#also tried to make everyone look relatively the same age

[musingsofheaven]

Hello!! I adore your Art fics and was wondering if you’d do one with top/dom!Art x Sub!reader and she has a really bad oral fixation throughout her normal day buts it’s especially bad when she’s upset, and she is, also if possible if you could somehow fit in NSFW themes I’d really appreciate it! Once again love love love your work!💕

Sorry if this is gibberish I suck at requesting stuff

SLURRED, SLIPPY, SHINY.

summary: It’s not new. You’ve always had a thing for using your mouth when your feelings get too big and you go quiet. And Art knows that silence, knows exactly what you need when it hits. He never makes you explain. Just cups the back of your head and tells you, “Breathe through it, baby.”

pairings: ceo!art donaldson x young girlfriend!reader

warning: 4.2k words. mature themes. oral fixation. age gap. power imbalance. oral sex (m!receiving). gagging / light choking. spit / drool / mess. aftercare. read responsibly.

note: this request has been sitting in my inbox since june 7 and i swear i wasn’t ignoring it :(! sorry … sighs. anyway, i saw “oral fixation when she’s upset” and i immediately felt exposed. why would you call me out like that. do you know how many things i’ve put in my mouth just to not cry?? like it was a coping mechanism. and surprise!!! it was!!! 🤪 and yep… we’re here now. she’s soft. she’s messy. she’s gagging a little. and she’s regulated by one (1) emotionally available dom named art donaldson. (I WANT SOFT DOM ART) To anon, i’m sorry it took me long. i love you. thank you for requesting this. 💗

You should’ve grown out of it. That’s what everyone said- quietly, politely, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it’s just a phase. Just something you’d stop doing once your brain settled, but it’s not. As much as you want it to stop, it didn’t. It started when you’re young, with your thumb, then your shirt collar that you’re subtly putting between your mouth when you’re alone, hoodie strings chewed until they frayed. Note: Each one of your hoodies.

Teachers, doctors, and relatives offered solutions: rubber sticks, bracelets, soft pens. You tried. But nothing worked like having something in your mouth. It doesn’t work. You almost broke down when someone asked what it was when you left your bag open. It wasn’t just a habit. You know that. It was need- pressure, focus, quiet. It’s something. It’s yours. Something to help you feel safe. A comfort.

You learned to hide it as you got older. No more thumb sucking (when you’re at public), but your pens still had bite marks. You went through straws too fast. Got flattened and looks like it has been murdered. You pressed your fingers to your lips, mouthed your sleeves, and gnawed your cheeks. You thought it would fade. It didn’t. There’s a time you think it’s fading, not until it happened again, when something triggered you.

It’s worse when you are upset, more than the normal things you do. You didn’t cry or yell. You just went quiet. You bit down. Sucked your fingers raw. Let your sleeves stay wet. Full of drool. You hated how it looked. How did it make you feel small. It can be disgusting, but a good feeling at the same time. You tried to be better. Find solutions on your own when you get older. Therapy, coping tools, breathing tricks- you did it all. But your mouth always ended up full again. Again. And again.

It got harder to ignore around people, especially during sex. When your mouth was busy, your head was quiet. Not because you wanted to be good. Just because it helped. But it got messy- too much drool, too fast, too desperate. You look like you’re eager to suck them off or get fucked. You could always tell when they felt weird about it. They’d pull away. Wipe your chin as if it’s giving them problems. Give you a break you never asked for.

So you stopped letting anyone see it. Bit your cheek. Sometimes it’s too hard you can taste the metallic flavor from your blood. Swallowed the need. Tried to act normal. Masking it in front of other people. Tried to stay quiet without help. You didn’t want to explain. It’s too hard to do it anyway. You didn’t want to see that look- confused, a little uneasy, like they didn’t know what you were doing, or why it mattered.

And then you met him. A quiet gala. A borrowed bracelet. A drink you didn’t finish. He noticed you- not because you were young or pretty, but because you stirred your glass too long, because your fingers kept brushing your mouth like they didn’t know where else to go. The way you lick your lips too much to the point it’s making them dry. You didn’t even realize. But he did.

And for once, someone didn’t look confused. He just watched you more than he spoke. Noticed your jaw, your hands, the way your voice caught when your mouth was empty. But he never pointed it out. Never asked. He just made space. Let you sit closer. Let you speak less. Let you handle yourself. Let you do your mannerisms. Let you know it. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to hide.

Now- now that you’re here, curled up on the floor of his penthouse, sleeves damp, fingers trembling, mouth aching for something to hold- he still doesn’t ask questions. Just let you stay there. Not really get you up because he knows your habits by now. And he’s in the middle of a meeting. Remote. Earbud in, laptop open, voice low. Even as he talks about projections and timelines and things you don’t understand but his other hand- his free hand- is resting gently on your face, two fingers pressed into your mouth like it’s second nature.

You keep his fingers warm inside your mouth. You’re curled against his thigh, knees tucked under you, breathing soft and shallow as you suck on them. Slow. Steady. Sloopy. Like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart. You’ve already soaked his skin. Spit clings to the knuckle and to your chin. Your jaw aches. Your lashes are wet. You don’t even know how long it’s been.

You haven’t spoken since you crawled across the floor and tugged on his sleeve. Soft and with the purpose of disturbing him in the middle of his meeting. Your chest is tight and your eyes are glassy, too full to say a word. You didn’t ask. You didn’t have to. He looked down once, watched your lip tremble, and slipped his fingers past your mouth like he was giving you medicine. Like he knows what you need. Like it’s your fix.

You’ve been like this ever since- mouthing and whimpering, drooling quietly while he keeps talking like there’s nothing unusual happening. Nothing at all. Just you. You’re on the floor. His fingers dig deep into you. “…no, we’ll review it again on Thursday,” he says, thumb brushing under your chin.

“I’ll send over the final numbers after this call.” You whine around his fingers- quiet, desperate- and he doesn’t even blink, just looking straight at this damn meeting. “Shh,” he quietly murmurs, barely audible. His pinky strokes your cheek. “You’re fine, baby. Just keep going.”

You try to behave. You really do. Keep going, he said. But the second he pulls his fingers free- spit, wet, and warm- your mouth feels too empty to breathe right. So you whimper again unintentionally, lips still parted, breath catching in your throat like you’re falling.

He doesn’t look down. Just wipes his hand on the thigh of his sweats and lifts the edge of the desk with his knee so you can crawl more between him. You do- immediately, silently, settling between his legs like you’ve done this before. (You do. Multiple times. Like you already trained for it.)

He’s seated in his office chair, laptop balanced in front of him, camera on. Framed from the chest up. Mic hot. Voice calm. Authoritative. Composed. “… No, we need to revise the it if the acquisition falls through. We can’t afford a delay.” You kneel more comfortably under the desk, hands light on his thighs, cheek pressed to his lap. Like a lap dog. But you didn’t do anything much, you just pressed it, just for closeness, just to feel him- but the second you catch the heat of him through the fabric, your lips part again. You mouthed at him through the cotton. Lips moving with intent. Soft. Unthinking. Your body leads before your brain can follow. A soft noise escapes your throat- barely anything- but enough to be heard.

There’s a pause. “…everything alright over there?” He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t shift. Doesn’t glance down. His voice doesn’t change. He’s acting like you’re not below him. Like you’re not needy. Like you don’t want more of him in your mouth.

“Yeah,” he says. Just a beat. “All good.”

His hand slips under the desk again, finds the back of your head, and presses down gently against his thigh. Then, without pausing the call or breaking eye contact with the screen, he pulls his cock out- slowly, one-handed- just tugging the waistband of his sweats low enough to let it rest heavy and flushed against his thigh.

“Come on,” he whispers to you, too quiet for the mic to catch. “Since you’re already shaking.” You lean in automatically, lips parted, spit already pooling, and wrap your mouth around the head with a soft sigh. You lick the tip like a lollipop. Tasting his pre cum under your tongue. He exhales through his nose, doesn’t react. “…we’ll circle back on Friday,” he says into the call, calm and smooth, while you suck him quietly under the desk.

He doesn’t know what upset you. Not yet. Not ever since you crawled underneath, since he’s already in the meeting when you did that. But he knew something was wrong the moment you knelt beside him- sleeves tugged over your hands, mouth trembling, silent. You hadn’t said anything. You didn’t need to. You just looked up with your glossy eyes, like you just came from crying and your mouth shining with spit. You touched his wrist, and he gave you his fingers like it was instinct.

Now your mouth is stretched around something thicker, deeper, and you’re curled between his legs, hands braced on his thighs, jaw working slowly. Your spit drips down your chin and onto your hands, but his voice doesn’t change. “…that’s fine. Just update them before it goes to legal,” he says evenly. You hum around him like you’re agreeing. Like you’re part of his little meeting. His hand flexes at the back of your head after you hum, must the vibrations of it have affected him. He holds it not for praise, not control. Just contact. You always need contact.

He glances down once. Just to see you like this- lips soaked, brows furrowed, throat working hard to take more than you should. He almost thrust so deep that you could be stuffed, but he didn’t. He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t slow you down. He knows you’ll talk later, after your jaw stops aching and your head clears. Right now, this is the only way you know how to speak. But you’re struggling now- your lips stretched wide, eyes burning, spit messier by the second.

The harder you try to stay quiet, the worse it gets. The more noise threatening to escape your mouth. A whimper escapes, soft and broken, and he feels it. He’s aware of how you are acting below him. Still, he doesn’t pause the meeting. He just lifts one hand off the desk and presses his thumb into the corner of your mouth- not rough, not gentle, just there. Steady. Firm. Guiding.

He eases you off with slow pressure, lets your lips fall from his cock with a gasp. Then pushes his thumb over your tongue, wetting it, quieting you. Grounding you from breaking from it. He knows sometimes you can get overstimulated even if you've already stuffed your mouth.

He lets his cock rests hot against while his thumb plugs into mouth beside it like a stopper, keeping the sound in. “…yes, I’ll review the contract tonight,” he says calmly to the meeting. “No changes on my end.” You blink up at him, glassy-eyed, his thumb still resting against your tongue. You suck on it too, softly, rhythmically, just to keep yourself grounded. To stay in your body. To not cry.

And he lets you. Keeps you there- knees sore, chin sticky, heart pounding, mouth full of him- because this isn’t about making you feel better right now. It’s about keeping you still. Quiet. Held. Just content until the meeting concludes. He doesn’t stroke your hair. Doesn’t tell you you’re good. He just finished his work. Lets you stay where you are, sucking on him like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground. When the meeting finally winds down- just wrap-up and sign-offs- he clicks once, flatly: “I’ll review everything by tomorrow. Thanks, everyone.” And then he ends the call.

Click. Silence. Like he’s so eager. The shift is instant. He exhales once, slow, and reaches under the desk to grab your wrist- not rough, just firm enough to say: you’re not staying down there. You don’t have time to react and you barely get your hands beneath you before he’s pulling, slow and steady, making you crawl out with your knees catching on the floor. You pout at him because it made you remove your mouth from him.

Your lips are swollen, eyes stinging, his spit and slick cock brushing your cheek as you move. You end up kneeling between his thighs, half slumped in his lap, fingers clutching at his sweats like you’re afraid he’ll take it all away again. But really? In this state? You’re afraid he’ll do it. His thumb shoved back inside your mouth, lazy and wet, soaking from how long you’ve had it before he pulled it out for a moment to get you underneath the desk.

He brushes your chin, glances at your face- pink, glossy, ruined... and pretty. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” he asks, voice low. You shake your head. Just enough. Too shy to say it. Not ready to talk about it. “No?” he repeats, brow twitching.

You pull off his thumb slowly, spit stretching from your lips, then whisper, “Don’t wanna talk...” It cracks your voice. He knows what it means. He knows what he needs to do. You sound shameful. Quiet. Like it hurts to admit. He looks at you for a long second, blank, unreadable- then leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs. “Alright,” he says. “Come get it.”

You’re already moving the moment he said that, dragging your palms up his legs, mouth open before he finishes speaking. You open your mouth wide enough to cater it. You take the head in first- soft, slow, then deeper. Just enough. Maybe the tip is almost kissing your throat. He doesn’t guide you. Doesn’t hold your head. Just watches. Admiring the way you take what you need. The way your lips wrap around it. The way you look.

When you moan around him, eyes slipping shut, he finally lets one hand drop into your hair. “There you go,” he murmurs. “Take what you need.” You press your palms to his knees and sink until your lips meet the base, breath catching, tears stinging your lashes. But you don’t gag, you move slowly, adjusting to it even though you’ve done it many times now. He doesn’t move. Just lets you fuck yourself on him- slow, sloppy, desperate- until your spit coats his thighs, dripping in strings from your chin. Your whole body trembles from the stretch, from how full you are, from how long you’ve been holding everything in.

Then he shifts. Just a little. He put his hand on your hair and grips your hair tightly, not in a way that hurts. He tilts his hips forward once, deep, slow, and the sound you make around him shudders straight up his spine. God, you sound so good, so he does it again. Then again. Three soft thrusts, lazy and controlled, just enough to hear you choke. Just enough to test you to see if you can take it much today. You flinch, but don’t pull away.

You moan- weak, ruined- and he groans softly. “Fuck. You’re really not gonna stop, huh?” Another push, deeper now, hitting your throat. “Not even gonna try.” You look up at him through wet lashes, mouth stretched, eyes pleading. He holds you halfway down, barely letting you breathe, cock throbbing on your tongue like it’s trying to get something out of you you haven’t said yet.

“You needed this bad, didn’t you?” he murmurs, brushing your cheek, wiping spit from your lip. “What happened, sweetheart? Hm? Who made you like this?” He asks. So filthy, making you squirm. Making you feel the tingling through your body because of the sound of his voice. And then, just to feel your throat a little panic, he thrusts again, rougher now, and you gag, tears spilling free.

He doesn’t stop. Just sighs, voice soft. “There you go. That’s better.” Even when your throat clamps, even when your nose presses tight to his skin and your jaw starts to shake, you don’t stop. You learn to love this, giving a head, because he makes it enjoyable. You make a noise- high, wet, almost hurt- but you take it, nails digging into his thighs, spit dripping down his cock like it’s what keeps you breathing.

He exhales again, heavier this time, brushing your hair back from your face. His thumb wipes your chin clean, then strokes your cheek, down to the corner of your mouth where you’re still twitching, still open, still aching. You let him caress your face while you rest there, and your mouth is still full, but he’s not moving yet. “You still with me?” he asks, voice quiet. You nod, slow at first, then again, more sure-eager, already needy.

“You want more?” he asks, voice warm, cock still heavy on your tongue. You whimper around it. He smiles. “Yeah? You want me to fuck your throat, baby?” Your eyes widen- shiny, breathless- and you pause like the weight of it just hit you. You know he’s asking for a consent, knowing that it can be overwhelming for you to do it... especially when he fucks your throat, considering he’s above average and thick too. Then you pull off with a wet gasp, gaze locked on his, and say it like a confession: “Yes. Please.” That’s all he needs. “Good girl.”

He gathers your hair in one hand, lifts your chin with the other, and slides back in with no resistance- just heat, just hunger, just you opening for him like it’s instinct. “Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs, guiding you like always. Reminding you of the same things even though you already know what to do.

“Tap my leg if you need me to stop.” And then he starts- slow, careful, one deep push forward until he meets the back of your throat. He holds there, steady. Not teasing. Just giving you time. Like he’s training you. His hand stays in your hair, grounding you while your body adjusts, while your breath learns to shape around him.

You’re already trembling. Not from fear- just from fullness. From the weight. From the leak. From quiet. Your lips tremble around the base, your fingers curl into the arms of his chair, and your eyes flutter shut as he begins again- a slow drag out, then deeper on the next thrust. His thumb strokes your cheek. “That’s it,” he says, calmly.

“Don’t rush.” You hum before you feel the gag, soft and shallow, then swallow around him, and he groans- not from need, but from how good you are. How willing. He moves again, never too deep, never rough- just enough to feel your throat clench. “You feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s your limit. We’re not going past it yet.”

Your jaw aches. Spit spills freely now. He lets you sit there, face pressed to the root of him, mouth stretched and wet, like you’re trying to breathe through need alone. “You’re doing so good,” he says, like it’s just the truth. “Making space.” Then he slides out, dragging slick along your tongue, and pushes back in deeper this time- firm, measured, until your nose brushes his stomach and your whole body gives out. You’re crying again- he can feel it in the way your throat tightens, then relaxes. In the shift of your breath, the way your hands go soft. The way you go quiet.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, and this time he means it. He rocks forward again, deeper, surer now- committing. You don’t gag. Don’t flinch. Your lips are red and swollen, your throat open and warm, and you’re wrapped around him like you were made for it. He feels the moment you surrender- when your tongue goes lax, when your breath slows, when your whole body holds still like you’ve given up everything but him. And it hits him all at once- not restraint, but awe. The way you fall apart just to feel full. Just to be good for him.

He lets you breathe there a moment, thick in your mouth, thumb brushing under your jaw while your lashes flutter and your body twitches. Then he leans forward, voice low and too gentle for how he’s looking at you. “Can I go a little faster now?” he murmurs, thumb swiping your spit-slick bottom lip. “Only if you want it.” You blink up at him, tearful and eager, nodding before your brain even catches up. You try to say yes, but it comes out muffled around his cock- your throat flexing like your body’s already answering for you. He groans quietly, settling back in the chair with both hands in your hair, still gentle, still grounding. “That’s my girl,” he says softly. “You’re sure?” Another desperate hum from you. That’s all it takes.

He starts slow again, but this time there’s rhythm, pace, weight, and pressure. His hips roll deeper, steadier, his grip guiding you only slightly as your lips stretch around him. Not forced. Not rushed. Just deliberate. Just enough. You gag once, shallow and quick, then breathe through it, moaning as your spit runs down your chin. You’re making a mess, and he loves you like this- loves how badly you want it, how completely you give yourself up to stay full. “So fucking good for me,” he murmurs, breath catching. “Look at you.”

And then he starts fucking your throat- slow and controlled, rocking into you with more force now, just enough to give you what you asked for. Something to keep your mouth too full to cry. “You’re okay,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re doing so good.” And you are. You take it all, steady, obedient, dripping, and let him use your throat like it’s the only thing you were built for. You fall apart quietly, trembling with each deep push, your whole world narrowed down to the pressure, the stretch, the weight of him keeping you still. You’re safe. You’re here. And your mouth is where it belongs.

He’s getting close. You feel it in the way his hips start to stutter, the way his breath catches, how his cock throbs a little harder with each thrust. He slows down, lets you breathe around it, and rests heavily on your tongue. “Gonna come soon,” he murmurs, voice low. “Can I do it in your mouth, baby?” You nod right away- messy, needy, already whimpering for it. You don’t pull back. You don’t even think. Just press closer, mouth slick and stretched and shaking, and he groans when he sees how much you want it. “Good girl. Don’t move.”

He doesn’t thrust. Just holds you there- deep, swollen around the base- as he comes in slow, warm pulses, filling your throat while you take it, tear-streaked and open and perfect. You don’t stop. You swallow around him like it’s all you’ve ever known how to do. His hand stays in your hair, thumb stroking your temple, like he’s holding you together while you shake. You stay like that even after he’s finished, mouth still parted like you’re not ready to let go.

He slides out slowly, wet and sensitive, and your breath hitches at the loss. His thumb catches what’s leaking from your mouth and tilts your face up, not rough, just enough to see you. Your eyes are red, your jaw still twitching, your lips parted like you don’t know how to close them yet. He says nothing. Just breathes out quietly and reaches for your wrist.

You’re still trembling when he pulls you into his lap, steady but gentle, guiding you into place like he’s done it before. The office chair isn’t built for this- not wide enough, not soft- but you climb in anyway, folding messy and small. One leg drapes across his, the other hanging off the edge, and you curl into him instinctively, arms around his neck, face buried against his shoulder like you’re trying to disappear.

He holds you close. One arm across your back, one hand in your hair, thumb stroking slow circles through your sweater. You don’t speak. You just breathe, quiet and uneven, body limp but safe. The crying hasn’t stopped completely- it’s softer now, more like the aftershock than the storm. Your knees shake. Your mouth aches. Your fingers curl into his shirt like you’re holding onto gravity.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, voice low against your temple. “Shh. You did so good,” he whispers. “It’s over now.” You nod faintly. He asks if it hurt. You shake your head. “Good,” he says again, lips brushing your hair. “That’s all I care about.”

He doesn’t ask what upset you. Doesn’t press. Just holds you tighter, arms wrapped around your back like you’re something worth keeping still. You’ll tell him later- when your throat doesn’t burn and your heart isn’t stuck in your chest. Right now, he lets you stay soft.

You melt into him slowly. Floaty. Boneless. Barely blinking. Your hands relax in his shirt, breath slow against his neck, and when you nuzzle closer, he tilts his head, letting you burrow. Then the kisses start- quiet and light, scattered across his jaw, below his ear, the curve of his throat. Sleepy little thank yous. Not for effect. Just instinct. He smiles softly and curls his hand around your head. “You’re really sweet when you’re like this, baby.”

You hum in response, kissing his pulse once more. You don’t move. You don’t need to.

Then, quieter than anything: “Love you.”

It just slips out- muzzy and honest.

He stills. Just a beat.

Then sighs into your hair, arms holding you closer.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Love you too.”

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[himasgod]

Hello! I’m here to make a request!

Can you do headcanons of Jade Leech, Floyd Leech and Leona Kingscholar x Child! Reader (11-12 years old) headcanons where the Tweels younger brother (same age as reader) and Leona’s older nephew (same age as reader) has a crush on reader and their reaction to it? I can 100% see Octavinelle shipping the Tweels younger brother with reader

If this request seems weird or uncomfortable, feel free to ignore this!

Where the Tweels' little brother and Leona's nephew have a crush on you

At NRC, special festivities have been held to commemorate family, where students are allowed to bring their younger relatives to NRC for a month to spend time with them. You, as the younger relative of a student, meet the Tweels' younger brother and Loena's nephew, who also came to visit NRC, in two different scenarios, and they fall in love with you. Now, how would Jade, Floyd, and Leona act?

Floyd and Jade Leech

The Tweels' younger brother has a crush on you, and Octavinelle supports him 100%.

Both Jade and Floyd find it hilarious. If their younger brother has a crush on you, then of course they're going to make his life miserable… but in a good way (or at least, that's what they say).

Floyd is the most annoying about this. He'll hug you every chance he gets, pick you up, and spin you around while saying things like:

"Heh~, if I hug you like this, you'll definitely fall for me instead of my little bro, right~?"

His younger brother yells at him to let you go immediately.

Floyd especially enjoys putting you in situations where his younger brother has to talk to you, just to see him stutter.

"Heh, did you know my little brother is learning how to cook~? He'd love to make you something special, right?"

His younger brother throws a pillow in his face and yells at him to stop saying weird things.

Jade is more discreet, but he's incredibly amused to see his younger brother turn red every time he hints things like:

"Oh~. Looks like someone's very interested in our dear guest. How cute."

When his younger brother tries to impress you with something—like swimming fast or performing a trick in the water—Jade simply says:

"What a coincidence, I was just thinking they like people with unique abilities. Maybe you should show them more."

Azul is already thinking about how to monetize the relationship, because if the younger brother likes you that much, then he can make a good deal with him… or with you.

At the Monstro Lounge, mysteriously, they always end up giving you the best seats or a free dish. When you ask why, everyone answers with a suspicious smile:

"Courtesy of someone special~"

Octavinelle generally supports this “couple.” All the Monstro Lounge employees make comments like:

“What a cute couple~!” “You two look good together.” “You can tell young Leech is in love.”

When the twins' brother tries to say, “We're nothing!” they simply ignore him and continue with their plot.

Meanwhile, the younger Tweel brother is dying of embarrassment, and you don't know whether to laugh or hide.

If anyone tries to tease his younger brother about his crush on you, Floyd and Jade won't allow it.

One breaks bones, and the other silently plots revenge.

If any other child tries to get too close to you, Floyd changes his attitude instantly.

“And who is this~? He's not trying to steal something that doesn't belong to him, right~?”

Jade smiles kindly, but his tone is just as threatening.

“It would be a shame if it ended in an… unfortunate arrangement.”

The poor kid runs off before they finish speaking.

The younger Tweel brother wants to die right then.

"Will you all stop scaring people?! I'm not a mobster!"

Floyd just laughs, and Jade tells him it's a "loyalty test."

If it ever seems like you're loyal to him, Azul starts planning a theme party at the Monstro Lounge to "celebrate the Leech family's first love."

The younger Tweel brother swears he'll run away from Octavinelle if that happens.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona's nephew, Cheka's older brother, has a crush on you, and Leona notices it instantly.

The first thing Leona does when he realizes it is make fun of his nephew.

"What, you get all nervous when you talk to them now? I didn't know you were so clumsy."

His nephew pretends not to hear, but the poor kid is already red-faced, and Leona is already crystal clear.

Leona becomes the worst possible spectator. If you and his nephew are together, he's always in the background, arms crossed and smirking.

Sometimes he even gives sarcastic advice:

"If you're going to act so useless, at least bring gifts. People like thoughtful details, or do you want them to notice some other brat?" "Stop standing so stiff, it's not like you're standing in front of a hungry lion… Oh, wait."

His nephew throws sand in his face, but Leona just yawns and continues bothering him.

He doesn't interfere too much, but he enjoys watching him suffer. If you ever see Leona smiling suspiciously when you're with his nephew, it's because he's enjoying watching him try to impress you.

Ruggie also teases him a bit. Sometimes he says things like:

"Oooh~, the little prince likes someone~!" "Come on, kiddo, if you get so worked up, you'll never win them over." "If you need help winning someone over, I can make you a deal. Nothing comes for free, you know."

Leona laughs as his nephew throws the first thing he has in his hand at Ruggie.

If you start showing signs that you also have feelings for his nephew, Leona watches you more closely.

He doesn't say much, but makes comments like:

"Hmph. I guess someone in the family had to get lucky."

His nephew pretends not to care, but inside he's screaming with happiness.

However, if another child tries to bother you or talk badly about you, Leona glares at them.

"Tsk. Who let this trash come here?"

And since no one wants to confront Leona Kingscholar, they quickly shut up and run away.

At the end of the day, even if Leona teases his nephew, he's silently protective of him.

If he senses that he really cares about you, he might even give him some real advice.

Although he makes it seem like he's a complete pain in the ass.

"If you like them, do something about it. Or continue being useless brat, not my problem."

His nephew complains, "That's not how you give advice, uncle!" but Leona just yawns and goes to sleep.

[xjulixred45x]

Mark x male viltrumite reader. Where reader is sent to earth instead of Anissa since he is closer to marks age. With orders to get close to mark and spy on his progress. But starts to grow closer to mark and the earth.

WOOOOOOOooo-DRAMA! I LOVE THIS!

Also, unrelated, but defo Mark (of the series at least) give me HUGE Bisexual vibes

Mark Grayson/Invencible x Viltrimite! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: male

Warnings: spoilers from Both the comics and the series of Invencible, Reader has ISSUES and problems, but gets character devemplot, Viltrume culture, violence. Comfort/Fluff in the end.

• The Viltrumite empire was going through a great crisis. Well, maybe not to the same level of crisis as the plague, but it was definitely enough to make a big fuss. The reader found out because it was the most interesting thing they had had in many years.

• A Viltrum agent had not only withdrawn from his assigned mission on a primitive planet, but his son (an almost pure Viltrumite) seemed to refuse to continue with the mission (it seemed due to some kind of affection towards the species of that world. How absurd)

• For the same reason, there was a debate about who should be sent to check the boy's progress (if he made any progress in conquest) on the Earth.

• One of the first choices was Anissa, an elite warrior who everyone respected. However, the reader could not miss the opportunity to see such a unique case, curiosity was killing him. He then used his best charms to convince Thragg to let him go.

• Much to Anissa's chagrin, the quest was designed for the reader.

• However, what they didn't take into account was the peculiar way in which the reader planned to monitor the young Viltrumite.

• The earth was… .primitive. not Bad. Just primitive . It was what he expected, but it was suitable enough to blend in among the humans Grayson loved so much. From there, he would form his plan...

• Mark was having the worst week of his life.

• First the whole situation with Armstrong, his father, and now the Viltrumites may be coming after him and his family, his girlfriend broke up with him, he decided to leave school to focus solely on being a hero and he honestly felt miserable.

• Until one day, things changed.

• He was waiting for William at the fast food place, just wanting to have a “normal” time before getting back to the action. However, William seemed to be “fashionably late.”

• In those moments, while Mark was simply staring into space, thinking about his things, someone spoke to him. Or well, it seemed like he had already tried to talk to him and he hadn't realized. He was so tired...

• "-Hey! Are you okay man?”

• When Mark realized this, he turned to see a boy around his age, who looked confused at his lack of response, almost worried.

• Mark apologized for that and he and the guy (who is called “reader” apparently) had a friendly chat while he waited.

• He seemed like a very positive boy, a bit of that enthusiasm rubbed off on Mark. Reader said he came from out of state, wasn't on very good terms with his family, and wanted to basically start over in the city.

• Even if Mark was a little worried about the detached way the boy talked about his family, it felt good to talk to him. So when he offered to exchange numbers, he didn't really put up any resistance.

• How bad can it be to have a friend? At least he wanted to have one that wouldn't get screwed because of his superhero job...

• William eventually arrived, but when Mark was about to introduce him to the reader, he had already left. Queer. But then again, he was so tired lately that reader could have left while he didn't notice.

• Meanwhile, reader looked from the top of a water tower, playing a little with his phone's camera to focus on Mark and William leaving the premises, smiling to himself, before taking flight as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.

• Oh, Mark, you're in big trouble~

• From there, Mark and reader would chat relatively often, reader making sure to have a context consistent with his “situation” on earth. Whether it's to see some place in the city, to try some kind of food, even reader discovered that human sports are fun to watch! The more Blood, the better.

• Mark didn't really think Reader's behavior was strange, I mean yes, he ate a lot more than the average person, and he loved to scream in contact games (and scream very violently) but those were normal things in NORMAL guys, right?

• What was definitely not normal was that every time he and Reader went out in public, almost always, something happened where they needed Invincible, Mark swore it was just his damn luck again. Like when he was on dates with Amber, now was when he finally had a social life—

• The thing is that, it wasn't like that, the reader thoroughly studied all the villains in the city, memorized the possible dates of their robberies, and so he could see Invincible in action, it was incredible. His own source of entertainment (WHILE accomplishing your mission!)

• What he don't expect, though, was that at some point, this would stop feeling... good.

• There was one time, when they went to a park, that a villain was especially rude to Mark- I mean, to Invincible. Reader could see how the villain almost pulverized the bones in his left arm, the pain on Mark's face.

• And he no longer felt satisfaction.

• He felt guilt.

• Why was he putting him through that? Clearly this Viltrumite cannot carry out the invasion, he should have noticed that immediately (no, he NOTICED it immediately, but he was so into it out of curiosity and now he got attached--) and go back to the Viltrumites.

• Why did he feel that way? Why now?

• Why did he now feel empathy when Mark told him how conflicted he was about the future?

• Why did he get excited about these silly human activities?

• Why did he start avoiding places where Mark could get hurt when they went out again? Why did he feel bad lying to him?

• Oh no…no no no no no NO-

• Mark had seen many, many strange things, but seeing his new friend, fly through the skull of a sea monster, was definitely a lot to take in one day.

• But that wasn't even the worst thing, the worst thing was that he was wearing a Viltrumite uniform.

• And his whole world stopped. He didn't even feel angry or betrayed, just disappointed. He wanted to be disappointed. Stay away from him even if he was calling him, calling him by his name.

• Despite this, he did not resist when reader grabbed his hand trying to stop him, when he looked up, he did not see a crazy bloodthirsty warrior, not even someone like his father.

• He saw someone sad, regretful, a reader with the world in pieces...

• Because he realized that everything he ever learned, believed in, was wrong.

• Mark had been there before, in his position.

• he couldn't hate him, he couldn't leave him. He wouldn't do it.

• If we jump to the relationship headcanons directly, leaving aside the rocky start, you can bet there would still be drama.

• First of all, Debbie is quite skeptical about letting the reader live with her, Mark and Oliver, but seeing that he was now reduced to a kicked puppy made it easier.

• Mark tries to guide the reader in aspects of Earth culture that he couldn't before, now that he knows his context he can better teach him those concepts (things like his childhood memories, entertainment, ways of getting energy that don't involve killing the other person , etc.)

• To no one's surprise, Mark is very insistent that the reader not talk to Russel, he knows that if he finds out that there is another Viltrumite they will most likely want to open him up to see his weaknesses, so no.

• I think one of the best ways to bond with these two is to play video games, since then the reader can “fight” without really having to hurt themselves and thus learns to change their competitive nature.

• Reader is definitely the more flirtatious of the two, I don't set the rules, Mar doesn't really know how he does it until he remembers that Reader is probably much older than he looks (now he would like to forget that).

• Since they're both super humans, they get to spend a lot more time together (other than missions) and Mark honestly likes seeing the reader's expressions when they visit a new country. He was so used to all the planets looking the same, he didn't expect so much culture from such a small planet!

• Of course, just because the reader is working on being less violent does not mean that he has stopped fighting completely, sometimes Mark calls it as reinforcement, sometimes they both decide to train together.

• Ironically the greatest strength of their relationship is in domestic acts.

• Mark has taught the reader how to cook! Something like that, at least he doesn't cut the entire cutting board anymore. They even have a race to see who eats the fastest. Needless to say, the reader usually wins.

• At first, reader is very, very confused with physical affection, Mark would try to hug him from behind and he would Suplex him. But that is precisely the consequences of growing up with the Viltrumites.

• Now, ironically, reader is stuck to Mark like a tick, and Mark honestly adores him, he seems like a clingy dog. Except that said dog will rip your hand off if you insult Mark in front of him (he still finds it cute).

• There are times when the reader can't sleep, Mark feels like he walks from one side of his room to the other, how he sometimes falls out of bed, and he honestly doesn't blame him. He also has night terrors.

• sometimes Reader just looks behind and regrets EVERY day he didn't get away before, before he did those things, before he destroy so many's peoples lifes. No matter how many times Marks tell him he didn't know better, the Blood is something he NEVER loses ...

• So sometimes they just go into the living room, with a big bowl of ice cream, and cuddle until they're asleep. A nice domestic moment.

• Wow, no wonder Nolan left the mission. Love feels great.

• In general, a couple that has many battles ahead of them, but they will know how to resolve them. Together.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Mark really said "i can fix him" and it worked💀

[couch-potato28]

ROMANTIC MOMENTS CAUGHT BY FANS WITH THE BLLK BOYS! 📸

PT 2.

🎥 synopsis: Your relationship with him is already established, but fans still can’t get enough of the two of you—always wanting more crumbs. Accidental meetups, funny moments and romantic scenes that get captured or posted by them online offer the world a chance to witness little glimpses of your dynamic with him.

🎞️ a/n: fem!reader, Heads up—Charles is included, his scenes are romantic BUT soft, strictly age-appropriate moments (think hand holding and shoulder rests) I tried my best to be mindful and keep it true to his age also reader is, of course, aged accordingly

🎬 characters: kunigami r., yukimiya k., bachira m., raichi j. and charles c.

Kunigami Rensuke—prince material

It was one of the last events of the year for athletes where multiple teams, media outlets, interviewers and influencers were invited to stream and enjoy the gala.

During the quick break before the awards ceremony could begin, a relatively known sports blogger started to live stream which gained a surprising number of views in a short time.

It was hard too see in the dim room, the only light source being some LED strips on the walls, and the huge chandelier that hang from above.

As the influencer was reviewing the drinks at the bar, some fans spotted the two of you in the background, tucked into the corner of the room.

Before anyone could assume anything, your boyfriend got down on one knee as you held onto his shoulders for support. Despite the low lighting, some hawk-eyed fans could clearly tell what was happening.

Wardrobe malfunction.

Your freaking heel broke. Or it could have been a problem with the straps but all they really focused on was how gently Kunigami tried to help you back into your heels.

Someone took a screenshot. You looked like a princess with your gown on, and your boyfriend—ever the chivalrous one—looked and knelt beside you like a true knight in shining armor.

You saw the pics a week later. He kissed your forehead and moved on. But the fans? They talked about it for a long time…

Yukimiya Kenyu—divas in the wild

Your boyfriend besides being a well-known football player also gained fame as a model to many brands—his face plastered all over the stores, subways, and malls.

The fans knew how private he was, only letting them get a small glimpse of you every now and then.

So imagine their surprise when one of them was strolling around the local mall before she spotted a familiar tall figure with someone shorter than him grocery shopping.

Walking by the vegetable section with your hoodies on, backs turned to the camera was a sight nothing out of the ordinary—that was until the fan zoomed in on what was printed on your clothes.

A selfie of you two: meme-worthy, double chin showing with his glasses lazily sliding down to the bridge of his nose and your hair looking like a tornado. The cherry on top was the word “DIVAS” printed across the sweaters’ backs in bold, pink letters.

The fan thought she was hallucinating for a moment, mumbling in the video about how Yukimiya’s fashion sense and PR team would never allow something like this. Still—your fits were lowkey a slay.

The clip ended there but it was enough. The fandom unanimously agreed on the fact that everyone needed a version of that unhinged anniversary hoodie you gave him last year.

Liked by @ken_yu_getoutofmyface (private account) and 5.9 million others

Bachira Meguru—heart on his sleeve

Your boyfriend was a fan favorite. They adored how he always took the time to stop and chat with them—whether it was about the weather or something random like whether dolphins or bees were better.

He was also known for accepting gifts—especially bracelets.

Bachira absolutely loved them. Most of the time he was always caught in public with his wrists decorated with colorful, handmade pieces, each one a reminder of the fans who took some time out of their lives to make something for him.

It was the same kind of love that surrounded him just the other day, when the two of you went to a concert together. Fans swarmed the area around his seat, handing him letters, drawings, books—even a photo card of you that he gladly accepted with a bright smile.

It took him about 10 minutes to receive his first handful of bracelets—and, following the concert’s tradition, Bachira started to trade a few of his own with the fans.

“Where did you get that?” a girl asked, pointing to the beaded bracelet you gave him a few hours ago.

Before anyone could even think about exchanging, he was already showing it off. That bracelet? It even had your combined initials on it! He proudly told everyone how much effort you put into making it and how there was no way he’d ever give it up.

The fans melted on the spot. You two had a blast that night and he ended up trending on social media. Again.

4.8 million likes including @beebachira_megs

Raichi Jingo—fake nonchalant ahh

He rarely posted you on his socials—partly for privacy, partly out of pure pettiness.

Perhaps that’s why you decided to surprise him in secret at the airport, squished in between many, many of his fans.

He had just landed from the final match of the season—victory shining on his team of course. The airport was packed, fans swarming the place as the boys strolled in wearing hoodies, headphones, and masks. People screamed, holding out merch or whatever they could find for autographs.

You spotted him minutes later. Hoodie pulled low, mask up, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd while signing simultaneously.

That’s when you decided to step in.

Fighting your way through the fans, as he came closer to your row, you held out your phone for him to sign. Raising an eyebrow, he looked up to meet your eyes, surprised at your sudden presence.

Silence followed. And then—he burst out laughing, voice echoing through the international airport.

Wiping his tears away, Raichi reached out to cup your face, kissing you through his mask.

Fans gasped, about to freak out with their phones in their hands before he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you through the barrier.

“She’s my girlfriend guys!”

Charles Chevalier—chilling with you

The final match of the season had just ended, and with it, the fans slowly poured out of the stadium into the night. While most of them were heading home, some chose to linger, taking in a bit more of the buzzing city before calling it a day.

That’s how a group of PXG fans spotted their favorite team in a nearby diner as they celebrated the victory.

Not wanting to interrupt, they quietly took seats on the opposite end of the diner, ordering food and pulling out their phones for a quick video.

Most of them zoomed in on Julian. The other half was focused on capturing your boyfriend, the other star of the match.

He was surprisingly quiet. People would think he would be the life of the celebration by now yet all he did was have his hoodie up and occasionally smile at the others’ jokes.

Charles was definitely tired with the way he yawned halfway through sipping his soda.

Head on your shoulders, he quietly intertwined your fingers under the table, fidgeting with one of your rings while using his other hand to casually wave at the fans across the room, a small smirk forming on his lips before turning his attention back to you.

Liked by @chesire_cat.chevalier and 3.6 million others

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 17: "I hate it" "No, you don't"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

It was late when you received the call from your boyfriend. It wasn’t unusual for him to call and ask if he could spend the night at your place after work (when there wasn’t a case that took him to another state), and of course, you gladly accepted, eager to see him for a bit longer. Your relationship was relatively new, just past the six-month mark, but Spencer’s noble and chivalrous character had allowed you to trust him quickly enough to let him into your space.

You had met in a book club, and he had captivated you with his analysis of "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. His eloquence, the way his hands moved, that whole vibe of an intelligent college student... it was inevitable that you would approach him to talk. That’s how you both started chatting occasionally, and as the months passed, what was meant to happen, happened.

“Good night,” you murmured softly as you saw him standing at your door. “Come in.”

He smiled widely when you took his hand to guide him inside, and he made sure to respond to your greeting. The first thing he did was take his briefcase off his shoulder and place it on one of your wooden chairs, accompanied by his checkered scarf.

“Were you already asleep?”

“No, I’m just finishing some things. You know, my thesis work and all that,” you exclaimed, lacking much enthusiasm.

Not everyone was a genius like him, so if Spencer wanted to hang out with people his age, he had to endure the academic struggles of a college student.

“Poor you.”

You enjoyed his compassion, and it was at that moment that you moved closer to hug him, a contact he reciprocated with great pleasure. You didn’t want to be rude enough to say it out loud, but from the very first moment you formalized your relationship, you realized how starved he was for touch. And not explicitly in a sexual sense, but simply to be caressed in any way. To someone from his usual circle, it would have seemed extremely strange that Dr. Reid, so well known for his aversion to germs, constantly sought out someone’s hand, asking for kisses on the lips or pleading for a warm hug.

When he told you, slightly embarrassed, that you were his first girlfriend, some things started to make sense in your mind. But it was sweet if you thought about it because it meant he was choosing you to teach him many things about love.

To be honest, you were willing to give him whatever he wanted. After all, he was a good-hearted guy who devoted himself to adoring you, a type you don’t find easily. And it had to be said that his intelligence wasn’t the only trait you had noticed, as his physical attributes were also quite (too) appealing.

Once you both felt satisfied with the contact, you separated, and then you looked at him with a smile.

“How was work?”

“Same old,” he expressed as you guided him to one of the dining chairs where you had been working. “Today we did reports and reviewed some cold cases, just in case we could still help in some way.”

“That must be so exhausting. I wouldn’t have the willpower.”

“For what?”

“To endure so many cases. To know how horrible humanity can be and keep going as if nothing’s wrong.”

“Everything leaves its mark, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

There was a hint of pain hidden behind those words that made you feel compassion for his work. He tried to keep you at a distance from everything that was happening to him, and he still didn’t dare confess many of the things that troubled him at night. He didn’t want to scare you, of course; that’s why he thought it prudent to wait a little longer in the relationship.

After all, if you truly loved him, it would be with all those flaws and traumatic events that his life entailed.

“Well, I admire you for helping capture those despicable people.”

Your sincere tone was pleasant to your boyfriend’s ears, and he thanked you with a smile that spoke volumes.

Suddenly, your gaze drifted to the laptop on the table, and he hurried to murmur:

“Do you want to continue? I don’t mean to disturb your schedule.”

“Doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all.”

“I have to submit a progress report this week, analyze some data, strengthen the theoretical part…” You sighed, letting yourself drop into the chair, ready to continue with the task. “Have you eaten yet? You can go to the kitchen and prepare whatever you like. The place is yours.”

Spencer took you up on your offer, and while you continued typing away on your laptop, he took the liberty of preparing something light for dinner and serving it on two separate plates.

When he finished, he brought them over to you, placing your plate beside you in silence. You murmured a small thank you, and he ate while seated in one of the adjacent spaces, watching you from time to time simply because he liked you so much.

At some point, he gathered your empty dishes and carried them to the sink, washing them himself. He was so sweet.

“Do you need help with anything? You know I don’t mind,” he offered.

At that, he stood behind you, able to embrace you since you were sitting in a rather unnatural position in your chair, and the wooden backrest wasn’t a hindrance.

“I need a new brain; this one’s dried out.”

Spencer laughed at the exaggeration, knowing that it was impossible, and shortly afterward, he left a kiss on your cheek. A small giggle escaped you as you felt his hands sliding toward your waist, knowing what was coming next.

“Spencer…”

“Yes?” he replied innocently, as if he didn’t know what he was doing.

Doing that had become a constant habit since he discovered that you were extremely ticklish. Literally, every time he placed his hands on you, you would burst into laughter.

“Spencer,” you repeated, more seriously this time.

But in the smile you wore, he saw that your threats didn’t really carry any weight. Carefully, the tips of his fingers began to drum against your waist, your belly, the area of your ribs. Simultaneously, his lips began to leave fleeting kisses on any skin they could reach: your cheeks, neck, jaw, shoulder.

The room filled with laughter from both of you as a sort of game ensued, where he tried his best to tickle you, and you desperately attempted to escape him. His face was buried in your neck, and you had lifted your legs onto the chair in a futile attempt to defend yourself.

It wasn’t until you gasped for air, complaining that you couldn’t breathe, that he finally showed you mercy and stopped. You inhaled heavily, trying to catch your breath, and even though he stopped touching you, he didn't move away.

“I hate it!”

“No, you don’t.”

It was obvious that you didn’t hate it. You both knew it, and it was a silent pact that this kind of playfulness was part of your love language as a couple. Every time Spencer held you in his arms, he felt he was holding the world —his world— because after so much time, he felt he had something to love and to be loved by. You were his treasure.

He kept hugging you from behind, exhaling warm air into the crook of your neck. When you were finally able to calm down, you turned slightly to ask for a kiss on the lips. He gladly obliged.

“You know? I think I’ll leave this for tomorrow. For now, I just want to rest…” you continued, closing your eyes and stealing another kiss. “Take a bath, spend time with you…”

“But you have to work on your research.”

“And how can I do that if you’re here? Everything about you distracts me,” you complained, raising one of your hands to hold his cheek and receiving a kiss as a reward.

“What if we do it together? It’ll be good for both of us; I want to distract my mind.”

“Only a brainiac relaxes with data analysis,” you huffed playfully, and he scattered another kiss before pulling away. “But I accept, with the condition that afterward we only focus on sleeping.”

“Deal.”

You didn’t know how lottery winners felt. But you assumed it was something similar to what you experienced every time you looked at Spencer.

[leupagus]

Tentative title is "Dana once offered to spread the rumor that she and Jack were sleeping together just to get the gossipers off his back, but Jack truthfully told her that everyone would know she was too good for him" although it might be a little long

continued from this, because there is nothing funnier than a middle-aged doctor who keeps getting nonconsentually paired up with every hot colleague at his hospital and would like it all to Stop Please.

-

Jack’s used to it, is the thing. Has been for his whole life; he’s the only boy in a family of five, with all the attendant you-must-carry-on-the-family-name expectations. Starting when he was about nine years old, people had questions about every girl he talked to. Ooh she seems nice, oh what’s her name, ooooh do you liiiiiike her? He’d probably be more annoyed about it except for the fact (which his mom liked to remind him at every opportunity) that the first time it ever happened was with Leslie, who he married as soon as he could and stayed married to as long as he could.

Turned out it wasn’t long enough, but the point is that he honestly can’t remember a time when people didn’t take a weird, invasive interest in his personal life.

“What personal life, out of morbid curiosity?” asks Lena, peering at him over her glasses. “Also why are you here?”

It’s 0300 the night of (technically, the morning after) Pittfest; the custodians are still getting the last of the rooms cleaned up after the chaos, but everything else is more or less back to normal. Jack managed to get almost four hours’ sleep before his bum leg prodded at him with phantom pains, the kind that only go away when he’s giving himself some actual pain to focus on. So here he is on his night off, and the charge nurse is giving him shit.

“Ow,” Jack remarks, pressing his hand over his heart. “Starting to feel a little unloved, boss. Didn’t you miss me?”

“Didn’t have a chance to,” says Lena, with a twinkle in her eye. “You left four hours ago, remember?” 

“Like it was a mere four hours ago,” he says agreeably. Lena’s mean as shit to most of the attendings and actively violent with HR, but she’s got a soft spot for Jack, which is usually a good thing.

Except for times like this, when it leads her to add, “But sounds like someone on days loved you plenty.”

“Oh, no,” Jack mutters, and tries to brace for it even as he scans the board — relatively easy night so far, Ellis and Shen and Yao with four patients each and Chairs down to an eight-hour wait. “What’d you hear, boss?”

“I heard that Doctor Mohan was very impressed with you,” Lena coos, just as Shen goes striding past.

“Woah, we talking about Sam? Dude,” Shen says, and offers what Jack assumes are very supportive finger guns. “She was talking about that little warzone crike kit you pulled out for hours. So after you guys left, did you and her—” He makes little pah-pow noises, his eyebrows raised interrogatively.

“You call her Sam?” Jack says, not sure if he’s more disconcerted by the noises, the nickname, or by the brand-new rumor that he’s shtupping Mohan. “And no, we didn’t, and no,” he adds, turning to point at Lena, “she wasn’t. Isn’t.”

“Wasn’t isn’t what, hon?” Lena asks innocently. 

Ellis, walking past with Janie, slows down with a way-too-alert expression on her face. “Who wasn’t isn’t?”

“Nobody,” says Jack, at the same time as Shen says, “Sam,��� and Lena says, “Doctor Mohan,” with relish.

“Ohhh, so that’s finally happened?” asks Janie, clasping her hands together. Jack hates all of them and is going to ask for a transfer to a hospital in Anchorage. Or Mars, that weird rich guy must need doctors for colonizing Mars, right?

“No, it hasn’t happened,” he says, as level as he can manage. “Just like it hasn’t happened with… let’s see, last year it was Dr. McKay, year before that it was Nurse Jesse, year before that it was you,” he points to Ellis, who looks as grossed out as he’d been at the time. “Yeah. So thank you to all my yenta people—” he’ll have to ask Robby about the plural of yenta is— “but Dr. Mohan and I are not dating, nor are we…whatever that finger guns thing was supposed to imply.”

“It was supposed to imply fucking,” Shen says helpfully.

“You know, they had a betting pool on the two of us at one point,” he says, just for the joy of seeing all the color drain out of Shen’s face. Then multiple GSWs come sailing in from the ambulance bay and they’ve got to deal with that, and he hasn’t even put his bag down yet.

[axetivev]

— Summary: Being one of Clark Kent's distant relatives, let you be a hero like him. You also made a lot of friends along the way, one of them is Damian Wayne, the next Batman after Bruce Wayne. Everyone thought Damian being the man that he was is a man who would dominate. But guess they're wrong...

— Warnings: SMUT! Minors DNI!, FtM!Reader, Super!Reader,DomBottom!Reader, SubTop!Damian, Damian is Batman, Handjob, Ridding.

— Words: 936

— A/N: THIS IS AGED UP DAMIAN! + I've mentioned I write for FtM readers... This is the first FtM fic from me, I hope the trans community feels represented! Enjoy the fic!!

— Pairing: Damian Wayne x FtM!Reader

The moment the title “Batman” passed down to Damian, he fitted the role. How couldn’t he be? He was capable to do everything Bruce did, even better sometimes—but there’s something he might be horrible then anything else.

Sex.

You two could be anywhere—any adult age, your hands on a wall and lower exposed. Damian always finds a way to ask you that classic line; ...What should I do now?

Damian isn’t a virgin, you knew it. But he’s just very inexperienced it surprised you. But that doesn’t stop you from having your own fun. With? Kent’s steps of Dominating Wayne!

First step—came up to the Wayne.

“Hey Dami, watcha doing?” You came up to the Bat-Cave. With Damian—in front of the batcomputer still in his bat suit, “Researching.” He answered dry, not looking away from the multiple screens in front of him.

Very focused huh? You thought, second step—convincing. You walked up next to him, with those stupid puppy eyes Damian absolutely despised, that same puppy eyes that took his virginity. Damian coughed. You saw a faint redness on his ear, in response, you leaned in—and let out a soft sounding moan.

“Da–mi–an….” Another sinful sound comes out right out, you noted the bulge on his crotch. A sharp sigh escaped the Dark Knight.

“Kent, you…" Damian muttered, covering his mouth with his hand. “…Don’t get too loud.”

Consent? Check.

With that, sitting on his lap, Damian leaning back—he learned it at least with the last time you two have your encounter. You lightly grind your hips on his bulge—making a small spark of friction that alone was enough to Damian’s expression redden. Embarrassment? Frustrated? Both? Who knew.

“What’s wrong, Wayne?” You teased the poor Dark Knight, his eyes were staring at the nearly visible line that rubbed with his suit. “Too good to speak?”

“Please—”

“What was that?”

“C’mon, Kent—M/N. Don’t edge me…”

His serious—focus melted? Check.

That’s a sign—go ahead. Do whatever you want, you get off his lap to slowly pulled his lower half to a sight to behold, Damian’s hardened cock—the shadow casting to your face, dripping precums that perfectly dripping straight to your mouth. Damian groans.

“Hard—Wayne?” Your hand slowly moved, your thumb lovingly stroking the red angry tip, Damian let out quiet whimpers. Enough to make your cunt wet. Your other hand gently massaging his balls, a quiet whine escaped Damian’s lip.

It didn’t take long for Damian’s hands holding to the armrest of his chair, thanks to you using your power to speedup. His hands gripping to the armrest as tight as he possibly could, it could break at any moment if it isn’t thanks he tried to be quiet. But eventually, Damian reached his climax—covering his mouth to let out a strained moan to his palm, hiding the lusty noise as you let go of your hand, letting him ride his high.

While Damian was dazed—you slowly sat on his lap, bottomless with your wet flesh kissing with his still sensitive tip as you used his cum as a lube. A low groan escaped the Dark Knight’s lips as he gain somewhat consciousness, his right hand covered his lips while Damian’s left hand just sat on the armrest yet again—a sigh escaped your lips as you both connected, you saw the hesitation on his left hand that speaks everything; Should it held your hips or stay?

You took that left hand and slowly let it comfortably on your hip, you met with Damian’s gaze—those green eyes staring at you, giving you a slow nod. You raised your hips up—slamming your heat to Damian’s cock.

“You alright?” A groan escaped from Damian, you simply took that as a sign. You tried to go slowly, but he encourages you to do whatever you want.

Bounce hard it is.

Damian wouldn’t admit—but he enjoyed it. Seeing your body bouncing on top of him, he might seem to be a tough man. Even in his Robin years, but you knew better. Even if you both have your own pros and cons, many rivalry. You knew Damian is just somewhat submissive for a top—you never questioned it. Behind that hero face every citizen admire, Damian found himself being dominated by his own friend.

“Ah fuck M/N….” Damian muttered, he laid his head back—resting to the headrest as his gloved hand nailing your hip. “I’m gonna…”

“Do it, Damian.” A smirk formed between your lips, as moan soon followed, “Cum for me. Dam—fuck—Damian…”

You increased your pace—hips jumping fast, multiple whimpers escaped, not from you, of course. But from Damian as his nails just clawed to your skin leaving a mark you swore Superman—Clark Kent would ask about. A loud growl-like moan came from Damian as he reached his climax—painting your heated walls with his cum.

Your own climax doesn’t take long, seeing Damian’s release was enough to make your pussy catch its release, coating the Dark Knight’s cock with your own release. You rest covered your face against Damian’s shoulder as you both panted from your high. You felt a hand sneaking under your suit nearly making you jolted.

You turned around to find Damian’s hand, gently massaging your back, he isn’t hesitating anymore. He just held you for a moment, holding on to you like you were meant more then just his friend—perhaps. Something special.

“Are you done now?” Damian asked, his voice slightly ragged. “Or do you want to continue…?”

[shiorihyugawrites]

Red Regrets

Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Nine

Three weeks had passed since the monarchy’s downfall and the harrowing rescue from the underground chapel. The days drifted by with a strange mixture of new calm and lingering tension. For Levi, those three weeks were a blip of relative peace before the next inevitable storm—the Scouts were preparing for a high-stakes mission to retake Wall Maria, and everyone knew how dangerous it would be. Still, in this brief window of reprieve, he found himself slipping into a routine that both unsettled and comforted him at the same time: visiting Penelope and Preston whenever he could.

The first few days felt awkward, but Levi pressed on, determined to keep his promise. He’d appear at Penelope’s home in the late afternoons, once his duties ended, or on rare mornings when Commander Erwin released him from tasks. The newfound queen, Historia, was reorganizing the military, ensuring the Survey Corps wasn’t under constant threat of arrest. That meant Levi actually had some freedom to move around the city. Yet, for all the structural changes in the government, the deeper changes gnawed at him personally. He had missed over a decade of his son’s life, and it weighed on him every time Preston gave him that cautious, uncertain look.

Preston was still reeling from the trauma of killing those two soldiers, but Levi noticed the kid’s spirit was resilient. He was mouthy—reminding Levi of his younger self in the Underground—and lacking discipline. But the talent was there, especially in physical training. Over the past two weeks, Levi had begun introducing him to basic fighting forms, some footwork, and small exercises to build reflexes. Preston’s eyes would light up with a mixture of awe and fear whenever Levi demonstrated a technique. Despite Levi’s reticence to open up emotionally, he found himself quietly proud of Preston’s natural skill. The boy was smaller than most kids his age, but wiry and fast.

Of course, that skill came with an overabundance of cockiness. Preston would sometimes snark, “Is that all you got, old man?” even as sweat dripped off his forehead. Levi would respond with a clipped “Tch,” yank the practice wooden blade from the brat’s hands, and sweep him off his feet in a fluid motion. “Pay attention, kid,” Levi would say, “or you’ll end up face-first in the dirt.” And Preston, equal parts irritated and fascinated, would scramble up and try again.

The dynamic took time to settle into something comfortable. Penelope insisted on watching from a distance initially—hovering near the living room window if they practiced outside or supervising from the porch if they ventured to a small courtyard. Despite her broken arm, which remained in a cast for those weeks, she refused to be idle. More than once, Levi scowled at her attempts to do heavy lifting around the house. “Stop that,” he’d say, taking whatever broom or laundry basket from her. “You’ll ruin your arm’s healing.” She’d shoot him a cool glare, but accept his help with a guarded nod.

Levi also started bringing three-quarters of his salary, pressed into her hands at the end of each week. When she tried to refuse, he’d only give her that deadpan expression, insisting it was for Preston’s needs or her own. “If you don’t use it, leave it in a jar somewhere,” he said tersely one afternoon. “But I’m not taking it back.” The first time it happened, Penelope argued for a full ten minutes, voice taut with old anger. “I’m not your charity case. I make my own living.” But Levi only shrugged. “I know,” he said, “but I missed eleven years of supporting him. I owe you both.” After that, she relented, though she never stopped rolling her eyes whenever she pocketed the money. Deep down, she felt a strange relief—it did ease her struggles, especially while she was still healing and couldn’t handle a full workload at the clinic.

The routine also meant Levi witnessed another side of Penelope’s life. He saw the daily flux of patients at the clinic on days she insisted on returning to light duty, with her nurses urging her to rest more. He saw Dr. Adam Lovett pop in, displaying an unending supply of corny lines and flamboyant gestures, which Levi silently endured with barely veiled hostility. Once, he found Adam leaning in too close to Penelope as she managed paperwork at the reception desk, and Levi simply appeared behind him with an ice-cold stare. Adam nearly fumbled the pen in his hand, stammering out praises for Levi’s “legendary heroic feats” before scurrying off with a hasty excuse. Penelope snorted behind a chart, not missing the flicker of jealousy in Levi’s narrowed eyes. She didn’t encourage Adam’s advances, but she couldn’t deny a certain satisfaction in watching Levi bristle.

Yet for all these little battles—internal or external—there were moments of quiet warmth. Sometimes, Levi arrived in the evening, worn from scout duties, and found Penelope in the kitchen, her cast-protected arm gently stirring a pot of stew, while Preston flitted around trying to help. Levi would step in, gently guiding the boy’s hands with cutting vegetables or stirring. In those rare, fleeting minutes, they almost felt like a normal family. Penelope would watch from the sidelines, struggling to ignore the pang in her chest. She’d see Levi’s gentle instructions, how he carefully kept Preston from nicking his fingers, or how he occasionally teased the boy about his “sloppy technique.” Despite her simmering anger at Levi, she found her heart softening at the sight of father and son forging a bond.

Her own feelings were more complicated. She was relieved Levi was fulfilling his promise—being there for Preston, not disappearing whenever missions or chaos called. She also recognized he was preparing for an upcoming assault on Wall Maria. She could see it in the lines of worry on his face. The night he quietly admitted the mission was near, her heart froze. She knew the mortality rate of the Scouts. She’d seen them come into her clinic, battered and broken, many never returning at all. Now Levi was forging a bond with Preston, only to face a mission that might claim his life. That horrifying possibility kept her up at night, wrestling with old heartbreak and new fears.

Levi, for his part, felt every passing day intensify his longing for Penelope. He tried to hide it, focusing on training Preston, checking if Penelope’s cast needed readjustment, or even quietly cleaning corners of her small house whenever she stepped out of the room. But occasionally, he’d catch her eyes across the table or in a hallway, and the tension crackled between them. Neither spoke of the past out loud, but both remembered all too well. In those silent exchanges, Levi felt his chest tighten with regret, recalling how he’d left her so many years ago. He told himself it was for her good. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d used that as an excuse—if, in truth, he’d just been too scared to stay.

Penelope was no less conflicted. Despite everything, she couldn’t deny that she still loved him. It was in the way her heart thumped whenever he stood close, the way her breath caught if his fingers accidentally brushed hers. But she had built a fortress around her feelings—ice that she refused to melt for fear of getting burned again. She couldn’t let her guard down easily; after all, he’d shattered her heart once. She wouldn’t survive a second betrayal. So every time she felt that old spark, she turned away, busying herself with chores or scolding Preston for tracking dirt in the house.

Preston, meanwhile, was caught between the cautious kid he’d been and the boy on the cusp of discovering a new sense of identity. He was no longer just Preston Iverson. He was also Preston Ackerman, a child who’d awakened something savage and powerful. He tried to bury the nightmares of that day in the underground, but they haunted him. Some nights he woke in a cold sweat, panting. On more than one occasion, Levi was there, quietly kneeling by his bed, reminding him to breathe, to let the fear pass. It was awkward—he wanted to call Levi “dad,” but the word stuck in his throat. Instead, he’d murmur, “Thanks… Captain,” then flop back onto the pillow, pretending to drift off. Levi would linger, uncertain whether to ruffle Preston’s hair or just slip out. That unspoken tension of father and child not knowing how to name each other remained a constant weight.

And so three weeks after the monarchy’s fall, they found themselves on a mild autumn evening, a gentle breeze blowing through the city. Levi had come over for dinner for the first time since Penelope returned home, an arrangement Preston made by pestering both parents until they agreed. Penelope was reluctant, but a small part of her wanted to see how Levi would handle an actual sit-down meal with them. Would he stay aloof, or open up a bit?

When Levi arrived at the door, the sun was dipping low. Preston flung it open before Penelope could rise from her seat, greeting him with a bright, “You’re late.” Levi only rolled his eyes. “Tch. I was held up at the HQ.” Preston stepped aside, letting him in. Levi carried a small cloth-wrapped package of some fresh vegetables he’d snagged from a nearby vendor, wanting to contribute.

Penelope, carefully maneuvering her still-sore arm, offered Levi a nod. “Welcome. You can put those on the counter,” she said, voice subdued. “Dinner’s almost ready. Preston tried helping again, so I hope you don’t mind if the vegetables are cut unevenly.”

Preston glared at her, flushing. “I’m not that bad, Mom,” he protested. “At least none of my fingers got sliced.”

Levi set the vegetables down, stifling a smirk. “I’ll do a quick check,” he said, rummaging for a knife. Penelope eyed him, but let him proceed, turning back to stir a pot on the stove. She’d been stirring less with her cast-bound arm now that it was healing, but the sling remained for safety. Levi observed her posture with worry. “You sure you’re allowed to do that?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“I’m not made of glass,” Penelope snapped gently, though her tone lacked true bite. “I have to relearn how to function anyway. Might as well practice with cooking.”

Levi said nothing, but her resilience and stubbornness tugged at something in his chest. He turned his attention to the vegetables, giving them a once-over. Indeed, Preston’s cuts were haphazard. Levi picked up a stray carrot chunk, arching an eyebrow. “These are… creative shapes, kid.”

Preston snorted. “I’m practicing.”

“Try smaller, uniform pieces next time,” Levi murmured. “Helps them cook evenly.”

The boy shrugged. “Fine, next time you show me how. But let’s not hold up dinner.”

Penelope stifled a laugh at the exchange, feeling a pang of warmth overshadow her usual guarded stance. She ladled soup into a few bowls, leaning heavily on her good arm, then guided them to the small wooden table. Levi stepped in quickly, taking the bowls from her with a subtle glare that said, Let me handle this. She relented without protest, allowing him to place them on the table. In that short moment, their eyes met, and she felt the heat of old memories rising. She turned away briskly, ignoring the flutter in her chest.

Soon, they were all seated—Penelope at one end, Levi at the other, Preston in between. The table was modest, set with chipped plates and mismatched utensils, but for Preston, it was an event. He peeked from his mother to Levi, a slight grin creeping over his face. “So,” he ventured, “this is the first time we’ve all eaten together… like this.” He tried not to sound too excited, but the brightness in his eyes gave him away.

Levi couldn’t hide a faint twitch of a smile. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, “guess it is.”

Penelope nodded, stirring her spoon in the soup. She felt uneasy, as though any moment might devolve into tension. But the kid’s excitement was contagious. “Well,” she said softly, “let’s hope it goes well, then.” She caught Levi’s gaze flick to her, and she swallowed hard. “Eat up. Before it gets cold.”

They began to eat, the soft clatter of spoons and the swirl of steam filling the small room. Preston slurped his soup, making a face at some of his own uneven carrot pieces. “Tastes okay, though,” he murmured, half to himself.

Penelope offered a small smile. “It’s delicious. Good job on prepping, and thanks to Levi for the fresh veggies.” Her voice held a forced formality, as if bridging a gap she wasn’t sure how to cross. But she noticed Levi’s shoulders relax a fraction.

For a few minutes, conversation was sparse. Levi kept glancing at Preston, as though searching for signs of deeper trauma. The boy seemed content enough, if a bit shy about calling Levi anything. Eventually, Preston cleared his throat. “So… how are things with the scouts? You guys leaving soon?”

Levi exchanged a glance with Penelope, then set his spoon down carefully. “We’re finalizing preparations. The mission to retake Wall Maria. Could be within a couple weeks, maybe less, depending on Erwin’s call.” He paused, leaning back in his chair. “It’ll be dangerous.”

Preston fidgeted. “Then… you’ll come back, right?” The question sounded small, though it hung in the air with enormous weight.

Levi’s jaw tightened, the memory of countless battles and the mortality of his friends flitting through his mind. “That’s the plan,” he said gently. “I’ll do everything I can to return.” He glanced at Penelope, whose expression darkened with worry. “I have more reason than ever now to survive.” The raw sincerity in his voice made her heart twist. She quickly dropped her gaze to her soup, willing the tears not to form.

Preston nodded slowly. “Good,” he said, forcing a lightness he didn’t feel. “You better not die. Or I’ll… never forgive you.” It was the closest he came to admitting how much Levi mattered to him.

Levi gave a faint nod. “I’ll keep that in mind, kid.”

A silence followed. Penelope cleared her throat. “Well, we’ll… pray for your safe return,” she managed, though her tone held a slight edge. “As always, the scouts have the toughest job.”

Levi eyed her, reading the swirl of fear in her eyes. “I promise,” he said softly, “I won’t do anything reckless.” He paused, recalling their old fights in the Underground when she’d berate him for risking his life in brawls. “I know what it’s like to have people waiting at home.”

Her breath caught, and she pressed her lips together. Before she could respond, Preston spoke up in an attempt to shift the mood. “By the way,” he said, “I’ve been practicing that footwork you showed me. My ankles kinda hurt, though.”

Levi nodded, seizing the change of subject. “You’re probably leaning your weight wrong,” he said. “After dinner, we can do a quick demonstration in the yard. Or tomorrow, if you’re tired.”

Penelope rolled her eyes lightly but couldn’t help smiling at the father-son dynamic. It felt surreal, watching them discuss training. She finished her soup, grateful for the warm meal that anchored them in something resembling normalcy. “I’m done,” she murmured. “Levi, can you help me clear the bowls?” Her cast clunked against the table as she rose.

He moved at once to gather the dishes. “Of course,” he said. They carefully maneuvered in the narrow kitchen space, placing the bowls and utensils in a basin. Preston lingered at the table, finishing his meal. The hush of the house felt oddly comforting now, lacking the tension that had laced their earlier interactions.

Once the dishes were set aside to wash later, Levi turned back to find Penelope near the window, rubbing at her arm. Outside, the sun was nearly gone, orange and pink ribbons crossing the sky. He stepped closer, not quite sure if he should speak. The corridor of the living room was dim, the glow from a single lamp casting long shadows.

“Let me see,” Levi said quietly, glancing at her cast. She hesitated, but extended it slightly. He gently touched the bandaged edges, verifying the stability. “Any pain?”

She shrugged. “Some. It’s better, though, thanks to your meddling,” she teased, a half-hearted smile forming. “I guess carrying laundry with a broken arm is a bad idea.”

He huffed a soft breath. “You’re welcome.” Then his gaze lifted to her face. A swirl of emotions flickered across his features. “Pen…”

She stared back, heartbeat rapid, recalling their old closeness. If she leaned in just a bit, she could rest her head on his shoulder as she once did in the Underground. But her guard rose, and she turned her head away, clearing her throat. “We should see if Preston needs help cleaning up.”

Levi nodded, though his eyes lingered on her. “Right.” It wasn’t lost on him how she shut him out again, the tension thick in the air. But he reminded himself she had every right to be cautious.

They reentered the living room. Preston had stacked a few plates, looking around uncertainly. He brightened when he saw them. “I’m done. Should I help wash the dishes?”

Penelope shook her head. “Not tonight,” she said softly. “I’ll handle it tomorrow, or Levi can help if he wants.”

Levi shrugged. “I’ll do it now, if you prefer.”

Preston yawned, the day catching up to him. He’d been training physically, plus juggling some neglected schoolwork. “I might head to bed soon,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “It’s just… nice having both of you here. Feels… normal.”

The simple statement tugged at Penelope’s heartstrings. She forced a smile, crossing to gently ruffle his hair. “I’m glad, honey,” she whispered. “You can sleep well, then. Tomorrow, we’ll see how your footwork is. Your father can give you a refresher.” She hesitated, then added, “We love you, you know.”

Preston bit his lip, nodding. He glanced at Levi, searching his face. Levi met his gaze with quiet intensity. “Yeah, kid,” he said gruffly, “same here.”

For a moment, it looked like Preston might say something more. But instead, he gave a small, shy nod. “Alright. Good night.” 

Penelope watched her son shuffle off, heading down the hallway to his room. Then she turned to Levi, hands resting at her sides. The overhead lamp flickered, emphasizing the hush that enveloped them. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “He’s been wanting this for a while. Even if it’s awkward for all of us.”

Levi studied her face. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he replied. “For letting me be here.”

She offered a noncommittal shrug. “It’s for Preston.” But the truth was, it wasn’t just for Preston. She exhaled heavily. “I’m… tired. The day’s been long.”

He inclined his head. “I should go, then. Let you rest.” He paused, stepping toward the door. “I can come by tomorrow, do some more training with him. If that’s alright.”

She nodded, following him to the entry. “Yes,” she murmured. “That’s fine. But Levi—” She hesitated, chewing her lip. “Be careful. Before you know it, you’ll be off to retake Wall Maria, and… just be careful.”

The concern in her eyes stirred something deep in him. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her words. “I will,” he promised once more. On a sudden impulse, he reached out, letting his fingertips gently brush her good arm. It was a fleeting contact, but enough to send a jolt of awareness through them both. “Good night, Pen,” he said softly.

Her throat felt tight. “Good night,” she whispered, heart pounding. She stepped back, letting him open the door. The cool evening air rushed in, rustling the corner of the doormat. With one last glance, Levi slipped outside, shutting the door behind him.

Penelope stood in the quiet entryway, pulse racing. She heard his footsteps fade, the hush of the night settling in. Her fingers touched the spot where he’d brushed her arm, a swirl of longing and fear coursing through her. She hated how easily he could still affect her, how the old wound in her heart throbbed whenever he came near. But she also couldn’t deny a flicker of hope—maybe this time, he’d truly stay.

..

The days that followed continued much the same. Levi appeared in the mornings or late afternoons, depending on his Scout duties, and steadily built a routine of training with Preston. Sometimes, they practiced in the courtyard behind Penelope’s clinic if she was working that day. Other times, they used the small patch of yard behind her home. Under Levi’s watchful eye, Preston learned footwork drills, basic hand-to-hand forms, and the importance of discipline.

Inevitably, Preston’s mouth would get the better of him. “That’s easy for you to say,” he’d grumble, dropping into a sloppy stance. “You’re a legend. I’m just a kid.”

Levi’s expression remained stern. “You’re my kid,” he’d reply. “That means you have potential. But you need to refine it. Talent without discipline is worthless.” He’d demonstrate a move, then motion for the boy to replicate it. After the third or fourth sloppy attempt, Levi would correct Preston’s posture with a light rap on the shoulder. “Focus, brat.”

“Stop calling me brat,” Preston snapped. “You don’t call Mom a brat.”

Levi arched an eyebrow. “Your mother’s not an undisciplined kid.” Yet a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, hinting at the banter they once shared.

Preston rolled his eyes but complied, continuing the drill. By the session’s end, he was panting, cheeks flushed, but there was a spark of triumph in his gaze. “I did better,” he’d say, half-challenging, half-seeking praise.

Levi would nod. “Yes. Keep at it. And watch your angle of attack.”

Such training sessions became a lifeline for Preston’s mental state. Slowly, the nightmares receded, replaced by the confidence that he was learning control. Penelope, from her vantage point, saw the change in her son’s demeanor—he was less withdrawn, more determined. It reassured her, even though she still cast wary looks at Levi, uncertain if she was letting him into their life too readily. 

Later that evening, Penelope found herself alone in the living room, rubbing the tension from her sore shoulder. She was due to have the cast removed soon, if all had healed correctly. The thought both excited and worried her—she wanted the freedom, but the memory of how she got that broken arm still haunted her. She was lost in those musings when the door opened, and Preston rushed in, cheeks flushed. “He’s coming over again,” the boy announced. “Said he found something for you.”

Penelope frowned. “Found something for me?”

Before she could press for details, Levi stepped through the doorway, a discreet package tucked under his arm. He nodded a greeting, removing his cloak. “Pen,” he said simply. “Preston told me you were complaining about your cast brace. Hange got this for me from the Scouts’ infirmary. Might help if your current one is giving you trouble.”

Her eyes widened as he produced a compact, grayish sling from the package. She recognized it as a better model than the cheap bandage rig she’d been stuck with. A wave of gratitude, mixed with something deeper, rose inside her. “That’s… thoughtful,” she managed. “Thank you.”

Preston peered at it curiously, then grinned. “You can switch out the old one for this. And it looks less ugly.”

Penelope chuckled softly, brushing a loose curl from her face. “Let me see if it fits.” She hesitated, glancing at Levi. “I… might need help adjusting it.”

He stepped forward, a careful gentleness in his manner. “Alright,” he said quietly. He guided her to a chair, and she sank into it. Preston hovered at her side, watching with bright eyes as Levi carefully unfastened the old sling’s straps. She sucked in a breath when the movement jostled her arm slightly, pain flaring. Levi muttered a quick apology, his fingers deft but respectful.

After a moment of fumbling, he slipped the new sling around her shoulder, fastening the adjustable strap to cradle her cast. “How does that feel?” he asked, stepping back slightly.

Penelope rotated her arm minutely, wincing a bit, but the support was much more snug and stable. “Better,” she admitted, voice subdued. “The tension isn’t all on my neck now. Thank you.” She offered him a small, genuine smile.

Levi just nodded, glancing away to hide whatever emotion flickered in his eyes. “I’m… glad it helps.”

Preston beamed. “Now maybe you won’t be so grumpy, Mom.”

She shot him a mock glare. “I’m not grumpy, you little—” But she paused, noticing how Levi’s expression softened, amused by their banter. She sighed, letting the moment pass. “Fine. Thank you, both of you.”

Levi cleared his throat, as if rummaging for the next topic. “Anyway,” he said, “I won’t stay long. The Scouts are intensifying training for the mission. I just wanted to drop that off.” His gaze flicked to Preston. “Did you do the exercises I left you with?”

Preston nodded eagerly. “Yep. I can show you real quick—”

“No,” Penelope interjected, “it’s late, baby. Tomorrow. Let Levi rest, too.” She glanced at Levi, who looked equally content to linger but also pressed for time. Her chest tightened. She’d grown used to these short visits, but she knew eventually he’d vanish for the mission, and all she could do was hope he returned.

Levi raised an eyebrow, noticing her momentary pause. “Something wrong?”

Penelope swallowed. “No, I… just realized we’re running out of basic groceries. I need to shop soon. But carrying a basket is a pain with one arm.” She tried to mask the vulnerability in her tone.

He squared his shoulders. “I’ll come by tomorrow,” he offered, “earlier, if possible. We can do the shopping then. Or I can go alone, if you like.”

Her first instinct was to refuse, to claim independence. But she remembered how he insisted on easing her burdens. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “We can go together. I know which stalls have the better deals anyway.”

He nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “Fine. In that case, I’ll see you in the morning. Preston, do your drills, and rest up. I don’t need you whining about sore ankles tomorrow.”

Preston grinned. “Yes, Captain.” But the grin faded slightly as Levi moved to leave. The boy fiddled with the hem of his shirt, a question in his eyes. “Be careful on your way back, yeah? In case… I don’t know… thugs or something.”

Levi almost smirked. “I’ll manage.” Then he inclined his head to Penelope. “Good night.”

She walked him to the door, biting her lip as she turned the knob. “Good night,” she echoed quietly. She wanted to say so much more—tell him to be safe, to promise once again he’d come back from that Titan-infested wasteland. But the words tangled in her throat.

He stepped out, pausing on the stoop. “Pen,” he said softly, catching her gaze. “Try the new sling a bit. If it’s uncomfortable, let me know.” Then he gave a single nod and disappeared into the twilight.

Penelope stood there, the chilly breeze stirring her rose-red hair. Slowly, she closed the door, pressing her forehead against the wood. She heard Preston rummaging behind her in the living room, likely cleaning up or preparing for bed. She exhaled shakily, wishing her heart didn’t twist so badly whenever she watched Levi go.

…

The next few days passed in a similar pattern—training sessions, short visits, occasional dinners. Levi even accompanied Penelope to the market once, carrying bags while she pointed out the best produce. It was surreal, the domesticity of it all. People recognized Captain Levi, stared at them curiously. Penelope kept her head high, ignoring the whispers. She might have once dreaded the gossip, but after everything, she found she didn’t care. Let them talk. She had bigger concerns—like preparing for the day Levi would leave for that suicidal mission.

One afternoon, as Levi wrapped up a training session with Preston in the yard, he found the boy hesitating, a question on his lips. “Captain Levi,” Preston said, face flushed from exertion, “are you… will you come tomorrow? I mean, on your day off, if you have one?”

Levi cocked his head. “I can,” he answered. “Why?”

Preston fumbled with the wooden practice dagger. “I… wanted to try something. But I also… can I call you… dad?” The last word came out haltingly, eyes flicking away as if expecting rejection.

Levi froze. The statement sank into his chest like a stone. He forced himself to speak gently. “If you want to,” he said softly. “I’m… not opposed.”

Preston’s cheeks burned. “I just… it feels weird calling you Captain Levi all the time. But I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

Levi swallowed. “I am. It’s your choice.” He reached out, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’d… like it, if that’s what you want.”

Preston’s eyes welled with emotion, but he blinked it away, nodding stiffly. “Alright, then,” he whispered. “Dad.”

A surge of overwhelming feeling roiled inside Levi. He gave the boy’s shoulder a small squeeze before letting go. “Let’s… keep practicing,” he said, voice unsteady. But as they resumed the drills, something had changed. A small barrier cracked, replaced by a fragile sense of belonging—like father and son truly acknowledging each other. It was at once terrifying and wonderful.

The memory of that moment carried Levi through the next few days, warming a corner of his heart he’d long considered dead. Even so, the mission loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon, an unspoken countdown. Levi found himself alternating between fierce training at Scout HQ and these fleeting visits to Penelope’s home. Time felt precious. He worried that every evening could be the last dinner with them before Shiganshina.

On the third week’s final day, Penelope decided to host a real dinner again. She was well enough to cook a decent meal, though Levi insisted on helping, chopping vegetables with quick, precise strokes. Preston set the table, humming under his breath, occasionally calling Levi “Dad” in a shy, experimental way. Penelope caught the brand-new label and felt a jolt in her chest. She said nothing, but behind her stoic facade, tears threatened. She’d never thought she’d see the day Preston called Levi “dad,” especially after the heartbreak she endured.

As dusk settled, they gathered around the table. This time, Levi had removed his cloak, resting it on a chair. The comfortable hush enveloped them as they ate. Preston was the first to break the silence, chatting about some random story from school. Levi smirked faintly at the mention, though he kept silent on the matter.

Halfway through the meal, Preston gazed at his mother. “Mom, your arm’s better, right? The cast is supposed to come off soon?”

She nodded, taking a careful bite of stew. “Yes, in another week or so, if all goes well. Dr. Sharman is overseeing it.” Not Dr. Lovett, her tone implied. She cast Levi a sidelong look, noticing the slight quirk at the corner of his lips.

Preston turned to Levi. “Dad,” he began, voice shaky at the new word, “are you gonna be around then?”

Levi set down his spoon, responding quietly. “I might be training with the squad… but if I can, I’ll accompany you.” He glanced at Penelope. “If that’s alright with you.”

Penelope’s grip tightened on her fork. The swirl of longing, gratitude, and fear all roiled in her. “It’s… fine,” she said softly, meeting his eyes for a heartbeat. Then she tore her gaze away, focusing on the stew. She didn’t want to lose her composure in front of Preston.

The meal ended quietly, each occupant lost in private thoughts. Preston started clearing the table, and Levi moved to help, but Penelope gently waved him off. “I can handle it,” she said, “you can at least dry them if you want, though.”

He obliged. Together, they moved around the small kitchen, clinking dishes and trying not to brush against each other too much. Every casual contact sent a jolt through them both—Penelope quickly moved aside, and Levi steadied the plate to avoid dropping it. Meanwhile, Preston retreated to the living room, occasionally peeking in to watch them.

Finally, the dishes were stacked, and the evening hush settled in. Levi’s posture stiffened slightly, as if readying to leave. Penelope wiped her hands on a towel. She glanced at the clock, seeing it was near half-past eight. “You should probably get going,” she said, though part of her wished he would stay. “It’s late.”

Levi nodded, a flicker of reluctance crossing his face. “Yeah.” He turned to call out, “Preston.”

“Right,” the boy answered, popping his head around the corner. “Are you heading out, Dad?”

Levi’s eyes softened at the word. “I am. I’ll come by… tomorrow or the next day, if I can.”

Preston scurried over, hesitating, then gave Levi a brief hug. It was awkward, the boy’s arms barely reaching around Levi’s waist. Levi, caught off guard, patted the kid’s back uncertainly. But something in that gesture steadied them both. “Night, Dad,” Preston said, pulling away. “Be safe.”

Levi nodded, clearing his throat. “Night, kid. Listen to your mother.” With that, he stepped over to the door. Penelope followed, giving them privacy. At the threshold, Levi paused, turning to her. “Thank you for dinner,” he murmured. “It… meant a lot.”

She wrapped her good hand around the doorknob, the corners of her mouth tugging downward. “I’m doing it for Preston,” she said, but her voice wavered. Then she exhaled. “Though… I can’t deny it was nice.”

Levi’s gaze flickered with emotion. He parted his lips, as if to say more, but eventually closed them, just giving a subtle nod. “Take care of yourself,” he said softly. “And let me know if the sling bothers you.”

She nodded, opening the door. A gust of night air brushed her hair back. “I will,” she whispered. Then he stepped out, and she gently closed it behind him.

A swirl of longing, regret, and cautious hope churned within her. She locked the door, leaning her forehead against the wood for a moment to gather herself. From behind, Preston’s voice piped up. “Mom? You okay?”

She turned, offering him a small, tremulous smile. “I’m fine, baby. Just… thinking.”

He nodded, stepping closer. “You still mad at him?”

She sighed. “Yes. And no. It’s complicated, honey.” She ruffled his hair with her good hand. “But… I’m glad he’s here for you.”

Preston’s eyes shone. “Me too.”

…

Outside, Levi walked along the darkened street, cloak fluttering around his ankles. The evening air felt crisp against his face, carrying the faint scents of cooking fires and distant lamplight. He breathed in, letting his mind replay the dinner. For the briefest second, he’d felt like part of a family. It was so alien to him, yet addictive.

He recalled the sensation of Preston’s timid hug, the boy calling him “Dad.” A fierce protectiveness welled up in Levi. He’d once believed cutting ties was the best way to keep Penelope safe, but now he recognized how that choice had caused them both immeasurable pain. He vowed never to abandon them again, no matter the cost. The mission to Shiganshina loomed, but he’d fight tooth and nail to survive. Because now, he had people to return to—people who needed him, and who he needed just as fiercely.

As he turned a corner, passing shuttered shops, he found himself glancing at the faint starlight above the high walls. Humanity’s challenges were unending—Titans, politics, betrayals. But he could face them, so long as he had a reason to keep going. And this time, that reason wasn’t just the hope of saving humanity. It was also the hope of building a life with Penelope and Preston, forging something that might finally mend the old wounds.

He pressed onward, footsteps echoing in the deserted street, each step carrying him closer to the Scout barracks. Tomorrow, he’d run training drills with Eren and the squad, ensuring they were fully prepared for retaking Wall Maria. In the meantime, he’d hold onto the small memory of that dinner—the warmth in Preston’s voice, the subtle softness in Penelope’s eyes. He refused to let the looming mission overshadow the quiet happiness he’d found.

If the world demanded he risk his life at Shiganshina, so be it. He’d do it. But he would survive for them, for a future that included more dinners, more banter, and maybe, just maybe, the healing of old heartbreak.

~

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[asher-agere]

hellooo!! could you do headcanons for babyspace ranpo with cg dazai? tysm!

YES. We need more agere Souheki content such i love them

Baby Ranpo + Caregiver Dazai

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

✦ Starting off with the age range of course! Usually I see Ranpo’s age range being 3-6, but this is for baby Ranpo! Sooo this post will instead be for 1-4 Ranpo! Cause no matter what I still kinda see him as a toddler regressor sorry guys- But this is mainly baby Ranpo I promise! All headcanons will be baby space focused I just need to establish that I still see him regressing to toddler space at least a little bit

₊ ⊹ Rules? What are those? Ranpo doesn’t really want rules, and Dazai doesn’t really want to set any. So why would they make rules? They both see it as kind of pointless because Ranpo’s smart enough to know he won’t be seriously punished. He’s not going to agree to any form of punishment that he doesn’t like. And rewards don’t work because he knows that is he asks nicely he can get stuff anyway. So they just don’t bother! Luckily Dazai is able to read people really well, especially his little one, and he can figure out what he needs to do to get Ranpo to behave!

✦ Most of the time Ranpo is quiet! This is not the same as being nonverbal though. He’s perfectly capable of and comfortable talking! It’s just with Dazai as his caregiver. He doesn’t need to? Like Dazai knows what he’s trying to say before he can even get a word out, or he’ll meet his needs before Ranpo even thinks to ask. So a lot of people assume that Ranpo’s nonverbal when regressed, but the second anyone that isn’t Dazai goes up to tiny Ranpo he’s an absolute chatterbox! Dazai likes to be overdramatic and cling to the other person saying they witnessed Ranpo’s first words with him

₊ ⊹ Ranpo very rarely uses pacifiers or teethers. He prefers to get a lollipop! Or any other candy that’ll last a while honestly, but lollipops tend to work best. He does like those teething pacifiers though! Those ones with like holes in the mouthpiece so they can be filled with frozen treats? Yeah fill that with some frozen sugary fruit and he’s a happy baby! This is also a good method for when he’s eaten too much candy and has a yucky toothache! Gnawing on something cold can help ease the pain

✦ Ranpo is 100% a messy baby. Like needs to eat with his shirt off or it’ll have permanent stains, needs to wear a bib, bath time immediately after eating, all of that good stuff! For food he likes it’s because he gets overexcited. For food he doesn’t like it’s because he tries to stop it from getting in his mouth. Especially icky vegetables! Luckily Dazai rarely pushes the veggies. He gets that Ranpo doesn’t wanna eat them, and honestly he doesn’t either really… But it does need pushed every now and then! Eating healthy is important!

₊ ⊹ As I’m sure is a surprise to no one, one of Ranpo’s biggest regression triggers is food! Things like apple slices, baby puff bites, and chocolate milk all have high chances of making him slip! It’s become sort of a code for them to talk about Ranpo’s regression in public if they can’t talk about it directly. Ranpo’s comfortable about his regression so Dazai doesn’t need to push it on him! So he can just ask like if Ranpo wants chocolate milk when he gets home, and they both know that means regress when they get home!

✦ They 100% have their own secret language together. All made up of like one syllable words that are relatively easy to pronounce. Technically they don’t even need to talk to communicate yeah, but they like talking in a made up language in public because everyone looks at them like they’re crazy and they both find it hilarious. They’re also lunatics who play word games like hangman and scrabble with their made up language. Dazai typed them up a dictionary and Kunikida was furious to see THATS what Dazai’s willing to put effort into? Not actual work?

₊ ⊹ Pet names! I didn’t forget this time I just needed to get my other thoughts out first or my head might’ve exploded. They rarely talk, so neither of them uses many pet names honestly. But when they do Dazai uses ones like “Sweetie” “Kiddo” and “Baby”! Nothing very creative from the skrunkly cat of a man (¬⤙¬ ) And Ranpo just says either “Daz” “Zai” or “Samu”! Just simpler versions of Dazai’s name hehe. Though he’d probably have a few pet names in their made up language that he calls Dazai

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

I’ve been watching a lot of Arcane recently. Jinx fascinates me. I think when she’s regressed she only wants to be referred to as Powder. That’s all enjoy my contribution Arcane fandom who I won’t be tagging

[cardsweetheart]

Some Yumi/Idia Thoughts

Only like 2 people care about it but YumIdia is infecting my brain. She wanted so badly to go for someone who knows what the sun looks like, but he let her do some of his game pulls and she was sucked in.

-He edits all the selfies she sends him into SR and SSR card motifs. Like she is the MC of her own game and only he gets to pull for her. He puts little stats in the corners and everything. He makes them into little photocards too. Puts them in a binder that no one is ever allowed to know about.

-She loves cosplaying as his faves to rile him up. The lewder the better for her. She's never jealous, she just sees opportunities to fuck with him.

-One day she chaos dyes her hair bright blue and Vil is FURIOUS. Her style also starts to slightly shift to what she think will get his attention. On the same note, when Idia's first realizing he likes her, he tries too hard to act like Trappola bc that's who he knows she's likes before. It leads to her telling him "I picked your route before the mods. Uninstall please?" and he is just smitten like its the most romantic shit he's ever heard in his life.

-Ignihyde is the first place she goes after Ace rips into her for daring to put her attention somewhere other than him and now he realizes that maybe he was an idiot for breaking up with her.

-Cater obviously catches on to what's happening immediately and calls Idia out as quickly as possible. Then proceeds to be the best and worst guidebook/wingman Idia could've hoped for.

-She is obsessed with holidays and milestones and for the first year he forgets each and every one of them. Not being used to having to pay attention outside of his games' events. He always makes it up to her the next day with new co-op games, digital cards, gift, and affection.

-Before they're together he is relatively in control of his emotions around her. Able to breath and repress his way through their interactions. Until she learns he walks around with a built in fluster health bar in his hair and she makes it her new mission to make him bright pink to match her outfit every chance she gets. Once the dam is broken, he is the easiest target. The smallest hint, look, or tease sets him off. He is just so thrown off that the pretty girl on campus chose HIM?

-Everyone telling her she needs to go through Ortho first. Who of course adores her with no question. He's extremely happy that his brother has finally found someone he's willing to spend so much time with.

-For all her frilly and lacy clothes, her new favourite thing to wear is his hoodies. She knows it's cliché but she doesn't care. It makes her feel small and warm and like she doesn't need to perform because she's already got what she wanted.

-She could easily flirt her way into winning games with him but it's too easy for her. Unless it's board games. She's not above tampering twst monopoly negotiations.

-They match each others freak so intensely. This is two nerds who grew up gaining all their social awareness from otome games and dating sims. Their sex ed came from obscure hentai games they had no right to be touching at the ages they did. I repeat, they match each other's freak perfectly and yet they are still so awkward when it comes to even holding hands at the beginning. (This is the same girl who flashed Deuce like, the 3rd time she saw him)

-She is the queen of sending nudes or spicy texts while she knows he's in the middle of things.

-He knows she's Pomfiore's but he thinks about her transferring on the daily. Imagines her in the uniform. Well, a more feminine version of the uniform, you know to be more her style. No other reason.

[kingtomura]

Fantasize

Summary: working in a coffee shop sucked, but watching the man of your dreams walk in makes it all a little more worth it. wc: 5.4k content: dabi x female reader, explicit content, AU - no quirks, masturbation, overstimulation, vibrator, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, brief oral(f receiving) , nipple play, hair pulling, dabi has a tongue piercing also crossposted to AO3

It was way too crowded in here. 

The morning rush always had a way of bringing out the worst in people. Everyone was always in a hurry. They have to get to work, they have to get to school and even your coworkers fell into this notion. They have to get the orders out in a timely manner or else you’ll have an old business man three times your age staring down at you with his face twisted up into a scowl. 

You hate this job. 

The man before you stared long and hard as if you could magically make his dumb coffee – double shot espresso, two sugars, no milk– appear out of thin air. If you were in the business of magic tricks you would turn him into an inanimate shoe and go on with your day. But you’re no magician, he is not a shoe and you really hate this job.

“Order up!” A voice behind you rang, as an overzealous coworker bushed by you, hot cup of coffee in hand as she tried to smoothly hand off the drink to the irritated man. 

Whether she noticed the look of irritation on his face or not, she didn't mention it. Only smiling and waving him off so that the next group in line could order. You thanked the stars he was out of your hair, muttering a crude you should smile more under his breath before shrinking out the door. 

Yeah, turning him into a shoe would have been a good move. 

You rolled your eyes, going back to the uneventful duties of taking orders and ringing up customers. The small coffee shop you work for maintains a steady crowd, the rumble of chatter flowing through the store. You can't help but feel yourself go on autopilot. Taking orders but not really retaining faces while the smell of coffee grounds flood your nose, the sounds of the steamer and other machines going off in the background. 

It can all be overwhelming at times. But you needed this job, this was the only job with relatively flexible hours while you finished school. 

“We need a refill on cups!” 

That was your cue to drag your feet away from the register and search for more cups for the never satiated customers. Mind drifting back to your current situation. Today was Wednesday, you had a project due on Friday, and you haven't done a lick of it. Couldn’t be bothered. 

Grabbing the cups, you squeeze by two more employees, one manning the drive through and the other frothing milk for a drink. Everyone was too close to one another. This place should be bigger. You sigh, setting the cups up in a pretty, neat line like your manager coaches you to do, and hear the chime of the door bell. 

You could have sworn the time seemed to slow as the sticky sweet greeting from one of your coworkers fell on deaf ears. Ambient chatter of the room ceased and the shrill noises of the machines died out as you watched a boy with white hair and vibrant tattoos step into the store. You've never seen this face before, blue eyes bored and posture giving signs that he would rather be anywhere but here. 

He was cute, he was indifferent and he was walking right towards you.

Holy shit.

It was in that moment you remembered that you had a job to do. A job you were paid to do, and staring at potential customers could be considered weird. It takes a second, but you regain composure and remember the dry utterance of the man before. Smile more. Right. So you do and you pray it doesn't look as forced as it feels. “Hello, what can I get for you today?” 

Your rehearsed question is met with the same indifference as the man simply stared down at you. 

At this point you began to wonder if there had been something stuck in your teeth that everyone knew about but you, because the staring today was starting to get ridiculous. But just as your world brightened, it came crashing down. Another younger customer came crashing into your store and nearly crashing into the boy before you. 

“Dabi! I told you to wait for me.” The girl whined, blonde hair with two buns in disarray as she caught her breath. Even though she looked like she would heave over she still had a smile on her face. It was pretty, bright, and a little creepy. 

The man in question only shrugged, apathetic tone giving no indication of care. “Not my fault you fell behind.” 

“Whatever! “ she huffed, turning to you with her grin too wide and eyes alight. 

Judging from his indifference of the impact, you take it they know each other. Or worse. You feel your heart drop to the floor, and sweaty palms now grow cold. She wasted no time bouncing up to the counter, order prepped and ready on her tongue. She was cute, in an off putting way, you couldn’t lie. But the way your heart fluttered and broke in the span of a second gave you whiplash. 

“I would like one cookie butter latte with cinnamon and whipped cream!” she looked to Dabi, “do you want anything?” 

“No.”

She turns back to you, “Make that two please!”

If it hadn’t been for the mini argument they had over how to pay (“I’m going to use the company card Tomura gave us! That's what its for.”) you would have wondered just how this duo came to know each other. Coworkers. Of course. You quickly rang up their order and pretended to busy yourself with wiping the counters in hopes of getting a little more information about the man of your dreams. 

Okay, maybe that's a little delusional, but what is delusion if not optimism. 

With your amateur spy skills you have deduced that they are not dating. The girl is actually begging to be introduced to his little brother, so that his little brother could introduce her to his best friend. Wild and bold of her, but you couldn’t judge. And since they are not dating you conclude that it is perfectly fine to marry this man in your head. 

And just like that, their orders are up. You hand them their drinks, looking a little too long at Dabi while they begin to make their way to the door. But not before the girl, Himiko, sends you a knowing look with a smirk that makes your blood run cold. She was observant. 

Your blood only ran colder when she leaned towards Dabi, whispering words to him that made him turn back to you for half a second, eyes locking with yours, before leaving. The bell on the door rang in your ears as your heart dropped to your feet.

You really hated this job.

—------ 

That night was your only solace for peace. You found yourself looking for any and every reason to stay busy, mortification still flowing through your veins. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, it’s not like Dabi could read minds. You would probably never see him again after today so that’s also a plus. 

None of your reasonings calmed you down as you paced, spending most of your time overthinking an irrelevant situation. 

Eventually, you began buzzing around your small apartment, cleaning things that were already spotless and dusting invisible dust bunnies away. At one point you even took it upon yourself to start and finish the project you had been dreading. Anything to take your mind off of today. 

How you let such a small situation take over your mind is beyond you.

But then it clicked. 

You would never see him again (probably), and he’s not a mind reader (hopefully), so you are free to do whatever you want in your own head. This resolution is the only one that quells you. It's freeing. So freeing in fact, that you decide to relax. Fully relax and enjoy the quiet of your apartment.

It was cramped and a little outdated, but it was yours. 

Your bed welcomed you as you crashed into it, worries and problems melting away between the soft sheets.

The night was still, stars glimmering through your window and you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the boy from before. Dabi. What an odd name. He was kind of an odd guy, tattoos all over and piercings shining. Inviting. You slid your hand under your shirt, imagining it belonged to the mystery boy instead. 

How would it feel, if it were him caressing your breasts and tweaking your nipples. What kind of touches would he prefer? You slip your other hand into your panties as you imagine it were dabi’s bigger, rough hands teasing your clit. A gasp escapes you as the sensation warms your body.

You thought of his facial piercings and wondered if there was shining silver on his tongue or if that had been a figment of your imagination. Slick coated your finger and you rubbed lazy circles onto your sensitive nub. 

There was so much about him you wanted to know. Was dabi even his real name? What kind of company did he work for? Certainly nowhere uptight given his bright tattoos and piercings. You wonder what noises he would make as you slip a finger into your entrance. His fingers would probably fill you up, the idea of it making you moan. 

“Fuck this,” you breathe, tired of teasing yourself. You reach over to your nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the black bullet vibrator. It was your favorite, one that always got the job done. Wasting no time, you clicked the power button, keeping it on the lowest setting first. Not wanting to cum too quickly.

Your thoughts drifted back to dabi, the sound of his voice playing in your head. It was rough, and indifferent, cold and carefree with a monotone ring. The vibrator buzzed in the silence of the room as you placed it on your clit, the new sensation making your breath hitch. It wouldn’t take much more to push you over.

The vibrator hummed louder as you turned it up a notch, slick coating it. 

You thought of his dark clothes, the way his shirt hugged his chest in all the right ways, the chain-link bracelet on his wrist complemented the rings that donned his fingers. He was stylish and the look suited him well. Your end was nearing and your toes curled as you bit your lip to hold back another moan. 

Being home alone in your own apartment did mean you were shameless. 

Pressing it against yourself harder makes you toss your head to the side, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. It was unbearable how close you were. The vibrations spread throughout your body, setting your nerves on fire. You turn it up one more notch as you writhe in bed. 

Your body felt like you were on a rollercoaster, in the moment right before it drops from its massive height. Anticipation sends your adrenaline spiking as you wait for the inevitable fall. 

The drop was near and in that moment, the flash of dabi’s blue eyes meeting yours, knowing and sharp, sent you crashing over. The roller coaster cart racing down and heart soaring with the wind of the ride blowing past your ears. You can't hold back the cry as your body trembles as you come undone. Thighs quivering with the force of your orgasm. It was euphoric, one of your best in a while and the aftershocks running through you had been proof of that.  

You sigh, reeling from the feeling and put your vibrator away. 

You’ve gotten it out of your system and now your life can go back to being boring and mundane forever. As long as you never have to face him again. The odds of a guy like him coming back to your silly little cafe while you were there were slim to none. The thought brought a lazy smile to your face. 

You were stressed over nothing.

—-----

Someone above was playing tricks on you. Lowdown, dirty tricks and if you didn’t know any better you would think you had been cursed.

Dabi is there, in front of you, bright and early with a younger boy in tow. The latter looking over the menu as you force that fake fucking smile on your face and wait patiently for them to order.

He was staring right at you. You’re pretty sure he’s staring right through you. Eyes never breaking contact with yours, knowing and smug. At least, you thought it had been smug. That could very well be your mind playing tricks on you after your awful, sinful deed from last night eats away at you. Dabi doesn't know. He can't know. He’s no mind reader. Not omnipotent. Just a man. With tattoos. And muscles and god, you have to get yourself together.

“Hm, does your butterscotch silk latte have real butter in it?” The younger boy pipes up, completely oblivious to the question finally breaking the staring contest between you and Dabi. 

You almost laugh. Of course it doesn’t. They’re all syrups. Sugary sweet and addictive. But you answer him anyway, not wanting to come off rude and risk another ‘coaching’ from your manager.

“No, but it has the flavor of butterscotch candy,” you beam, trying too hard not to look weird. You pray no one notices.

“Alright, I'll take that one.”

You nod, looking back at Dabi. “And for you, sir?”

He takes his time thinking, bringing a finger to his chin to mockingly emphasize just how hard it is to come up with an order from a cafe menu. You want the ground to open and swallow you whole. 

He looks back at you, a smile gracing his features and you feel your heart skip a beat. “I dunno. What do you recommend?”

You stammer, unsure of what coffee would suit him best. This was a test of some kind and you were sure to fail. “Well, do you prefer a sweeter coffee or something with a bit more bite?” You ask in desperate hopes to get something out of him. Some kind of clue to help you. 

Dabi only shrugs, heavy lidded eyes giving the illusion of boredom, but the smirk on his face showed otherwise. You knew better. He was definitely toying with you. “Dunno. How about you just make me your favorite drink and we go from there?” 

“Um, yeah, okay. I’ll just ring it up for you and they’ll have it out in–” 

“Oh, I want you to make it.” he cuts you off. 

You don't make drinks. You run the counter. You are a cashier and not a drink maker but when someone as good looking as Dabi asks you to… well, it's worth a shot. You know exactly what goes in the drink. You've had it made dozens of times. 

So you nod, ring them up and get to it. Your fumbling movements only show your amateur status as a drink maker but you push through it. Combining syrups and coffee and trying your best to still eavesdrop on the guys waiting for their drinks at the counter. 

“Thank you for inviting me here, Touya.” You hear the younger boy say. Touya. You thought his name was Dabi. You’re not sure, but you assume this is the little brother his coworker may have mentioned. They look similar. 

“Yeah, just don’t mention it to Natsuo, he’ll have a fit if he found out.” Dabi (Touya?) responds, checking his watch.

You were almost finished with the drink, the last missing piece being the whipped cream topping, but the can was giving you a hard time.

It was unwilling to open and you were not willing to give up. After a small splatter and a concerned look from a coworker, you get the pump to work. Effectively spraying the whipped topping on the drink and taking it over to dabi. The younger boy already had his drink made and it was only you keeping them waiting. 

“Iced mocha latte with whip cream. Hope you like it.” you say, extending the drink to the man before you, praying he doesn't notice the slight waver of your hand. Dabi stares at you for a moment and you’re pretty sure you blew it. He won't even think the drink is worth trying. 

He leans forward, close enough that you smell the faint cologne he’s wearing, and reaches a hand forward. His thumb brushed your cheek, revealing a drop of whipped cream. Your face heats up, and heats further as you watch his tongue dart out, a glimmer of silver taunting you as he licks his thumb. The eye contact is electrifying as he pulls back, taking his drink. “Thanks. I'm eager to try it.” 

You’re stuck watching his back as he walks away, brother in tow as the familiar chime of the bell announces their departure. 

That night, in the cool quiet of your room you pull out your faithful vibrator and cum so hard you see stars, fresh and woodsy scent of Touya’s cologne still lingering in your nose.

—-----

He keeps stopping by. 

Every time it’s with a different person and it's almost like he's taunting you. Playing a game or teasing you. But he’s never alone. 

Every time he asks for the same thing – iced mocha latte, your style– and every time you rush to make it for him.  

Until one friday. 

He came in just as your store was closing. The perks of working in a coffee shop is that they close at a reasonable time. This time it was four in the afternoon, sun shining and the day was still looking promising. You greet him as usual and prepare yourself for his order. Today is no different from the others.

Except this time he doesn't leave right away. 

The shop is closing and he's still standing there, staring at you as he sips his coffee. You weren't sure what he was playing at, but you continued your work. Finishing up and pulling out your keys to lock up the shop. You would have to walk past him, inform him that the store was closed and he would need to leave as you did, since it was your unlucky day to close. 

You gather your nerves and walk towards the door, turquoise eyes following your every move. Steeling yourself, you inhale ready to politely kick him out and run to your home. 

“What are you doing after this?” He starts, cutting you off before words could leave your lips. His gaze is unfazed as you’re taken by surprise. 

The keys jingle in your hand as you furrow your brows in confusion. “What?”

He shakes the cup of coffee, ice crashing together and liquid sloshing around. “I said, what are you doing after this? As in, plans.” 

“Oh, I have to go home and study,” you answer lamely. It was the truth. The whole reason you had this job was for the hours and free time it gave you to study.

He only smiled, eyes alight with mischief. “How studious of you.”

You walk towards the door and surprisingly Dabi opens it for you, following closely behind. “Well, yeah,” you reply, finally locking the doors with a huff. “It’s almost like I'm a student or something.” 

There was a scoff at this. “Snappy.” 

You look away, dried leaf on the sidewalk being the most interesting thing you have at the moment. Not the man standing before you, sipping the coffee you made and analyzing your every move. 

You move to walk past him, he steps in front of you. You try the other way, only to be met with him in front of you, again, sipping his nearly empty coffee drink. You can’t believe the metaphorical man of your dreams was this childish.

He calls your name, catching your attention. 

Shock stains your features as your eyes meet his, “how do you know my–?”

“Name tag.” He points out, sharp and clear. Heat rises to your cheeks. Right. Name tag. You were sure that now would be the perfect time to be swallowed up by the ground. 

He speaks again, interrupting your train of thought. “Let's hang out.”

“Why?” You ask before you think.

He shrugs, “‘cause I'm bored and you shouldn’t waste a Friday afternoon buried in a book.”

Are you dreaming? You have to be. There was no way he was asking you this. Dream or not, you weren't going to let the opportunity pass you by. “What did you want to do?” You humor him. 

He grins. “We can figure it out.”

“Fine.”

—---

Your tiny apartment never felt more cramped as you watched Dabi make himself at home. 

“Did you want anything to drink?” You ask, forcing yourself to ignore the blatant invasion of privacy as he scanned over the notes scattered across your coffee table. 

“Sure.”

You drag yourself to the couch, two glasses in tow and hand one to the man before you. This felt like a prank. Surreal. The guy who’s plagued your mind for weeks is here, in your home, fresh cologne and fluffy hair distracting and endearing. 

It was strange, but you learned a lot about Dabi on the way to your apartment. He prefers the name Dabi and not Touya. Only his family calls him that. He works for a computer company and he hates superhero movies. 

Your dream man had a lot of odd... quirks, but they were charming.

“Do you know that you have a staring problem?” 

The question shakes you from your thoughts, condensation from the glass wetting your fingers as you realize you hadn't even taken a sip. Way too focused on the man before you. Watching him as he watched you back, eyes light and teasing. 

The heat rising to your face gave away your embarrassment as you turned away from him and focused on drinking your water. It was refreshing and distracting as Dabi relaxed into the couch more, turning towards you and letting his arm rest on the couch space above your head, almost caging you in, the space between you quickly becoming nonexistent. 

You stood to your feet, abrupt and hoping to diffuse the air between you both. Your head started to feel fuzzy and you needed a little space. You reached down to grab Dabi’s empty glass from the coffee table, hoping to put it away and put more distance between you when you noticed his expression shift to one of surprise.

“Oh? What’s this?” 

He’s up before you could register the curiosity in his voice. Your eyes followed him as he walked over to your nightstand and you felt your stomach turn. 

Your breath hitched as you immediately recognized the small object in his hand. It was your bullet vibrator. The one you forgot to put away last night and now the man of your dreams had it, holding it up for all to see.

The mortification is suffocating as you drop the cups back on the table and rush towards dabi, desperate to get the device from him. 

You fall short as he holds it above your reach, the grin that filled your dreams now becoming one of your nightmares.

“Dabi! Put it down!” You yell, standing on your toes and pressing against him, ignoring your close proximity as you reach for your vibrator. 

This only seemed to amuse the man more, “What? So you can use it?” 

Your words caught in your throat as you continued to push and reach, taking another step forward as he took one backwards. 

Dabi must have underestimated the closeness of your bed because in a second he goes down, now sitting on the bed and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap. Almost snatching the device, but he was faster. Instead, his free hand pushes you further in the direction you were reaching, effectively knocking you down onto the bed and onto your side. 

He wasted no time, crowding you and caging you beneath him, the vibrator tauntingly being waved in your face. 

“What’s all the fuss about? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.” You could do nothing but helplessly stare up at him and pray he didn’t notice you press your thighs together, arousal soaking your panties.

The man of your dreams was here, in your home, in your bed, above you and teasing relentlessly. 

“You want me to give it back?” He asked, you could only nod your head, scared to make a noise in the fear of anything coming out in the form of a moan. “Okay, beg for it.”

You felt goosebumps dance across your skin as your face burned. “Please.”

Dabi only raised a bow. Not enough. 

You swallowed, your pride and shame flowing out of your head and down your body. “P-please give it back.” His smile makes your heart race.

“Give what back?” God he was driving you mad like this.

“Please Dabi. Please give me my v-vibrator back.” 

Dabi sits up with a satisfied huff and you think you’re finally free of this nightmare. 

Your thoughts are shut down as you hear the familiar buzz of your vibrator stirring to life. You shoot him an incredulous look as he just gives you that grin. Pushing your thighs apart and pressing the humming device to your clothed cunt. You can't stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

“What? I’m just giving it back to you like you asked.”

Your brain is in system overload. The sensation of the device was dulled by the fabric of your jeans but that didn’t stop the pleasure from reaching you. 

Dabi leaned in, tongue piercing flashing as he wet his lips. Your eyes followed the motion. That damn tongue piercing has been haunting you for weeks. 

Your line of focus is not lost on dabi, his eyes alight with mischief, 

“See something you like?” He teases before diving down, tongue running a wet streak from your collarbone up to your jaw, the ball of metal sending shivers down your spine. “You’re such a cute little whore, I’ll show you what else it can do.” 

You weren't sure if you should feel insulted by the name or elated by the promise, you didn’t have time to figure it out either as you were lifted and your clothes were stripped, cool air of the room meeting your heated body.

Dabi had you on your back again and wasted no time pressing his lips to yours, teasing tongue darting out and you were eager to taste the sleek metal. You could only mewl into his mouth as the once tossed aside vibrator found your bare clit. The intense and familiar feeling is only amplified by the object of your affections holding you down.

You were so wet the vibrator had no issues gliding back and forth across your clit, slick soaking it and Dabi’s fingers. The man in question pulled back, bringing his free hand to your tits, kneading and massaging them as his mouth met your budding nipple. 

The cool glide of his piercing was invigorating, causing heat to pool in your belly. Your hands shot to his soft hair, gripping tighter than you intended. You were so close to cumming and it’s almost embarrassing how fast you were going to meet your end. 

Dabi paid no mind, groaning at the grip you had in his hair and giving your nipple a particularly hard suck. 

The combination of sensations leave you breathless as the orgasm crashes over you, pulling a cry from the back of your throat. 

“Ah,” you hear him breathe, your thighs twitching from the sensation of it all. “I missed it. I wanted to see the look on your face when you came.” 

You could only whimper as he pulled away, vibrator still humming. “Guess I'll have to do it again.” 

Your eyes widened at his words and you opened your mouth, desperate to get a word out, before he clicks the device again. The whirring is louder as the settings are ramped up and pressed to your already overstimulated clit. 

You couldn’t bite back the cry as he pressed harder onto your bud, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure jolting through your body. 

“D-dabi, please,” you cried, “I’m gonna–”

He only laughed as you reached a weak hand down, in hopes of slowing the inevitable. It's effortless, the way he takes your wrist and pins it down with his free hand. Instead choosing to focus on getting another orgasm out of you. 

It doesn't take much more than that, eyes rolling back as the second wave of euphoria wracks your body.

“Aw, look at the mess you made.” His voice drags you out of your thoughts, the hum of the vibrator finally ceases as it's shut down. Dabi leans down and places an open mouthed kiss directly onto your clit, smooth piercing slipping across the bundle of nerves and causing you to gasp. 

You felt weak, thighs twitching as you came back down from your high. You’re not sure how much more your body can take, but Dabi seems to be in the business of finding out. Pressing a finger against your entrance and pumping it. The feeling makes your breath catch, hands gripping the sheets. 

You can only watch as his other hand strokes his cock in anticipation, giddy feeling budding in your lower abdomen as you take notice of the shining silver piercing there. 

Of course his dick is pierced too. Just your luck. 

Dabi is as observant as ever and follows your gaze, pressing a second finger into you, the stretch pulling a moan from your lips. He curls them and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. 

After a moment of this, he’s had enough, sliding his fingers out with a wet pop and leaning over you. A pathetic moan escapes you as you feel his erection rub against your cunt, wet and waiting. He stalls, looking down at you with that grin that drives you mad. 

“Ready?” He asks and you don't have a chance to respond before he’s pushing forward, tight muscles stretching around his cock and sucking him in further. Your toes curl in pleasure, feeling overwhelming as you gasp. 

He presses on, stretching you further and finally bottoming out within you, head brushing your cervix. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, pulling back far enough to make you want more, but not enough to pull out completely, before slamming forward and starting a ruthless pace. 

Your hands grip his back, trying to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself. Dabi is having a blast, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he enjoyed the warmth of your walls pulling him in. The rhythmic drag of his piercing massaging the spot inside that makes you see stars.

It was too much. You felt yourself on the verge of coming undone for the third time and desperately clung to the feeling.

“You got another one for me, slut?” He mocked, tone only pushing you further as he grabbed your hair, roots burning while he whispered into your ear, “Do it, show me how desperate you are.” 

And you do. You feel your legs shake as electric energy washes over your body, back arching as you pull Dabi closer. There’s a groan from him as your walls tighten and it only takes the erratic flow of his thrust to signal he was getting close too. 

It's only a few moments later that he’s coming undone inside you, bottomed out as his balls press against your pussy. The warm feeling of being filled spreads across your body as your cheeks heat with the realization of what just happened. 

Dabi takes a minute to catch his breath, softening inside you before slowly pulling out and it's impossible to ignore the emptiness left behind. 

You’re not sure what to say as he takes his place beside you on the bed, eyes closed and face satiated. 

“You know,” he starts, catching your attention, “your favorite coffee sucks.”

You scoff in disbelief, the randomness catching you off guard. “Could have fooled me, that's the only thing you order.”

“Yeah,” he turns his head, blue eyes meeting yours, “but I liked to watch you make it, so that makes up for it.” 

You roll your eyes, masking the way your heart flutters, “yeah, well, I guess I’ll have to make you something else.”

He smiles, lids falling shut, “yeah, I guess you will.”

[siddyyyyyyyy]

University Romance

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish x female!Reader

part three; two, one

wc: ~3k

summary: You and Johnny are two professors at a university, and he often catches you working late in your office. Also, you're just really good friends and there's probably more to it.

warnings: none, no y/n used, 'crazy' chemistry professor Soap, Johnny and Reader are about the same age, the name of the university is fictional

a/n: this is probably the most cheesy and frustrating part of them all. Have fun!

Redcrest High Acedamy, Friday 12:30 PM

»Dad wants to grill tomorrow. Some relatives are joining too.«

Johnny is thrown out of his thoughts, not having seen you approach him. He puts his empty food tray away and processes your words, finally looking at you.

»Oh, nice... and I'm invited, I guess?« You huff at his question, crossing your arms at him.

»I wouldn't tell you if you weren't.«

He nods again at your words, pretending to have been sarcastic about it.

»Right, right... I'll also be there tomorrow. Just text me when.« You stop walking at his words, expecting something more from him. He also stops, looking at you confused.

»We'll go shopping before that. Together.« You clarify, making him feel dumbfounded. Of course you'd need to go shopping together. How was he this stupid to miss out on that? Seriously.

»Oh, right. Yeah, right... um, when's that?« He asks this time and rubs the back of his neck, probably trying to come as casual as possible in front of you. In reality, Johnny is experiencing five stages of grief in his mind. Grilling with you and some relatives, also going grocery shopping with you before that? There's absolutly no reason for him to try and create another personality just for that occasion at all.

From the day he got to know your father, he also found out about the so-called relatives. All very close friends from your father that had a history in the military or CIA. He knew he was doomed. Not exactly knowing why, but he is sure everyone would be at least a little spooked by your family once they hear about their professions.

Eventually, you decided to go straight to the shopping mall after the last lecture. It was a little over seven in the evening once you arrived in the grocery store; it had the perfect temperature for a nice walk. Finally, you are inside the store and can start following the list your father sent you this morning.

Going around the aisles, you made Johnny carry the basket while putting the items into it. It's mostly him following you around and inspecting the grocery store at the same time. Once you get to the meat section, he can't help but make a joke.

»Oh, I know bigger meat than that.« You pause at his comment, keeping the pack of raw ribs in your hand, and look to him beside you, puzzled.

»...Those are ribs, Johnny. What do you mean?«

By the dumb smirk on his face, it's not clear if he is more amused by your confusion or his own joke. He tries again, taking a subtle step closer to you.

»You know, the-«

»Soap? Miss Price?!«

Another voice from behind you luckily interrupts you both, making you glance behind your shoulders. The rather annoying voice is instantly recognised by Johnny; you are having some trouble with it, however. But judging from the way the younger man had used the nickname his students gave Johnny, it's not hard to put the pieces together.

»Carl...« Your colleague sighs out, his shoulders slumping down as he looks to his student. Of course, you had thought about possible students spotting you in the grocery store, but you've also never thought there would be actual students of your university in here.

»What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be doing the assignment I gave you?«

Johnny continues in a more firm tone, but Carl is definitely not fazed by it, instead looking between the two of you briefly. It must be weird for him to see his professors at a grocery store, only having seen them in the university. They have a life outside of that building?

»Yeah, but I also have to take care of my groceries. I'm also an adult, you know?« Carl counters back easily, his eyes fleeting to the basket Johnny is holding and at the ribs in your hand, briefly.

»Oh, are you preparing for the grill party you talked about?«

Now this makes you look to Johnny with a rather scolding look, having thought he stopped talking about you in his lessons. Johnny scoffs as he senses your look, really needing to get out of this situation. He eventually shakes his head and tries to say something appropriate, even when he wants to curse his student out and make him fail all his classes.

»Carl— really bad moment. Do you really want more trouble? You already failed that experiment and almost caused a fire, I would just walk away in your position.«

Finally, Carl nods and looks sheepishly to the ground. A brief moment of silence goes by before he speaks up, more quieter this time.

»There are steaks in sale in the last row... Just so you know.«

He mumbles before finally stepping off and possibly making his way out of the store. However, very unfortunate for Johnny, you are still there and clearly bemused by the situation.

»I thought you stopped talking about me in your classes. We talked about this.« You put the pack of ribs with less gentleness into the basket, huffing out slightly.

»Look, I know... this, well...I really just told them about a grillparty. I never said your name or anything.«

Johnny is trying his hardest to not make you any more annoyed by him, being angry towards his poor student now. He hovers his hand by the small of your back, subtly guiding you around the store to try and keep you close, at least.

»I really, really didn't say anything about you. I promise you, I just said, 'I'm going to a grill party this weekend, don't expect me to grade all your stuff 'til Monday.' That's literally all I said, and the boom-box just had to be noisy.«

He rambles out while you keep your eyes on the grocery list in your phone, not being able to actually be upset for long. He is practically using the beat up puppy look on you now, which is why you won't look at him. After a few silent seconds, you relent by rolling your eyes and exhaling softly.

»Just tell your 'boom-box' to stop being so noisy and loud. And, for the love of God, stop talking about your private life in your lectures.«

Johnny smiles relieved and finally puts his hand on your back properly while guiding you to the last row. He apologises again and keeps closer to you this time, as if afraid you would change your mind if he went away for a minute.

In the end, you brought all the necessary stuff from the grocery list your dad wrote, standing by the cashier now. The elder lady scans the products while you go through the list one last time, noticing you're missing an item.

»Oh, Johnny, could you grab some mushrooms, please?«

He nods and eventually lets you sort the scanned items into the basket for now, making his way to get mushrooms. While he is away, the cashier smiles warmly at you and finally speaks up.

»You guys are lovely! I love seeing fine gentlemen like your husband; I really wish my son was as nice as your husband, he really needs someone to settle down with. But I am really happy you have such a man like your husband, there needs to be more men like these.«

Before you could respond to her ramble, Johnny was already back with the mushrooms you sent him to get, taking back the basket from you and continuing to sort the items into it like before. He is oblivious to your flusterness from the lady's words. Johnny, the fine gentleman he is, ends up paying for the groceries and carries them back to his car with you.

While driving you back to your place, he can't help but notice how quiet you've become. Did you change your mind and are still upset about him and Carl? Should he actually let his student fail at his class?

He decides to not address it for now, hoping he is just overthinking again and shouldn't even think in the first place.

----

House of your Dad, Saturday 2:16 PM

The time you should all meet was 2:15 PM, however, Johnny is one minute late. He is also the earliest one. Always has been by far.

You're preparing the stuff for the grill in the kitchen with your dad, hearing the door ring. John, your father, makes his way to greet the first guest, already assuming it's that chemistry freak of yours.

And after opening the door, he's greeted with Johnny McTavish, in his flesh. They greet each other as usual, a strong bear hug, followed with the usual small talk they have as they're catching up.

They finally arrive in the kitchen, helping you out with getting the ingredients ready. Both John's are now setting up the grill, while you get to greet the other guests; Laswell with her wife arriving at second.

Nikolai, or as you call him, Uncle Nikolai, arrives almost right after the pair and gives you a warm hug as well. He settles on helping on the grill while catching up, a cup of a sweet drink in his hand. Lastly, Frank arrives, or as Price usually calls him by his nickname, 'Woods'. Or Uncle Woods, for most of the time, for you.

The names really are bizarre, but you've stopped questioning them after the third time of asking as a kid. Seriously, Woods? Like, the one's in the forest? Price? Like, the tags on stuff? What kind of names are those?

Besides the funny names, all these close friends of your father were and always are nice to you. Even with their obscure, horrifying, and action-filled stories that they carry around, these are always people you can trust and feel loved by.

Laswell takes you out of your thoughts, as you're all sitting at the table in the backyard, while the others are standing by the grill with a few drinks in hand and making sure everything is nicely cooked.

»How's work, sweetie?«

As always she smiles kindly at you and waits for your answer, her wife sitting beside her as she also waits for your answer. You three mostly talk about the typical stuff, getting into small talk before Laswell gets to tell you a story from probably a few years ago, when she still worked with your dad together before retiring.

»... But Nikolai didn't know and thought he just fell out, informing John, and he almost lost his mind! Imagine; your father stressed, while following the vehicle that I was taken hostage in; finding out his sergeant fell out of the helicopter. Insane, right? But luckily, they rescued me and nothing bad happened.«

You listen to the story as your aunt laughs lightly, finding some kind of humour in that horrifying 'story'. It was clear that your father and his friends had a broken humour, hardened by all the things they saw, but it always manages to amaze you.

»He did have his safety-rope on, right? Nothing happened?«

You ask, wanting to hear her clarify that again, and they aren't laughing about somethig tragic now. Nikolai joins by, sitting down on the chair beside you.

»Oh, he did, he did... He was as fine as a cucumber.« He answers your question with a soft chuckle, seeing the rather worried look on your face before you relax again.

Soon Johnny is placing the grilled meat and sausages on the table, your father joining at the table with more sweet drinks and glasses. Woods also joins eventually, sitting down with a small grunt besides your dad. Everyone is settled, getting some salads on your plate and the grilled goods, enjoying the light atmosphere as some R&B playlist is softly playing in the background.

»When are you getting married, son?« Nikolai nudges Johnny lightly and waits for his answer. Of course, the most dreaded question on the table comes on. Johnny just shrugs, trying to answer casually and shrug it off as best as possible.

»When my students will stop giving me grey hair.«

Uncle Woods barks out a laugh at the opposite of the table, looking to him. »Don't. You'll wait until retirement if you keep that up.«

»When I was your age...« John, your father starts, not meaning to sound like a total boomer but still gets interrupted by Laswell.

»Yeah, you were almost working yourself to the bone at his age and locked up one of the most wanted terorrists. Don't start talking.«

She scolds lightly, taking a sip of her drink while Johnny sulks secretly beside you. Your aunt didn't mean to sound mean or as if Johnny didn't achieve anything in his life, but it still makes him stare at his plate full of regret for a brief moment.

The evening goes by with fun chats and more unbelievable stories from the time from their military time, eventually sitting contentedly at the big table. The sun is lower on the sky now, making up for a casual orange tint across the backyard. After talking some more, you decided to clean up the table together, Nikolai helping you while doing so. Johnny tried to help out as well, but got held back by Price, letting him sit at the table for now, while you and Uncle Nik are preparing to put the cakes out and get some warm drinks.

»Now, son... I've got a mission for you.«

Price starts in a low tone, turning to face him better and make sure the message comes across. Woods leans his forearms on the table in front of him, also looking seriously to the oblivious chemist.

»If you won't make a move on my daughter, I will force you. We already talked about this, you know? Either now, or never.«

Woods joins on it, speaking up while putting his most serious and threatening expression on. »Damn right. And keep in mind; Price doesn't let anoyone get this close to his daughter. You are lucky we even like you.«

Johnny gulps as he hears these men talk to him like this, feeling his own body tense as they size him up him. »Just promise me to finally grow a pair and ask her out.«

Your dad doesn't say anything more and awaits his response. Laswell and her wife can't help but crack a small smile at the whole interrogation act they pull on him, but not interrupting for now. Finally, Johnny answers with a calm tone. At least he hopes he comes off as calm.

»I will, Mister Price. I'll... I will do it soon.«

After his response, the go back to being normal like before and seem satisfied with him for now.

»You know, it took me one year to take up my courage and speak to my wife. Don't be so hard on yourself.«

Price waves her comment off dismissively, looking to Lawell now. »You're lesbian, Kate. That's different.«

The table resonates with laughter once you walk into the backyard with Nik, a simple cake in hand while your uncle carries the few cups in for some coffee and tea. You're oblivious to what they were discussing just now, seeing them all laugh and have a good time.

You set down the cake in the middle and cut it into eight pieces while Nik and Woods are pouring warm coffee and tea into the cups, handing it around the table. The sun is slowly sinking on the sky, creating a more calming atmosphere as it's getting a little chilly out. Eventually, you're sitting beside Johnny again, eating a pieece of cake while chatting with the rest.

----

House of your Dad, 8:07 PM

After some longer while it's time to say goodbye, finally cutting the chemist some slack. As your dad guides everyone out, you and Johnny are cleaning up the table in the backyard before loading the dishwasher in the kitchen together. As you're at the last few dishes, Johnny takes up his courage.

You're washing your hands by the sink as he steps closer beside you and lean against the counter while looking to you.

»I've been thinking about this for a while now, and... do you want to go out some time? Like... in the new restaurant by my place?«

As you're drying your hands, you look to him too and nod without hesitating or thinking too much about it. You two have been talking about that restaurant before, having planned to go there for a while.

»Sure, we could go there sometime. I won't mind.«

Johnny smiles, feeling his heart stutter in his chest at your words. He can't believe this is real, you agreed so easily to it.

»Really?«

He asks, trying his best to keep cool and not totally freak out from the surge of excitement he feels right now. Finally, it has been so easy all the time, and he was too afraid to actually ask you out. He could jump out of happiness.

»Yeah, we're just hanging out, right? I'm sure I'll have some time for that.«

You ask and watch him, waiting for his answer. He, on the other hand, freezes at your question. Did he really need to mess up this badly?

»Uh... sure. We'll just hang out. And stuff.« He manages to answer, gripping the counter for dear life he is leaning on. You notice the way he seems pained, but your dad walks in, checking in to see if you both need some more help. Eventually, you three guide Johnny out and watch him drive off to his own home finally.

»I would marry him if I were you.« Price pats your shoulder before he enters the house again, leaving you on your own at the porch. ...what?

a/n: this is very frustrating, but I promise you, the next part will be longer and better. Hope you ennjoyed it!

and yes, the black ops and helicopter mission reference is real

[the0p]

what a night (request)

sub!yuta, both are idols, gay sex, riding, mlm, soft sex, sex with plot, and all of nct127 members included in a way not all by name tho, very little dialogue (also yes this has been in my drafts for AGES. I'm sorry to keep the person who asked waiting)

everyone sat on the practice room floor. tired and sweaty. we've all been stuck here for a few hours now. Thanks to the tight schedule, we were called in for a late night rehearsal, which, as normal, none of us found any enjoyment in.

haechan was winning and begging the dance teacher to head home jungwoo even joining in while the rest talked amongst each other.

I was having a conversation with doyoung as he had a few questions about the footwork when all of a sudden I felt an arm being draped over my shoulder.

I knew who it was his collagen stronger than ever a smell I've grown to know by heart.

my boyfriend, yuta.

it didn't take long for the guys to figure out we were together as sure everyone was relatively affectionate with each other. The difference was noticeable for us, so they picked up on it.

I didn't pay too much mind to him continuing to explain footwork to doyoung, bringing one of my hands up to hold on to his that was over my shoulders so he wouldn't get too pouty over it.

"While you move your right leg in, you gotta make sur-" my words were cut off by loud, happy cheers from haechan and jungwoo both as the teacher looked slightly disappointed both males rushing to get their things and bolting out the practice room.

"I guess we head home." said the boy next to getting up slowly as his arm disappeared from my shoulder.

I stood up with him, putting my arms up to stretch my limbs aching, yuta doing the same.

everyone slowly left the stuffy room, heading their own directions, some staying in the building, and some heading home. me and yuta were one of the few who went home.

it didn't take long since we didn't live too far from the building, of our faces covered by masks and a cap our hands interviews together, his thumb rubbing against the top of my hand drawing circles.

we talked about the upcoming comeback out hopes and wishes for it, keeping our voices low just in case of any fans around.

Once at home, yuta went to shower, and I cleaned up the place a bit waiting for him to finish up so I could shower after.

sitting on the sofa, a clean set of clothes next to me, as scrolled through my phone, checking Twitter, or now known as X.

shortly after the door opened, yuta came out a towel wrapped around his waist his hair was still wet as he tried to dry it with another towel.

yutas beauty always had a way of taking my breath away. seeing him with no makeup, his top half on full display with some watter still on it I couldn't help but stare. the simple things such as these always made me feel like I fell in love with him all over again.

he caught me staring, placing the towel he was using for his hair down on the kitchen counter before coming over to me, his signature stupid grin already creeping up on his face as he sat down next to me.

"You're starting, you know?" he said his words, holding on obvious teasing hint to them.

I didn't respond, my eyes travelling around his frame. his towel was dangerously loose and low, not leaving much to the imagination.

he moved slightly closer when he noticed where my eyes were placing a hand on my chin, making me look at him before bringing his face closer and capturing my lips into a kiss.

it was soft at first the hand that was on my chin moving up to my cheek as my own hands found their way to his warm body a huge contrast to my cold hands resting comfortably on his waist.

slowly but surely the kiss progressed. he moved to sit on my lap, the towel, and my jeans in the way. my fingers lightly travelled up and down his thighs, caressing the soft skin as his were tangled in my hair, tugging and pulling gently.

I felt him starting to grind his hips into mine, causing a groan to escape into the kiss. he broke the kiss first, sitting up from my lap just enough to undo my jeans the bulge in them very visible.

as he pulled both the jeans and boxers down, I took off my shirt, throwing it somewhere on the ground doing the same with his towel. Both of us now naked.

he quickly pulled me back into a sloppy kiss, his arms around my shoulders mine exploring all around. his thighs, hips, back, sides. everything my hands could touch and reach.

he sat up again and pulled away for a split second, lining himself up before lowering down on me slowly. he was always so tight around me as we didn't fuck often causing a quiet groan to escape. his grip on my shoulders tightened slightly, quiet moans spilling out, which was like music to my ears.

Once he was fully comfortable and adjusted, he started to move. the room filling with moans that progressively got louder.

the sound of skin on skin echoed through the whole place as I guided him up and down his head in the crock of my shoulder, muffled moans and words spilling from him all at once.

both of us were gental with each other. when we had sex it was rarely rough or degrading, neither of us really enjoying it like that.

I felt his legs starting to shake slightly as his pants increased. it was obvious he was close, and so was I.

"Together?" I asked, moving a bit so I could look at his face.

he nodded, bringing me into one last kiss before we both finished both of us, swallowing each others moans and cries, letting the high calm down before even thinking about cleaning up.

After a bit, both of us calmed down, and I helped him clean up, bringing him back to the bathroom, both of us showering together. I made sure to take care of him properly, doing everything I could so he wouldn't be more tired than he already was that meant washing his hair, his body, drying him off and bringing him to bed.

"You know I am much more than capable of taking care of myself, right?" he said as I got him to bed before getting in myself.

"I know, but I'm your boyfriend. Taking care of you is my job."

he didn't say anything and cuddled up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his head on my chest, as I held him close, both of us drifting off to sleep content and happy with how the day ended.

[someone1348]

The bestie fic for Arisu, Karube and Chota to heal my soul, because I need it and no one's made it!

People in this: Lee!Arisu, Ler!Karube, and Ler!Chota

Tw: some curse words, a little angst but mostly fluff, and mentions of alcohol, also this is a tickle fic if you don't like it keep scrolling, thank you :]

With all that being said enjoy, let us heal together from this!

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Happy Arisu, Happy life!

It was a beautiful summer night, Arisu was chilling in his shorts and a hoodie, some cheesy graphic tee underneath that with a goofy summer saying on it like 'stay cool' with an ice pop on it thats wearing sunglasses. Anyway, He was doing what he does best, completing puzzles on his phone, ignoring his older brother and father. They tried speaking to him but nothing worked. They eventually got bored of talking to a brick wall and stopped bothering him. That's when he got hit with the tiniest pebble he'd ever seen. The boy gently turned his head to the side in the direction the pebble hit him to see his two best friend's poking their heads out from his balcony outside. They made goofy faces at him as Arisu's eyes widened and he tried not to laugh. He cautiously looked back over at his father and brother before looking to the pair who had poked their heads up at him again now silently telling him to follow them and meet them outside. Arisu smiled big time now and told his relatives that he was going out for a bit. They didn't bother to make a fuss as Arisu put on his sandles and left the house without any other explanation. This happened too often now for anyone to question anything anymore.

"Come on!" Karube yelled as the three of them ran through the empty streets of Tokyo. Giggling together as they tried to keep up with Karube. If this was a race Arisu would be in second while Chota is third, but not by much. Eventually Karube slowed down now standing in front of this ice cream parlor. With how quickly he stopped Arisu almost ran into him, and Chota almost ran into Arisu. The pair giggled at this as Karube nodded

"Ice cream on me, I just got paid, come on. Butt's inside" he gently pushed his friends inside. It was fairly empty all things considered but they didn't mind. Chota ordered first getting pistachio ice cream in a cup. Arisu went second getting strawberry ice cream in a cone. And Karube went last getting salted caramel ice cream in a cone. He payed for everyone and thanked the lady who was working there before heading out back onto Tokyo's streets.

The bleach blonde smirked making fun of Chota playfully for his ice cream choice. It was the same thing every time they got ice cream but Arisu loved it anyway. The two bickered playfully as they walked together. Chota defending pistachio flavor with his life, even trying to shove some in Karube's face. The older pushed his face away and grumbled. Nights like these are what made Arisu feel the most at peace. "At least I didn't get a child flavor like strawberry" oh no he didn't! It was now Arisu's turn to defend his favorite flavor.

"I'll have you know that strawberry is popular with all age groups! Not just old people who get pistachio!" He teased as Karube soon broke up the bickering "We've made it" he said. It was this patch of grass next to a tunnel that connected to the beach. Graffitied walls and the smell of the ocean salted air never failed to bring them back to reality. They sat in the grass eating their ice cream and just enjoying this peaceful night. Arisu took his sandles off to get more comfortable. The others followed his lead soon enough. They talked about everything and nothing all at once. Finishing their ice cream and listening to the waves gently crash onto the shore up ahead. Soon enough Karube and Chota gave each other a look before looking back at Arisu. There was a significant energy shift and the other certainly felt it too.

"Arisu..." Chota said softly as Arisu hummed, opening one eye to look at him. "Are you okay...? Have you been okay recently...?" His concern for one of his best friends evident in his voice. Karube stepped in. "No bullshit...tell us straight up how you feel okay?" Arisu sat up and sighed. He prepared himself to open up to the only people he really trusts. It was never easy, but Arisu loves his friends so much. "I'm alright...you two make it better...its just my brother made a comment today that pissed me off and you know how my dad is...I just don't belong there, I feel so out of place in that house..." They both listened intently as Chota spoke up again.

"What did he say?" The softer of the two continued as Karube stepped in "want me to punch him in the face again?" This made Chota gently smack his arm as Arisu stiffled a laugh under his breath. He took a deep breath before explaining everything. "He just said he liked me better before mom passed...that I was more tolerable when she was still here..." Chota's eyes turned dark with anger as Karube clenched his fist.

Taking a deep breath, Chota placed a gentle hand on his knee. Comforting him before speaking softly "They don't deserve you Arisu. I'm sorry you have to deal with them but just know that you will always have us. If you're ever uncomfortable over there you know where we both live, our houses are your homes too!" Arisu hummed softly "Thank you, Chota..." he nodded as Karube stepped in "Best bet is Chotas house, you know how mine gets sometimes, but you're still always welcomed over there and at my bar" he continued "and one day, we won't have to worry about any of this, we'll move far away and all live together at my farm house with my own bar, drinking beer every night and having fun!" The other two smiled and nodded. Karube was right. Their lives were only just beginning. One day, they'll get out of Japan and build something more, a safe haven for the three of them. It filled his heart with joy and hope for what's to come.

"Oi, Arisu! You're spacing out again!" Karube smirked as he tried to snap the younger one out of it. The younger one in question blinked as he came back to reality. "Huh?" Chota laughed gently at this. "You're in your own little world over there" Chota said, matter-of-factly. Arisu nodded at this "I was just thinking about the future" they both smiled at this before Karube interjected, teasingly; "We love that, but we gotta ground you, you're with your best friend's and we want to talk to you! So get your head out of the clouds before we make you" Arisu smirked gently at his joke before making one of his own.

"Not my fault you don't have the brain space to daydream Karube. All that's up there is beer and girls, " he teased as Karube's smirk grew. "That's it! Someone needs to bring you down a peg, both in ego and out of the clouds!" Karube soon wrestled the boy to the grass as Arisu tried to fight back. It didn't work well. He was just too strong for him. Chota gasped slightly and laughed at their playfulness. Karube, now straddling his hips, asked Chota to hold down his wrists. The shortest one smirked as Arisu protested.

"Do not help him!"

"I'm sorry, Arisu, but you had it coming. This is payback for insulting my favorite ice cream flavor"

"And my intelligence! Hello!" Karube added jokingly.

"Yeah, that too." Chota laughed a little as he put Arisus hands around the back of his knees, keeping him in place and his hands free. The middle one kept protesting as he tried to escape, but nothing happened. "Nononono-no! Chota! Karube! Let me go!" They all smiled. "No can do, buddy!" Chota nodded as Karube spoke. "Exactly, you need this, both for your pride and because it's as they say 'Happy Arisu, Happy life"

Arisu blinked "You mean 'Happy Wife, Happy Life?'" Arisu questioned as Karube smirked, "Exactly. I like my version better. " Chota giggled gently at this as Arisu huffed "Yeah well I think it's-" his words interrupted by a surprised squeak as he felt a quick squeeze to his ribs.

"Karube..." he warned through a smile as the others smirked "Whats the matter? I thought you grew out of being so ticklish, hmm? Isn't that what you always say" Karube teased as Chota joined in "Exactly! You always tell us, I'm not ticklish while kicking out with laughter, you can't fool us Arisu, you're the most ticklish one here" the middle one was about to protest again before he felt Chota gently wiggle his fingers into his underarms quickly. They were teasing him, seeing if he'd break. Almost like a silent competition between the two of who can get him to laugh first. Poor Arisu was fighting back his own nervous system as little bolts of ticklish electricity shot through him every time one of them moved. The pair was having a blast at this as Karube gently dragged his nails down his ribs from above his stay cool shirt. His hoodie had been tossed aside way before this happened which at this point Arisu regrets taking it off, it would've gave him an extra layer of protection against them.

Chota smirked as he did the same slowly moving down his arms till he reached his underarms which caused Arisu to groan "This is torture!!" They both knew that he didn't like the slow, teasing, types of tickles but he left them no choice. Karube spoke "We know, but this can all be over if you just give us a little laugh~" Chota nodded "mhm! You can do it! Come on Arisu~ just a little giggle" their teasing did not help as they both moved slowly over his tickle spots. The puzzle master was so close to breaking. He finally lost it when Chota got back to his underarms and Karube hit a particularly sensitive rib at the same time. He let out a small laugh and shook his head no. "Okay, I laughed! It's done now, right?!" He asked as the other two nodded.

"Correct" Chota said

"The slow and steady tickles are over that is" Karube added

"Wait wha-" the man let out another scream as they sped up the pace. Karube tickled his ribs from underneath his shirt, all ten digits to either side, as Chota did the same to his underarms.

"WAhahaAit! NO! HAHAha!" He could barely form a sentence, and they just got started. Chota smirked, being the first to tease "Tickle Tickle Tickle~" Arisu laughed louder at this, and his ears turned slightly red, curse his best friends for knowing him so well! Karube soon joined in "For someone who keeps claiming to be not ticklish you're laughing an awful lot" which Chota nodded "mhm" Arisu gently kicked out onto the grass behind them as he kept laughing.

"You triHiHIHIhicked mEE! HAHA StoHop Ihit!" He kept trying to twist and turn, but nothing worked. It was all out of instinct anyway, his friends and him knew better that he didn't actually want them to stop yet. Chota moved to tickle his neck while Karube switched to gentle, yet firm, squeezes on his hips, which caused Arisu to snort accidentally, which they both cooed at.

"IHIHits nOhot CUHUhute!" He protested through his laughter as Karube smirked "I beg to differ buddy, just wait until I tell your future girlfriend about it one day, I'm sure she'll love to know this" Chota giggled at Karube's comment as Arisu groaned through his laughter. The volume of his giggles increased as Chota moved back to his underarms while Karube stayed at his hips. "No growling, mister! It's impolite, " he joked as Arisu kicked some more.

"CHOhoHoTA! HAHAH-" Karube smirked at his yell towards Chota "Aye! Be lucky I'm not giving those feet attention, then you'd really be in trouble!" He gently and quickly squeezed Arisu's thigh to tease him before going back to his hips, which made him squeak.

"KAHaharubEhEHE! CHOhotAhaA! PleHEheHEASe!" He couldn't take much more. The pair looked at each other with a smile and nodded. "Grand finale," they both said, lifting Arisu's shirt up a little more as the boy caught his breath slowly. His eyes widened. "Wait...waitwaitwait! Not that! Not there! Guys, come on! We can talk about this!"

"...3..." Chota smiled

"...2..." Karube smirked

"Guys! Wait!-" Arisu added

"...1...!" They both shouted at the same time as they teamed up both pairs of hands now scribbling at Arisu's stomach. All 20 digits making sure that no spot on there is left untickled. Arisu screamed in laughter, moving his head from side to side.

"NAHAHA! KAHARUHUBEHE! CHOHOHOTAHAHA! IHIHIT TIHICKLES!" He let himself laugh. His feet still kicked out strongly behind him onto the grass. The two smiled at this and kept going.

"He finally admits it!" Karube smirked "I'm glad it Tickle Tickle Tickles you Arisu~" he teased as Chota joined in "Mhm! We've got you now!" This only made him laugh more.

"PLEHEHEASE!" He begged before Chota removed his fingers, letting Karube have his final moment.

"KARUBE DONT YOU DAHARE!" He yelled through his laughter before Karube inhaled, blowing one final raspberry to his stomach, right on top of his belly button. Arisu threw his head back in laughter.

"AHAHAHAHAHA-" the giggles continued for a minute longer before the pair got off of him, letting Arisu catch his breath. Little giggles pooling out of his mouth every now and again as he could still feel the tickly after effects.

"Are you okay, Arisu...?" Chota asked nervously. Karube added to his question. "We didn't go too far, did we?" Arisu smiled and sat up gently.

"I'm all good, thanks, guys..." he beamed as the other two smiled.

"Of course!" Chota said happily, Karube just smiled and nodded before Arisu's gentle smile turned into an evil smirk.

"That doesn't mean I won't get you both back eventually for this! In case you've forgotten, I know all your weak spots, too!" His smirk grew as he turned his head towards Chota, who put his hands up in surrender.

"It'll be hard to get us both back at once" Karube chimed in as Arisu's smirk grew as he looked at him.

"Oh, I know, it doesn't have to be all at once... just one day when you least expect it!" He continued "There's no puzzle I can't solve and no tickle spot on you two that I can't exploit"

Chota giggled nervously and scooted away from him as Karube took it as a challenge.

"Good luck, kid" he smirked as Arisu smirked back

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll need it" The trio shared another laugh. Today was a good day. But they should really watch their backs carefully moving forward.

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

It wasn't made so I did it myself! I hope you all enjoyed <3

-K :]

[furyofthemist]

HTTYD LIVE ACTION REVIEW

(Disclaimer) I feel the need to clarify that this is not to hate on the actors or the crew involved with making this movie. They were just doing their job and had to work with what they were given. This is also not to hate on people who actually enjoyed the movie.

Warning for a long post of spoilers below.

It's not great.

The actors

Astrid: Nico Parker is probably the best out of all of them, which is saying a lot because I feel like they were all quite flat and awkward in their delivery most of the time. Though I do feel there are moments where she does fall flat as well (specifically the scene where she reacts to Toothless for the first time). But seeing as that is a problem for almost everyone, it probably has to do with the directing and not just the actors themselves.

Overall, I think she did a good job of embodying Astrid despite everything. One thing I did not like was the weird animosity she had towards Hiccup like in the scene with the book of dragons where she threatens him and declares that she will be chief one day, which I feel is so out of character for her. It seems like they just made her obsessed with being chief to make her more of a girlboss even though she was already a strong character in the original? It's just a weird change to make and it makes it difficult to believe the chemistry between her and Hiccup.

Hiccup: I hate to say it but throughout the film, it doesn't really feel like Hiccup? Mason Thames has his moments but its just difficult for me to believe he's really Hiccup. He doesn't really have his speech patterns or movements and he lacks Hiccup's sarcastic demeanor.

I don't know how to say this other than he feels like a protagonist from a poorly adapted young adult fiction film. Like Percy Jackson or Eragon. Don't get me wrong that's not always a bad thing but I just felt like I was watching a different person. Im sure he's a great actor in other films but this one didn't really deliver.

The others: There isn't really much for me to say about the other Dragon Riders since they aren't included all that much.

I do like that Snotlout's relationship with his father was shown

I think it was an odd choice to make the twins older since they were apparently held back and they aren't the same age anymore.

Also Fishlegs is sort of just there. He does still have that cute nerdy personality and he is more friendly with Hiccup so that's nice I guess.

For a movie that is supposedly around 2 hours long, it didn't feel that there were many scenes focused around the friendship of the gang/dragon riders.

Stoick: Stoick was probably the best, since he already played the role and knew what to do. I do think its weird how they made him mention Valka and the idea that she wouldn't like what Hiccup is doing. Like what?

CGI and DRAGONS

One of my biggest gripes about this film.

TOOTHLESS: People are saying he either looks too similar to the animation and it makes him stick out or he looks way too different and honestly it might be both. It's obvious they tried to keep his cute looks while making him realistic and it feels like it backfired.

-overly green eyes, his skin is extremely dry looking and flaky while also being really shiny and oily looking, his weird back legs, his poor wing shape, his movement is sluggish despite being one of the fastest dragons, the weird human mouth

-he can barely make facial expressions which are a huge part of his body language. His face is so bulky and lumpy, his eyes are squished, along with a gigantic forehead and eyebrow muscles. There are certain scenes where he looks relatively normal but then he just doesn't and once you see it you cant unsee it 😭

Also, Toothless is lacking some major fear factor in the live action and doesn't feel nearly as intimidating. The whole Toothless is just a dog/pet with his behavior just drives me nuts. Sure, he had some moments in the first film but by the third film they just dialed it up to 100 and can't seem to let it go.

Also they changed the line when Hiccup is talking to Astrid before the Monstrous Nightmare fight from "just don't let them find Toothless" to "just don't get involved cause Stoick really likes you" What does that mean? 😭 Way to really highlight the bond between Hiccup and Toothless.

The other dragons can be summed up as"what if HTTYD was Game of Thrones?", as in they all have that generic fantasy look to them. I wish they had created better designs that were realistic but still maintained the exaggerated features.

Some of the set designs are pretty cool looking and I do love the detail they put into them, especially Hiccup's room and the house. Not a fan of that weird golden light that was cast in nearly every scene throughout half the movie.

PACING

Another problem for me is it feels they assume the audience has already seen the original so they cut out or speed up a lot of parts that just makes the pacing feel way too quick. Like there's barely any buildup for some scenes and things just happen. The overall plot is nearly the same.

I'll be honest, I barely felt any emotion at all throughout the entirety of the movie, even in the moments that were meant to be sad or happy.

TO SUM UP MY OVERALL THOUGHTS:

The movie is average at best and terrible at worst. The acting isn't amazing and the CGI just doesn't really look that great. It feels like there was so much that could have been done but it just wasn't. I'm glad I didn't spend money to see this.

If this was a stand alone film not related to HTTYD, I might have enjoyed it. I can see why people who haven't seen the original might think this remake is great. I might have thought it was good too if the original got wiped from my memory but since the source material already exists its hard not to compare. Like people have been saying they should have just adapted the books. I feel like the main reason people enjoy it at all is because of the nostalgia they have for the first movie, but without that the live action just falls flat on its face.

Not groundbreaking or life changing, like 4.5/10 this wasn't necessary.

[streets-in-paradise]

Hello! This is my audition for Troy 2004 matchups.

I have long brown hair and brown eyes

I'm good with kids and extremely protective over them and my younger cousins/siblings as they are kinda my best friends.

I'm a huge nerd and am openly apart of many fandoms. I write both fanfic but I also do original short stories and poetry. I also enjoy DND, rp video games, needle felting (great way to get excess anger out). I do also having anxiety, ADHD, dyslexia, trauma and a very, very high pain tolerance.

I would prefer a hero over a heroine but whoever you think works!

Tysm!

HI, HI!! Welcome :)

omg, this is my first matchup request!!! I am super excited.

It was a hard one, because you have many qualities for what I have multiple options of heroes in mind, but the perfect combination some of these make helped me come up with a final option.

(Got really inspired and ended up quite long lol. )

I'm matching you with Achilles:

-He may not be the type of man you tipically see being enthusiastic arround kids, but if your younger relatives are your best friends you are automatically appealing to his softer side. Anything that reminds him of what he has with Patroclus turns him into a big softie.

-For so, seeing you care for them in the same way he cares for his younger cousin is the startpoint for your bonding. You are someone he can talk to about the challenges of becoming the guardian of Patroclus, concern he wouldn't discuss with his friends. Not with Odysseus, because they are usually dealing with bigger geopolitical-scale issues, or with Eudorus, given he always keeps that aura of ultimate respect in their interactions that he doesn't want to break completely confessing his fears to him.

-He wouldn't ask you directly either, but he knows that if he goes to you chances are that you are going to tell him about your siblings, your cousins and end up asking how Patroclus is doing. Then, he can pretend to be casually venting to you without risking the fear of exposing his vulnerabilities.

-When he comes to your house, the kids will initially overwhelm him with attention because he is this great hero everyone admires. For you, he makes the effort of not being mean to their endless questionings and trully engage in whatever they want from him. When their expressions of curiosity turn into excited joy he turns to look at you because he knows you have became all smiles.

-If he is in the mood, he makes them complicit of some cute attempt of flirty advance. How can he stop himself from doing it? Despite he doesn't do much to win them, the kids love him, and you look so beautifull when the joy of seeing them happy strikes you.

-Tables turn very easily and he is the happy mess when you are arround Patroclus. The influence on your families is mutual, because you are teaching poetry to the lad. Once he found out you are a writer, his cousin begged you for lessons because he wanted to learn how to compose epic poetry. Given that one of your little ones had already manifested their interest of learning combat from Achilles when they would have the age for that, you both found it a fair exchange.

-Patroclus adores you, after he would notice his cousin started fancing you he for sure would be endorsing him to you. He tries hard to convince you, but at first you think Achilles is just being his naturally charming self with you.

-The guy allowed you to observe the most vulnerable aspects of his domestic life, encouraged you into his home and constantly jokes about you and him getting together ... He is into you, so into you, and once he gets tired of fooling arround he will let you know with no space to keep any doubts about it.

-If you accept his affections, get ready for the whole town to know. He would kiss you in public, unless finding any previous signs of it making you anxious.

-Once you are together you are so in love he clearly starts becoming a new focus of your writing. Patroclus got the idea of starting to work all together in his epic saga, written by the hands of those who know him. Achilles is fascinated, he loves to see you getting invested on his goal of shaping a legend. However, what he loves the most of his poetress is the romantic words you dedicate him on the intimacy.

-Contrary to what most will expect of him, it's canon this man likes nerds that are passionate in their fields of preference. In the film he fell for a very determined priestess enamoring her during a philosophical theology argument, that's the closest this particular era of antiquity had to a nerdy woman. For so, I believe he would encourage your innate nerdiness. Do you want to infodump? Not only he would hear everything you have to say with increasing attention, he would be the Thor of your Jane turning it upside down to show you a different side of this thing you thought you knew so well.

-You also have trauma and high pain tolerance? Are you soulmates or what? That's a great combination to make him suspect you are. An anger releasing hobby is what he considers his own work as somedays, so he would know what happened if someday he comes back from war and you have a fine garment ready to gift him. You have been upset, something made you angry, but you did something fantastic out of that. Pretty much the mindset that turned him into a hero: turn his anger into feats worthy of being sang.

-He may be like a raging storm, but his presence can be surprisingly calming too. Achilles self describes as a man of action instead of words, but then proceeds to deliver the most meanigfull things you ever heard. He loves you and to this stubborn irascible warrior, that also means you are his peace, so he would try to be that peace you need.

-If anxiety is giving you a hard time, he would try the phisical comfort first. He would hug you to keep you grounded, let your head rest on his shoulder or chest while keeping you real close within the strong, protective grip of his embrace. Only after his warmth would show to have an effect, then he would kiss the top of your head or forehead, or caress your hair while whispering reasuring things to ease your fears.

-He wants you to feel the lovefull bliss of calm he finds in your love.

( hope you will enjoy it. I feel it turned out pretty well for a first try, made myself smile while writing it lol )