#YO GO COMMISSION MY FRIEND!!!!

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[just-a-creep-babe]

Hiiii! I see that your requests are open for Valentine's day? I hope I can still request nsfw for Ben 💙 Maybe friends with benefits that could lead to more? Thank you so much!! 💕

Not me accidentally writing angst for Valentine’s Day 😭😭

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

The night starts off like it usually does; with a text

It's the typical "you up" kind of message, and it's loaded with so much stereotypical fuckboy intention that, in any other context, it'd have you rolling your eyes

But it's not just any other context; it's BEN

You don't even have to turn the idea over in your head to know that you'll be going

You tug your shirt up over your chest to reveal your bra—a decently comfortable lacy white thing with no underwire—and snap a pic to send to him

He hearts it almost immediately, and his response is fast enough to make you wonder if he's not in your phone right now, doing god-knows-what he usually does when he's haunting tech

The three bubbles pop up, disappear, then pop back up again

It brings an involuntary smile to your face, like those kind of dumb, lovestruck smiles people get when they're hopelessly head-over-heels for someone

The realization, though it isn't the first time it comes to mind, is enough to sober you

You text him that you'll meet him in his room in 30 after you shower, and then you toss your phone onto your bed and leave without waiting for his reply

You take your time in the shower

You stand there, basking in the hot water thrumming against your skin, until the room's thick with steam

Your thoughts keep falling into the same loop; you think about your feelings for BEN, you think about the agreement you had when you first started sleeping with him, you think about the time you've spent with him since having that agreement, and you think about what he might think of the whole thing

And then that loop restarts over and over again

Even when you step out and dry yourself, you're still thinking about it

There's no answer to the mess, it seems, no solution to the hole you keep digging yourself deeper and deeper into

And that’s what bothers you the most about it

You fix your hair up, put on whatever scandalous bits of lingerie look nice, and then you're making your way out the hallway and to his room

You knock on his door using your usual code, and then you let yourself in and firmly click the lock shut behind you

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room, but as soon as they do, you see him

He's lying back, one hand behind his head while the other lazily strokes over the bulge pressing up against his boxers

He's in nothing but his underwear, and the sight of his bare skin is just as alluring as ever

That sardonic smile you've come to adore slowly finds its way to his face as he looks up at you

He tilts his head to the side, his pointed ears twitching, and with a hum, he speaks

"I was gonna return the favour," he grins, "but you threw it away too quickly"

You feel his eyes track your every move as you walk up to him

And when you're standing right in front of his bed, you undo the knot of your night robe, and the fabric parts to reveal your own underwear

"Threw what away?" you ask, though it seems he's in no rush to answer you as he takes in everything you've just revealed to him

He fists the shape of his cock through his boxers, and you watch as it twitches in his hold, and he juts his hips forwards as it does, like he can't control the movement

It reminds you of the way he pushes himself deeper into you when he's cuming, and the memory has you squeezing your thighs together as something molten stirs in your core

"Your phone," he eventually answers, his eyes slipping over the curve of your tits before finally resting on your face

"I was gonna give you a sneak peak too, you know," he teases

"That so?"

You get on the bed, straddle him so that his bulge is right between your thighs, and slowly rock your hips down against him

He hisses—the sound low and needy and entirely too addictive—and throws his head back as his hips wriggle up to meet you halfway

You have to mention it, you think

You can't keep pretending it's not happening

You can't keep lying to yourself, lying to him

You need to confess—and let whatever happens happen

You open your mouth, the words just at the tip of your tongue

But right as it's about to spill out, his hands find their way to your bare skin, and it seems all you can do is suck in a breath through your teeth as electricity dances from his fingertips and up your spine

You arch up, yielding to his silent command, and all you can think about is how you need him inside of you

You need him to satiate you

He purrs—and you swear the bastard knows the effect it has on you, judging by the glint of mischief in his eyes

And when he tells you to take your bra off, you give in without a second thought

He runs his hands up to your chest like second nature, like it’s where his hands belong

When he thumbs at your nipples, you breathe out a sigh and roll your hips over his bulge

You feel him—hard and eager against you—and it has you clenching around nothing

All you can think about is more

He hums in approval, his gaze fixed on your tits while he greedily gropes and squeezes at your flesh

You return the favour by indulging in the feeling of his skin beneath you

You trace from his chest, down his torso and abdomen, until you eventually reach his pelvis

His skin is soft, but it isn’t warm like a normal living body

And something about that, something about how different he is, how special—it has you digging your nails into him and scratching possessive red lines into his skin

He groans, head falling back to reveal his neck, and you take the chance to lean in and bite at his throat

He chokes out a moan, his hands flying down to your hips like he’s trying to grasp onto something to steady himself

“(Y/n)—“ he practically hisses your name, and when his thumb digs harder into your pelvis, you whine and jerk on top of him

But you don’t let it distract you from littering his neck with marks

You savour the taste of his skin, licking and sucking and biting him—hard—because it feels like one of the only ways you can alleviate your longing for him

And it’s only when his thumb ghosts over your clit above your panties that you finally relent

You pull back to admire your work; he’s flushed and panting, his neck bright red, and he has that look in his eyes that you know means he’s getting impatient

Good, you think

But it’s like he knows you’re getting cocky and he doesn’t like the control you have, so in retaliation, he sends mini shocks up through your clit

Your body seizes with the feeling, back arching up again, and with his free hand, he returns to lather your tits with more attention

You squirm on top of him, and it has his cock grinding between your puffy folds through your underwear

“You want my dick, baby?”

He has this grin on his face as he says it, because both of you know he’s just asking to hear you beg for it

And you do want it—and you want so much more than just his dick, too

So it doesn’t bother you to beg

It doesn’t bother you to bounce on him so that your tits jiggle from the motion, and it doesn’t bother you to beg and stick your tongue out like a desperate little slut for him—just the way he likes it

His cock twitches in reaction at the sight of you, and when he pushes your underwear to the side and strokes his fingers up and down your dripping slit, you shudder

He sinks his middle finger between your swollen folds, curls it up, then adds his ring finger

It’s bliss

You grind down to meet him for every thrust, and every time he curls his finger, your body sings for more

You ride his fingers, hands touching anywhere and everywhere they can reach, searching for more—always more

You arch your back again and bring his free hand to your chest, and he rewards you by thumbing at your clit

It has your arousal gushing out with some indignant whimper

As he’s slowly pumping in and out of you, watching your every reaction, your every little moan and gasp and shudder, the hand at your tits moves down to find its way to his dick

“I want it,” you breathe, “let me have it”

Let me have you, you think, but you don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to ruin the moment

“Then sit on it,” he groans

He pulls his fingers out, and you immediately miss the contact, but the disappointment is dulled by the sight of him finally exposed

You bite back a moan as you wrap your hand around the base of him

He twitches again, precum beading up his tip, and you have to resist lapping it up while he watches

Instead, you line him up and ever so slowly sink down onto him

You savour it—savour every inch of him spreading you open, stretching you out and grinding right where you need him

He watches you with lidded eyes, and when he has your attention, he makes sure you see the way he sucks on his two fingers that were previously buried in your cunt

You squeeze him involuntarily, and he groans with a smile

“B-BEN, I—“

Your confession threatens to overwhelm you

It threatens to bubble out your throat and past your lips, because it’s like having him inside of you like this makes the longing all the more unbearable

But then he pushes his hips up, and it has his dick nudging up against something so deep inside of you that your toes curl and your cunt squelching around him

So all that escapes is a whimper and a moan, and you’re back to moving your hips up and down to ride him

The slightest movement has your body burning for more

He’s throbbing inside you, and every time he thrusts up into you, you clench around him and waves of slick make a mess between the both of you

Your thoughts turn to mush as your brain’s overridden by the feeling of him

Up and down, you bounce on him, driving him harder, faster, deeper inside of you with every thrust

And when he brings his hands around your hips to guide you, to help you fuck yourself along his length, it has you mewling for more

Over and over again, you drive yourself up and down

And every time you tighten around him, he jerks inside of you and tiny shocks course up your body

The familiar rush of pressure builds, your body screaming for more

And every time you move, your arousal sticks between your thighs and his, and it leaves a ring of your slick at the base of his cock

But all of it just makes it easier to ride him, to use him until you’re both panting and you’re steadily losing your grasp on the pace you’d set

“F-fuck—atta girl~ So fucking good for me~”

The way he praises you between moans coaxes you to keep going faster

His hands keep flitting between your hips and your tits, like he doesn’t know which to choose

But he eventually settles on your hips and keeps his gaze on your face, on your lips as you bite them back to stop yourself from screaming his name out

“You close, baby? C’mon, be a good girl for me. Be a good girl and cum all over me”

His praise threatens to push you over the edge

You dig more possessive marks into him, fingers clutching him tight for all he’s worth, and his eyes roll back and his hips push up into you at the feeling

You moan his name like a wordless plea for him to cum inside you

You want him to fill you, want him to claim you

Your cunt sucks him in, tight and wet and all-too inviting, and he hissed at the feeling as he flexes his hips as deep into you as possible

Your name escapes him, and the sound of it resonates within you, and if it weren’t for your orgasm taking the breath from your lungs, you’re not entirely certain you’d be able to stop yourself from confessing right then and there as you cum around him

Everything inside your body tenses, and then all at once, your high hits you, and next thing you know, you’re lurching forward and shaking and crying out for him

He presses you closer into him, but his hips never once relent as he chases his own high

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling it back so that you can bite into his neck again

And it’s like that’s all it takes for him to get over the edge as well

He fucks himself as deep as he can possibly reach, and then his cock stiffens and twitches, and you feel him spill the entirety of himself inside you

It feels so, so fucking good

Your eyes roll back, jaw going slack to release a pathetic moan against his skin

He doesn’t stop grinding up into you until he’s completely spent, and even once he stills, you don’t move off of him

You’re panting against him, sweaty body on sweaty body, and his hands are stroking up and down your back, his cock still twitching occasionally as you squeeze him involuntarily every now and then

You don’t want to move off of him, but you know you can’t stay linked forever

So you reluctantly get off, and lie down next to him

He grins and pulls you close to his chest

If you close your eyes, you can pretend it’s an act of love, of devotion, but you know it’s just the result of the after-bliss making him seek the comfort of another body

Your confession finally dies on your tongue as you realize you shouldn’t say it—not right now, anyways

Next time, you finally settle, your body feeling at peace, there’s always next time

[the-softest-love-is-ours]

Idk if this’ll help anyone or if these are even good… just thought of stuff self shipper could do, I guess.

Anywho, here’s a list of things yo,u as a self shipper, can do for fun.

(This will be added onto with time)

Proship/Comship/Anti-Antis DNI

Play Tomodachi Life, make yourself, your main F/O, and then a bunch of family and friends and see how the shenanigans play out.

Play Sims (my choice is 4, but any one will work), same as before but this time you have mods and can control you and your F/O’s however you please.

Make kandi jewelry for each of your F/O’s, whether it’s a bracelet with their name or just a necklace with a color scheme you think fits them.

Purchase something custom from etsy and/or fiverr. These can be care packages, letters, plushies, art pieces, fanfics, maybe you could find someone who does RP asmrs, and my personal favorites an RP or an annotated book.

Look on youtube for asmrs, whether they’re RP, sleeping beside or those muffled playlist scenarios.

For those of is that are age regressor, make a custom deco paci based on your F/O.

Credits to @myselfshipdiary for this one, make a Pinterest board. They can feature fanart, aesthetic images or heck maybe recipes you would cook for them and memes you would show them.

If you have the skills, or heck even if you don’t (life’s too short, try everything, learn new skills), design something based on them. A dress, a cake, a room, a candy platter, a party, an outfit, a plushie, literally anything!

Make a breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner you think they would like! Maybe if you bring your lunch to work, make a bento for yourself that you would send to work with them.

Go on to your online shopping sites and make wishlists of thing you’d think they would want/like.

Do some research on perfume/cologne, and either track down or commission one you think they’d wear. You can do the same for all necessary toiletries if you’d like to take it a step further.

Play around on spotify (or your music service of choice) and make playlists for various scenarios.

Piggybacking of the last one, find a song that you would make their ringtone and think of what their contact name would be in your phone.

Pick out a ring you think would be the engagement/wedding ring they would give you.

Make paper doll's of you/ your self insert and your f/os) along with attachable paper clothes!

If you have access to a printer and a blank notebook/sketchbook along with some glue, you can make a scrapbook with pictures of your f/o(s)! You can also add drawings you made and anything like stickers, washi tape, etc.

This one is digital, edit a transparent of your f/os) into a selfie of yours to make a couples photo! You can print it out and put it in a frame. Also, Dollar Tree sells frames that you can also paint, put stickers on, anything!

There is an app called Social Dummy, create a social media world with you and all your F/O’s on it!

Make perler bead pixel art of your f/o.

[mavcancees]

i don't exactly know what happened this year. but f1 is on its way to become THE sport of 2025

i was talking to my mc dev friends and they all have commission requests to make f1 cars / systems / circuits. tweets are averaging 10k likes. my sibling ( 12 yo ) and their friends at school all talk about it and picking favourite drivers and stuff

i regularly go to a printing house and the amount of f1 posters and photocards i've seen in the last 2 months is crazy

what happened

[savventeen]

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

[am-i-interrupting]

How about Vox trying to befriend one of Alastor’s close friends, to know Alastor’s secrets and weaknesses. Months later Vox falls in love and forgets about the plan. Then Alastor reveals the secret plan to make Vox look bad. Your choice if you want it to be a sad or happy ending.

Vox was tired of losing. He was done. That is when the brilliant idea came to him. Find Alastor’s weakness but how?

He saw Alastor enter a tailor’s shop, right in front of one of his store displays and he saw you.

He recognized you from his casual spying on Alastor. The two of you were together more than Alastor was around most people.

Vox tore his claw down one of his suit jackets and brought it to you.

He wasn’t shocked your recognized him.

“Get out.” “What a show of hospitality! But regardless, I don’t think I will. I require some assistance.” “Isn’t one of you Vs a fashion designer? Ask them for help.”

Vox had to squash down the offense at the phrase “one of you Vs” and even more so that you didn’t know Velvette’s name.

It took a lot of convincing and you only did it to get him out of your store.

You returned the wrong suit. You did it on purpose. It was bright red instead of his cool blue.

He returned again and again and you continued to give him the wrong jacket suit.

Over time the hostility turned to playful teasing.

“Oh, back so soon? It’s only been a week? Did you miss me that much?” “Oh, but of course.” “Predictable, men as self absorbed as you are so easy to rope in. Make them feel special and then they just won’t leave you alone.” “Maybe I’d leave you alone if you’d give me my jacket.” “What jacket?”

One day Vox walks in and sees you bent down at the skirt of some demon’s dress, with a needle between your lips.

The demon saw him and called your name several times but you were too absorbed in your work. A trait he found admirable. It wasn’t until they hit your shoulder and you stabbed yourself that your focus was broken.

“Ow! Shit! Mare, what the fuck?!” “The TV demon.”

You looked over your shoulder. He quickly replaced his soft(-ish) expression with a smirk and a wave.

“You can wait,” and he did.

It wasn’t long after that day he asked you out for dinner.

The dinner was a lot more upscale than you were used to and he could tell you felt out of place. With a seat in the back and some carefully placed words he got you to relax.

Afterwards, he walked you back to your shop because you refused to let him walk you home. He placed a kiss to your hand and didn’t walk away until you were inside.

Dates became somewhat common between the two of you. Both of you only able to clear your schedules once or twice a month for it to happen but it was something to expect.

He learned from his mistake the first time and made sure to make things more mundane.

On the second date, he brought you flowers.

On the third date, he insisted you try some of his food and brought the fork to your lips, only letting it down when you took the bite.

On the fourth date, he took you dancing and managed a kiss at the end.

On the sixth date, he tripped into a pile of blood so you took his suit to properly wash it. He had it back the next day.

On the seventh, he walked you home.

On the eighth, he told you he loved you.

Alastor came to you to commission a suit for an upcoming event.

The two of you were talking about everything and nothing as you were prone to do when he casually mentioned:

“I’ve heard rumors about you, my dear. They’ve got me worried.” “Oh? And what is the rumor mill saying about me that’s so worrisome, hm?”

You were sure it was going to be something silly. Alastor had pulled this number before because yes, he was one to follow the gossip train but he never got aboard. He never believed something until he had reason to.

“They’ve been saying you’ve been getting close to a certain picture box.”

You felt your heart stop. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, quite the rumor, indeed! Now, I know you’d never be so thoughtless as to do such a thing but still, one worries nonetheless.” “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, Alastor.” “Ah, but I do. Especially since it reminded me of something I overheard some months ago, why— No! It’d have been over a year ago actually. To think, the gall of the man to say his plans right in front of the radio.” “What?” “Let me see, I do believe I have it stored somewhere, just for my own amusement.”

A moment later Vox’s voice sounded through Alastor’s microphone, “It’s easy. Just go in and try to get some information out of them. That’s it. You’re a master manipulator. It’ll be easy and if they put up a fight? Well, you’re an overlord. It’ll be fine. Okay? Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

A few days passed since then when Vox came back to the tailor shop. He was befuddled to see a sign.

Closed Until Further Notice

He came back several days later to a new sign.

For Sale

He got worried. He started looking for you but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find you.

Sold

Four and a half months passed until he got an answer. There was an overlord meeting after the extermination.

Alastor strolled out of it with Rosie beside him.

Vox didn’t pay much attention to Rosie. He paid as much attention to her as he did other overlords with the occasional sight of her when he was spying on Alastor but he noticed Rosie’s smile seemed tense. He caught her glares at him.

“Ah, Vox, my dear man! What a stunning suit you’ve got on today. No match for my own but I had a very good friend make it for me. Wonderful craftsmanship, don’t you think?” “What did you do?” “What did I do? Oh, no, no, no. What did you do?”

The knowing smile and glimmer in Alastor’s eye made it clear he knew something, something that Vox should know too.

It took a minute for Vox to remember, to remember the day he met you and all the things he’d said as well as the fact that your shop wasn’t just in front of a television but a radio too.

A fight broke out. It was big and catastrophic and took hours to finish. But in the end, Vox won or Alastor decided that he was bored. It was always hard to tell.

Rosie came up to Vox at the end of it.

He’d never spoken to her outside of a business setting but that strained smile and those looks were well deserved, he realized.

“I try to keep out of yours and Alastor’s feud but you just had to go too far, didn’t you? You know, they never told Alastor about ya but they did tell me. I feel so foolish to have told ‘em to go after you.”

She shook her head and reached into her bag. She pulled out a folded blue suit jacket and handed it to him.

“Where are—“ “You don’t get to ask that, Vox.”

He unfolded the jacket, uncaring that his blood covered hands stained it. It was mended so why did he wish it was torn?

[enrichment-time-in-my-enclosure]

Part 5 - Non-Celebrity Commoners

<-last-masterlist-next->

!!Written portion under the cut!!

“I don’t think I can watch another episode of this Bakugo.”

You push yourself off your now-cramped twin bed to stretch as you and Bakugo had been sitting there for hours watching episode after episode of his favorite show. Had he asked you what you wanted to watch? No. Did you care that much? Also no.

It seemed to keep him sated and non-combative, which was perfect. You just needed SOMEONE around to ease the fear of being snatched out of your bed at any moment.

“You have no attention span. I don’t know how you’ve even made it this far in life when you can’t even watch a 20 minute episode without playing with your phone or some shit.”

The blond haired man pushes himself off your bed as well, placing his feet on the ground and walking over to your desk chair to sit.

“I just need to do something else. Like anything else. I know it’s late but I don’t think I can sleep.”

You sit on the soft rug Mina had supplied to your dorm room and rest your head in your hands, going over the things you’ve heard that last few days.

A liability. That’s what they called you. The commission didn’t care if you were safe. They only cared if you lost your power and it got into the wrong hands.

They cared even more that you didn’t ruin the “reputation” of any of their precious heroes in training. Or put them in any danger.

As if it wasn’t literally their whole job to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

And you COULD protect yourself. You were trained in self defense and martial arts. It was part of the intense regiment the commission had you on ever since you were a child.

But you couldn’t stand up to something like the league.

“Stop spiraling birdbrain. I don’t think I can handle another idiot who worries like it’s their job. Deku is enough.”

You scoff at the man in front of you’s harsh words and shake your head.

“Easier said than done. I just need a distraction.”

“Why do they call you that stupid nickname anyways hm?”

You look up at him in annoyance.

“Dove? It’s an alias. I can’t use my real name. It’s classified information.”

“Does anyone know it?”

“I mean Shoto does. But he won’t tell. Plus the commission and the rest of his family. There’s a reason that Hawks and I don’t reveal that stuff.”

Bakugo looks at you skeptically before rolling his eyes.

“Can’t be that damn big of a deal. Probably just don’t want everyone to know you’re some government funded hero project. The both of you.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, but the sentiment pissed you off. He knew nothing about how you were raised. He had a normal childhood with normal friends in a normal school. He wouldn’t get it.

“I don’t have to explain anything to you anyways, Bakugo. Maybe one day if I trust you and the rest of 1A enough I’ll explain it. Not now though.”

“You’re giving me a headache. Can you fix that with your freak quirk?”

“I could if I wanted to, but you’re making it extremely difficult to care.”

You can hear Bakugo throwing some smartass comment back your way, but you don’t fully register the words he’s saying.

Your thought process was interrupted by a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

"Hey! Pay attention when I talk to you, birdbrain. I still have questions for yo-"

"You should leave, Bakugo."

Your hands shook as you shut off your phone and stood up, walking to the door to signal to the hotheaded man who was currently staring daggers into you that it was better that he go.

"The hell? Thought you were scared to spend the night alone. You suddenly grow a pair or someth-"

"Leave. Please. I don't need the company anymore. It's better that I be alone."

Your mind raced with the possible implications of the message you had received. Obviously, it was the league...

But what the hell did your brother have to do with it?

"Fine then. Don't come asking for my help again, you hear me?"

You close the door behind Bakugo as he leaves your room and stomps off to his own.

Climbing into your bed and wrapping yourself in your covers, all you can do is lay there in shock and try to wrap your mind around the situation at hand.

How many things have I truly been lied to about?

A/N- Guyssssss disregard the times and dates I forgot to change them :')

-----Taglist-----

@lunamoonbby

@themultifandomgirl

@r31h4

@iluv-ace

@starrymiella

@fa30xx

[gazumirei]

Yo I'm still open for roblox avatar art commissions btw

I have no specific prices for anything, I can't really do highly detailed drawings (unless the character design is easy to render and I have the motivation to draw)

I'm also mainly just doing roblox commissions because I wanna cosplay but I only got 20 robux left☠️

Also the way how you can pay is going in my draw and donate sever (you don't have to share your username or anything you don't want to share, you can just ask me if you want me to draw your avatar in dms or reblogs or comments and I can do it for whatever robux you're willing to give me)

Although my art style and lineart pens isn't really consistent so I don't really stick to one type of style (unless you ask me to)

I can do doodles, sketchs/rendered sketches, lineart, flat colored or simple color and renders (I can't do cool rendering yet with my art so I'm tryna do something that won't burn me out☠️)

Anyways here's how I mainly like to draw/sketch and doodle

Also if you've read my introduction post, I'm fine with you coming in private dms for commissions, just not for trying to get to know each other in that way or tryna make friends😭I'm just trying to not piss off my mom for talking to people I barely know online😭💀

[prvt-tucker]

Hey all—

I don’t usually like to make posts like this or be raw and vulnerable on main but I’m kinda yo shit creek so here goes

-deep breath-

I’m not gonna go into the deep details but mid November me and my sweet tortie cat fled an incredibly abusive and exploitive situation. It took a lot of courage for me to do so, and it took a long time for me to even come to terms with the level of abuse and controlling that was going on. I am waiting to get into a sober living that accepts cats as she is my little buddy and best friend, and I have 15 months clean + sober as of yesterday! I have a scholarship to cover the rent at the sober living for the first 6 months which will help immensely to get us on our feet.

However, all of my SSI money (I live with severe chronic migraines, POTS, ehlers danlos syndrome, fibromyalgia, the whole trifecta) has gone towards keeping a temporary roof over our heads and covering expenses that aren’t covered by my SNAP/food stamps like food + litter for my sweet girl and personal hygiene products for me like soap, period items, etc.

I am willing to take on fic commissions as I’m not much of an artist, and please feel free to direct message me for rates, though I keep things pretty reasonable! I used to run a depop shop selling my clothes for extra cash but unfortunately when I fled I had to leave a lot behind including my shop stock =|

I write for Arcane, Attack on Titan, Bob’s Burgers, Beetlejuice, etc

Ofc I’m down to write:

Viktor x reader, Jayce x reader, Silco x reader as well as other ships from Arcane like ZaunDads

Bob’s Burgers:

I’m pretty open to most ships here!!

AOT: I mainly wrote Levihan but I’ve also written Erurihan, Erwin x Hange, Rivetra, Eremika, AruAni, PikuHan, JeanPiku, MikEru, etc etc

Beetlejuice: we all know what I’m about here but I’m open to any sort of Beej fic!!!

Boosts and reblog are welcome; I’m going to link my cash app; please directly message me for my PayPal!

I know times are hard for everyone rn but pls any bit helps!!!

[transforming-transformer]

For those requesting to see my stories from my previous tumblr account as reference for commissions, I'll be posting them here now!

To start off, here's one of my favorite stories of mine, which I wrote for Thanksgiving three years ago...

The House on Oak Street

There’s been some rumors spreading about the old grey house at the end of Oak Street. Built in the Victorian style of architecture, it’s been left in ruins for, say, 50 years? The deed to the house was never given up by the family who used to live in there, though the house has been for sale for some time. Apparently, it couldn’t be sold to anyone after what had happened to their friends, relatives, even the robbers or strangers that ever set foot inside…

Finn was tired. He’s at his breaking point. University is stressful enough, but add jocks and frats into it made it even worse. He was just walking home from class with his friends Peter and Ned, the three of them happen sharing an apartment far from campus since they couldn’t afford to stay in the dorms.They all shared the same interests - their studies, D&D, and architecture, all of them studying in the field.

The trio of friends were trying to avoid the Pi Kappa Alpha house, which was on the route they frequently took, when they passed by Oak Street that fateful day. As they passed by the line of houses, Finn stopped at one - an abandoned Victorian.

“Guys, look!” Finn said, pointing towards the empty house, intrigued.

“Finneas, it’s just an abandoned house,” Peter responded painfully, looking down at his shiny black school shoes.

“Not just any abandoned house Peter, it’s the Creepy Vic of Oak Street,” Ned added as he adjusted his thick glasses.

The three eighteen-year-olds looked at each other. According to urban legend, this very house on Oak Street had a reputation of endless trespassers, all of whom never reappeared once they entered the front door, some say having been pulled into another dimension or being eaten alive by a monster. 

“But those are just silly rumors, right? Does anyone actually believe that?” Finn asked as he took a step towards the porch.

“I do, Finneas. Do you want to disappear? And it’s just basic morals to never trespass someone else’s property,” Ned asked concerned.

Finneas nodded, and followed his friends, but something caught his eye, something he didn’t notice there before. A FOR SALE sign posted at the front of the yard. Finneas felt a connection with the house, but he couldn’t place a finger on it, so he quickly took a picture of the sign, making sure to get the realtor’s number, and sped towards Ned and Pete.

From the corner of the street, the trio could hear the speeding vroom of a sports car. 

“Yo, ‘Lex, Chad! it’s the poor faggy nerd trio!” Leo jeered from the driver’s seat.

“Park the car, dude!” Alex said grinning, getting off and standing toe-to-toe with Finn.

“What do you want, Alex?” Ned replied angrily.

Chad pushed him to the ground. “No one talks to us like that that, lil’ pussy ass dweeb. Why’re you here, anyway? Didn’t wanna get your asses kicked?”

Peter helped Ned up and pulled Finn close to them.

“Leave us alone, don’t you guys have trainings to go to?” Peter retorted.

The jocks chuckled as they harrassed the three students, punching their faces and breaking Peter’s glasses.

“I’m bored, bro, let’s just go, they got nothing today,” Leo chuckled. The three frat jocks jumped into the Maserati and sped away, while the three nerds trudged home. They dropped their bags and headed for the kitchen, starving. Ned took out a box of corn flakes and poured milk into a bowl first.

“Milk first, Ned?” Peter asked, shocked.

“What? I’m hungry,” he replied frustrated.

“I know, but that’s just weird!”

As they argued over how to eat cereal, Finn opened his phone and stared at the picture of the sign. A weird feeling of need came over him and he felt like the house was calling to him, though obviously a house has no such power. He typed up the number of the realtor, and pressed call.

“Mike Philipps for Century 21, how may I help?”

“Uh– hi, I… I wanted to inquire about the house for sale on Oak Street?”

“1324 Oak Street, the old Victorian?” Mike asked.

“Y-yes… it says it’s for sale?”

“Well, yes… but the family hasn’t been cooperative with our previous interested buyers.”

“How come?”

“Some weird rumors spreading about it, nothing of substance, really. How would you like to arrange an appointment to see the place?”

“Sure, sir! H-how’s…” Finn fumbled as he checked his calendar and schedule. “How’s tomorrow, Mr. Philipps?”

“Perfect. I’ll inform Mr. Thomas of your interest in the place.”

——–

After a few weeks of negotiating, and talking it out with Ned and Pete, the three friends somehow managed to buy the place at a real low price. Mr. Thomas was an odd man, for sure, and seemed interested in the boys. As the boys headed out of the tour, Alex, Leo and Chad harrassed them again, and Mr. Thomas watched silently. He may not have wanted what happened to the people in this house, but these three kids needed it.

Ned’s dad and his brother Colin came over to help renovate the place. New walls needed to be installed, new windows, new pipes (which Pete took care of with his uncle’s plumbing company), new roofing, all being supervised by Finn, who among the three was the best architect. The three painted the house and about a few months later, they moved in. 

“Can’t believe we got this place cheap,” Ned laughed as he carried his stash of comic books in. 

“Mind you, this being the Creepy Old Vic, it’s not so creepy now!” Pete added, starting the fire.

“Yeah, guys. We have a place now,” Finn said. 

Outside, the three douchebag jocks peered into the window. They’ve made some messes before, but this was gonna be the biggest prank they’ve pulled. Alex ran and switched off the house’s power. All the lights went out. The TV died. Silence and darkness, save the fire.

“Finn, what happened? I thought the electrical stuff was dealt with,” Peter shouted.

“They were-”

“Yo nerds! Need help?” shouted a voice, the sound of smug laughter coming from outside the front door.

“FUCK, it was them!” Ned whispered.

Finn cautiously unlocked and opened the door. Alex pushed him to the ground. 

“’Sup, nerd?” Alex grinned, “We wanna play!”

Ned and Pete hid, but they were pulled by the back of their t-shirts, their skinny frames revealed.

“LET US GO!” Peter screamed, trying to break free from Chad.

“What have WE ever done to YOU?” Ned squirmed in Leo’s arms.

“Oh, nothing,” Alex snapped, “Just being nerds is enough.”

As the trio of athletes tied and gagged the three trapped friends, the front door banged shut and locked itself.

“The fuck?” Chad said, running over and trying to open the door.

“We can go through the back bro,” Leo replied. He walked through the kitchen and tried to open the door as well, but it was bolted. 

“Bolted here as well?” he asked, as the curtains suddenly moved and closed. Pete spat out the cloth in his mouth.

“It’s the Creepy Old Vic. What did I tell you, Finn?!” he cried.

Finn’s eyes welled up, frightened. Ned was still moving about restlessly. As the three realized they could lose their lives, the fire died out, keeping them all in darkness. Suddenly, Chad felt a punch to the face as he fell to the floor, suddenly getting absorbed into the hardwood as if it were deep water. Leo heard Chad’s fall and ran towards the door, his phone’s torch on.

“Chad? Bro, where you…” his voice trailed off as he saw Chad’s hand sinking into the floor. Alex gasped in horror.

“Chad?”

“Alex–” Leo replied, but he was cut off. He felt the wall grab him, pulling him in, hands gagging his mouth as they dragged him in. The four college students could only stare as Chad’s eyes drowned in the blue concrete. Alex ran and pulled out a knife from the kitchen. 

“I’m not afraid of this house!” he shouted as he walked towards the living room, only to find the nerds he tied up missing, the rope and gags strewn around the room. 

Alex looked up and saw two green eyes. He was petrified.

“NO!” he screamed as the eyes formed a mouth and swallowed him whole, the three jocks never to be seen again.

——–

The next morning, Ned woke up lying on the floor, in front of the front door. His body ached.

Meanwhile, Peter was in the attic experiencing the same as Ned. Muscles everywhere. 

“Woah,” he chuckled, pinching himself as if he was dreaming, but nothing. The muscle didn’t fade. 

“I’m a handsome muscular guy?” he mumbled in his… super sexy voice. He stepped out of the tub and admired himself in the mirror. He looked so different, as if he was mixed with Leo. He certainly felt different, and was surprised when he looked down and saw his new, way heftier package.

He grinned.

The bathroom door opened, and two other handsome, well-built guys stood, hands on their hips.

“N-Ned? Peter?”

“Dude, what happened to us?” Pete flexed his arms, smirking and posing the handsome devil he was.

“I dunno, bro, Ned?” Finn replied, and realized he just said bro as if he always said it.

“I told ya it’s the house!” Ned’s voice boomed. “Didn’t you guys see when Chad and Leo were just… absorbed by the house?”

The lights turned back on. The three boys, well, men now, felt a sharp pain in their heads as knowledge of sports, fitness, working out and eating healthily, along with some knowledge of sex and a boost of confidence, filled into their minds, not completely altering who they were, but adapting them to their new physiques.

As they looked at each other, grinning with their new confidence, screams came from the basement. Pete ran down to check what was going on, when he saw a hooded figure surrounding three skinny boys, who were crying for help until the hood transformed into a blanket and covered the trio, the blanket absorbing them into the ground below.

Chad and Finn watched from behind Pete, as he closed the door.

——–

a few days later…

“What now?” Pete asked

“We’re still the same… somewhat. Inside, at least,” Ned responed as he made his pecs dance.

“And our families and classmates?” Pete added.

Ned had an idea. “We need to change names.”

“True,” Pete replied, smiling. “I’m��� now Alex.”

“And I’m guessing Ned’s now Chad?” Finn asked, smirking.

Ned nodded.

“Cool, bro, then I’m Leo now,” Finn chuckled. 

It felt weird, but it also felt right. Like this was their destiny. Finn’s connection to the house finally made sense, but he had another idea come into his mind too.

“Why don’t we… start our own frat?” Leo beamed.

“A frat?” the two studs looked surprised.

“I mean, why not? We’re hot now, and plus, the house helped us become this,” he smiled as he demonstrated with their bodies. “We could help others just like us.”

Alex nodded, “You’ve got a point, but what would we be called?”

Chad pondered for a moment, thinking through the Greek alphabet. “How about Delta Beta Alpha?”

“Delta Beta Alpha,” Leo repeated. “The change of betas, like who we were, into Alpha men, like who we are now?”

Chad smirked and nodded.

Leo and Alex grinned as well. The house was gonna make some more changes to others like them.

Mr Thomas would be pleased if he ever knew.

[starwarsmum]

Day 3 of Daminette December! Birthday

@maribat-calendar-events

Jon was excited for his birthday party. He was finally turning twenty-one and nearly all of his family and friends had promised to come to Metropolis to celebrate in style. He had made so many new friends since leaving Gotham Academy and starting at Metropolis University.

He only had one person left to convince and it was taking a lot of wheedling. He had flown into the batcave to try again, pouting when Robin merely glared at him. He turned to Nightwing for support, pleading for all he was worth.

“Please please please, I'm only going to turn twenty-one once and you're my best friend,” Jon begged, floating at his shoulder. He knew he would be able to crack him, it was just a matter of what he would have to promise in return.

“Tt, if I agree to go, I will be exempt from your next month's worth of team building on the watchtower,” Robin said, shooting a smug look at him. Jon narrowed his eyes at his friend, wondering if he could be bargained down. “It is the only offer you will get, take it or leave it.”

“Ugh, fine, as long as you'll be there for at least an hour,” Jon countered, glad when he saw Robin's face twitch into a scowl before he nodded. “Perfect, I'll resend you the e-invite because I know you probably already deleted it. Party starts at eight!”

He flew off before he could be pulled into another negotiation. He was home again in no time at all and pulled his phone out of the bag he had abandoned on his desk. He checked for more responses to invites to find one from his fellow aspiring reporter, Alya.

Yo, Jonny, I checked with Mari and she said she can make it! You have no idea how hard it was to get an answer from her, she said she's been crazy busy, but for you? We'll see you tomorrow pretty boy x

Jon grinned at his phone; Marinette was coming to his party! He hadn't seen her in person for well over a year because she was ridiculously busy. Between her fashion degree, her internship and commissions, she never seemed to rest, let alone fly across the ocean to visit her friends. 

_ _ _ 

“Hey, Jon, wicked party,” his older/younger brother Kon shouted, clearly already well into the festivities. Jon was feeling pretty loose himself, everyone more than happy to fetch him a drink if they saw his was empty. Before he could answer, Kon zipped away, back towards the bar - and his best friend/crush, Tim Drake.

As a new song started up, someone slunk into the room, keeping to the edges and the shadows. Squinting, he focused on the surly face, silent movements and general bad attitude and shot towards his friend. He caught up to him in moments, right next to Alya and Marinette who were laughing about something or other.

“Dames, you made it!” He cheered, his over enthusiasm at seeing Damian meaning that he accidentally pushed him into the girls. “Whoa, sorry Alya, Mari!”

“No problem,” Alya said with a laugh, as Marinette stared up at the man who had nearly flattened her. Jon winced as he thought about how bright and bubbly Marinette was, and how much Damian hated that kind of thing. “Down girl, if you don't stop staring you're gonna burn a hole in him.”

“Alya,” Marinette squeaked, blushing a bright red and looking quickly away. She took a deep breath before glancing back up at Damian and stammering a hello. “N-nice to meet you, I'm Marinette and this is Alya.”

“Tt, I did not ask,” Damian sneered, eyes narrowed and tone icy. Jon winced again, wondering how he could extract everyone from the situation he had accidentally created without anyone getting hurt feelings or worse. It had been a long time since Damian had allowed himself to cause an injury, but if the circumstances were right…

“I didn't say you asked,” Marinette said angrily, placing a hand on her hip and shooting her own glare at Damian. Taking her other hand, she pointed a finger into his face, and Jon realised that perhaps Mari had had a little bit to drink as well. “But it is rude to dismiss someone just for being friendly, especially when you almost squished them with your oversized, muscly body.”

“It is rude to continue a conversation when the other party is clearly uninterested,” Damian sniped, glaring down at the petite woman. Jon heard Alya huff a laugh as she lifted her phone camera and pointed it at the scene unfolding in front of them. He wished he knew how to defuse the situation but then Mari stepped closer to Damian and poked him in the chest - hard enough to make him take a step back.

“Perhaps I was waiting for an apology for the aforementioned squishing,” she said hotly. Jon panicked as more and more eyes were drawn to the confrontation, Damian’s brothers whispering amongst themselves but not coming over. “For someone who came to a party well past fashionably late, you seem very concerned with rudeness.”

“If I apologise, will you let me end this inane conversation? Or will it encourage you to attempt small talk? I do not know you, and besides which I was not at fault for falling into you. The guilty party for that has already apologised,” he retorted, taking hold of her hand and pushing it down.

Quicker than he had thought Mari could move, Jon watched as she flipped her hand and continued the momentum Damian had created. He fell to the ground with a snarl, the grip she had on his hand forcing him to stay down if he didn't want to break his wrist.

“Don't talk down to me, gorgeous,” she purred, pressing a knee onto Damian's chest. Jon watched in amazement as several things happened at once. Damian’s brothers all started coming over to them, pushing through the crowds. Alya chuckled but didn't lower her phone, keeping it trained on the pair. 

But most bewilderingly, Damian stayed down. He didn't try to push her off balance, or use a hidden knife to stab her in the leg. In fact, he was staring at her as if he'd never seen anything like her before. His heart was also thudding impressively, something that Jon noted for later.

“...I am sorry for knocking into you, Marinette,” he said softly, sitting up when she released him, a grin lighting up her face. She hauled him to his feet, helping to dust off his suit jacket, and giggling a little. The other Wayne boys stopped abruptly as they watched the small Asian woman touching their brother and getting away with it.

“It's fine, I'm sorry for knocking you down too,” she said, straightening her own top. She smiled up at him, and Jon swore he could see another blush spreading up Damian’s neck. “It's actually kind of nice not being the clumsy one in a first encounter.”

“Your form was excellent, please do not apologise,” he said, sounding almost earnest. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, making her giggle again. “As I have been rude, I feel I must apologise in a more substantial manner. Perhaps I may accompany you in getting a drink?”

If he could move, Jon's jaw would be on the floor. If it hadn't been for the fact that the other batboys were stood near him with identical looks of astonishment on their faces, he would have assumed he was dreaming. He glanced at Alya who had finished filming and was shaking her head lightly whilst taking a sip of her drink.

“What just happened?” He asked as Damian and Mari walked towards the bar together. She was holding onto his arm as they weaved through the crowd, and he was glaring at anyone who stepped too close to her. If it wasn't extremely disconcerting, he'd say it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

“You know, I'm used to the first part where she sweeps a guy off his feet,” Alya said contemplatively before draining her own glass. “But the second part where she agreed to get a drink is new.”

“So that really just happened?” Jason asked, still staring after the pair and voicing the thought all of them were thinking. “And that's not another clone or whatever, that's our Demon Spawn?”

“How…” Dick looked like he was torn between agreeing with Jason and squealing about Damian flirting with someone. As they all watched, Mari said something animatedly and Damian nodded, saying something back. 

The pair stayed at the bar for over an hour, Damian moving incrementally closer to Mari. Jon checked in periodically with his super hearing but every time he did they seemed to be chatting about increasingly strange topics. 

He did glance over when the hour Damian had promised to be there was up, wondering if he would disappear now, and was again shocked to see Mari pulling Damian onto the dance floor. He darted towards them, expecting to have to get involved but then Damian was holding onto her waist as a slower song came on.

Deciding he was just going to have to ask his best friend for a rundown the following day, he decided he needed another drink.

Part 2

[nightyraven-art]

Hello welcome to my cave, you can call me Ash/Sky/Asher I'm 23 yo I go by he/they/xem.

☆ Trans+demiboy and enbie, also demisexual

☆ I'm from Italy so my English is broken, I mainly post my art (I'm slow due to my situation at home etc might change later on)

☆ I have anxiety and interacting with others it's kinda hard for me but I'll try my best and my dms are open just remember i take some time to reply.

☆ I'm Nd (neurodivergent) suspecting of having adhd and other stuff.

☆ I struggle with expressing myself so I ask you to be patient, I have anxiety and can be overwhelmed easily so be aware.

My tags:

#ashyrants for when i rant sbt something

#ashyvents when I vent (I don't vent often)

#ashyask for when I got asks

#ashyart or #asherart for my rants

Usually I interchange tags with #Asher or #ashy

#ashyrequests for art requests

(I don't use most or sometimes)

☆ In the future I might open art requests but I'll only draw requests I'll be comfortable with or I'm able to draw. I'm very slow so if your requests isn't posted it's bc I'm taking time.

☆ Art trade are always open (I'm still slow)

I don't take commissions, sorry I don't have enough energy and time for commissions.

My inbox is open but if gets too overwhelming or crowded I might take time. Please don't spam a lot in there, I can get overwhelmed easily. If I don't feel in the mood for answering questions don't be upset. Sometimes I'm here to distract my mind

☆ Fandoms I'm in: Tloz, any linkmeet au, my ocs, dbh, the last Guardian (in the future I want to branch out more) , other Nintendo games and and other games as well. I might be self indulgent and post old fandoms at times.

☆ i like crows/raven and ferrets i might spam sometimes stuff of them, be prepared XD

Tloz games i have played or watched: botw(watched planning to play), Skyward Sword (partially played), Twilight Princess (partially played), totk( in progress), La (to finish)

☆ I'll eventually play the others once I gained more games

On my list: fsa, albw, mm, oot and botw

☆ I'm a freelance artist and my artstyle is very inconsistent (sometimes i draw on traditional), I'm currently working on my own projects and other stuff, in the future I want to start writing.

Currently working on my linkmeetau, my post-botw au and other projects

☆ I'd love to meet new people and new friends but I'm rather shy at times. I'd ask you to use tone tags because I struggle to understand tones most of the time.

DNi:

If you are racist, homophobic, transphobic, no proshippers, no pedos here, being hateful towards other minorities or anything under this line, no terfs!!

Be aware that sometimes I struggle with communicating, please be aware and clear. As mentioned I can get overwhelmed easily so don't be upset if I'm very slow it's nothing against you, I'm just struggling, thanks.

Don't be creepy or parasocial w me, I'm an adult.

Other socials

Insta: @nightraven_asher_art (somehow active)

Cara: nightravenasherart (barely active)

Discord: ash.jinx (if you dm me there please remember that I'm not always online there, atm requests are only for friends, might open them later or just ask)

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

[pipartuuli]

hello, toki cube anon. You and plvtosun and glassgilotine were some of the first, and I found people from there. I don't mean to do harm to anyone. I did not send all of those but most. I am very sorry I've hurt you.

Yo?? I'm... going to respond as if this is the true OG Cube Anon. Obviously I have no way to verify. I'm also going to speak only for myself.

Okay, first of all, this experience for me, personally, has been a fun and hilarious experience. The Toki Cube phenomenon was a delightful addition to my Monday morning and watching the fandom run wild with it has been amazing. The mystery?? The craze?? Seriously. But yeah, no harm done to me!

By the same token, I'm hoping you're able to take all the memes in stride.

Next, if the original request was meant to be genuine, I highly recommend you look into commissioning an artist for your request. Assuming this was meant to be a NSFW thing like most of us are assuming, most fanartists don't do smut for free unless you're a good friend. Like, no harm no foul from my perspective since I make no promises about fulfilling requests anyway, but you're probably not going to get what you're looking for for free.

Another piece of advice - it can also get a little weird peppering a bunch of artists with the same request, especially in a fandom this small. There are only a few dozen Mtl artists that are active and most of us know each other. If your request had been more specific, it might have ended up feeling a little plagiaristic for all 30 of us to be working on the same image.

Anyway, uh, thanks for this experience! It's been a wild one to say the least.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough to write the stories I have in my mind right now. I feel like they're too big, to elaborate, and my writing is still not there. So I let time go by, wanting to get better before I write them, and I write other simpler stuff. I write the stories I planned years ago and never wrote, but since I'm not good enough for the stories I have in mind now, I go back to the old ones just to keep my fingers moving and not lose practice. About a month ago I said fuck it, I'm gonna write this new idea anyways, and it's not coming out great. I think it has a lot of potential but the characters are lacking personality and my writing is still. not. there. It's not bad, I don't think it's bad. I talked about the story with a few friends and they were excited about it and told me it was very interesting, but I read it and it feels like it could be so much better. I know it's my first draft and I shouldn't be so hard on myself, I can revise it and make it better later, but my head gets so overwhelming sometimes that I feel like I'll never be good enough to write something I actually like today and I'll just stick to writing 3-6 yo discarded ideas

Feeling Inadequate and Overwhelmed by Big Story

This is completely normal...

No amount of writing experience and skill means you'll never struggle with a story again. There's this misconception that good writers can just sit down and bang out an effortless first draft, no matter how complex the story, and that's just not true--at least not most of the time for most writers. Hard stories will always be hard and require more work, no matter how amazing a writer you are.

So, keep at it. You are ready. You are skilled. Don't let the difficulty of this draft discourage you, because it's not difficult because you're not a good writer. It's difficult because it's big and hard and has a lot of moving parts. You can do this. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

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[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 19 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Ok guys just read this one really quick so I can upload Chapter 20, ok, cool, you got it. Great, alright read fast!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.Keep reading

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)

I hurried along the streets, saying hello to the men I passed. I finally made it to the house. Hearing familiar voices from the upper room I made my way up the staircase. 

“Ah there she is. We were wondering where you disappeared too.” Babe said as I reached the top. 

“I’m a busy bee Babe, you should know that.” I sat next to the man, who perched on the edge of the bunk. 

“Oh, bunk beds.” I said bouncing up and down on the mattress, it squeaked under me.

“Saved you the lower bunk under me.” Babe told me. I smiled at him, giving his hair a tousle. 

“Ah you’re a sweetheart.” He grinned at me. I glanced across the room to see Don standing on the far side looking out the window smoking. A solemn expression visible on his features. I watched him just smoking. 

“He’s been like that since we started coming from Rachamps.” Babe whispered to me, I nodded agreeing with him. I don’t know what happened. Was it because he knew I was ok, he finally let himself process. If that was the case I feel awful, they were his friends before I was close with them. I let it cloud my thoughts so much I couldn’t even ensure that he was fine. Now he’s stepping back from me, is that what he wants? I need to talk to him, but I can’t get him alone at the moment, now that he’s a ranking officer it seems like everyone needs to talk to him. I have barely been able to have a moment with him without someone else requesting him. They obviously take priority over me. Babe’s hand landed on my knee giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’ll find some time.” He says as if he can read my thoughts. I nod, turning my attention back onto the conversation the men are having as they all lie on the bunks. I’m so excited to be able to sleep on a bed with a pillow and sheets. Even if it is some crappy thin mattress, better than the cold hard floor. 

“Oh My God! I forgot to say, you’ll never guess what Webster said to me.” I announced to the group. They all waited for me to tell them. “Well firstly he was like, ‘when did nurses work on the front?’ So I corrected him. But then he said, ‘oh yeah I remember you, wow I’m surprised you’re still alive’.” I waited for their response, my mouth open to show my shocked face.

“What?!” Babe said from beside me. 

“You’re joking?” Grant asked, I shook my head. 

“That cheeky fucker.” Lieb growled. 

“I know! I was like excuse me! Rude!” I scoffed while laughing. “I think he’s being put with us.” I also told them, a collective groan echoed around the room. I laughed at their enthusiasm.  

“Oh speak of the devil.” I motioned with my head to the door, as Webster and Jones wandered in looking dazed. 

“Hey, guys. This taken?” He asked about the top bunk no one had claimed yet.

“Go ahead.” Rameriz told him, lying down on his own bunk. Webster threw his bag onto the bed claiming it for his own.        

“Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Jones, just assigned to 2nd platoon.” Webster informed Malarkey. All eyes were on the pair. The men in the corner who were helping themselves to hot drinks and standing around the heater, eyed up the young Lieutenant. 

“Malarkey, platoon Sergeant.” Don said. 

“Congratulations on the battlefield commission.” Jones said, reaching out his hand to shake Don’s. I watched as Malarkey glanced at the outstretched hand looking confused. 

“The what?” Malarkey asked, shaking his hand.   

“They’re making you an officer, no?” Jones inquired. Lieb sniggerd into his cup, as Webster turned around to glare at him. Realising too late that Lieb was just fucking with him. 

“Me? No.” Malarkey chuckled, looking back to see Grant and Lieb trying to hide their grins. “You must be thinking of First Sergeant Lipton.” Jones and Webster share a glance, clearly Webster had passed on the information that Lieb had given him this morning to the officer, only to be very wrong. Webster gave a defeated shrug and shake of his head. 

“My mistake.” Jones apologised to Don. “So you’re without a platoon leader?”

“No, not anymore, Lieutenant.” Don said to the officer. 

“Right.” Jones nodded as if he seemingly forgot his rank. “So do you want to introduce me to the men?” He asked. Don gave him a tight smile, he was busy and so were the men. 

“Well, some of them are sleeping downstairs. The rest are right here.” Jones glanced around the room looking at the men, who gave him small nods as they made eye-contact. His eyes landed on me, I gave a small smile. 

“A female.” He said, looking at me. Don turned around to look at him. “Our medic, Emily.”

“Odd for a female to be on the front.” Jones said without thinking. The chatter ceased in the room, waiting for him to say something else. 

“She’s a good medic, we’re lucky to have her.” Don said, sending me a smile. I grinned back appreciative of his defence. 

“What? Is it be mean to Emily day?” I whispered to Babe, who just chuckled, shaking his head continuing to read the comic he had picked up. Jones cleared his throat moving on from the awkward conversation he’d started. 

“Sergeant, a patrol’s being planned for tonight 0100 hours across the river. Regiment wants POWs for interrogation. What’s the situation?” Jones asked, the men moving their conversation somewhere more private, away from listening ears. The men all looked pissed, they again were being chosen to go on an attack. 

“Hey Web. Come here. I just want to talk to you for a sec” Lieb pulled the man from over by the window. Webster seemed rightly suspicious of Lieb’s motives. “Why?” He asked, resisting Lieb’s arm that snaked around his neck trying to drag him elsewhere. 

“Come here, You want some coffee.” Lieb offered as he ushered him to the bunks Babe and I sat on.

“No.” Web said, stepping out of the man’s arm. 

“Is this kid out of highschool yet?” Lieb asked Webster. They both looked over to the young officer who was speaking with Malarkey.   

“He’s out of West Point.” Webster informed the men. 

“West Point?” Lieb asked. I have no idea what West Point is. 

“Isn’t that where Ike went?” Jackson said from above me, spread out on the top bunk. 

Babe, now more invested in the conversation, put down the comic I was reading over his shoulder. Lieb stood right in front of me as he spoke to Webster, I couldn’t see anything past his butt. I leaned more into Babe so that I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by Joe’s ass. 

“Yeah he actually graduated with his son.” Webster confirmed Jackson’s question. 

“Shit, so ah… what do you know about this patrol thing?” Lieb’s true motive revealed themselves, his cunning ability to coerce information out of you. 

“Uh, nothing.” Webster lied. I laughed, shaking my head. Oh poor sweet Webster you can’t get out of it this easily, not with Lieb you can’t. 

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez adds to the peer pressure. 

“I don’t.” Webster turns away fiddling with his bag. 

Lieb spits on the ground, I nudge him with my foot, mouthing gross. He just smirks at me. 

“Bullshit.” Lieb says. “You were there right? At the CP?” Chuck moves past us heading for the exit. 

“Hey, Chuck, Listen to this.” Babe calls to him, he stops to listen. McClung sits beside Babe as we scooch down the bunk to make room. 

“Come on, Webster, spill it.” Lieb is persistent with his interrogation. And now with everyone gathered around eager to hear, I’m sure he feels even more pressured. I can see his eyes finally give into it. 

“Captain Speirs is to pick 15 men. Lt. Jones wants to be one of them.” Webster casted his gaze to the man who still spoke with Don. 

“I say let the kid go. He could use the experience.” Lieb said. 

“Probably could find 14 replacements to help him out.” Ramirez grinned. 

“Why are you holding out on me? I know you know.” Lieb grilled Webster. 

“Just give us the names, Web.” Ramirez and Lieb had him backed into a metaphorical corner. 

“Who?” Lieb asked. 

Webster glanced around all of us, our eyes trained on him, he had the answers. We waited patiently knowing that Lieb and Ramirez would break him at some point.    

“There are three men here in this room that they think should be on the patrol.” Webster started. 

“Who?” Ramirez asked, was there a bunch of owls somewhere? I laughed at my own joke. Babe gave me a weird look, wondering why I was chuckling. I’m funny ok! I cleared my throat paying attention again to the conversation. 

“Well, if I tell you, you can’t let on that you know.” Webster stalled. 

“Your secret’s safe, Web. Who is it?” Lieb promised. I almost laughed again, as if he would keep his mouth shut for Webster. But Webster was gullible enough to believe that Lieb would have his best interests at heart. Webster glanced at Babe sitting next to me. Babe shook his head, he didn’t want to be chosen, he was waiting for his name not to be called. I tensed, I wasn’t particularly keen on any of the men being sent but especially not Babe. 

“Yeah, Heffron.” Webster confirmed our fears. 

“Aw, shit.” Babe groaned, dragging his hand across his face. I sighed along with Babe who looked disappointed. This time I was the one to give him a pat of reassurance on his leg. McClung, who sat on his other side, threw an arm around his shoulders.  

“McClung…” Webster continued, Earl also groaned in annoyance. Babe slapped his leg, in a well-were-in-this-together-now way. 

“And you.” Webster said to Ramirez, looking equally as disappointed as the other two. 

“He want any other guys from any other platoon?” Lieb asked, looking down into his cup of coffee.    

“No, no. I don’t know. Not that I know of. Look, that’s all I know, I’m sorry.” Webster rambled on, trying to prove to Lieb he didn’t have any more information for him to draw out.

I almost leaped off the bed when Don yelled, “Listen up!” I grabbed onto Babe's arm out of instinct. Covering my heart with my other hand, to stop it jumping out of my chest. 

“Got some bad news. There is a patrol set for tonight. And so far, Speirs wants McClung–” Don told the room. But was interrupted. 

“We know.” McClung told Don. 

“Yeah, we just fucking heard. Webster here told us.” Babe blabbed, so much for keeping it a secret. But Babe and Earl never made any promises to the man, only Lieb. 

Don answers the ringing phone, mumbling into it. He hangs up quickly, having more information to give us. “The PX rations just came in, including winter shoe packs.” Don informs us. 

“Beautiful.” Ramirez says sarcastically. 

“Yeah, finally right?” Don agrees. 

“Good of ‘em, now we’re in a nice warm house.” Lieb adds. 

“Also we get showers.” Don tells us. I gasp so loudly everyone stares at me. Pure delightment on my face. 

“We get showers!” I say excitedly. I feel like I can bounce off the walls. A shower sounds amazing. I make quiet screaming noises. I feel like a kid on christmas. Everyone watches me have my mini celebration. I stop mid party, “Sorry, I’m just really excited to have a shower.” 

“Yeah, no we can tell.” Lieb laughs at me, patting me on the head. 

“You’re so cute!” Babe teases trying to pinch my cheeks, I fend him off. Before he can reach me the distant sounds of explosions boom through the room. The sounds of whistling are closer, the sound of a bomb being dropped in close proximity. 

“All right, let's move! Clear it out! Move, move!” Don yells over the noise. We get to our feet, rushing out of the top room into the lower floors. Babe is behind me pushing me down the stairs faster than my feet can take me. We barge into the basement taking cover. Everyone yelling at everyone to get down, take cover, incoming. The bombs stop right as we reach the room. I laugh in disbelief of course it would stop right as we are safe. Everyone else had the same reaction, well except for Jones and Webster. They both looked like they were about to faint from shock.  

“Showers lets go!” Don ushered us out. I was quickly on my feet, yes showers, omg I want to wash my hair, and body. Omg maybe shave my legs with running water.  

-----------------------------------

Chapter 20

[foursthemagicknumber]

Something has been in the works for a while now and i’m proud to introduce a sneak peek at MONKEY MECHS

credits to @kis5ki5skai for beta reading

Dollar rush! The best convenience store in the world!

MK ignored the loud advertisement as he ran across the upper roofs of Megoplis. He was so high up that the air was almost clean… almost. 

He jumped for the next building, but instead of aiming for the roof, MK grabbed onto a drain and jumped. He slowly slid down to the next floor, crossing over the fire escape. 

For a second he paused and looked out over the neon city. Lights bright enough to drown out details. Lights bright enough to drown out the start of a sunset. 

He ran down the fire escape level by level. 

“Hi Mr. Sandy!”He shouted at the big blue covered man sitting on his own fire escape.

“Hey Mk! Don’t work yourself to death, okay?” the friendly blue giant shouted back

“No promises!”Mk shouted before sliding down the ladder the rest of the way. 

His feet hit cracked concrete and he looked around the empty plot as he jogged over to Pigsy’s noodles. 

“Coming in!”He shouted as he dashed through the kitchen. He grabbed the bag of delivery’s before turning to head out the door. 

“EH EH EH!”Pigsy shouted. 

“Sorry!”Mk stepped back over and hugged his dad. 

“Alright now scram! Can’t have any dick heads complain’ about cold food!” 

Mk was back out the door just like that. Running from address to address. Delivered each package of delicious noodles and when it came to his last delivery of the day he came in through the window. 

“Hey Piff!” He smiled at the woman who was working away at her commission of jewelry,”DB!” He gave the large man a high five as he passed. He tried to ignore the tattoo he knew was cover up of the Brotherhoods sigil, but his eyes still darted towards it for a second to long. 

“She’s in the garage.” Piff nodded in the direction of it. 

“Thanks!”Mk headed out the door and ran down a flight of stairs and into an open sided work space. 

There were a few cars in the process of being fixed. That’s what Red’s work was officially. But if you crossed into the back of the workshop you could see where she did most of his work . 

“Yo Red!”He called out into the work shop. 

“With a patient!”He shouted back. 

Mk navigated the cluttered workshop to the back and stared for a moment as Red worked. 

Her patient was definitely one of his less savory clients. 

“I got you your noodles,”He set the cup of noodle on the desk and pulled up a chair next to him. 

The clients eyes looked directly at him. It would have been a perfectly normal look except for his right eye. A deep scar ran along his face and instead of a regular eye. It was purple and mechanical. It seemed to study him. 

“Hi?”

“Hello,”The man said coldly. 

“Oh stop talking you’re gonna get burned!”Red pressed some sort of stick at one of the man’s cybernetic ears… One of his six ears. 

It occurred to Mk exactly who it was that lay before him. The infamous six eared Macaque. 

Macaque grinned like he knew exactly what thought was running through Mk’s head. 

Mk quickly left the area to wait in the front. He tapped his toe repeatedly and resisted the urge to pull out his holo screen and start scrolling. 

After what felt like eternity the six eared Macaque entered the area,”Hey kid.” 

“Hi,”Mk squeaked, praying he wouldn’t die today.

”You friends with the Doc?” 

“Yep.” 

“Good. Best to have smart friends,”The macaque left with a wave of his tail. 

“Sorry about that,”Red came up next to him wiping her hands with a towel,”I know you don’t like meeting my patients.”

“What? Nooooo!”Mk’s voice pitched up several octaves. 

Red rose an eyebrow. 

“Ok yeah fine, but it’s not like it’s a big deal! You’re not exactly…on the radar. Where else are they gonna go?” 

“Fabulous question,”Red grabbed the bowl of noodles from his tail and popped apart some chopsticks. 

Mk watched as he ate,”Dude how?” 

“It’s good!” 

“You get special ordered extra spicy of the spiciest thing on the menu!”He shouted. 

>save…

“Champagne?”A waiter asked. 

Nezha wordlessly took a drink off the platter in front of him. 

His father waited until the woman was gone until he began talking again,”Either way, we’ll need to increase the rent of the our properties if we want to keep up the quota for this year.” 

“Yes father,”Nezha spoke numbly. He scanned the other people at the party. The room was filled with wealthy members of the upper class. Thus they tended to be exceedingly boring to be a part of. One girl however stood out in the crowd. She had bright green stripes of hair, and seemed just as bored as him staring up at the lights. A felling of almost kinship blossomed in his chest.

“That girl,”His father followed his gaze,”One of the dragons, Shes not much younger than you.” 

“How old?”Nezha asked because to his father age really was just a number. 

“A good 22 I think.” 

Nezha didn’t have it in him to explain seven years was not a small age gap. 

“She’s got a powerful family. Marrying into it would be a wise choice.” 

“I’m not marrying a girl I haven’t even met,”He did not want to add that he didn’t want to marry anyone at all let alone a woman.

“Maybe if you did, I’d forgive you.” his father said with a frigid tone.

A memory of… The incident flashed in Nezha’s head. 

He sighed,”Yes, of course, Father.” Nezha muttered, bowing his head.

He crossed the party to approach the girl, his father’s sharp and cold eyes following him.

Nezha stopped in front of the girl awkwardly standing infront of her for a bit before clearing his throat.

She startled before her face shifted into a pleasant abit shaky smile “Oh hi.”

“Hello,”He tried to give her a smile,”My name is Nezha.” 

“Ok,”The girl seemed uncomfortable. 

“I love your hair,”At least he was telling the truth,”It’s very vibrant, reminds me of leaves.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks”,She gave him a strained smile,”Look I got to go find my mom sorry.” the girl quickly exited the situation and walked over to her mom. 

“What are you doing?”Her mother questioned with highly arched brows.

“Uh, leaving an awkward conversation,”She said as she rolled her eyes.

“That man was clearly interested in you,”She hissed,”You need a husband!” 

“Mom-“

“Nope! Go back over there and at least talk to him,”He mother whispered,”I’m not dying without grandchildren!”

Mei walked right back over to Nezha and smiled,”Hi, sorry about that. Where were we?” 

“Uh we met and then…” Nezha looked awkward as hell. 

“OH!”,she exclaimed,”My bad, I never introduced myself,”

She stuck out her hand,”Names Mei!” she smiled,”Well here’s to meeting!”She clinked her glass against his. 

“Right…” 

“This is awkward isn’t it?”She asked. 

“Very… I’m sorry I should-“ 

“Wait,”Mei sighed,”Hand me your holo screen.”

Nezha handed her his unlocked holo screen. He was way too trusting, she thought as she put her number into the device,”Call me?”

“Sure, of course!”Nezha mumbled. After that they small talked like there was no tomorrow. By the end of the party Nezha knew nothing new about the girl and her of him. He sighed as he walked through the streets. He knew it would be wiser to catch a car to his home, But walking helped clear his head. He stoped by a railing and watched as cars flew by. If he focused hard enough he could see the floor of the earth at the bottom. 

A man leaned against the rail next to him,”Ya like the sights?” 

Nezha gave a small nod. 

“You got a light?”He pulled out a cigarette. 

Nezha held up his lighter and flicked the flame. 

The man leaned forward and light the cigarette,”So what’s a sweet little boy like you doing all alone.” 

Nezha didn’t answer. The man gently took his chin and turned his face to look at him,”I could help with that loneliness, 400, that’s all I ask.”

Nezha studied the prostitute and sighed,”Deal.”