length, your hips mindlessly grinding down into him. Pulling him in deeper until he’s hitting all the perfect spots.

He groans at your needy rutting against him, making him start to pump inside of you, hardly taking a slow start.

You feel your brain nearly switch off, all but the part that’s associated with him. His scent, his touch, all the history that you’re seemingly fucking out right now.

“Need you to go harder.” You cry, making him almost chuckle.

“What a wonderful thing t’hear from you. That you, the girl who fucking hates me wants me to fuck her senseless.” His statement is panted out, and usually you’d say something snarky back, but right now none of that crosses your mind.

“Please, want you to ruin me…”

Right now that is all you want, to be completely ruined.

He doesn’t take your request light heartedly, he ruts into you with deep and fast strokes. Hand coming to where your clit is, toying with it at the same pace.

He mutters dirty words into your ear as he keeps going, winding you up even when you didn’t think you could anymore.

“Cmon baby, show me how you let go around me.” He pushes, grabbing at the back of your head, lacing his hands into your hair.

He tugs your lips against his, and your moaning against him still, mouth wide open.

His name falls from your tongue like a mantra, over and over again until you’re nearly collapsed. He has to hold you up when you start to come, your knees completely cave in.

“Oh my— oh my god!” Your whole body rocks against his hold, his cock hitting places inside of you that you didn’t even know you had.

“Don’t stop, please don’t..” you feel the second he starts to unravel with you, his thrusts lapse in pace and all the sudden his breath stutters.

“Oh fuck, Y/N!” He grunts and falls into you as, “why didn’t we do this earlier, fuckin’ hell.”

His cock twitches inside of you, and both of you are stricken of air, lightheaded but filled with so much pleasure.

“That was so good, Harry…” you kiss at his neck, and his breath passes out as a chuckle.

“Still hate my guts though?” He laughs.

Your palms run down his back, relaxing as he slides out of you, “Mhmm, a good fuck isn’t gonna change that.”

“Atleast you can admit im good in bed.” He teases.

“Technically we’re not in a bed, so not sure if that point stands.”

“Just had you crying out my name as you come around my dick n’ you’re already back to mouthing me off.”

“Mouthing you off, huh?”

He snorts, “right, you dirty thing.”

“Can mouth you off if you beg for it.”

“Already want a round two with me, isn’t that saying something.” He stares at you, lips curling into a smile.

“You made me finish twice, seems only fair.” You suggest.

And suddenly, you realised you’ve gotten into a very dangerous spiral with a very dangerous player in your game.

Only time will tell…

———

a/n: I have hardly edited this but I really really just wanted to post again, I hope it’s okay and the writing isn’t too rusty lol

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You feel like a child again. Crammed in the back seat between your sisters. The motion of the car makes you queasy but you’re not so certain it isn’t something else stirring your guts. You’re all silent, as if on your way to another funeral. 

Any other woman might be ecstatic. You can’t feel anything by acidic dread. The weigh on your finger keeps you from forgetting the inevitable. 

Kitty reaches to still you as you twist the oversized band against your chafed finger. You dip your head embarrassed and she holds your hand gently in yours. 

“We will get through it.” Kitty says. 

“We have to,” you say. 

Adrienne hums and jostles you from her side. You must all be thinking of the same thing. This is a day when your mother should be there. One where you miss her deep in your soul. 

The car stops. Barnes’ man opens the door and you get out. You feel like an inmate on some sort of excursion. You have a guard close though you have nowhere to go. You can’t see them but you have shackles around you. 

The dress shop stands in stark contrast to the mood. You enter the ivory lobby and approach the tall counter where a woman stands. She greets you with a smile. There’s a group of women in the cushy chairs nestled between garishly-adorned mannequins. 

You give your name, anxiously swaying. He told you to be here at this time. He ensured you would be by sending the car. 

“Ah, there she is,” a voice rises from the cluster of ladies in the sitting area. “We’ve been waiting.” 

A steely-haired woman rises before the associate behind the counter can confirm your appointment. She approaches with the flock at her back. You face her in surprise, your sisters closing the ranks at your sides. 

“Winnifred Barnes,” the woman introduces herself, “you are the one my son has chosen.” She grabs your hand and shakes it. Her grip is tight. “My daughter, Rebecca,” she lets go of you and gestures to the pretty brunette at her left, “Wanda,” she waves at a blond, “and dear Natasha.” A redhead nods with a stony expression. 

“Oh, hello, ma’am,” you know who she is. Barnes’ own mother; your future in-law. “My sisters--” 

“Adrienne and Kitty,” she addresses them each with a smile and a handshake. “Yes, the three sisters.” She turns her attention back to you, “my regrets your own mother could not be here but when my son told me, I insisted. It isn’t fair of a woman to pick a dress without a maternal shoulder to lean on.” 

“Right,” you agree thinly. “I...appreciate it very much. Thank you for being here.” 

“Did he not tell you?” Rebecca intones from her mother’s shoulder, “typical.” 

“It’s a happy surprise,” Kitty insists. 

Winnifred smiles at her, “entirely correct. We’ve had a bit of a peek around, not going to lie.” 

“Oh, my,” your eyes scan the walls full of ivory, cream, and pearl. “I have to admit, I don’t really know what I’m looking for.” 

“Never worry. You’ve got a dozen other eyes to help you,” Winnifred takes your hand, “they have a room ready for us but we should have a look around first.” She tugs you along as the associate beckons her past the front counter. You let her lead the way. This is all easier if you just let it happen around you. “And your sisters, they will be bridesmaids?” 

“I... yes,” you answer in a hollow tone. You hadn’t even thought of that. It only sinks in at that moment. 

You’re getting married. You’re going to have a full-fledged wedding and you’re going to leave your sisters forever. Your daddy is gone and so is your old life. 

“Why don’t you see what catches your eye?” Winnifred gestures to the wall of fluffy gowns. “We all know the men don’t care what we wear, they’re less concerned with the day and more eager for the night.” 

She cackles and you turn to the hangers of fabric. That’s better than thinking about the implications of the choice. Pick a dress. Whatever one you choose won’t change what comes next. 

“Ladies, you know your mission,” Winnifred claps. She nears you and pulls on puffy piece, “would you look at that? Like a princess.” 

You peek over. It’s too much. The layers and layers, the sequins and lace. Why not one or the other? It’s all too much. You never had to worry about silk or mesh, tulle or chiffon. You wore whatever you had. 

“No, you don’t like it,” she clucks. “A mother always knows.” 

“Sorry,” you murmur and push apart the dresses in front of you. 

You shuffle through, one by one. Too much frill, too sheer, too heavy, too Victorian. You don’t even think you should wear white. It feels like an occasion better suited to black. 

“Pull as many as you like. We have all day. You want options. You never really know what you like until it’s on,” Winnifred advises. 

“Hey,” Kitty calls to you and shows you a dress, “you like this?” 

You look over at your sister as she presents a dress with short sleeves and lacy tiers on the skirt. It’s nice but you’re not sure. 

“I can try it,” you say and turn back. 

You go down the full wall before you find something that gives you pause. There’s nothing special about it. It's plain. Straps, a skirt. No ruffles, no lace, no ribbons or beads. Just a dress. And this is just a wedding. 

You take the hanger and hand it to the associate. She goes to add it to the selection. That’s your choice. You’ll see what the others found. 

You wander but don’t look at anything else. Winnifred has an armful as she nears, “well, think we’ve got a good lot. Let’s go see how it looks.” 

She’s happy. It’s strange. To her, it is a joyful time. Her son is getting married and she’s there to help her soon-to-be daughter-in-law pick a gown. You smile, or try to. 

You are led into a room with velvet chairs and a matching chaise. The women settle in. Your sisters in the chairs, and Winnifred between the three other women on the cushioned bench. The associate takes you to the curtained changing room. 

There’s at least a dozen hangers waiting for you. 

“Do you have a preference of which one to try first?” She asks. 

“This one last,” you point to the one you picked. 

“Okay,” she agrees easily. “Better get started.” 

“Sure,” you say, “it’s going to be a long day.” 

She helps into the first one. A ballgown with flowery lace all over and off-the-shoulder straps. This isn’t for you but you’ll let them see it. You lift the skirts above your feet and go out. 

There’s a few gasps as you get in front of the mirror and face your reflection. You hide your displeasure. It’s just not you. 

“Gorgeous,” Wanda and Rebecca praise. 

“I like the skirt,” Adrienne offers. 

“No, it’s not right,” Kitty hums. 

“It isn’t,” Winnifred agrees. 

You nod and turn to the associate, “next, please.” 

You step away from the mirror and hurry back to the shelter of the curtain. This is torture. If Barnes is so set on owning you, can’t you just sign the papers and be done with it? 

[mochatsin]

WHEN MC GETS CATCALLED

Being a very extraordinary human, you’re bound to draw attention to yourself without meaning to. That includes the attention of unruly demons who can’t seem to take their eyes off you. One of them eventually crosses the line by calling you names and saying inappropriate things about you, but luckily one of the demon brother’s overheard and was there to help you.

Some scenarios have MC overhearing this or it happens behind their back. Even though the words aren’t explicitly said, please exercise caution if these things make you uncomfortable! Also has some violent themes with some of our favorite protective demons.

------------

Lucifer

Lucifer was on his way to meet you at this restaurant because he wanted to treat you to dinner as thanks for accompanying him with one of his errands that Diavolo has sent him on. With your help, it significantly lessened the headaches and workloads he has to deal with on a daily basis.

You’ve done a lot around the house, so it’s only fair that he would take you somewhere more high end right? You’ve already frequented some of the other restaurants with Beel, so Lucifer wants to take you to somewhere more high class. He wants you to feel special tonight, and mostly to lower the chances of his brothers barging in and ruining his dinner plans.

He was waiting by the table he reserved when he saw you walk in the entrance. Given the venue, Asmo decided to make sure you look your best to surprise Lucifer because he wants you to really capture everyone’s attention because you deserve to be the star of the night.

Well it did work because to Lucifer, you look absolutely stunning. He should’ve taken you out to these sorts of places more often if it meant he’ll see you like this. If only the constant house repairs and bills his younger brothers make him pay didn’t get in the way. 

Though his admiration is cut off when he notices other demons looking at you with this predatory look in their eye, as if you were the main course walking into this restaurant. He’s holding onto anything to keep himself in line.

The last straw was when he heard the things some waiter said about you. To speak about you so lowly is insulting, there’s no way for Lucifer to sit still and act like he didn’t hear all that. The air feels so heavy to breathe in it feels like glass could shatter from the sheer pressure of it, and a deadly aura can be traced towards your reserved table. 

“Do you wish to keep your tongue? Or would you prefer to keep speaking and see where this knife goes?” Lucifer’s gaze is cold and threatening while his grip on the butterknife tightens to the point he’s almost deforming the metal. Even though he’s only talking to the waiter, he’s clearly sending the whole restaurant a message. 

You knew you needed to do some damage control and tried to get Lucifer out of there, coaxing him to calm down before it could get any worse. He decides to listen to you for now, because this whole night was meant to treat you and not stress you. 

“It’s best if we get a change of scenery. There are too many pests in this restaurant, let me take you to a nice place. Somewhere more deserving of your presence.” Lucifer would not want to dine in a restaurant if their food is served by these kinds of waiters. He’d say it’s unprofessional customer service, but you can tell it’s very personal.

He takes you to somewhere fancier and possibly more expensive. Though he’s going a bit out of budget tonight, it’s to make up for those awful words that the waiter said about you. He hopes that you don’t shy away from dressing up so nicely, because he’d want to show to the world why the Avatar of Pride chose you. He’ll treat you like royalty if he has to.

It takes one awful review from Lucifer to have the establishment shut down under the order of the young prince. He doesn’t care what strings he has to pull if it means that your stay in Devildom would be much more comfortable. You should never feel unsafe like that again.

Mammon

Every other week Mammon would make a stop by the casino to try to score some extra grimm. As if his streaks of bad luck won’t be enough to keep him away here, and not even Lucifer’s punishments can put a cease on his bad gambling habits. It’s an itch in his brain that he’s gotta scratch after all! He’s optimistic each time he enters the casino in hopes he’ll score big.

There are a few occasions you would join him if your schedule allows it. Sometimes it’s to keep an eye in case Mammon goes too far with his bets as Lucifer instructed, because he doesn’t want him to come home with more debt than he left with. Though in all honesty, you’re there for the smile your first demon gets whenever he actually wins. 

At some point Mammon believes that you’re his lucky charm when he notices how he’s been scoring more grimm than he expected whenever you’re around. If he finds that your schedule is free, then he’s definitely dragging you along. 

He likes to rub the top of your head sometimes for some extra luck before making a bet. Though he prefers it more if you’re sitting next to him when he does so. He says it’s for luck, but he just wants an excuse to have you by his side.

The demons at the opposite side sees you and begins to make snarky comments accompanied with wolf whistle. The discomfort is evident in your eyes as you instinctively move closer to Mammon, and he’s definitely not having it right now. 

Screw everything, if this asshole is picking a fight then that’s what Mammon will give him. If the demon wants to take hold of what’s his then Mammon will make it very clear to the entire table that you’re not up for grabs no matter how much grimm they’ll put on the table.

“Ya wanna make a bet how many teeth i could make ya cough out in a minute?” Mammon said, flashing a grin far too sinister. Being the second strongest and even the fastest, it doesn’t seem like a wise thing to gamble on so the demons shrunk in their seats.

You like to think that luck is finally on Mammon’s side today when he won the round. Though it’s definitely Mammon’s threatening aura around the table that impaired the everyone’s ability to make a wise decision when placing bets. 

When he walks out with his earnings, his grip on your hand is tighter than usual while he checks his surroundings. He holds you like you’d get snatched away at any moment, and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of letting you go until you both reach the house. 

“You’re my treasure, but that doesn’t mean I like it when other demons check ya out like that.” Mammon is quite protective of his valuables. You and Goldie are on the top of the list. He’d play it off as acting this way as part of his role of Greed, but it’s clear he’s worried about you. 

Whenever you text Mammon that you’re going to fetch him from the casino, he’s insistent that you either bring one of his brothers with you or wait outside because no way is he going to let other demons look at you like eye candy like that ever again.

Levi

Despite being a bit recluse and shy, Levi is not afraid of the prospect of cosplay when it means that he gets to express his love for his favorite series. He puts in a lot of work into sewing his costumes and making sure it looks perfect for the next upcoming convention.

He’s ecstatic when you agreed to cosplay with him this time, even matching with his favorite character. As soon as he got over the fluster he got from the idea, he’s quick in whipping up clothes for your size and you both spent a lot of time in his room trying to get your outfits right, or going outside to get some more materials. 

The process was fun for Levi when he gets to do these sorts of things with you, and the payoff was worth it when you both finally got to see the end results. Levi is so confident, you two look like an absolute power couple… from the anime, yeah definitely. If Levi tried to say that again he might burst into flames.

You both go to the con and have an absolute blast taking photos together or with other people who are also fans of the series. Levi wants you to enjoy the thrill of cosplaying! But he eventually noticed midway that you’re starting to look uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the clothes? Wearing cosplay for so long can be tiring after all.

He stops when he hears a passerby making comments about you in the outfit, and it’s clear that it’s starting to make you uneasy but there’s no way that Levi is going to let someone ruin this event, not when you were clearly having fun together.

“Those aren’t compliments. They're just straight up offensive! A MOCKERY to fans who dedicate so much time and effort to the things they love!” Levi hisses because this person not only insulted the whole cosplay community, they insulted you of all people. 

You helped Levi get out of his shell and come to his aid whenever things start getting overwhelming for him. Levi doesn't want you to feel that unease, he wants you to feel safe! What if you don’t want to do matching cosplays with him anymore? That’s unacceptable!

Luckily some other people got some security to drag the creep away since there’s already a record of making other cosplayers uncomfortable as well. Levi doesn’t dwell on that though, he grabs you and gently leads you away from the crowd of onlookers. 

He tries to play it cool but if it weren't for the makeup and props on his face, you’d definitely see how red he looks right now. He mumbles something about how he must’ve sounded so stupid back there like what was he thinking… 

“I-i know that some otaku like me can’t be like those heroes i dress up as but… y-you can rely on me too!” Levi managed to say through the stutter, though just saying things like these out loud makes him wish for the ground to swallow him up. 

Levi would buy you something to cheer you up and forget about that experience, anything to bring a smile back on your face. Any merch of the series you like, maybe gamble on some cute gachapons, or just buy some desserts together. He wants you to feel better!

If other fans want to take pictures with you and you start feeling uncomfortable, Levi would do his best to drag you away or reject them for you. It’s taxing work and definitely doing numbers on his social battery, you’ll both be holed up in his room to recover after this whole ordeal. 

He’ll have pictures of both of you in cosplay as his wallpaper at some point, maybe show off some of your best pictures to his brothers. He would ramble on for so long about how you look great in the picture and really embodied the character you were dressing as. If some demon can’t appreciate you back there in the con, then Levi will definitely worship you. 

Satan

Instead of Libraries or Cafes like you both usually go to, Satan wants a nice change of pace this time and brings you to an orchestra. Through his connections, he was able to get both of you two tickets to the best seats in the house.

There’s no special occasion, he just wants to treat you to some of the finer things Devildom has to offer. Though he doesn’t really have the wallet like Lucifer does, he at least has the connections to make up for it so Satan can take you to galleries and things like these.

He was on his way to the venue where you were already waiting for him. But he stops when he hears some demon making revolting remarks about someone he saw at the entrance, only for Satan to realize that person was you when you were the only one by the doors. 

You could practically feel the rage burning through him the moment you two meet, and it looks like he’s hardly containing his wrath. Though Satan promised you a nice night, it would be a shame to waste these expensive tickets by going feral right now so he decides to keep it to himself. 

He keeps you close for the night, giving you the royalty treatment and whispering sweet nothings by your ear during the orchestra. If you ask him what brought up this sort of behavior (not that you’re against it), he’d just smile it off. He’d be honest about it, but not tonight. Satan wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of the play worrying.

“Something just brought down my mood, though it made me realize just how special you are to me. I’d do anything to keep you safe, and make you smile.” He whispers by your ear, wrapping an arm to bring you closer to him as you both listen to the orchestra. 

His eyes narrow as soon as he spots the demon from earlier just a few seats across from you. His pupils dilate, like how a cats’ eyes would when it spots a prey to stalk. 

From time to time his gaze would turn to your side, and if that bastard would ever even look at you for even a millisecond then he’s gripping on the armrest for his dear life because he swears he’s going to throw a punch or even worse. 

But no, Satan can be patient and cunning. He waits until the demon excuses himself to the bathroom, and Satan promptly follows behind. The demon was simply washing his hands and by the time he looks up the mirror, Satan is already looming behind him with a smile that doesn’t seem to match the aura he’s giving off. 

“Let’s be thankful that the orchestra seems to be quite loud for now. It’s a shame I’m going to miss it with my human, but it’ll be perfect to cover up any screams” Satan says with a sinister grin. If those eyes cannot see your true value, then those eyes are not worth keeping. 

Satan comes back to you with a smile on his face, apologizing for taking a bit long in the bathroom before you both enjoy the rest of the show while holding hands. He’ll occasionally place a kiss on the back of your hand, enjoying each reaction he’ll get from you.

The demon’s seat remains empty for the entire night and the bathroom is closed for ‘maintenance’ when you check. 

Asmo

What started as a usual hangout with Asmo quickly turned to a day in the mall. For the demon’s defense, it was the perfect opportunity after he tried to help wash your clothes and realized you’re wearing the same ones every week. 

He will not stand for this when Devildom’s fashion line has so much to offer for you. You’ve been cycling through the same outfits recently, and Asmo wants you to have a new look!

Unlike his usual clothes shopping spree with you where he makes you try a heaping basket of outfits, Asmo wants you to choose whatever you want to wear this time and see what kind of clothes catches your eye.

Clothes tell a lot about a person, so he wants to see your aesthetic properly and know what you personally like. You try on the outfits you like and he’s loving the smile on your face each time. Of course Asmo would have suggestions, but not the kinds that would stray away from your aesthetic but rather improve it.

Asmo was waiting patiently for you in the dressing room when he heard some demons behind him, a few aisles back, talking about how absolutely delicious you looked. Even going as far as thinking of grabbing a bite and just hearing such words is making Asmo’s blood boil. 

He’d stand for it if it were directed at him, but to his human? He will not let some lesser demons talk about you that way. If anything, those demons should be cowering for you because of how stunning you are! 

“My love did not spend so much time trying out clothes that make them happy only for maggots like you to gawk at them that way.” Asmo glares, his eyes having that hypnotic enchanting glow in it. With the demons under his spell, Asmo has so much planned. A whole world of pain was waiting for them until he heard you from the dressing room calling out for him.

Asmo quickly utters a command to make the demons leave, he’ll just have to deal with them later. Maybe later he can ask Satan for a curse to force them to cry and make their tears burn like acid if those demons ever laid their eyes on you like that again. 

He’d have his usual smile plastered on his face as soon as you walk out the dressing room with another outfit you chose, though he sounds much more enthusiastic last time. Asmo is showering you with praises, he’ll find a way to make a compliment that brings a smile to your lips no matter what you wear. There’s no innuendos or any poor attempt at flattery, he sounds genuine this time.

“This isn’t just some sweet talk! I love your smile whenever you wear something you like and feel good about it. You should wear these more often, and maybe after this we can find some accessories to match your style!”

Asmo doesn’t tell you about the things he heard from when you were still in the dressing room, he thinks there’s no need for you to waste time on such things. Though you’ve noticed how he seems to have two lesser demons following him around and carrying all his things for him. Satan just says that they did something to upset Asmo, now they’re practically his slaves until he feels better.

Beel

You often drop by before Beel’s Fangol practice to give him a snack, your own personal way of cheering him on and wishing him good luck. Beel loves your generosity, and eating food that came from you specifically seems to energize him more.

Sometimes he’d spot you watching over him by the bleachers, either by yourself or with Belphie napping on your lap. You’re like his personal cheerleader, and whenever you both lock eyes he can feel his heart making leaps in his chest when you wave at him. 

He’s by the locker room changing out of his sweaty clothes when he overheard one of the demons talking about the exchange student watching over them. Beel could tell from their words that they seemed interested in you, which didn’t leave a good feeling in his gut.

Eventually their words became something much more twisted and vile, saying things that Beel would never associate you with. He’s had enough of sitting by and letting them just think they could talk about you like that and get away with it. 

There’s a loud BANG! And the sound of metal crunching. The demons turned around to see that Beel, out of pure anger, slammed the locker door hard enough that it’s barely hanging on by the wedges. There’s even a large hand print if they looked close enough. 

“If you keep talking that way… our next training sessions are going to be very rough.” There’s a growl as Beel spoke, his gaze making the demons feel so small before he left. He knows they’re supposed to be his teammates, but that doesn't mean anything to him after what they’ve said about you.

You walk up to him in a hurry as soon as you spot him after practice, asking him what was that loud noise you heard from the locker room. Beel blinks at you for a moment before smiling, “my teammate just slipped and hit against the locker. Don’t worry, no one is hurt yet.” 

You tried to ask about the part where he said ‘yet’ but Beel’s roaring stomach made it cue, signaling that it’s time to grab a bite after training. Perhaps it’s best to drop it for now, there are more important matters such as making sure Beel gets something to eat before he throws a fit.

The next few practices, you noticed the aggressive behavior Beel is displaying during Fangol training. You know that it’s just a violent form of Football, but you’ve watched Beel purposely launch the ball onto his teammates faces and tackle them hard against the ground when he gets the chance.

Only Belphie knows the truth of why his twin is acting that way, but he tells you not to think about it too much. “Don’t worry, he’s just letting out some steam” He says, unfazed when he spots his twin hurling himself against his teammate and tackling him to the point he’s sure it could cause a concussion.

Belphie

Belphie may be Sloth incarnate, but there’s no denying that he’s smart when it comes to studies. You see him with high marks in class despite never catching him awake during the lectures. You’d see him sleep with his head next to a book and he wakes up like he knows everything in it’s contents.

You ask for his help with an upcoming report you have for your next class and even though he wanted to tease you about it, he can see that you’re a little nervous about it so he keeps that to himself and agrees to fill in the gaps of your knowledge. 

Belphie originally wanted to just telepathically tell you what to say, that’s an easy way out right? But you told him that it’s cheating and you want to study hard. Belphie playfully rolls his eyes but he does it your way and answers your questions on the topic. He doesn’t overwhelm you with information, but he helps tutor you so that you can have a bit of faith in yourself when you present to the class. 

He put in an effort to stay awake when it was your turn to present and he has this sleepy smile on his face whenever you two made eye contact. You put in a lot of effort in your report, and he feels happy for you when you finish without problems. He’ll congratulate you when he wakes up because he has no energy to listen for the rest of the lecture and sleeps on the desk.

Belphie woke up by the time class had ended and everyone was already preparing for break time. He peeks through his bangs to see that you probably already went ahead to the cafeteria and he was about to follow suit when he overheard a particular conversation between his classmates that were still in the room.

He thought they were talking about your report but it turns out that wasn’t the case. He hears all the disgusting things they were saying about you and it’s taking every bit of self control he has to stay calm, his fingers gripping onto the desk that there’s bound to be claw marks. 

The demons hardly noticed Belphie and talked without a care in the world as they’re about to exit the classroom. Though their bodies started feeling heavy and they were getting sluggish, like reaching the exit is suddenly a taxing thing to do. Eventually their bodies drop, hardly having the energy to move no matter how much they try. 

Belphie is standing above them, looking down on them as if he was staring at two piles of trash on the floor. “They spent so much effort on that report… I'm not going to let lowlifes like you tarnish all that.”

You were about to head back to the classroom with a snack you bought for Belphie as thanks for helping you, until you saw the demon just exit the room and close the door behind him. You tease him for oversleeping again before handing him the Devil Pudding cup you got for him. 

Belphie accepts the treat, and he’d tease you about looking so nervous before your report but he’ll praise you afterwards. “You worked so hard after all. You could’ve taken the easy way out or something, but you didn’t. You should be proud of yourself too…” 

When you two went back to the classrooms, you noticed some empty seats of what was previously occupied by your classmates. Someone told you that they started feeling ‘unwell’ and were sent to the clinic. No one really knows what happened to the demons.

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan thinks that having you as his roommate is possibly one of the best and worst things that’s happened to him.

you are, by far, the best roommate he’s ever had. you’re clean. not too loud. you don’t disturb him when he’s sleeping, you don’t take food from the fridge that’s clearly his and you never leave your dishes in the sink.

coming from sharing with soonyoung, seungkwan and seokmin, jeonghan doesn’t think his living situation could get any better.

or at least, he didn’t. now he’s starting to realise he has a problem, and that problem is his teensy tiny crush on you.

because not only are you clean and hygienic, you’re also nice. incredibly nice — and incredibly gorgeous, and jeonghan really doesn’t think it’s fair that you tick all three boxes so easily. and yeah, maybe it’s not the biggest crush, but it certainly doesn’t help when you go around doing stupidly endearing things, like tripping over the rug that’s been there since you moved in, or dancing when you’re cooking dinner.

or baking at odd hours of the evening — because when he gets home at nearing midnight after hanging out at joshua’s house, he can hear you clattering around the kitchen from the doorway. you don’t see him when he first enters the room, eyes fixated on the measuring scale in front of you, as you pour brown sugar into a bowl.

“what are you doing?”

you jump when you hear his voice, somehow knocking a wooden spoon to the ground with your elbow as you yelp. “when did you get here?”

“just now.” jeonghan leans against the doorway with narrowed eyes. “do you know what time it is?”

“i’m — i’m stress-baking,” you enunciate, with heavy, deliberate emphasis. “it’s relieving my stress.”

jeonghan directs a dubious glance around the kitchen. there’s a pile of flour on the counter that should definitely be in some sort of packet; chocolate chips are sprinkled across the surface; there are at least seven different dirty bowls in the sink. “is it?”

you let out a deflated sigh, rubbing at your nose and leaving an adorable smudge of flour on the top. sourly, you admit —“no.”

jeonghan pushes off the doorframe, helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips before you can bat away his hand with the wooden spoon. “so, darling roommate of mine,” he begins, lifting himself onto the few clean inches of the surface. “why are we stress baking at such an hour?”

your nose wrinkles, and you avoid his gaze with admirable intensity. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

jeonghan prides himself on knowing when to push and when not to push. he can tell, even after knowing you for only a matter of months, that you’re not ready to talk about it yet. this exact scenario, late-night, stress-fuelled baking, has happened a few times before. and, right on schedule —

“you should go to bed,” you say after a moment. but your voice wavers ever so slightly, and jeonghan knows that even though you’d never ask, you don’t want to be alone right now.

“what, so you can stress yourself out all alone?” he asks lightly. “not a chance.”

so he sits there and talks to you as you finish up your cookies, stealing chocolate chips and laughing when you scowl at him, and then offering them to you at the last second. he puts them in the oven for you because somehow, despite your nocturnal hobbies, you’re yet to invest in oven mitts, and he doesn’t want you to get burnt.

sometimes, jeonghan considers telling you how he feels. sometimes, like now, when it’s late at night and his logical thinking is dulled, and you’re laughing at all his jokes, even the stupid ones, and everything feels so indescribably right — jeonghan feels like he’s spilling over. he feels like sometimes there’s a light in your eyes when you look at him, smile with him, that makes him think that reciprocation is more than a possibility — it’s a probability.

but he won’t. he knows he won’t, not yet. maybe one day, maybe sooner than he thinks, but not yet. for now, he just slips off the counter to dry the dishes when you wash them. to flick soap at your eyes and blow bubbles with you and connect his phone to the bluetooth speaker and coax you into dancing with him in the middle of the kitchen until your brows are no longer furrowed and your smile feels fuller than it was when he walked in. until the cookies are done, golden-brown and warm and sweet, just how he feels on nights like this.

edit: if you’d like to read a sequel to this couple, in my head this drabble is about them getting together :)

an / i don’t have anything to say. hi guys

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[onceonafullmoon]

French Fries

Itoshi Sae x GN!Reader

Comfort Angst, Reader has depression, bed rotting behaviors, desciptions of food if you're sensitive to that thing, one slightly suggestive comment but it's just banter, Reader and Sae aren't dating atp but they have chemistry

“Jeez, you’re like a human garbage disposal.” Sae remarks. “Do you talk to all your loved ones like that?” “Me talking to you in general is a miracle.”

It’s getting worse again.

You could feel it building up in these past months, that looming sense that something was going to happen, but you elected to ignore it wholly, placing belief that your meds surely wouldn’t fail you this time, right?

Wrong.

Well, you supposed you only had yourself to blame, (although blame was something you were realizing that you were all to familiar with, and if you were a bit more lucid you’d contemplate how your willingness to find fault in yourself so easily was only more of a detriment) for relying on newly prescribed medication solely instead of reaching out for a therapist like you were meaning to do.

But either way, whomever was to blame, either you or your psychiatrist, it didn’t change the fact that your apartment is a cluttered mess and you haven’t gotten out of bed for a considerable amount of time, doing nothing but staring listlessly at the wall.

It’s hard to describe exactly what getting worse feels like, but if you had to take your own stab at it you'd describe it as something like an endothermic reaction.

Something that saps away all your heat, your drive, your determination, and leaves you feeling… cold, like a sudden frost of winter almost.

Of course, cold isn’t really the way to describe it either, the most common words you’ve seen thrown around being “empty, nothingness, hollow” and those fit rather well too, but you preferred to think of it in terms of a chemical reaction.

It was fitting in a sense, because much like a chemical reaction, you weren’t ever the same as you were from the beginning, almost always just a little worse for wear after each period of despair. 

It’s around this time when you’re debating metaphors for your mental illness when you feel your phone vibrate on your bed.

Huh. That’s a first.

Well, you’re curious enough to take a peak, though it’s most likely just some dumb notification from a social media app you’ve neglected to look at even during your period of lengthy doom scrolling (fuck you Snapchat, you’re not an interesting app), but after you look at the time displayed on the screen (1:00 am, nice)  you find yourself pleasantly surprised when you realize it’s a text message.

Pookie: are you ok

Normally the stupid contact name you put him under would be enough to make you crack a smile whenever he texted, but you can’t really bring yourself to do much else but stare at your phone blankly.

Sae was never one to text first, in fact, a quick scroll through your messages would show it was usually you who would pester him with asinine questions about hypothetical scenarios, TikToks or general ramblings about your day, with him giving out one word responses (dry texter) or often ignoring you (which was fair you supposed). 

So, it was strange to see his text expressing concern for you, especially at this time of night.

Of course, Sae knew about your issues, you were never one to shy away from the truth and easily answered him about your meds when he asked about them that time he came over, but you don’t think he had any reason to suspect you of having an episode.

You think for a bit, running through your mind of any possible reasons you could have given him to worry and find that you can’t really place anything other than the fact that you’d been withdrawing a bit from texting and hanging out with him a bit more, which, to his knowledge could be for any sort of reason.

You furrow your brow a bit before turning your attention back to your phone and typing out a quick response of  “tbh, not really, but that’s life lol” before dropping your phone back on your bed and going back to stare at the wall.

He doesn’t respond, but you’re not really too surprised (though if you had the capacity for it you’d be slightly miffed), and you find yourself dozing off into a light sleep.

You probably would have actually fallen asleep if it weren’t for the sound of pounding at your front door, and you feel yourself sigh in annoyance before groggily getting up out of bed.

Damn it all, you couldn’t even sleep to escape the void.

Still you get over yourself and make your way to the door, looking through the peephole tiredly before freezing in place.

You’re not sure if you’re more surprised that Sae is at your front door or if you’re more surprised to see him with a greasy paper bag of fast food in his hands.

Blinking out of your stupor, you regain your senses and unlock the door for him, distantly remarking about how strange it must seem for a celebrity to be at your door with a bag of Mcdonalds in your mind.

You open the door to tell him how ridiculous this scenario seems, only to let out a small noise of surprise as he shoves the bag in your hands.

“You look like shit.” He says, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his blunt assessment.

“I feel like shit.” You respond, before looking down into the bag, taking in its contents.

“You got fries?” You can’t help the smile that pulls on your lips. “But you hate fries.”

He just looks at you with that same unreadable look he always has, the one that only you seem to be able to understand. “But you don’t.”

“I don’t.” You say, a feeling of happiness blooming within you despite everything, and step aside for him to enter your messy apartment.

You should feel a sense of embarrassment at the idea of letting him see you at your worst, with your undone laundry and your unwashed dishes and your messy countertops, but you’ve never once felt the need to pretend with Sae.

“Make yourself at home wherever you can.” You say, motioning to the couch overcrowded with laundry. “I wasn’t expecting guests, you know.”

“Clearly.” He says, but his voice holds no judgment.

“You're at fault for dropping in uninvited.” You say in a relatively cheerful voice, betraying your happiness despite his seemingly uncouth behavior. 

He doesn’t respond snatches the bag from your hands, dumping its contents onto the small coffee table that currently is the only clear space available in the mess that is your apartment before gently pushing away the laundry that lies on the couch to make room for himself.

“...are you going to scold me or eat?” He eventually asks after settling in.

“There’s no reason I can’t do both.” You say in a joking tone.

You push aside your pile of laundry and sit down next to him, your stomach rumbling when the scent of fried food hits your nose. It wasn’t too surprising, after all, you had forgotten to eat in your rotting phase. 

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You say, reaching for a wrapped sandwich.

“Only when I do things for you.” Comes his dry response, and you give him a sheepish smile before taking a bite of the sandwich, momentarily praising the salty and savory taste.

It’s like you forgot how hungry you were until you had a bite of food, and with an alarming speed the sandwich quickly disappears into nothing.

“Jeez, you’re like a human garbage disposal.” Sae remarks.

“Do you talk to all your loved ones like that?”

“Me talking to you in general is a miracle.”

You scoff and put your hand over your heart in an overexaggerated manner, feigning an imaginary wound from his callous and barbed words that were clearly much too painful to bear.

“You’re cruel.” You say, before reaching for the carton of fries and holding it up to him. “Care for a fry?”

It’s mostly said in jest, after all, you’ve been on the receiving end of a lecture of how disgustingly fatty and unhealthy those “diabetes on sticks” are, but he surprises you by taking one without a word and popping it into his mouth.

You blink, staring at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“Are you okay?” You ask, echoing his text from before.

He rolls his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate how fries taste, they’re just awful for your diet.”

“So why are you breaking your sacred oath?” You ask, shoving a few fries in your mouth after you speak.

“Peer pressure.”

You furrow your brows at him, but don’t immediately respond, instead swallowing and shoving another handful of fries into your mouth (you’ve long held the belief that those like Sae who eat one fry at a time are actually sociopaths).

“I think you just like using me as a scapegoat for your bad decisions.” You say after another swallow.

“I think you should slow down so you don’t choke.”

“I can think of a few things I could choke on.” You respond reflexively to which you’re met with a blank stare.

“…sorry, it’s instinct at this point.” You say after a bit, to which he just sighs.

“You’re a moron.” He says, and you would have considered it rude in any other scenario where you didn’t know him as the guy who dropped everything to help you on a whim.

“Yeah, but I make up for it in other ways, such as my amazing personality.” You retort, stuffing another handful of fries in your mouth.

“It’s a shame that your “amazing personality” doesn’t account for basic table manners.”

You glower at him, chewing before swallowing.

“It’s a shame that your face is so pretty but your attitude is so shit.”

You can see a hint of a smile on his face at your snappish comeback, his teal eyes glinting with slight amusement and you blink, feeling slightly startled as your heart stutters in your chest.

Weird. 

You’ll unpack that later, perhaps on a day where you don’t feel like complete ass.

“Anyway, what gave you the idea to invite yourself over? Not that I mind, obviously.” You ask, partly out of curiosity and partly to distract yourself.

Sae shifts a bit in his seat, and you catch yourself admiring the sight of his forearms for a second before you snap yourself out of it.

“...you haven’t been reaching out as much, and I missed the background noise.”

You look at him, really look at him for a second, and fight the urge to either laugh at him or throw a pillow at him.

It was so stupidly cute, how he’d do anything but actually verbally admit that some part of him cared.

“You are such a loser.” You end up saying instead, with a stupidly fond smile on your face that you’d definitely be more embarrassed by if you weren’t already above shame.

“And you’re a mess.” Sae counters easily, sticking another fry into his mouth, and it somehow still takes you by surprise.

“Yeah, I’ll take that.” You say with a surprising amount of grace for someone dressed in pajamas and adorned with the world's worst bed head. “But only for today.”

He says nothing at that and proceeds to follow your lead and stuff the rest of the fries into his mouth, and at this point you wonder if you’ve managed to transfer your mental illness to him somehow through the air.

“You can’t blame that on peer pressure.” You say defensively, crossing your hands over your chest as he swallows his food.

“I’m not blaming it on peer pressure.” 

“Then what’s your excuse this time?”

“I’ll say it’s learned observation.”

“Don’t use my psychology knowledge that I’ve rambled to you about against me, it makes me want to kiss you.” You joke.

You expect him to roll his eyes at you and insult you, but what you don’t expect is for him to raise a brow at you, a half smirk on his face and respond with a smooth and low toned, “Yeah?”

“...yeah.” You say after a bit, trying not to look like you just got hit with a bus before coughing and looking away.

“Anyway, thanks for stopping by… it meant a lot. I’ll probably clean up around here now if you need to go.” You speak up after a moment of silence.

“You’re an idiot.” He responds, and you blink at him, ready to ask what he’s talking about before he speaks up again. “What you’re going to do is go to your bathroom and clean up while I deal with the mess here.”

You pause for a moment, a rush of emotions surging up in you, a dash of self-loathing, a bit of embarrassment, a touch of happiness but mostly a rush of gratitude and adoration when you look back at him.

“...right.” You say, and a small smile pulls at your lips. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

“Like I said before, only when I do things for you” Comes his blunt response and you laugh as you turn to go to the bathroom.

Yeah, you’re not sure how exactly you lucked out with Sae, but wherever or whatever he might be in the future, he’d always be a special person to you.