#also another errant thought

[finitepiano]

Okay I really feel like Canon has such angst recently but I hardly see any longer fics about it (probably because most of the fandom follows the anime) BUT I really feel like Midoirya's Canon vigilante arc could be turned into a 160k+ It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better fic, you feel me? I

Another thought, I really like how we all didn't predict but still wrote and read a bunch of Vigilante Midoriya before it became Canon, love that for us.

[rrrrinmaru]

calculated risk (but boy am i bad at math) (sylus x mc) (nsfw)

wc: 4.3k rating: E warnings: NSFW content, dirty talk, blowjobs, skull fucking, orgasm denial, slight spanking (ass and pussy) brief: you lose a bet to sylus and you have to do whatever he wants for 24 hours // part 2 here

It starts, as most things do with Sylus, an incredibly poor decision on your part. 

It can’t be helped—when Sylus smirks at you, one eyebrow raised as he gives you a challenging look, you know it’s only going to end in either one of both ways. You taking him up on the bet, or the both of you in a training room with you trying your damned best to figure out how many bones of his you can break.

This time, he hadn’t even disclosed what the prize would be. “Patience, dollface,” he murmured when you told him to lay the terms out upfront. “Isn’t it fun when you don’t know everything?”

“And I suppose it’s fun for you to keep me in the dark?” Control freak, you thought to yourself, but the bet was simple and there was no way you would lose. 

Sylus had shrugged, spreading his hands in a helpless pretense. 

It didn’t matter. You were confident. You were going to win.

==

“I gotta go with A,” Luke says slowly, smacking his lips as he speaks. “I like the spices. No clue what’s in it though—pepper, and er, I’m going to go with cinnamon? Or something similar?”

You could strangle him. Who the fuck puts cinnamon in tomato and eggs? You didn’t even see Sylus go near that section of the spice cabinet. 

“Do you even know what cinnamon tastes like?” You can’t help but ask. 

Luke licks his lips again. “Yeah, I ate a whole spoonful of cinnamon once because Kieran dared me to, and I was out of it for days. Boss got really mad, haha, remember that?”

Sylus sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “He choked,” he says unhelpfully when you look to him for more information. 

“He exhaled cinnamon for what felt like hours after that,” Kieran notes from the side. “I wanted to get a scan of his lungs to see how tainted from cinnamon they were, but Boss grounded us.”

“Anyways, it may not be cinnamon, but it’s definitely a c-something,” Luke declares confidently. “I like it. A is the winner for me.”

“Cilantro,” Kieran tells him. You can’t read his expression through the fox mask, but you like to think he’s rolling his eyes. There’s exasperation in his voice that reeks of an older brother forced to reckon with the stupidity of a younger sibling, an unstoppable force crashing headfirst into an immovable object. 

Luke snaps his fingers, leaning forward to spoon another mouth of scrambled egg into his mouth. “It’s good. Who made this one?”

“I have to vote first,” Kieran reminds him. “But I’ll go with A too. It’s saltier. I prefer things with a stronger taste.”

“Hm.” Sylus turns to look at you, cocking his head. “It appears we have a unanimous decision. Our fear of needing a tie-breaker game didn’t even materialise.”

You stay silent. Your arms are folded across your chest, and you get the errant thought of whether you could stamp on his shoe hard enough to break his big toe. Probably not, but giving up without even trying is a defeatist attitude. 

“Woah,” Luke says, looking furiously between the both of you. “Boss made this?”

Kieran suddenly goes very silent. He brings a fist up to his mouth and starts coughing lightly, but he also resembles a cat attempting to cough up a hairball.

“I did,” Sylus replies, looking quite pleased. “Surprised?”

“Er,” Luke says simply. “Er, congrats. Kieran, do you know how to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre?”

Kieran coughs again. “I’ll do it on you if you do it on me first.”

“Deal.” Luke hurries to stand, his chair screeching against the floorboards from the strength of his push. “Can we excuse ourselves? Our role here is done, right?”

Sylus jerks his head at the exit, and the both of them scramble to the door. As they leave, you think you can hear Luke mutter something that sounds like “I didn’t know I would like soapy eggs, but there’s a first for everything, right?”

Kieran shoves him in the shoulder in response as they both leave. And Kieran goes to great pains to ensure the door is closed, firmly, behind him. 

“Let me try that,” you demand, reaching for Luke’s chopsticks left on the edge of the plate. 

A strand of twisting red energy wraps around your wrist, yanking it to a stop.

“There are clean chopsticks,” Sylus chides. From across the kitchen, a covered bowl and a pair of chopsticks are brought over by tendrils of red and black energy. 

He leans back, hips pressed against the counter as he collects the bowl and chopsticks. The lid lifts of its own accord and floats over to rest on the nearby countertop. 

Sylus picks up a piece of egg and holds it out to you.

“… You made a separate serving for me?” 

“I had my suspicions. If I won, you would have demanded a taste test to ensure I didn’t rig the competition.” Sylus tilts his head, as if daring you to disagree. “Was I right?”

Instead of answering, you lean forward to take the piece of egg into your mouth. Your lips close around the end of the chopsticks, and you stay like that for a moment, looking up at Sylus from under your eyelashes. 

Sylus’ gaze deepens. 

You pull off, leaving the chopsticks wet with your saliva as you chew on the food in your mouth. It’s good. Pretty good. Salty, but in a good way. It would go excellently with a fresh bowl of rice.

You’re actually kind of irritated. Why is Sylus good at making scrambled eggs and tomato? Did he pencil that into his busy schedule—illicit trading activities at 10 am, cooking lessons at 12 pm, a shoot out in a back alleyway at 3 pm, and prowling the streets of the N109 Zone from 11 pm to 4 am like some kind of avenger?

“It’s not bad,” you admit mulishly. “But it’s not better than my cooking. I’d say it’s at the same level.”

“Crowd opinion begs to differ. There’s no shame in losing to someone better, sweetie.”

Oh, you’ve just about had it with him. But a bet is a bet, and Sylus won without any obvious cheats. Luke enjoying the soapy taste of cilantro is something you could never have predicted; if Sylus used this fact to his advantage, you can’t even hold a grudge against him. You would have done the same.

“Give me that,” you say, holding a hand out for the bowl and chopsticks. “So, what’s the prize?”

Sylus doesn’t hand you the bowl immediately. He puts the chopsticks into his mouth, licking them clean before dipping them into the bowl again and picking out another piece of egg. He holds it out.

You lean forward, of course, lips parted as you expect him to feed it to you.

Instead, he turns the chopsticks around and places the egg into his mouth. He hums as he chews on it, nodding like he’s pleased at the taste. 

You snap your jaw shut. You give him a dirty look, pressing forward to brace your palms against the countertop, on either side of his hips. Like this, he’s trapped. 

Your chest is pressed up against him. Your hips align with his. You go on the balls of your feet, forcing him to lift the bowl and chopsticks higher so he doesn’t hit you in the face.

“You think you’re so funny,” you grumble, staring him down. “Bet, reward, now. Tell me what it is so I can be mentally prepared.”

Sylus doesn’t respond at first. He glances down at you, amusement written all over his face, and lets go of the bowl. Strands of energy catch it, bringing it to rest on the counter behind him. The chopsticks are brought along as well, leaving him empty handed.

“You’re standing in a dangerous position.” He puts the knuckle of his index finger under your chin to tilt your head up. “If you offer yourself up like this, I’ll take advantage.”

He tilts his hips forward, rolling intently against your abdomen. The prominent bulge presses into your lower stomach, right above where your womb is, and you flush scarlet.

You move to pull back, but Sylus moves one hand lightning fast, reaching behind to cup the curve of your ass and pressing you even tighter against the hard line of his arousal through his slacks.

He even squeezes, eyebrows rising in a challenging fashion as he waits to see how you’ll respond. 

You know he just wants to get a rise out of you. Unfortunately, it’s working. Your insides clench uncontrollably, wanting to cling tightly to something. 

Somehow, Sylus always succeeds at making you feel empty.

“As if you don’t take advantage on the daily.” You shift your stance until your thighs are spread around Sylus’s leg. He watches you adjust yourself, that mildly interested look affixed on his face as you straddle his thigh. 

Once you’re satisfied, you roll your hips forward, grinding down on the thick thigh to put pressure against your core. It’s a syrupy heat, starting from your tailbone and crawling up your spine. You press further into Sylus’s growing hardness, and he lets out a pleasant hum, tilting his head back to soak in the weight against his cock.

His fingers tighten against your ass. His grip is heavy, holding you tightly enough that you wonder if they’ll leave bruises against your skin. Five pretty bruises, black and blue on your ass. 

“Harder,” he coaxes hoarsely. “You can do better than that. What are they teaching Hunters these days?”

Your thighs squeeze threateningly around him. But that puts pressure on your clit, making pleasure surge deliciously inside you and you do it again—Sylus seems to catch on and he pulls you along the length of his thigh with the hand on your ass.

“Definitely not how to ride the unspoken ruler of the N109 Zone,” you shoot back breathlessly.

He lets out a startled laugh. “You flatter me, sweetie.”

“Stop evading the question,” you remind him, even as you steadily roll your hips against his thigh. Slow, regular grinds as you rub your cunt against his pants. You wonder if your pussy is wet enough to leak through your panties. You wonder if your panties are drenched, sticking to your thighs. You wonder if you’re making his pants damp, and whether he can feel it leaking through to his skin.

Judging from the way he suddenly grips your ass with more force at a particularly smooth slide, you think he might. 

“Remind me, what question were we speaking of?”

“Bet. Reward.” You slide one hand across his abdomen, stopping right over his belt buckle. The nail of your index finger catches against the metal—this isn’t the first time you’ve wished you had some kind of Evol that involved the manipulation of metal. “Want me to go on my knees?”

The pad of his thumb smooths over your lower lip. 

“Should I put this cute mouth to good use? I think I should,” Sylus murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you. “But let’s talk about the bet first. The reward is simple.”

His other hand skates lightly along your outer thigh. Light as a feather, his fingers skimming along your skin so gently that it makes you itch. You almost want him to press hard, the same way he’s gripping your ass, instead of this light, itchy sensation spreading across your body. 

His fingers creep up, running under the hem of your dress. They trace the edge of your panties, nails scratching faintly against the cotton. 

“I get to do whatever I want with you for the next twenty-four hours,” he says, voice curling with satisfaction. His eyes are creased slightly, the smile sinking through his gaze. As if to drive his point home, he pointedly looks you up and down, dragging his gaze over every inch of your body. 

He’s lucky. If you were still clear-headed, you would have scoffed and told him to change the bet. Sylus might have convinced you after a while, but it would have taken time. At least half an hour of convincing, you reckon, with lips on your neck and fingers down your panties to get you worked up enough to say yes to a bet as insane as that.

Twenty-four hours? To do whatever he wants? 

Now, with your drenched pussy and your throbbing clit, both just begging for attention from him—this plan sounds pretty good. With the way his fingers playfully run across your panties, the tip of his thumb glancing off your swollen clit then darting away, as if it was an accident, as if he didn’t intend to do that, when you both know damn well he’s very acquainted with your clit—

“Go on,” you gasp, chasing after his sly fingers. Pressure, you need more pressure. If he squeezes your clit between his fingers, even through the wet cotton of your panties, it might be enough. “What do you want me to do?”

“Choices, choices. That mouth looks hungry for something, doesn’t it?” He presses his thumb into your clit harshly, making your body jerk at the sudden burst of electricity that surges through you. Sylus rubs it languidly, watching you shiver on his thigh, then he draws that hand away and brings it to his face. 

You watch, pupils dilated and mouth open as he lifts his thumb to his nose and inhales deeply. His eyes flutter shut, lips parting as he rubs the pad of his thumb on his tongue. Behind you, his other hand flexes, tightening his hold on your ass. 

“Mm,” he hums, slowly opening his eyes to look at you. “Delicious as always, sweetie. You’ve completely wet your panties.”

“Sylus,” you whine, pulling insistently at his belt. “Tell me what you want, or I’ll just do whatever I want to do.”

“How naughty. Thinking of breaking the rules of the bet this early?” His hand leaves your ass and you almost move to slide off, but there’s a sudden sharp sound and a stinging pain—your cheeks turn red at how that spank made your insides tighten up. “On your knees, dollface. Show me what that talented mouth of yours can do.” 

You go, the tips of your ears blushing when you see the blatant wet spot on his slacks your greedy pussy left on him.

==

Sylus uses your mouth like a fleshlight. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty, mouth open and wet, teeth hidden behind your lips as he holds your head in place and fucks into your mouth. Saliva pools in your mouth, your tongue numb from how loose you’re trying to keep your muscles. You just need to be there, fingers locked around Sylus’ ankles, knees spread on the ground and your arousal dripping on the floorboards—

“Good girl,” Sylus croons, head tilting back to expose the long line of his neck as his hips snap forward. “So fucking obedient for me, aren’t you? Tongue out, sweetie, let my cock slide right in—mmhmm, that’s right, you know what I like, don’t you?”

His fingers are tangled in your hair. There’s no gentleness in the way he holds you there—his grip on your hair is tight, your strands circling his fingers at least twice. He’d stroked your hair right at the beginning, when you were sliding to your knees and dragging the zipper of his pants down with your teeth. Then he’d wound your hair around four of his fingers once, twice, twisting his wrist, pulling sharply so you’d feel the strain at your scalp as you licked up the length of his cock. 

He’d told you to clean it up, so you did. You flattened your tongue along the thick line of his cock and you dragged it up, eyelashes fluttering as you traced the fat protruding vein under the head of his cock. You got his cock nice and slick, shiny from spit and precum. 

And now he’s fucking into your mouth, salty precum dripping down your throat as your cunt clenches around nothing. He grunts, a low punched-out sound that makes your clit throb. You’re the reason he looks so disheveled, sleeves rolled up messily to his elbows, slacks pulled open just enough for you to slip his cock out and suck on it—

The worst thing about Sylus, you think in a haze, the heavy weight of a fat cock in your mouth so all-encompassing that you don’t have many brain cells left for clear thought, is that he loves to talk. He can’t keep his fucking mouth shut, especially during sex. 

“Look at you,” he pants, voice gravelly from arousal. His thrusts are becoming more haphazard, losing the regularity from seconds ago. There’s a familiar stutter and his cock pulses on your tongue, the fat head going so far down your throat you almost seize up, but you hold it back. You can take it. You want to take it. “Do you want it in your throat or on your face?”

You make a noise, the sound muffled from Sylus’ cock. He laughs, a breathless sound, and the ache in your scalp intensifies. Oh, he’s close. 

“You’ll have to speak up, dollface.”

The whine that leaves your lips is louder this time, your fingers tightening around Sylus’ ankles. If your nails dig into the skin, leaving trails of scratch marks, all it does is make Sylus groan, hips jerking as he slams into your throat. 

“Hm, I can’t hear you,” he notes, eyes glinting as he looks down at you. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? You have to take whatever I give you, sweetie. Open that throat up for me, nice and pretty—ngh, fuck—”

You bare your teeth just enough to scrape the underside of Sylus’ cock. He’s not afraid to mix his pain with his pleasure, and the sting of teeth biting at his sensitive length while he fucks into your face is something he’s told you is addictive. You know he likes it. You know it makes him tremble, and you see it in his crimson eye when he hunches over, abdomen tightening as his cock twitches. 

“Close,” he growls through gritted teeth. “Suck on it, sweetie. You have to work for the reward you want. I don’t—haaah, fuck, I don’t give handouts.”

You obey, eyes closing instinctively as you suck on his cock. His cock is leaking badly, precum sliding down your throat. You swear you can feel the head of his cock all the way down, right to the base of your throat, right at your clavicle. It truly feels like he’s hitting it that deep, bruising the insides of your mouth and throat until you won’t be able to eat right or breathe right for days. 

You swallow desperately, throat working furiously around the head of his cock, that tight wet heat that drives him crazy, and he bites out a curse as his hips jerk forward, cock throbbing as come spills into your mouth. 

He doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking into your mouth, hips pumping as he slides his cock back and forth on your tongue. You suck at his cock, swallowing mouthful and mouthful of come down your throat. Your entire world narrows to a pinpoint, to the grounding weight of his pulsing cock on your tongue, the ache in your mouth, the sting of your scalp—there might be tears in your eyes, or sweat from overexertion, but your vision is blurry when you look up and watch Sylus watch you. 

Sylus watches you with hooded eyes, mouth open as he pants for air. His lips curve up when he sees you open your eyes, looking down at you with a pleased expression while he rides out the aftershocks in your wet mouth. 

“How obedient,” he says, breathing heavily as he lets one hand go and moves to stroke the side of your mouth with his thumb. He cups your jaw, wiping away a trail of spit from your lips, then reaches down to follow the outline of his cock in your throat. “Swallow.”

You swallow, and his eyes darken as your throat bobs around his cock. He must be able to feel it on both ends—his cock, trapped in that endless wet heat; his fingers, feeling the movement of your muscles under your skin, feeling his heartbeat in his cock through your throat. 

He continues fucking your mouth until the spurts of come finally taper off. Even then, he seems content to let his cock stay in your mouth, rubbing along the textured roof of your mouth and against the scrape of your teeth. 

Eventually, he pulls back. Sylus’ cock leaves your lips, inch by inch, until his back is against the counter again and only the tip of his cock is left in your mouth.

You can’t help it. Now that there’s more space, you move your tongue instinctively, curving it along the over-sensitive head of his cock and licking into the slit. 

Your eyes are trained carefully on Sylus’ face as you do this. He shudders, lips spreading in a smile even as his grip tightens in your hair. 

He gives you this look, half-lidded eyes and a lazy, satisfied smile as you mouth at his cock. 

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely, pulling your hair until your mouth slides off his cock. It bobs in front of you, still half-hard, and you risk your luck with lapping at the fat cockhead. 

Sylus stops you by yanking your head back even further. He pulls up, forcing you to your feet, then he unwinds his fingers and smooths your hair down. 

You pant lightly, trying to get your breathing under control. Your mouth feels like one big bruise, and you clear your throat before even attempting to speak. Your voice is going to sound completely fucked, you know, and some part of you revels in it. That you’ll walk around sounding like someone just brutalised your throat, because someone did. 

Sylus doesn’t do anything. He just stands there, the long line of his body stretching out before you as he drops one hand to cup your waist. You eye him, then eye the slowly growing stiffness of his cock—when you look back up, he has that familiar, smug challenging look on his face, like he wants to see what you’ll do next. 

Oh, you know what you want. You take his free hand and bring it under the rucked up hem of your dress. Your panties are sticky with arousal, and you’re certain you leaked enough fluid for his cock to slide in without any stretching, but you like fingers in your cunt. You like Sylus’ fingers in your cunt, specifically. 

Thick and callused fingers, broad enough that two of them feel like four of yours. You like the way they can hunt down that sensitive spot inside you with deadly precision, and you like the way he taps insistently at it like he’s pulling a trigger on a target. You like it when he crooks his fingers inside you and finger you stupid while his thumb flicks insistently at your clit. 

You even pull your drenched panties to the side so Sylus can slip his fingers in. You’re being so accommodating, so sweet and nice and obedient, all hopped up on endorphins from having a cock in your mouth and watching Sylus come—

He runs his index and middle finger through the seam of your pussy, gathering up your sticky wetness. He reaches up to pinch your clit, finding it with shocking accuracy even though his hand is hidden beneath your skirt, and you let out a surprised moan, your knees shaking from the pleasure that bursts inside you. You are going over the edge the moment he sinks those clever fingers inside you, you just know it.

But he draws his hand away. You’re so shocked that you let him do it, let him pull his hand away and bring it to his face again, almost an exact copy of what happened earlier. You watch, pussy clenching around nothing as he presses those two fingers together and pulls them apart, letting thin silvery strands of your arousal stretch in between the fingertips. 

Sylus rubs them together again, then puts those fingers in his mouth. He looks at you, holding your gaze as he sucks on them, throat visibly moving as he swallows. 

“Sweet,” he notes, nodding in approval. “A sample before the main course.”

You stare blankly at him. Your clit is throbbing, desperate for attention. “Sylus,” you demand, reaching for his hand again. “I want—”

“I know what you want.” His hand cups your exposed pussy. His palm is hot, heat radiating off his skin as he rubs slowly along your slick cunt. “But for the next twenty-four hours, you’re at my mercy.”

He slaps your pussy, so suddenly that it makes you yelp, both hands reaching out to grip his bicep in a bid to stabilise yourself. It stings, so pleasantly that it makes your clit tingle—you want more of it, more of everything and anything, as long as he makes you come. You’re so close it’s not even funny. One more slap could push you over the edge, as long as he does it hard enough and right across your twitching, swollen clit—

“Go take a shower,” Sylus suggests, eyes dark as he stares you down. “I’ll find you when I want to, dollface.”

“You—!” 

His smirk just makes the heat in your gut flare up. You want nothing more than to push him on his back and straddle that face, wipe that smile off with your cunt and force him to eat you out until you’re shaking from overstimulation and crying over his tongue. 

But a bet is a bet. And you respect the sanctity of a reward, even if it frustrates you to no end. 

“You are infuriating,” you hiss, and stalk off to find a change of clothes.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[uchizana]

CHORDS OF LOVE ──── yu jimin

synopsis: during an unexpected storm that traps you and karina, the talented guitarist of aespa, alone in the studio, she decides it’s time to stop hiding her heart. with the rest of the band away seeking dinner, the atmosphere crackles with the potential for confession. as the wind howls outside, will karina's brave revelation about her long-standing crush bring the two of you closer, or will fear of breaking the band’s sacred harmony send her heart spiraling into uncertainty?

pairing: rockstar!karina x bandmate!fem reader

warnings: kissing, none more that I know of

word count: 2.7k

— english isn't my first language so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.

aespa masterlist.

jimin lets out a sigh of frustration, letting the pen fall free from the grip of her fingers, landing on the worn leather of the notebook. the pages are overwhelmed with half-formed lyrics, doodles of hearts and stars, and errant thoughts. it’s all a chaotic testament to her inner turmoil, a reflection of the pressure she feels to deliver yet another brilliant album. she drops her body abruptly onto the swivel chair, causing her to squeal at the sudden force, a sound that slices through the silence of the studio.

what was going on? well, jimin was trying to write a song for the next album of the rock band she was in—the band you were also a part of, and not just a member, but the very heart of its musical identity. it was complicated enough that the last few weeks had seen her pacing frantically when she wasn’t teetering on the edge of frustration.

the impossible task looms larger every moment, each hollow space on the page amplifying her every doubt. twelve songs, twelve distinct messages, and she still has nothing but crossed out words and half-formed melodies that refuse to budge from the intricacies of her mind

“hey! you okay?” comes a voice from behind her.

it’s aeri, her sandy-blonde hair falling over her face as she leans against the door frame, followed closely by minjeong and yizhuo, both of whom wear playful smiles. they giggle like schoolgirls as they watch her theatrical outburst, a wave of warmth washing over jimin despite her frustration.

“what was that for?” yizhuo laughs, her eyes sparkling.

“just trying to summon some creativity over here,” jimin groans, throwing her head back dramatically.

just then, a deep rumble of thunder rolls through the air, pulling her from her reverie. she jumps slightly in her seat, feeling the giggles of her bandmates filter into the little bubble of her frustration. aeri, with her ever-gleeful spirit; minjeong, always the pragmatist; and yizhuo, who somehow always finds the light in the chaos. they share a laugh at her expense, teasing her about how a mere thunderclap was enough to shatter her precious concentration. the light-heartedness brings a slight grin to her face, easing the tight knot forming in her chest.

“jimin,” aeri says playfully, “you look like the world’s weight is on your shoulders. relax a little. we have plenty of time before we need to head into the studio to record anyway.” the sincerity in her voice softens the ribbing, a reminder to jimin that she doesn’t have to shoulder this burden alone.

the thunder doesn’t just signal a storm outside; it mirrors the tempest within her. “i swear, these lyrics are just not coming together,” she admits, the words creeping out reluctantly. they mean more than just her struggles with songwriting—they seep into her personal thoughts.

“we didn't realize we were dealing with a diva here!” yizhuo jumps in, her voice light and cheerful as she shimmies her thin jacket over her shoulders. “relax, jimin. you’re going to burn yourself out. we have time before any of it matters.”

jimin scowls playfully but the laughter helps buoy her spirits. “you’re all just lucky i didn’t throw something at you,” she retorts with mock irritation.

“seriously though, don’t stress too much,” aeri advises, her expression more earnest now. “we have plenty of time before recordings. you don’t want to wear yourself out before we even get to the fun part!”

they all know how much it means to her—the thrill of performing together, the rush of being in front of their fans, the electricity in the air during their concerts. but right now, it’s hard to remember that. right now, it’s just the empty pages and the untamed notes swirling in her mind.

as the three of them discuss dinner plans, jimin shifts her gaze back to her notebook. the messy letters seem to mock her. she stares at the crossed-out lines, the hints of torn pages—a chaotic representation of her tangled thoughts. then she hears the unmistakable sound of jackets being zipped up, and her heart beats faster.

“what are you doing?” jimin asks, a hint of desperation threading through her tone as her eyes dart between them.

"we’re going out for dinner! we can’t just live on snacks while we’re working in the studio," yizhuo said, rolling her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing.

“we’re off to grab something to eat. something good, and then we’ll come back and keep working,” aeri ads, and you can see the kindness shining in her eyes. “you need a break, jimin. fresh air and a good meal might be just what you need.”

jimin watches as they exchange conspiratorial glances. just then, her eyes drift across the room and land on you, nestled comfortably in the corner of the couch. you haven’t moved to grab your coat despite the playful teasing. you’re her bandmate, the composer who has been behind the production of all the band’s musical hits, and the group’s guitarist—a presence that sends both comfort and confusion coursing through her.

your brow is furrowed slightly as you focus on your guitar. the twilight light reflects in your eyes, making it impossible for jimin to ignore the way her heart leaps just at the sight of you. there is something captivating, magnetic, in the way you lose yourself in the music, translating emotions into notes as you’ve always done.

and that’s the problem. over time, that admiration has turned into something else—something more profound. a crush that runs deeper than a passing fling or a drunken kiss. it’s the kind of affection that makes her chest ache when you smile, the kind that sets her pulse racing whenever you laugh.

“hey, you coming with us?” minjeong asks, breaking her reverie.

you look up from your guitar, a faint smile revealing a tenderness that tugs at jimin’s heartstrings. “i’ve got a few more things to work on, so I’ll stay here for now,” you say, your voice low and soothing.

jimin feels a rush of disappointment. she wants to invite you to join them, to share a meal and a moment outside this studio bubble that has kept them all locked in a creative frenzy.

“are you sure?” she asks, an urge swallowing her hesitation. “we could really use more brains. i mean, the sky might just help us to stir some creativity, right? plus, i’ve decided to try a new place that serves the best pasta in town!”

you chuckle softly, a sound she could listen to forever. “pasta sounds good, but i really need to sort out these lyrics before i can think of anything else.” your eyes dart back to the guitar strings in a way that makes her want to scream in frustration.

she watches you for a moment, the weight of her feelings hovering between them. the unspoken connection thickens in the air, but it’s the fog of uncertainty that keeps her immobile. how would you react if she confessed that her admiration had blossomed into something stronger? that every fleeting touch during practice ignited sparks that lingered for far too long?

“alright then, we’ll be back soon,” aeri interjects, clapping her hands together. “when we come back, you better be done with that song, or i’ll be taking that guitar from you!”

as the door swings shut behind them, silence envelops the room, leaving you alone with the sound of the rain trickling against the window, the storm still raging outside.

and then—there it is—this longing that has previously felt muted begins to pulse stronger. jimin's focus on her songs often distracts her from what lies just beneath the surface, a connection built on years of shared laughter, tears, and unspoken words. watching her struggle, you decide to take a risk, to bridge the gap widening between you both.

you rise from the couch, guitar in hand, and move toward her desk. the sight of the crumpled notes makes your heart ache for her, knowing she isn’t just creating music; she’s trying to carve out her place in the world.

jimin rubs her forehead and sighs, an audible sound of frustration escaping her lips. the tension in the room grows thicker; the air feels electric, charged with unspoken words and lingering glances.

“can't seem to get the right words out,” she mutters, her pen tapping against the page in irritation. you’ve been cooped up in this studio all afternoon, trying to piece together something worthwhile for the next album, but every sentence that flows from her pen seems to vanish into the void of her mind.

“ugh, i can’t think of anything!” she finally exclaims, tossing the pencil aside in frustration. it clatters to the floor, breaking the spell of quiet. leaning back on the chair, she tilts her head, exposing her delicate neck. the curve of her jaw catches the light just so, and for a moment, you forget about the music.

“why not try writing something about desire?” you suggest, your voice steady despite the flutter that ignites in your chest. it’s an idea that’s been bubbling in your mind since the last time you two shared that knowing glance, that electric chemistry lurking just under the surface. “you know, something forbidden?”

“desire…” she repeats, rolling the word across her tongue like a sweet melody. “that could be something.”

you nod, emboldened by the thought of igniting that spark. “yeah. something raw, something real—like secrets we keep or...”

“or that lingering touch we dare not explore?” jimin finishes for you, her gaze piercing through the dim light. there's a challenging tone in her voice, teasing and serious all at once, stirring something primal inside you.

“exactly,” you say, your heart pounding in rhythm with the notes you play. the tempo quickens, matching the beat of your thoughts. you’re both living in a world of unspoken possibilities, and suddenly, it feels like the walls of the studio are closing in, trapping you in this moment.

you set your guitar aside, the faint sound of strings vibrating mingling with the quietness of the room. the soft sound echoes like a heartbeat between you, creating a momentary pause where the world outside fades away.

“what do you know about desire?” she challenges playfully, a teasing smile breaking her earlier frustration. it’s a question that feels loaded as your chest tightens; you’ve known her long enough to recognize the weight behind her words. you can tell she’s not merely asking about the general concept.

“oh, i know a thing or two,” you reply, forcing a chuckle, though the truth is that you’re acutely aware of your own frustrations—of the yearning that’s been building each time you share a moment with her. each chord you strum, every late-night practice, has only made you more aware of how intoxicating she is, how your affection for her swells when you least expect it.

“like what?” she asks, leaning back the chair, her body subconsciously inching closer as if drawn to you. the light dimming, stripping away the outside world, leaves only the two of you.

you shrug, trying to mask the magnetic pull you feel toward her. “desire is…” you start, and the words spill forth unbidden. “it’s wanting something that feels out of reach, something you can’t have. it stirs up excitement and fear all at once.”

you take a breath and lean forward, resting the guitar on your knee, your fingers practically itching for more than just strings. “what if we wrote a song about—” you hesitate, the weight of your words anchoring the air around you, “—about the tension between... two people who want more than what they’re allowed to have?”

jimin's eyes shine with a spark that mirrors your own feelings. “you mean like us?” her voice is barely above a whisper, the question hanging uncomfortably yet intoxicatingly between you.

a pulse of vulnerability courses through your veins, and you search her face for signs, for permission, for something you hope desperately isn’t just a figment of your imagination. “maybe,” you manage, your throat dry as sand.

with a slight tilt of her head, jimin's expression morphs, shifting from playful to something softer, more sincere. “what if...” she trails off, glancing down at her notebook, biting her lip. “what if we expressed that desire? what if we were brave enough to put it into words?”

the silence stretches, thick with anticipation. you both know the unvoiced truth as well as you know every chord on your guitar. you’re no longer just bandmates; you’re two souls on the precipice of deeper connection, caught between friendship and something intoxicatingly new, dangerously thrilling.

“then we should be brave,” you say softly, inching closer on the carpet. the air thickens, charged with an energy you can almost taste. “just like the music we create.”

the silence that follows is charged, both of you holding your breath while the world spins outside your bubble. you can’t help but notice how her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a magnetic pull mirrored in your own gaze as you take in every feature that makes her jimin—her tousled hair, the glint of determination in her eyes, those lips that seem to provoke a longing you didn’t know was possible.

you lean forward instinctively, drawn like gravity. “what if we…” you murmur, but you don’t quite finish the sentence. instead, your heart races ahead of your mind, and you find yourself inching closer, the distance collapsing between you.

just then, jimin's breath quickens; she takes a sharp inhale that slices through the electrically charged atmosphere. her eyes widen a fraction, and in her gaze, you see an invitation strung between confusion and that intoxicating desire.

slowly, jimin leans forward, eyes locking onto yours. there’s a shift in the atmosphere, an understanding that dances in the silence—an unbreakable thread tethering you to this moment. and then, in a heartbeat, the distance collapses.

your lips meet, tentative and ignited by the electricity pulsing between you. the kiss is soft at first, exploratory, as if you are both testing the waters of this new territory. it’s warm and lingering, sending shockwaves through your body. there’s a hunger, a desperate need to explore the intimacy that’s always been lurking beneath the surface of your friendship.

as you deepen the kiss, time seems to lose all meaning. the world outside the studio fades away; it’s just you and jimin—everything you’ve ever wanted. every secret glance shared during practice, every lingering touch of fingers in an accidental brush, all the pent-up emotions spill over. her hands find their way to your hair as yours cradle her face, and the kiss transforms, blooming into something fierce and intoxicating.

the kiss feels forbidden, electric—a culmination of all the moments you’ve shared, the chemistry that had always clouded your interactions. everything that had remained unspoken now dances into the open, painting the walls of the studio with a vivid hue of realization.

moments stretch into infinity, lost in the rhythm of each other’s breathing and the distant echo of the life outside the studio. when you finally pull away, foreheads resting together, both of you are breathless, hearts racing as you hold onto this fragile moment of truth.

“wow,” she breathes, laughter bubbling at the edges of her words. there’s a mix of disbelief and wonder in her gaze, and you can’t help but smile.

“i guess that’s one way to write a song about desire,” you murmur, teasing as you catch your breath.

jimin chuckles, her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the weight of the world falls away, leaving only lightness and possibility. “let’s make it a good one then,” she agrees, eyes sparkling, and you both know that this is just the beginning.

as you sink back into the rhythm ,,,,,,,of creativity, the lines of your collaboration shift and blend. this time, though, it’s filled with a beautiful new tension, a music born from uncharted desires that will carry you through the creation of a masterpiece—together. and maybe, just maybe, what started in this studio would reverberate far beyond the notes, echoing through the very hearts of your songs to come.

[celestialprincesse]

If you’re still taking fluffy Simon requests… I cannot stop imagining Simon who is your biggest protector. As someone who gets stressed and anxious easily, and the thought of being able to let your guard down around him makes my heart flutter 💕 also, telling him this while you’re wrapped in his strong arms would definitely make him blush.

He's definitely so so happy if his partner feels safe to just shut their brain off around him🤭 Makes him feel like he's done something right💕

The moment you and Simon are at home with one another, you're able to check out into that quiet, peaceful, fuzzy spot in the back of your mind where everything is gentle and easy. You know he'll be there to look after you. A hand on the corner of the table when you drop something to make sure you don't hit your head, your phone put on charge when you drift off, a gentle hand guiding you through crowds.

"Still with me, hm?" You're snapped from your daze with a gentle hand brushing an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

The minute you shimmy over to sit beside him, Simon opens his arms to bundle you into his strong side, nestling your head under his chin. Calloused fingers card absently through your hair, slowing to match the pace of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest against his.

Whatever plays on the TV, some documentary, is completely forgotten as you sit blanketed by his ever comforting presence and the soft haze that fills your brain. He's perfectly happy to let you check out, dropping the occasional kiss to the crown of your head, reminding you he's there, fingers drawing patterns up and down your spine as he watches his show.

If you could spend every evening like this, you'd be happy. Happy to sit in the peace and quiet that only comes from being surrounded by love and safety. Happy to get lost in your thoughts alongside someone ready to pull you back if you ever drift too far. Happy to just be, without any pretences or awkward small talk. Happy to have found someone who lets you have that.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Cycling through the love languages

G/N. Self-indulgent af. Goo has a realisation about you.

Goo knows for a fact you like him.

Who wouldn't? Who doesn't?

Maybe Gun and Charles Choi actually, and he knows he pisses Kouji and Crystal off something bad. The majority of the crews too. And that sour faced woman from the cafe this morning. There was also the guy who yelled obscenities and flipped him off for driving erratically.

Ah whatever. He casts aside his growing list of enemies with a wave of the wrist and an adjustment of his glasses.

Point is, you like him. You. The only one that matters.

Why you can't admit it to yourself or to him, he can't understand.

...Nevermind the fact that it's only recently that he has admitted to himself that he likes you. After one too many knowing looks from Kouji, and then another too many drinks the other night when Gun remained stone faced and Crystal couldn't stop rolling her eyes as Goo started gushing. Tongue loosening and desires spoken and spilling over into reality.

The realisation wasn't so much a shock to the system, as a comforting hug. Like yes, finally. 

His weird little daydreams, his growing apathy towards fighting and work, or really anything that excludes you. The way you said you liked his suit the other month and he walked with a spring in his step all morning and afternoon and evening and night, and has worn that suit damn nearly every day since.

It all makes sense.

So yes. Fine. He likes you. A lot. 

Sometimes the thought of seeing you makes him feel giddy with excitement. Other times the thought of replacing his first love, good old dependable cash, with you makes him feel sick and he breaks out into a cold sweat.

Here’s the thing though: Goo likes calculated risk. He likes the thrill of the chase.

He-

Likes-

You.

And if you want him to be the one that chases and pursues you then ok. He will. Challenge accepted.

.

.

Let's do this the easy way. Flirting.

It might have been more successful if he wasn't so flirty and playful anyway. Curse him and his charismatic ways.

(Or so he tells himself.)

You don't find him too different from usual, all things considered. Maybe more of a nuisance, buzzing around you like an errant fly.  His smile is greasier, words honey sweet. He leers at you. Waggles his eyebrows like you're in on a joke together.

Dear heavens, you think he also winks at you too. When you frown at that, he just clicks his tongue in annoyance and says there's something in his eye.

You think that's a lie. In fact, you know it is. His eye is completely fine but he is moody and pouty for hours after.

.

.

No, the wink didn't work. The flirting can't really be counted as a success. Nevertheless, his flirting doesn't stop at syrupy words, Goo is touchier too.

He's a touchy person by nature, especially in the right situation and with the right person. Whatever is needed to twist a situation to his advantage. A chin rested on your shoulder, casual arm thrown around your waist. A playful shove, footsie under the table that is more rough and malicious, aiming to hurt, than cute and teasing.

But he's close, closer than ever. Banter muttered into your ear, breath prickling your skin.

Every moment is just a new opportunity to touch you. Your hand, your shoulder, hip, lower back.

You never minded before, you gotten used to his touches surprisingly quickly except now-

The caresses and contact poorly hide a yearning. There's a different intent. It's purposeful and calculated. This doesn't escape your notice.

Goo also doesn't miss the heat that rises to your cheeks. The pretty pink flush when he pulls you near. The hitch of your breath.

Ah. There it is.

Success at last.

.

.

Sadly for him, success doesn't last long. You get used to his wily ways quick enough, you always do.

And it doesn't have the profound effect on you that Goo initially anticipated. He thought that might lead to a confession of sorts from yourself, and even you both skipping into the sunset together.

Neither happens. You stay as cutely tight lipped as ever.

Well if he can't worm his way into your heart with his A game and progress whatever this is you both have going on-

(Which is frankly a little insulting to think about. Goo would like you to know that some people have taken one look, one!, at his hot self and thrown themselves to his feet.)

-Then he can just buy your love.

In Goo's world, in this world, there is nothing that money can't solve. Luckily, Goo has lots of it.

He starts small.

Your reaction when he gave you a bouquet of flowers was rather sweet. He takes note of the way your face softens, how your eyes crinkle when you smile, the shape of your lips as you’re surprised with his gesture.

 If Goo was the sappy sort, he would say that it felt like his heart skipped a beat.

Turns out that he is the sappy sort, and he talked Crystal's ear off about it until she kicked him out of her office and slammed the door in his face.

Next, the jewellery you seemed taken aback by. A few pieces you looked at in distaste despite the size of the gemstones, had the audacity to say they're garish and inconvenient. 

“It’s too much,” you tell him. “Take them back. Return them. Please.”

You left all but one: a simple ring with a plain design.

The affront that Goo felt only lasted for a night at your rejection, dissipating the moment he saw the ring on your finger the next day, shining brightly in the sun. Enough to rival the smile that crept over his face.

.

.

Turns out that the car dealership was a step too far though, a step too ill thought out. The gifts gradually got bigger and grander until one weekend afternoon, you were looking around at brand new vehicles with Goo.

"This is by appointment only," he doesn't hesitate to brag. "It's exclusive. They managed to fit me 'cos I'm kinda a big deal."

You hum in response, your usual go to reply when Goo is feeling particularly full of himself and you’re half listening.

"What do you think of this one, sweetheart?" he asks, steering you towards the most expensive vehicle in the showroom, with more horsepower or torque or whatever it is enthusiasts talk about.

A sleek and shiny sports car that you know for a fact costs more than you will ever make in a year. All chrome and aerodynamic lines, that screams I have money and the biggest dick around here (or tiniest, depending on who you ask and whether you think they're trying to overcompensate).

You take one look at Goo, eyes dropping to his crotch and feel your body flushing. You quickly try to shake those obscene thoughts from your head.

"Um," you clear your throat, which has mysteriously dried up at the last second, "It's nice I guess? Bit much though." You poke your head through the window, admiring the top of the range features and the smell of fresh leather. Goo is nothing if not in your face, and this car certainly fits his vibe.

"Nothing is too much for you!" his voice floats over your shoulder, and you whip your head to stare at him.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"What do you mean?"

"It's on me, cupcake! For you." He throws his arm around your shoulder, a touch of sincerity under his usual viper grin.

Huh. Not only is this excessive-

"My apartment doesn't have any parking," You state, and Goo starts calculating if he likes you enough to buy you a new apartment also and unfortunately the drop in his bank balance still doesn't outweigh his feelings for you. Whether you will accept is the question but he can work on that.

All thoughts are derailed though with your next words-

"I can't drive. I don't have my licence. And the thought of navigating Seoul traffic," you grimace at the idea, "Nightmare. Not for me. No thanks."

Oh. For fuck's sake. There goes the idea to buy your love with gifts. Most people would say thank you with a smile and go to at least sell the car but of course you would rebuff him. He’s been letting you take advantage of his bank balance, his hard earned money, and of course you’re too good to him to do that.

‘So this entire day was a complete waste of time,’ Goo thinks sourly hours later, meandering the streets side by side with you, spending the rest of your afternoon together. Until-

"Oh my god I love these!" You exclaim, taking a bite out of the hotteok. Fresh off the grill from the street vendor, paid for by your companion. Out of everything he has given, or tried to give you - you're the happiest with the cheap street food. "You're the best!" you tell him between mouthfuls.

Goo doesn't stop his chest from puffing out at that comment. Those words elevating today from being deemed a waste to... fun.

And actually, a little sweet.

.

.

If he can't win you over completely with gifts, then he will show you how irreplaceable he is.

Over the next week, Goo is at your beck and call. His clinginess taken to whole new levels. He's at your home more often than not, by your side almost every moment of the day.

"Don't you have work?" You ask when he's glued to your side one morning.

"You're more important, sweetheart," he says, words off the cuff and surface level.

It's only hours later, when he has reluctantly peeled himself away to finish a task with Gun, he realises that it's not entirely inaccurate.

Free time is spent driving you from A-to-B. Heavens forbid you are forced to use public transport (Goo shudders at this thought) and since you hate Seoul traffic, he might as well keep you company.

He's on his most gentlemanly best behaviour. 

Holding doors open, draping his jacket over you if so much as a gentle breeze is around. Hand-made meals, lunches and extravagant dinners. Even chores.

"Do you live here now?" You ask, padding out to your kitchen. Half asleep, hair in disarray to Goo humming and washing your dishes.

He smiles, sly and snake-like, "Are you asking?"

With a yawn, you burst his bubble, "Nope."

Goddamnit. Not even trying to be the best househusband seems to be working. What will it take for you to confess that you like him? He's getting sick of this song and dance.

He scrubs with a huff at a particular stubborn stain on a pan. Stupid pan and stupid chores and stupid househusbandry.

Ugh. What pisses him off most of all is: he thinks he can get used to this. 

Being around you all the time, taking care of you. Not even you in your ratty old sleepwear, with threadbare knees and oversized t-shirt dims how he feels about you.

.

.

Goo isn't an idiot, despite what Gun might say.

He possesses frightening intelligence even if sometimes his common sense is nowhere to be seen.

You like him, he knows this. He likes you, he also knows this. 

Then why on earth can't he bring himself to tell you? Is it that expressing it is a vulnerability he's not used to having on display? That despite everything, speaking it into existence means that he's offering you himself and there is always a chance of rejection?

If Goo was more mentally balanced and less self absorbed, maybe he would dwell on these doubts and feelings. Be introspective for the first time ever. 

He is not.

Instead he feels overwhelming indignation that it has come to this, that nothing has had the desired effect, and most importantly it's all your fault.

He puts all his energy into storming his way over to your home, wanting everything and everyone around him to be also darkened by his mood.  Makes sure his displeasure is felt through the way he stomps, how he slams his car door, how he blasts through traffic lights. Buzzing himself into your apartment building with vehemence, pounding on your front door until he hears your exasperation from somewhere inside.

"Hold on Goo! What the hell!"

The door is yanked open. For a brief moment Goo sees your annoyed expression, before he too is yanked inside.

"What is your problem?" Each word is punctuated with a jab in his chest.

Goo refrains from devolving into a tantrum. Realises that he already seems unhinged enough and doesn't want this conversation to get any worse. 

Taking a deep breath, he grabs hold of that jabby finger (noting with amusement that other people's fingers he has broken for much less), adorned with a familiar ring, pulls your hand into his and strokes over your knuckles once, twice, three times.

He is absolutely not buying time. But really, why has it come to this: sincerity and honesty. How unseemly. This is so not him that even the idea of it sends shivers down his spine.

Whatever. With one last breath he forces out any trepidation and regains his usual composure. The one that is all confidence and captivating and can talk circles around anyone anyday.

"Y/N,” he purrs, "I like you and you like me."

You open your mouth to say something but he presses on. "It's obvious. I'm not stupid.”  Goo points to his glasses, “I have eyes. I can see how you are around me, cupcake. And it's painfully obvious that I like you too." He allows himself an irritable sigh at this.

"Honestly I'm the one that gets courted. I'm a catch. People chase after me," he mutters to himself. "And yet look at me now."  Huffing at himself for his behaviour, he turns back to you. "Why don’t we see how this-" signalling between you and him, "-goes, hmm? 

"Wait," you take a step back from his presumptiveness.

Which isn't wrong, per se. In fact, he is completely spot on. Goo is an objectively attractive guy, you would be blind not to realise it (or have questionable taste). Sure his personality offsets his looks, because good god it can be grating as hell, but even with all his flaws he has wormed himself into your heart and into your life too.

You flitter somewhere between friends and more. Friends, with this odd, prickly, scheming creature is a miracle in itself. You’re not sure why this red flag shines green with you but he does. You don't know how you balance each other but you do. You don't know how it works but it does. 

Moving this to something more though, it scares you. Especially if he's as blasé and unserious about this as he is with most things in his life that don't revolve around money.

"Goo..." You try to phrase this delicately. "Your relationships or encounters or whatever you want to call them don't end well." He gasps at your words. "I don't want to start up some casual whatever with you for you to then change your mind. It could really mess things up between us."

"Casual?" He scoffs, dismissing your concerns with a wave of his hand,  "I've been 100% from the start. You should know I'm all in, sweetheart."

Your breath hitches. This wasn't what you meant. This wasn't what you were asking but he answers your doubts anyway.

"I'm all in on this," he repeats, crossing his heart mockingly though there is no disguising the earnestness in his words; how his actions over the last weeks and months have shown you that he's serious.

Still. You want to double-check.

"...Are you sure?"

"Y/N. Sweetheart." he places your own hand over his heart, "I've never been more sure of anything."

His glasses catch the light. Flashing mischievously and wickedly like it always does yet you can't see any ill intent. There's no hesitancy in his conviction.

"We fit, don't we?" Goo smiles, sensing your apprehension wavering and crumbling.

You can't deny that you do.

"Yes," is your simple reply. You peer at him from below your lashes and find him looking at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Still pressed against his heart, Goo moves your hand up to his lips. A playful grin that is full of promises spreads across his face. His eyes don’t leave yours as he seals it all, marks it official, with a kiss.

[aayakashii]

It seems I haven't quite had my fill of cuteness. So I humbly ask for part 4 of the plushie series with Luca, Ritsu, Zenji, Tohma, and Rui.

It's ok if you don't want to also

The most requested thing!! hehehe |ू´꒳`) I'm really happy you guys like the plushie headcanons, and thanks to the anon who originally requested it a few months ago too!!

Part 1, part 2, part 3

How Tokyo Debunker boys react after receiving a cute little plushie from MC – Luca, Ritsu, Zenji, Tohma, Rui, Ed and Lyca

Lucas Errant – husky plushie

Extremely happy that he is receiving such a thoughtful gift from you!

He never truly allowed himself to play with toys because of his studies, and then came the guilt of losing his brother… Letting himself relax like that barely ever crossed his mind.

So he doesn't really know what to do???

He just perches the cute plushie on his desk and politely greets it whenever he leaves his room and gets back.

He's a bit confused, but he's got the spirit!

Since the husky is always on his desk, it kinda becomes his study buddy really quick too.

Luca ends up reciting his notes to it and reading his books out loud, so it helps him get even better grades (if that's even possible).

He notices this and IMMEDIATELY goes to thank you.

He is 100% sure that you had this crazy elaborate plan to make him get better grades, which is why you made the plushie for him.

Now he’s asking you to maybe make one for Kaito so he stops going to so many remedial classes…

Because he’s denser than a (quickly researches what is the densest rock in the world) peridotite

And doesn’t realize that you gave him a handmade gift because you LIKE him........

He’ll have to ask someone for help after you get upset with him because of this.

Because the husky plushie definitely doesn’t know either and, for some reason, Kaito just refuses to help him!

Cut him some slack… he’s just dense. Like a peridotite.

Shinjo Ritsu – otter plushie

"For me?"

"Yes."

"I believe you are aware that a gift, in the law of property, is the voluntary and immediate transfer of property from one person to another and in order for the it to be legally effective it has to have donative intent, the delivery of the gift to the donee, and the acceptance of the gift."

“Okay...?”

“Therefore I accept the gift.”

“Cool…”

Congratulations, you have just given Ritsu his first official associate.

Or at least this is what he says to himself in his mind.

He was trained to become a lawyer since he was a little kid, so he never thought about playing with toys that much (and his father didn’t push him to do so as well).

But he gotta admit, having a handmade plushie, something his partner (as in business partner! Don’t get him wrong!) made for him exclusively does bring a feeling of joy he never quite felt before.

If anyone so much as THINK about touching his gift, he will be ready to recite the entire constitution, and every single law they broke, AND declare how many years they’ll get in prison just for touching his little otter friend.

He takes things such as private property very seriously after all.

He won’t take the plushie everywhere with him (what about safety?), but he does keep it right next to him in bed when he’s reviewing all the records he made throughout the day.

For a second, he wonders if he could sneak a camera into a plushie and give it to you, but oh no, that would be an invasion of privacy!

Or at least only until he finds a loophole in the law.

Kotodama Zenji – koi plushie

"My dear!!! Oh you truly are the most lovely flower to ever grace this earth! If my heart could still beat, it would be racing for you!!"

You managed to steal a little beaded bracelet artifact, something weak (or at least you hope so), and tied it on the plushie's tail.

And your theory was successful! Zenji could actually touch it, just like he could carry his doll due to its anomalous properties.

To say he’s absolutely SMITTEN with the plushie is an understatement.

He loves anything artistic and knowing that you spent your precious time creating that cute plushie for him makes him so so happy!

WILL carry it everywhere and write ballads about the koi. And poems. And he will read every single myth involving kois and post them on his youtube channel as well (please like and subscribe... PLEASE...)

Haku has the time of his life laughing at Zenji, because now he carries his doll, his biwa AND his plushie everywhere.

If you keep giving him gifts, he might actually need a whole cart to carry everything around him.

The little koi and the doll become his most loyal fans, and his company during nighttime, when everyone’s asleep.

If you see a koi plushie outside your window, don’t freak out. It’s just Zenji watching you sleep again.

He has the habit of calling the doll "his brother" and now he’s gonna call the koi plushie "his dearest".

The two people he cares about the most, right there in his arms: Jiro and you.

Ishibashi Tohma – orca plushie

"Oh? I wonder what made you think I am fit for receiving such an adorable little gift."

Tohma… does not know what to do with the gift you just gave him.

Don’t get him wrong, he appreciates it! Truly. He is mesmerized by the fact that you made a whole orca plushie with your own hands.

But he also doesn’t see how someone as intimidating as him deserves such an adorable gift.

Maybe all those months serving someone else with little appreciation made him forget how it feels to be pampered…

He places the plushie in the vault, right on his desk, and it becomes his companion when he needs to go through paperwork.

Tohma tried giving it a hug once and he got so damn sleepy RIGHT AWAY that now he just pats its head whenever he needs to take a break.

That little thing is dangerous, making him feel so comfortable… He can’t sleep, he’s a busy man! A little headpat to acknowledge the plushie will have to suffice.

However, he still hasn’t tried taking the plushie to his room yet.

He’s quite worried that his sleep will just be filled with dreams about you.

And oh dear... it'd be way too tough to wake up from something pleasant like that.

Mizuki Rui – black bunny plushie

You torture him, being so cute!

A plushie? For him? A black bunny you made with your own hands?!

He wishes he could squish you to death, but that could become quite literal if he actually touched you.

So instead, he squeezes the hell out of the bunny.

Absolutely loves the gift and takes it EVERYWHERE with him.

It basically becomes his bar’s little mascot.

He kisses the bunny’s cheeks every single time he lays his eyes on it. There’s a good morning kiss, a good afternoon kiss, a good evening kiss, plenty of see you later kisses… (he just wishes he was actually kissing you).

Rui will definitely get little accessories for the bunny and maybe even get matching ones for you.

He will also name it some variation of your name and refer to it during conversations as if he was talking about an actual living being.

Lyca and Ed are forced to acknowledge the bunny as their new dorm mate, but won’t let Rui get the bunny its own room because that would be too much!!

Oh, Rui will also buy a bottle of your perfume to spray on the plushie so when he hugs it, it smells like you

What? No, of course that’s not creepy at all, silly! He just loves everything about you, including your perfume!

Edward Hart – ram plushie

Oya, look at what his lovely human brought to him. And you made it yourself? Wonderful.

He has watched plenty of DIY tutorials on youtube, but was always too lazy to go through with them.

Now that he knows you’re skillful with your hands, though? Expect plenty of requests. Maybe do a little bat for him next, what do you think?

The little ram probably becomes the only clean thing in his room, despite Ed holding it all the time when he’s bedrotting.

(That’s because Rui cleans it frequently. He doesn’t want you to think your gift went underappreciated)

And when I say constantly, I mean CONSTANTLY.

Something cute and comfy to hold while he rewatches that 10 hour conspiracy iceberg video for the 5th time? That is exactly what he needs.

He will try to take pictures of the ram watching videos with him for you, but it will be terribly unfocused.

You appreciate the thought despite that!

You don’t appreciate the message he sent though...

"Hello My Dear 😘❗️I Just Had To Show You This 📷❗️Look At How My New Little Friend 🐏 Is Watching Youtube 💻 With Me 🦇❤️ He Just Absolutely Loves ❤️ To Watch ✨️ Conspiracy Videos✨️ With Me 🦇 I Tried Inviting Lyca🐺 Too But He Won’t Reply To My Messages ✉️🚫😢 I Wonder Why 🤔❓️ Please Come Visit Me Anytime 👋🏰🥀 We’d Love To Watch Things With You👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨😘💋"

Lyca Colt – wolf plushie

“What's this?”

“It's a gift for you. I made it.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Um... nothing. You can cuddle it when you sleep, I guess?”

“Hmpft! I'm not a child, I don't need to cuddle things!!”

Don't worry, he thanks you properly after Rui scolds him and tells him to express gratitude when he gets gifts.

He is a little bit rough with it at first, since he never had a toy before, but he quickly gets extremely possessive of it and starts treating the plushie with a lot more care.

He WILL growl and bite if someone tries to take it from him.

Lyca kind of acts like a big brother to his wolf plushie, taking him to his favorite spots and explaining the things he learned to it (he needs to practice after all!)

The plushie becomes a nice reminder of you. Whenever he thinks about doing something he shouldn’t, he looks at the wolf’s beady eyes and thinks of yours as well.

Who would’ve thought this would be such a sure-fire way to make him behave a bit more.

Rui, however, is absolutely exasperated because he just knows that plushie will be another thing that will desperately need washing SOON and Lyca just won’t let him clean it.

Lyca eventually wraps his plushie in his stinky baby blanket (much to Rui’s despair) and cuddles with it to sleep every night.

His dreams become all about you, so don’t worry in case he has a little bit of a hard time looking at you the next day (and a little blush on his cheeks). It’s a little hard to explain!

Full masterlist

[underprivilegedcactus]

Do you know how feral Gale would be for any of us?

We are literally, canonically made from stardust.

Could you imagine how he'd react the moment he found out?

Imagine if we, civilians that most of us are, got our asses killed on the field of battle and the party dragged you back to Withers in a desperate attempt to ressurect us (cuz in my head I doubt regular scrolls would work somehow) and Withers says something off-hand as he takes their gold like "It is harder to bring back errant stardust, but it can be done..." and everyone else just takes it as Withers Being Weird again, but Gale just cocks his head to the side puzzling it over.

You wake up gasping and freaking out because oh my God you literally died and came back and Gale is just like "I'm so glad you're back anyways Withers said-" and he explains it and asks if that means anything.

And you, not thinking much of it cuz you're thinking of more important things, explain that the basic building blocks of life on Earth such as iron, carbon, and calcium, all of them vital and present within yourself right now, were created inside stars as they aged and when the stars died they exploded, scattering those elements across space which allowed for life to emerge on Earth.

And again you might not think it's a big deal cuz like, we been knew about this for a while, but when you look at Gale again his jaw is on the floor because holy shit he's literally speaking to sentient stardust right now and can he take a sample or use some magic to get some kind of reading on you and you're just like "Sure?"

And now a regular part of your day is just having this guy do benign experiments on you and him asking a million more questions than before because lets face it you're from another universe and he already had a ton of questions but this is different and now you'll never be able to shake this guy even if you wanted to---

I just have a lot of thoughts about this guys

Also imagine telling him that matter and energy can neither be created nor destroyed in your universe so ergo every part of you is as old as your universe.

[cactusdrinkstea]

─ ‧ ִ ۫✭ Heart on his hand

Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

Summary: You studied with Riddle and decided to draw a heart on the back of his hand.

Word count: 1009

══════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

It was another quiet studying session. Exams were coming soon and Riddle had to study to get the best grades possible. Anything below perfection would be a disgrace to him. He had started to be more gentle on himself and took breaks once in a while, but his focus was always set on perfect academic results. 

He usually studied on his own, but when you had asked him to do a study session together he didn't say no. Usually he didn't mind. He was used to giving help to others, although many couldn't withstand his tough studying regime. Many would already be done with him. It was thanks to you that he had tried to be more flexible with his studying plans. At first he was very strict and had to follow a specific schedule and amount of subjects, but when he started to notice the tired look on your face or hearing those soft yawns he realized maybe he had chosen the wrong approach. Thanks to that, now he saw actual progress in your grades. 

He knew he relished studying with you more than he would admit out loud. Sure, if he was asked about it he would say this was just a small favor for the sake of studying. After all, what kind of prefect had bad grades? He couldn't allow it. 

But if he had to be honest, he would say that he liked to spend time with you. These quiet moments without your chaotic duo of friends, or without that cat. Just the two of you in a quiet setting with the right flavor of tea at the right time. That was utter bliss. Not a singular noise aside from the occasional question. He loved it. Riddle knew it wasn't the most efficient way of studying, because more often than not, he was staring at you. Looking at your eyes and how sometimes your brows furrowed when you didn't understand something, or how your leg would bounce under the table occasionally, which he usually would find annoying on others but on you it was surprisingly endearing. 

Whenever he noticed he was starting to get distracted, he had to snap out of it and return his focus to his history notes. At this rate he would forget anything he read if he kept thinking about that errant hair strand of yours that he itched to fix with his own hands. Riddle’s focus went back to the papers, he was good at focusing and this was a piece of cake, nothing he couldn't handle. 

Perhaps he had focused too much on his notes, because by the time he felt something on the back of his hand, it was already too late. There was a heart, painted with black ink.

“What did you just do?” Riddle inquired, eyes squinting in displeasure at the sight of a small doodle on his skin. 

“It's a heart. You were so focused on your notes you didn't even feel me peel your glove” You replied with a grin on your face. 

How could he be so careless? He didn't even feel the ink with how focused his eyes were on the paper. Riddle didn't look pleased, having drawings on someone's body was extremely distasteful and inappropriate. 

“I don't recall giving you permission for such a childish thing” Riddle said, his eyes returning to the notes on his desk. 

“I thought you would like it, hearts are your thing aren't they? Sorry, I won't do it next time” You sheepishly apologized and went back to read. 

“It's fine. I won't collar you for this, I am not that savage. Just try to ask next time” He gently scolded you trying not to sound too harsh. It wasn't a terrible thing, of course he wasn't going to get mad. He also had his gloves. It would only take pulling them up to hide the silly heart doodle. 

The rest of the evening was uneventful and the studying session ended not so long after. You thanked him and left. Riddle went back to his usual schedule but his mind was elsewhere. 

He couldn't stop looking at the heart on his hand. It was just a heart made out of ink, nothing more. It didn't even look symmetrical, was it really that difficult to draw an even heart? He would need to correct your pulse because that was terrible. 

Even with those petty mistakes, the drawing was so endearing. He had never allowed someone to touch his skin in that way, he would nag at anyone who even dared to try. He still remembered the happy look on your face and your reply. You thought he would like it. It was dumb, such dumb thinking to even consider he would enjoy a foreign drawing of something as simple as a heart. The worst part was that he did! It felt special, as if you thought about him specifically to give him that. You even went through the effort of moving his glove. 

It was a shared secret between you two now. No one else would know the heart was under his dark gloves, just you and him, and that simple thought filled him with delight. A temporary gift from the prefect to him. 

Days went on and he attempted to make the inked heart stay intact there for as long as possible. He was careful every time he washed his hands, but no matter how careful he was, the heart would fade. It only lasted three days. He felt distraught when it was gone. 

Now how could he ask for another one? It would be mortifying to even request for such a thing. He was above childish drawings on his skin! He didn't even need one. Why would he ask again? 

“Today we are studying again. Don't be late, prefect” Riddle said to you one day, and he made a mental note to forget his gloves and bring red ink this time and keep it as close as possible. He hoped you would get the hint. 

─────────────── 

┆   ┆    ┆   ┆⋆

┆   ┆    ┆જ    ✾

┆    ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °             

┆彡   ��          

[ponett]

Do you have any youtube recs for video game analysis/critique in the vein of gmtk?

I do! Well, maybe not 100% in the same vein as the very focused design analysis that GMTK does, but I follow a lot of YouTubers who do thoughtful video game analysis from various angles.

Masahiro Sakurai on Creating Games - An obligatory rec if you haven't already watched Sakurai's videos.

Errant Signal - A longtime pillar of video game video essays, Chris Franklin focuses on interpreting video games as art and critiquing how design decisions contribute to (or detract from) a game's themes and artistic goals.

Matthew Matosis - Less active these days, but he's another legend of longform, in-depth video game analysis on YouTube.

New Frame Plus - A channel about studying and appreciating video game animation from professional animator (and former host of Extra Credits) Dan Floyd. I love all of his videos, but in particular I love his series about the evolution of Final Fantasy's animation.

Video Game Animation Study - And if that's not enough video essays about game animation for you, here's another channel! I enjoyed his recent video about the animations in the Sonic Advance series, which have always been favorites of mine.

Jeremy Parish (Video Works) - I absolutely love Jeremy's chronological retrospectives on classic game console libraries that put them in their historical perspective, explaining how games of the '80s built on the design ideas of previous works and set the stage for future successors. His main focus is his ongoing retrospective on every game in the North American NES library, but he also talks about Sega and Atari releases from the same era, as well as some extremely obscure old Japanese consoles I'd never even heard of.

hotcyder - A fan of weird and quirky games, with a particular interest in exploring the burgeoning "Wario-like" scene.

8-Bit Music Theory - I will admit that half of what this guy says goes over my head as a musical plebeian, but it's still really cool to see formal music theory analysis of video game music.

Scruffy - And for something perhaps a little more digestible for a general audience, there's Scruffy's similarly good videos about video game music theory.

And that should be enough for now!

[innerempire]

{Starkercest}

“Baby, any reason why you’re here looking more in love with the hors d’eavours than your boyfriend who has been standing there in the corner looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here?”

Peter flinches, nearly dropping the champagne flute in his left hand, the other stealing another onion jam and cheese rugelach. He pops it into his mouth, sighing happily when he chews into it.

“Because these are fantastic. They’re my favorite.”

Tony plucks the empty flute from Peter’s hand and passes it to a service staff walking past. “I know, that’s why I specifically requested for the catering staff to prepare more of it. So-“ Tony flicks his gaze across the room. “Why are you breaking up with Briar?”

“I- how did you-“ Peter snags a napkin to wipe his fingers with. “It’s Brian, by the way.”

“I don’t really give a fuck, you know that.”

“Well, you should be concerned that your 21 year old son can’t seem to date anyone for more than 6 months.” Peter grumbles under his breath before he follows it up with a sigh. “I don’t know, dad. He’s so…” He gestures uselessly with his hands.

“Dull? Plebian? A tool?”

“Dad!” Peter feels horrible for even trying to suppress his laugh.

“Baby, I keep saying this and you keep ignoring me, but you’ve got to start dating someone of your calibre.” Tony reaches out and tucks an errant curl behind Peter’s ear, the affectionate gesture making the younger male smile.

“I dated Harry Osborne last year, and you still didn’t approve. He’s smart, rich and-“

“Uh, uh.” Tony warns, raising a finger to effectively stop Peter. “I don’t need you praising another man when I’m right here in front of you.”

“I was going to say that he’s smart, rich and as great as he is, he’s still not you.”

“Atta boy. No one can be me, because that’d be a problem.”

“Brian thinks it’s weird how close we are with each other. And he said some things about you which I obviously didn’t agree with.”

Peter really won’t stand for anyone talking shit about his dad.

“So you did bring him here so that he’d make up his mind to break up with you.”

“…yes?”

“Great. Saves me the trouble of giving him the shovel talk.” Tony looks all too pleased by the idea of his son’s breakup, just as he always had been with Peter’s past ex-boyfriends.

“There’s also another reason why I’m breaking up with him. You see, someone I’m really, truly in love with…” Peter reaches a hand out, delicately adjusting Tony’s bowtie. “…he’s turning 50 today. I’m also so tired of him pretending that he doesn’t want me, when it’s so obvious he does.”

“Huh.” Tony stills, and something in the air shifts. “Sounds like an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Sometimes, it’s more of him….biding his time. But I’ve been waiting for two yea and frankly, it’s not fun anymore. Hence, this conversation.”

Even at 50, Tony was so fucking ridiculously handsome. The whole bearded look was really going to be the death of Peter, and he figures that once Tony starts going for that whole silver-fox grey look, Peter is absolutely doomed for.

“So…I’m making myself available so that I can gift myself to him, because I know he’s a possessive man and sharing is…well, it’s not in his dictionary.”

“Peter.”

“Dad.” Peter fiddles with the lapels of Tony’s suit jacket. “I thought me going to college and creating some “distance” between us was going to spur you into action. Stop making me wait.”

Tony smiles. It’s fond. Indulgent.

“I was going to wait until graduation.”

Peter scoffs, “Waiting’s not exactly your strongest strength, dad. This is the last time I’m offering, so you’d better take it. Or else next semester, I’m going to bring home my really hot, older professor that’s been eyeing me since last year and-“

“Peter. Are you threatening me?”

“You know I don’t make empty threats, daddy, so-“ Peter pats Tony lightly on the chest, his smile entirely playful. “-you’d better buck up and do something.”

-/-

Half an hour later, Peter doesn’t even have it in him to feel remotely guilty when Brian accidentally wanders into one of the guest bedrooms. He really should have locked the doorF but maybe a part of him actually wanted this to happen.

The room is dark, blinds drawn and in their haste to undress and fuck, neither Peter and Tony had bothered with the lights.

The light from the hallway spills into the room, illuminating Peter’s blissed-out expression as Tony fucks him from behind. Their eyes meet; Peter’s gaze misty and half-lidded and Brian’s wide with the disbelief and betrayal.

Tony’s too far gone in his pleasure, eyes clenched and his forehead pressed against Peter’s shoulder blades to even register that they’ve just been walked on.

“Oh fuck-“ Peter doesn’t shift his gaze away, nor is there any semblance of regret as his (ex) boyfriend watches him pushing back against his dad’s cock. “Dad, fuck me, please. Want you to come in me-“ He lets out a high keening sound when Tony tugs at his hair, a muffled “christ, baby, you’re gonna fucking kill me” whispered against his shoulder.

[aerynwrites]

Freckles

Rolan x GN!Reader

A/N: based on this request - hope you have a happy birthday nonny!

Word Count: 988

Warnings: none

*tried to make this gn! Please let me know if anything slipped through*

It took you longer than expected to settle into the tower at Socerers Sundries. Mainly because the thought of staying in a place that caused Rolan so much pain and suffering made you so angry your blood boiled. But after a few mornings waking up to the sun filtering in through the windows…You started to love it.

Now you relish going to sleep beside Rolan in your chambers on the top most floor of the building, knowing you’ll wake up to a most perfect sight each morning.

The sun always manages to creep in the window above your bed, rays turning from orange to soft pink and then eventually the gentle morning yellow that manages to wake you most mornings.

The sunlight kisses your skin in a warm caress, wrapping both you and Rolan in its gentle embrace as the day begins. You’re almost always the first to wake, Rolan only beating you when he has important tasks to take care of.

Today is one of the days he does not, allowing him to sleep peacefully beside you as your eyes peel open to greet the warm rays of sun. Slowly, as not to wake your partner, you stretch your arms above your head, yawning wide as a cat basking in a pool of light before settling back into the soft sheets.

You roll over to your side just as Rolan mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, one of his arms reaching out to slip around your waist as he pulls you subconsciously closer to him before settling once more.

He’s laying on his side, hair loose from its usual hair tie, allowing the chestnut locks to lay errant on the pillow, some strands even falling haphazardly across his face and around his horns. Gently, you reach up to tuck the hair behind his ear, revealing more of his face to you.

Rolan is one of those people that always has a look of worry or thought seemingly permanently stuck on his face. His brows drawn together, lips pulled tight, nose scrunched adorably. When he sleeps, however, all of those things slip away, leaving his face blissfully smooth.

You’ve always told him he actually looks his age when he sleeps, his youth coming out when he isn’t constantly worried about one thing or another. You always take a moment to admire him when he sleeps, the moment allowing you to see him truly at peace. It also allows you to take in one of your favorite features of your partner.

His freckles.

It was one of the first things you noticed about him when you met, immediately finding them curious as you hadn't seen many other tiefling with the same markings. You’d always fantasized about tracing over them before you both confessed your feelings, and now it was something you did more often than Rolan liked.

Although as much as he complains when you do it, he never stops you, and you never mention the way his lips twitch upwards ever so slightly at your ministrations.

Slowly, your fingers trail down from his ear to his cheek following the faint trail of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Your eyes and fingers trail lower then to where they travel down his neck to his chest.

That was another pleasant surprise. That Rolan has freckles other than on his face. They’re pretty much everywhere on his body, darker in some places like his cheeks and shoulder and lighter in places like his chest and belly.

But you love them all the same.

Finally, after you’ve completed your roaming, your eyes flick back up to his face, still peaceful in his undisturbed sleep. And you can’t help but lean in to press a kiss to his cheek and the smattering of freckles there.

Then you press a kiss to his nose. Then his forehead, before dropping down to his other cheek.

You plan to travel lower, following the trail down to his jaw and neck, but another arm sliding beneath you and a soft groan stops you in your tracks, a smile splitting your lips.

“Hmm…” Rolan hums tiredly. “What are you doing, my love?”

His words are thick with sleep, voice deeper than usual as he turns to brush his lips against your own before moving to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, eliciting a small sigh from you as he presses featherlight kisses there.

“I was admiring you,” you say simply, smiling as Rolan pulls away to look at you, eyes fluttering sleepily.

“Admiring me?” He repeats. “I should be flattered, a beautiful partner waking me up like that…”

You raise an eyebrow. “But…?”

Rolan smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around you until he rolls you both so he’s lying on his back and you lay atop him on his chest.

“But I was up late last night working on research, and I would very much like to keep sleeping with said beautiful partner in my arms. If that’s amenable?”

You roll your eyes and give a dramatic sigh before settling against his chest, pressing one last kiss there before wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Fine,” you say in mock annoyance. “I suppose if I have to stay here my admiration can wait.”

Rolan chuckles, eyes slipping closed again. “Oh, feel free to admire all you want, my love. Just don’t wake me up this time.”

You scoff, hitting his chest playfully as he tugs you closer to him. “You’re a jerk sometimes, you know that?”

Rolan hums contentedly before sitting up just enough to capture your lips in a quick kiss before settling back against the pillows once more.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

You smile, shaking your head before finally settling against him as sleep tugs lazily at your eyes.

“I love you, Rolan,” you murmur.

And as sleep finally pulls you both back under, you hear Rolan respond in kind.

[hederasgarden]

no thoughts just Six with a breeding kink.

i think a part of him is scared because he doesn’t think he’d be a good dad but i also think he simply can’t help himself

You guys are coming for me tonight with these asks and I love it.

Warning for lots of pregnancy talk, breeding kink, and everything in between. We also have a little angsty chit chat before getting to the good stuff. 

I agree Six has a breeding kink but I also think he's deeply conflicted about it. He may not see himself as a bad person but he did spend most of his adult life doing the CIA's dirty work. Because of that, when it comes to the reader and any children they may have together, he probably feels like he's tainting them in some way. He would always be worried about the possibility of his past catching up to him and putting his family in danger. 

Then there are his complex feelings and concerns about whether or not he'd be a good dad. His only example growing up was an abuser. I suspect and hope that in this AU - if Fitz is alive - Six would draw a lot on that relationship when it comes to being a parent (which isn't exactly healthy either). I have a LOT of thoughts on this topic, especially if he ever had a son instead of a daughter, because you know he'd be terrified of repeating the cycle of violence he grew up with. 

Anyway, angsty thoughts aside, let's dive into some horny ones. That is, after all, why everyone is here, right?

Prepare yourself for lots of questionable thoughts below. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Six is an observant man and picks up on everything, so he definitely knows your cycle. Probably even better than you do, and although he’d never admit it, he finds himself wanting you even more during your fertile window. 

He also thinks about getting you pregnant more than he cares to acknowledge. Sometimes, he finds himself fantasizing about how your belly would look all swollen and round with his child. He especially likes to think about how that means everyone would know he did that to you. It’s a visible signal that you’re his, and speaks to that deep-rooted, primal part of himself he tries to ignore.

When it comes to fucking you, he loves having you on your back, laid out under him, so he can see absolutely everything. When he's about to come, he'll grab the back of your thighs and shove himself as deep inside as he can. Afterwards, he likes to lay his body over yours and have you cockwarm him to make sure his cum is inside you as long as possible. He definitely enjoys watching it leak out of you too, but he always pushes it back inside with his fingers. 

I don't see him as a big dirty talker outside of an errant, "Let me fill you up," or "I got what you need," if he was really lost in the sauce. He would certainly talk you through sex in general with lots of things like, "That good, sweetheart? Yeah? You like that? I got you. Mmmm let me hear you..." etc.

Once he does manage to knock you up and comes to terms with everything, he is even more obsessed with having you 24/7 – especially when you're further along. He loves to take you on your side, thrusting into you slowly while he cradles your belly. Having you on your hands and knees would be another favorite of his because he can press his chest to your back and get nice and deep. He loves stroking your stomach and letting his fingers drag down to where he disappears inside you.

Unlike before, sex when you’re pregnant isn’t something desperate and hurried. It’s a slow affair. Six wants to savor and draw it out. 

Thanks for sending in the ask, anon! And a big thank you to @ryebecca and @gettingvetted for looking this over! Also, thank you @elusivewildflower for letting me scream in your DMs about this.

[delirious-donna]

Chapter 2: The First Bite

pairing: vamp!Kakashi Hatake x female reader

“I’ll say this only once… tell me to stop and I will honour your request. I will leave and never return; you will think of me as a passing fantasy and no more. But…” He paused for a beat. “If I have you now, then I will return again and again.”

The house was perfect. Love at first sight. A long abandoned stately home would be the perfect place to plant your roots and focus on your writing. There's only one problem... someone already lives there, and he can't wait to meet you.

wc: 4.5k

tw: vampire AU, smut throughout, strangers to lovers, blood drinking, pervert Kakashi, dream sexy times, glove kink, male fully clothed, female close to naked, pussy eating, Kakashi hides his face cause he's a dummy, orgasm control, implied punishment, slight Dom vibes, clit pinching, nipple play, biting, reader described as curvy

Part One | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Part Three

You awoke feeling more tired than when you went to bed the previous night.

Your body felt heavy and sluggish as you sat up from the warm cocoon of blankets twisted around you. The constant ringing of the alarm clock was shrill, setting your teeth on edge and sending a wave of irritation rippling through you.

It was unlike you to feel this grumpy come morning, yet you were unable to shake the uncharacteristic foul mood that had set in.

Flash-like memories of your dream kept popping into your head at the most inopportune moments. Errant visions of black gloves accosted you whilst arranging the wealth of books you called your personal library, distracting you enough to miss the edge of the shelf and resulting in a book landing on your foot with a thud. You cursed for being barefoot, hopping for a second and watching as a mark appeared from the corner of the spine that briefly imbedded into the top of your foot.

Continuing to grumble, you bent at the waist and grabbed up the offending book to examine it… ‘The Vampire Lestat’.

Smiling fondly, you pushed it into place with a resigned shake of your head. Would you ever be truly over your obsession with vampire fiction? Probably not. There would likely always be a part of you that held a candle for the many male vampire characters in the books you had favoured growing up and into early adulthood.

You would always be a sucker—pun intended—for those dark, brooding men and their beloved soulmates that always managed to reveal the good lurking in the recesses of their withered hearts.

Quite suddenly, the thought of one day writing your own novel with a vampire lead popped into your head. The question was… would your publisher go for it?

A thought for another time.

A time when you could better plot out a story and weigh up your odds in succeeding in a genre that you held close to your heart.

~

Kakashi spent the day engaged in a futile attempt to sleep.

The rage of being interrupted by that damn ringing alarm clock had come with the threat of ripping apart his concealed room, which, of course, might have revealed his presence to you. He might have been torn apart with burning annoyance when your mind had shoved him out, but he had no desire to put himself in a position of discovery—not yet.

He was not aided by your appalling choice in music.

The entire house was filled with the loud thumping bass that bothered his sensitive ears and soured his mood all the more. Not for the first time he punched at his pillow and watched feathers escape to flutter towards the floor. He had to calm down, that much he knew.

He wanted another chance to infiltrate your dreams and if you were to be put on alert by too many unidentified noises, it would be more difficult. There was also his bone deep concern over what actions he might take if he were to go to you in his current mood.

It wasn’t a risk worth taking.

Whilst there was undeniable thrill in instilling a hint of fear, that was a game to be played once you trusted him, once you knew you were safe in his capable hands. Kakashi had to develop that bond a little more before he played his hand. If he ever did… the mean little voice in his head whispered.

As the music penetrated every room of the grand house, he let out a sigh of relief when it changed to something softer, more melodic. A female voice sang of rainstorms and soft kisses, it was enough to finally allow the poor vampire the respite of sleep. The darkness approached, and he accepted it with open arms.

It was close to midnight when he awoke once more. His mind instantly sent out feelers for your presence, humming in contentment when he sensed you in the bathroom. Once he was certain you were decent, he was a gentleman after all, he sent a projection of himself to observe you silently.

He watched from his shadowy hiding place whilst you brushed your teeth and scowled at your reflection in the mirror for some unknowable reason. Without wasting time, he sent a pulse of power to the dratted alarm clock in the adjoining room, disabling the wretched thing with a smirk of satisfaction when it gave a low whine of failure.

The stage was set and now all he had to do was wait for you to climb into bed.

Kakashi’s fingers tightened into the sheets below him, fighting the natural, or unnatural, urge to go to you physically. In his head he knew that it was not yet time for that, it would be far too much to expect you to welcome him with open arms and an equally open mind to his rather unusual condition.

Instead, he watched as you exited the bathroom, an audible groan of appreciation rumbling out of his throat at the sight of you. Gone was the unflattering baggy t-shirt from the previous night, replaced by a black satin nightdress.

His mouth watered for a taste, gaze falling to the mid-thigh hem and the lace that edged the delicate garment. Your breasts moved naturally as you strode towards the bed dominating the room, plush thighs rubbing against one another and my god, he didn’t think you could look any more appetising. He couldn’t help but think that you had listened to his requests and that had him smiling to himself, excited for what was to come.

~

The heaviness of sleep pressed upon you quickly, far faster than last night and maybe that was your unspoken desire to see if you could recreate the scene from your dreams.

Your final thoughts, as you settled into the soft comfort of your bed, were that it seemed ridiculous to dress so alluringly at the hope for a chance at one more steamy dream with the mysterious stranger from the previous night…

Once again, you stood frozen in place. Your surroundings nothing but a black abyss that strangely didn’t feel unnerving in the way you thought it might. Casting your gaze downward, your body appeared dressed in the same nightdress you had gone to bed wearing. Your skin displayed in far too a revealing manner to be appropriate, and every inch tingled with awareness—waiting.

Just when you thought your impatience would get the better of you, a sudden presence made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. A shudder that spoke far more of pleasure than fear rippled down your spine.

A strong arm wrapped around your front, gloved fingers holding your upper arm firmly but not indelicately, until your back met the very solid front of the body behind you.

Your breathing hitched into your throat.

Your heart beating faster and faster.

The tickle of black fabric being drawn around your shoulders—a cape—aroused you further, a head of silver hair dropping to your shoulder, a rough voice by your ear.

“You listened. I can’t express how pleased that makes me,” he enthused with a noise you could only describe as a growl.

Only a barely heard whisper escaped. “W-who exactly are you?”

The graze of sharp teeth against the shell of your ear froze the breath in your throat. A heat so decadent you flushed from the embarrassment of it, pooled between the apex of your thighs. It was your same stranger, the very same man from the previous night and it seemed totally irrational that you should desire hearing his praise—his admiration.

A deep chuckle was the only response. His hands roamed freely over your body, unseen given the cover of the cape and that only made it hotter. Exploratory fingers inched towards the hem of your nightgown, rich cotton grazed your skin and left you with the involuntary thought of what his naked touch would be like. Would it be smooth or calloused, rough or gentle? So many variables, and each answer completely unknown.

“Won’t you answer me?”

In the next second, a blinding light fizzled and forced your eyelids closed, and that was the moment your back met a soft surface, gone was the sturdy body. Blinking, you realised you were in your bed, but the sheets were bunched and twisted like someone hid beneath them, by your legs.

With your heart thundering in your ears, you tried to throw the covers back only to discover your hands were held immobile above your head. There was no restraint, yet every attempt at lowering them failed, resulting with an amused chuckle from the lump beneath the sheets.

Warm breath fanned your skin, lips cooler than you thought possible peppered your thighs with soft wet kisses and left you feeling exposed in a deliciously forbidden way you had never felt before.

Your dream man came to rest between your thighs, prying them gently apart whenever you tried to keep them shut. There was no force, only the subtlest coaxing required to have you comply, and that charged your skin with a heat that washed from your head right down to your toes. His nose pressed against the delicate flesh of your inner thigh, inhaling in a way that you could only describe as scenting. The result was a deep rumble that vibrated through his chest and created a decedent moisture only a few inches from his face.

Those gloved hands moved the satin hem of your nightdress higher, teasingly slow and deliberate until you knew the cotton of your underwear was entirely exposed. Your ragged panting rang through the air, neck straining as you tried to lift your head and look down the line of your body although there was nothing to see but the bedsheets.

A heated whisper stalled the breath in your throat, all movement paused as if the moment was suspended into a bubble impenetrable by time and space.

“I’ll say this only once… tell me to stop and I will honour your request. I will leave and never return; you will think of me as a passing fantasy and no more. But…” He paused for a beat. “If I have you now, then I will return again and again.”

The words sent a storm of sensations and emotions through your mind and body, fear of the unknown mingled in a strange dance with unadulterated lust. It left you squirming against the invisible bonds and your mind reeling over the implications of what was heavily implied by his words.

Would you give yourself to this man? Not just right now, but at any time he saw fit. Did he even exist or was this some elaborate plot concocted by the depths of your subconscious? What sane person would agree to such terms? But if it was only in your dreams… where was the harm?

You couldn’t deny the desire to uncover what would happen if you agreed to his proposal any longer. Taking the bull by the horns—metaphorically, of course—you yelled your agreement whilst your toes curled into the mattress with anticipation.

He smiled against your skin, the sharp points of his teeth grazing carefully over the area where the vein located in your inner thigh resided. The cool sensation of his lips pressing wet kisses had you shudder, excitement running the length of your spine whilst heat pooled at your core, soaking the cotton. Your fantasy lover moved with the grace of a predator, stalking its prey until the ridge of his nose rubbed against the damp seat of your underwear.

A shiver coursed his spine as he nuzzled your arousal-soaked panties, fingers curling into the waistband and peeling them down your legs until they seemed to melt into nonexistence. He ran his thumb across your mound and lower to part your folds. It was followed almost immediately by the brush of his tongue.

Your spine arched, the invisible bindings tightening around your wrists but not painfully so, simply a reminder that you were captured and at the mercy of your mysterious lover. In truth, you weren’t seeking freedom to run from the sensations racking your body, but instead, you longed to card your fingers through his hair. You wanted to tug him closer when his tongue swirled around and around your clit, teasing you mercilessly…

With time, what had started as tentative became demanding.

A deep knot of pleasure grew steadily in the pit of your stomach, twisting tighter with the vigour with which he kissed, licked and sucked at your pussy. The deep guttural groans that resounded loudly from his throat simply added to the experience, the vibrations ripping mewls of delight from your mouth until you were panting hard.

Time seemed to suspend, frozen in a moment that you had no desire to ever escape from. Just as you were becoming accustomed to the way he made out with your pussy; he changed things up. Two gloved fingers slid over your skin, collecting the saliva and arousal until they were slippery and notched at your entrance. They thrust roughly past the first few inches of resistance, stretching your hole to accommodation and you flushed furiously at how willingly your body yielded to the intrusion.

The methodical curling motion had him pressing up against your swollen, gummy pleasure spot in rapid succession—over and over without faltering—until you were panting out heavy breaths that told far more than you wanted.

As if he could read your thoughts, a commanding growl cut through the air. “Don’t cum. Do you hear me?”

When you didn’t immediately answer, you felt a pinching sensation as your clit was assaulted wordlessly. You squeaked and wriggled until a palm weighed flush atop your abdomen. What came next startled you far more than anything up to this point… your name flowed past their lips with a sound like velvet brushing hardwood.

“… answer me.”

“How? Oh, fuck! I won’t… ah—it’s hard! Wanna so bad.” Your alarmed confusion meddled with the exertion of keeping your orgasm at bay, the pit of pleasure twisting your insides into knots.

A pleased hum brushed your core, the lick of his tongue painting the inside of your thigh followed by a sharp nip and another more forceful lick to drive away the sting.

“Atta girl.”

It was all you could do to hold onto your sanity. With the continued precise movements rubbing and prodding at your g-spot, your vision winked with vivid stars. The desire to squeeze your thighs closed was almost overwhelming, even though you knew full well it would never be allowed. You were being plied with the most deliciously erotic experience in your life and for some unfathomable reason, you wanted to please him.

You wanted to please this perfect stranger. A stranger who you had only caught the briefest glimpses of. Why were you so intrigued by them? It felt like a magnetic draw, a thread of something you couldn’t name weaving around you to bind yourself to him, and where there should have been fear… it was absent.

It was obvious to you both that you would not last much longer. You were straying perilously past your limit, and with the first display of mercy, he ended your torment. Soft as petal lips suckled your throbbing clit, drawing the bud into his mouth and caressing it with firm care until you finally fell apart.

A void so black you didn’t know which way was up or down greeted you. All you could hear were your own anguished cries of bliss, the pleasure spreading out like shockwaves through a body of water. They rippled from your centre to the tips of your fingers and toes, bringing with them the sheer magnitude of an orgasm unlike any you had experienced before.

Slowly, your senses returned and tripped you into the warm embrace of being licked so thoroughly that you were certain he hadn’t missed a single drop of your arousal. Your skin tingled from the start of overstimulation, hips wriggling for a fraction of reprieve that didn’t come.

Your highly sensitive skin continued to be tortured; his tongue, teeth and slick-soaked fingers working in tandem to pull a pathetic wail from your throat. Only then did he hum in satisfaction, the strokes softening and slowing until they were merely pets of contentment.

The covers rustled, once forgotten now they were the sole focus of your attention. Your eyes shot wide, glancing down the line of your heaving body to spy a head of messy silver hair. Afraid if you blinked you would miss it, you willed your eyes to stay open as the man between your thighs lifted his head. Intense charcoal eyes burrowed into you, holding your gaze until the slightest crinkle formed at the outside corners. A thin black mask hid the lower half of his face, the fabric darker around the contours of his mouth from the juices you had leaked, and he had hungrily lapped up.

He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and you couldn’t even see all of him.

The outline of a strong jaw caught your attention, your gaze flicking over his features with an appreciation you didn’t think possible. Those dark eyes hooded over, the sleek silver of his eyebrow rising like he knew exactly what you were thinking—and not for the first time. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“To answer your earlier question, I am Kakashi Hatake. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he purred the last sentiment whilst his heated gaze roamed your face and down the side of your neck to stop just short of ogling your décolletage.

The man named Kakashi moved too quickly for you to follow. His masked face was now mere inches from yours, the smell of him mingled with the tantalising aroma of your own arousal. It coaxed you to inhale more deeply, the warm fragrance of summer sunsets and cherry blossoms in bloom sparked in your mind.

He rubbed his nose along yours before moving towards your neck and collarbone. Speaking directly into your skin, the fine hairs raised into a march of goosebumps. “I’m afraid you’ve been rather naughty, my dear. I do hope you’ll take your punishment like a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

A tendril of fear unfurled in your stomach; eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He spoke so softly, yet the words were heated and held promise of retribution. Your wrists rubbed together as your fight or flight response kicked into gear, resulting in a dark rumble of laughter that further twisted your stomach into knots.

“What do you mean?”

Kakashi slipped a finger beneath the thin strap of your nightgown, toying with it whilst he met your puzzled stare with mischief burning in those expressive grey eyes.

“Well… I think I made it perfectly clear that you were to hold your orgasm, and what did you do?” He crooned at you, voice teasingly sweet.

“I-I couldn’t! You were deliberately—aah!” The rest of your rebuttal died with your yelp of surprise. One smooth movement and your dream partner had snapped the strap he had been playing with and moved to repeat the process on the other one.

“Tsk tsk. Are you really arguing with me when I just spent the better half of my night drinking down your arousal?”

Your chin angled in a way that had you been in your right mind, you knew it would appear petulant. Kakashi wasn’t going to overlook it, and you would find that out. He grasped at your chin, bringing your gaze back to him, canting his head with a subtle disbelieving shake. If you didn’t hear the quiet huff of laughter, you might have thought he was truly mad.

“Mind your manners, sweetheart. I’m not always this lenient,” he intoned calmly.

You sighed— breathless, compliant—so unlike the norm. What harm would it do to further submit to him? You wanted to. You wouldn’t admit it, even to yourself, but you wanted to see what might happen next.

Mesmerised, you watched as those gloved fingers curled into the low neckline of your nightwear, pulling it down until it covered barely your midriff. Your skin tingled; nipples tightening into stiff peaks from his hungry gaze alone. His forefinger circled around your areola, hummed appreciation twisting your stomach into knots so complex that even the most adept sailor would struggle to untie them.

“Beautiful. So sensitive. Do you like to have them sucked? Oh…” Kakashi groaned when you whimpered in reply, your spine arching from the sheets in anticipation.

“Do you always speak such filth?”

Instead of answering, he dipped his head and lowered his mask, suckling a tender bud into his mouth. His lips were cool but his tongue molten hot. The contrast was a delicious surprise that stole the air from your lungs, and only stoked your desires to be able to thread your fingers through his hair.

Would you push him away or tug him closer? Was that even a question you needed to ask yourself? No. You knew that given the choice you would card through the silver forest of his hair until you were forcing him closer and closer.

With a deliberate wet pop, he released your taut nipple, nosing at the swollen skin and turning his face up to you slowly after pulling the mask back into place. The oxygen froze in your chest, your throat constricted and blood pumping noisily through your veins.

You were met with red eyes.

Blood red.

Crimson.

Carmine.

Vermillion.

Scarlet.

Every possible shade of red flitted through his irises, the swollen black pupils blown but not enough to disguise the stark colour staring intently at you.

“W-who are you?”

Again, he refused to answer. Truthfully, there wasn’t an answer in the universe that would turn your world the right way up. Aroused and puzzled. Excited and terrified. It was exhausting, even if you were meant to be at rest.

Kakashi returned his attention to your breasts, palms cupping them gently so that he could lavish his attention on every possible part. He nipped, sucked, kissed and blew variations of hot and cold air onto your burning hot flesh.

This was supposed to be a punishment, and yet the only thing you could find remotely punishing was his continued refusal to answer you. Instead, he cooed at you, lulling you into a sense of safety that should have raised your internal alarm.

Another orgasm stormed near.

Your hips undulated beneath him, working your pelvis against his body. Kakashi tensed; his entire body growing as rigid as the hard length you could feel cradled against your lower abdomen. He let out a hiss through his teeth, eyes screwing shut when you didn’t pause in your teasing of his erection. He was certain you would mewl and beg to be fucked if he kept going, but not now.

Not this time.

His hunger was palpable. You could feel it vibrating though his bones, not that you understood, but you would. Kakashi was a monster, he didn’t deserve the fruits of your body, but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to taste you, even if this wasn’t *actually* real. That was a minor detail still to be corrected.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered so quietly you missed the sentiment entirely.

Your eyebrows knit together, sensing something was amiss. Before you could ask, he pounced.

A searing pain flashed through you. Heat and the sensation of your skin being ripped open by a surgeon’s scalpel dissipated almost immediately. It was replaced with an unrivalled euphoria. Kakashi’s commanding voice spoke inside your mind, he guided you through the pleasure as it took over your body and your breathing became erratic.

“Look,” he demanded, “see for yourself the beast I am.”

As if on puppet strings, you obeyed. Your eyes flew open to watch as a heavy trickle of thick, dark blood escaped the seam of his lips, curving over the swell of your breast and disappearing to the sheets below.

There was a revelation on the edge of your periphery but no matter how hard you tried to grasp it, you couldn’t. It was as if your fingers passed straight through it. Either that or your brain refused to accept it.

Your breathing turned shallow, bliss overshadowing everything else until your mind slipped away entirely. The sight was erotic, whether you accepted it or not.

Kakashi locked his gaze with yours, and it felt like watching a war in those vermillion eyes as they drained back to their original steel grey. It made you want to reach out your hand in the hopes of understanding him better. Why were you projecting such complex emotions onto a fantasy lover? It made no sense.

There was no time to process anything further; your vision blacking out like an old-fashioned television being turned off, the picture receding until it was merely a single dot before winking out.

You had passed out.

~

In the cramped recesses of his hidden room, Kakashi opened his eyes with a start. He fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, teeth tearing away his gloves so he could feel skin on skin and pretend it was you.

His cock strained and pulsed into his fist, fingers ringing the base and stroking the length with languid movements. Precum had leaked down his shaft during his encounter with you, and it took only three or four passes of his hand to release the pressure in his heavy balls.

It was a painful orgasm, drawn out and messy. Cum stained his fingers, thighs, even splashing far enough to stain his black waistcoat. Powerful shudders of pain and relief coursed his spine, and his gums tingled with the want to bite.

He found his pillow and brought it to his mouth, savaging the fabric until feathers spun in the air in a frantic dance. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. There was no taste from the blood he had enacted taking from you, no flavour profile to be studied like one might do if sampling wine.

God, you were in trouble. So much trouble and you didn’t understand. There wouldn’t be any stopping him if he took what he desired, and he warred with himself.

Monster.

The title repeated like a mantra until he had to lie down and close his eyes. You wouldn’t want him if you knew, if you truly knew.

A vampire… could be loved, of that he was certain, but he was a broken vampire. No one could love him and until now he had accepted that fate. The wish inside his withered heart whispered its poisonous desire until he was sick from it.

Now… he wanted you to prove him wrong.

[arc-misadventures]

So for vtuber AU, several of the girls and/or boys from the academy have already made their debut in your entries. So I thought what if "Errantry" reacted to the recent re-debut of one of the members of the cabal, which is a short anime

the jepella rebelion

The VTuber: Maiden of the Cabal

Errant: Well, well, well. Look who’s back.

Errant smiled at the camera as he finished the video. He hadn’t expected an old acquaintance from his past to reemerge, it was certainly unexpected, but a welcome surprise nonetheless.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GoodDoggo: Who is she?

FallenDesire: You know her?

Lucious: She’s pretty.

QueensGuard: Sounds like you know her.

~~~~~~

Errant: That everyone is, FallenEmbers. No wait, Fall4Me, she goes by that now, that’s right. I knew her back when I used to play, The World of Remnant: Hunter’s and Monsters. It was this massive mmorpg that I played back in the day, it’s where I got the name, and design for my, VTuber avatar, The ErrantryPaladin. Fall4Me was, FallenEmbers back then. Hence my confusion.

Errant: It’s nice to see her coming back to the VTubing scene. I heard she was on before, but something happened. Oh, well I’m just happy she’s back, and hope she does well.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GrimmKitty: So you do know her.

HellJumper1337: Were you friends?

~~~~~~

Errant’s body fell back in his chair as a deep breath of air escaped trough his nose. He looked heavenlyward as he wistfully remembered the old days.

Errant: I did know her, we were friends… of sorts. I met her back when the, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters mmorpg was at its peak. I was still my lonely, Huntsman self while she was a, Huntress in the service of the, Cabal, the in game version. I never knew this when we first met, we just stumbled across one another, and did some missions together. Just because I played alone doesn’t mean I didn’t occasionally team up with other players. Little did I know she was trying to recruit me into the, Cabal.

Errant: Now, you have to understand something about how the, Acadimies, and the Cabal’s organizational structures work before I continue. You see to join a, Academy you as a player had to reach a minimum level of level ten to join an academy. This was to ensure that all new members were relatively skilled, no greenhorns, and the like. Basically, they wanted the new players to know the basic understanding of the game.

Errant: So once you joined a, Academy your characters bio gets the tag of: ‘Student of academy ‘X.’ And, once you reached level fifty you graduate from the academy, and become: ‘Hunter of ‘X’ academy.’ This was basic stuff to tell where people were from. You get different stats bonuses, and equipment based upon which academy you graduated from, not to mention players with certain individual characteristics tended to gravitate towards certain guilds. Giving each their own unique flavour to them all. The Cabal however, didn’t operate like that.

Errant: The Cabal recruited its members. Whether they be from, Atlas, or Shade Academy, it didn’t matter, their members would find you, scout you, and if you passed their tests they would offer up an invitation for you to join. While a graduated Hunter from, Mistral Academy would be said in their character profile, It wouldn’t say you were a member of the, Cabal. So its members could be anyone. This added a rather unique feature to the games overall gameplay. But, as I said; to join the, Cabal you had to display certain characteristics that the, Cabal would find desirable, and then they would invite you to join them. That’s how they did it to me, when FallenEmbers tried to recruit me.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

QuitenDown: Sounds like the beginning of a love story.

HellJunper1337: Yeah, a tragic one.

~~~~~~

Errant: So, whilst on a mission to find some rare metals to upgrade my gear I stumbled upon, Ember. Ahh, I liked to call her that, because it was quicker to say, and I’m lazy.

Errant: So, it turned out she was also looking for the same minerals that I was. And, since the area we were in is an a royal bitch to fight in we decided to team up, and we made a deal: She gets the first ore we find, then I get the next. Simple as that. We made off with a lot of ore that day… Anyway, after that we parted ways, but stayed in contact, we would occasionally join up on missions together, and generally had a blast. And, then she told me the truth, she was a member of the, Cabal, and wanted me to join.

Errant: Honestly I always had my suspicions about her. She always felt distant, and overly cautious around people. Anyway, I… I don’t remember what I said, but I remember arriving at the, Cabal’s headquarters in the, Grimm Lands, where she gave me a tour of the place. I learned how their operatives operated… ha… That sounds weird doesn’t it? ‘Operatives operated.’ Sounds like improper english, but no, it’s correct.

Errant: Uhhh… where was I…? Oh yeah! So, I learned the ins, and outs of how their operations worked, met some of their members… And, then I betrayed them by luring a, Titan Class Grimm into their base…

And, with those few words his chat exploded into a shower of startled, confused, and dare say, aroused comments.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

UWU_Knight: You did what?!

Lucious: Titan Class?!

RighteousPotato: Why would you do that?!

LRDirection: You betrayed them?

KinSlayer: Betraying an evil organization is one thing, but YOU betraying anyone is another thing entirely!

HellJunper1337: Evil, Errant confirmed!

RunnerDowner: Why?!

LouderDesires: Cue the sexy art!

PokéGirl69: Sexy evil smile~!

LitteDragon: You betrayed someone?

~~~~~~

Errant looked at the last comments before he rolled his eyes, and continued on with his tale.

Errant: Now, before I go on about how I did it, first you must learn why I did it. So, the Cabal was mostly jokesters; nothing overly evil, evil, just general bullies who raided supply lines, and caused the occasional, Grimm attacks on an innocent village. It annoyed people, but they added spice to the game. However, that commonly held opinion changed when the, Apprentice Massacre happened…

Errant: For context, we called players who were below level ten apprentices; They’re not at a high enough level to become academy students since they’re still in training so we called them apprentices. So, the Apprentice Massacre was an infamous incident where a bunch of, Cabal members got together, and started hunting down, and killing apprentices for the hell of it. Now this may not sound that bad, but there was a game mechanic where every time you die you’d lose one level. It happens every ten levels; say you’re level twenty seven; and you die eight times, you won’t go down to level nineteen, you’ll stay at level twenty. So, need I explain what happened, when a bunch of, Cabal members started killing a whole lot of apprentices?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

RunnerDowner: No way?

SumPenny: They dropped them to level one?!

KinSlayer: That’s mean!

RighteousPotato: What did they do spawn-camp them?

LunarFlower: I heard about this!

HeadHunter: I was there when it happened, it was brutal.

~~~~~~

Errant: Yeah, over a dozen, Cabal members who ranged from level thirty to forty started basically spawn camping, and killing apprentices in the starting area. There was about… seventy apprentices there, and they were completely outclassed by even the weakest members. So it was a slaughter, they tried to put up a fight, but what could they do?

Errant: However, fortunately for the apprentices, and unfortunately for the, Cabal members, I was there.

He smiled a wicked smile as he remembered that day, and more importantly what he did that day. It was the day that legends were born, and he was the start of them all.

Errant: I was in the area walking to the next area to do some quests I picked up, when I came across the, Massacre. I made a quick message to the Academies, and several, Hunter’s I was acquitted with for back up, and after that I went on a bloody slaughter. The Cabal members didn’t know what hit them! I mean, I was a solo player in my seventies, and it didn’t matter how many of them there were, I had soloed plenty of, Grimm hordes before so this was a cake walk for me.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

QuitenDown: I bet you looked really cool when you did that

Dragondeeznutz: Bet he looked hot too

VulpineRanger: He’s always hot.

GrimmKitty: But he can be hotter!

HolyNevil: True.

GermanLeopard: Good point

~~~~~~

Errant: I looked cool, least that’s what people said I looked like, chat. Back to the story, it was much easier when other players came in, and started protecting the apprentices with me. But, to make a long story short we managed to beat them off, and save the apprentices. A whole lot of things changed in the community after that happened.

Errant: Mostly codes of conduct, recently Graduated Hunter’s now had to mentor, and protect apprentices until they become students. A right of passage if you will. And, people’s general hatred towards the, Cabal, and what they did. People went inquisition on their asses. Specifically the, Atlas Academy, they really went after them.

Errant: …

Errant: Which now that I think about it actually makes sense since it’s, Atlas. If you know the lore, you’d understand.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

HellJumper1337: What did they do?

RangerFang: We went ham on them

BunnyDownUnder: Witch hunt baby!

LunaFlower: They hold grudges.

WinterBitch: Yeah, they’re a spiteful bunch.

~~~~~~

Errant: Yeah, they’re a spiteful bunch. I’m not spiteful, no I’m not spiteful at all chat.

Errant: I am however… very, very… Vindictive~! Ah~hahaha~!

Errant gave off a roguish smile that as he chuckled as he remembered all the incidents he scored his revenge against those that wronged him. His dark chuckle, and devilish smile brought an explosion of heart emojis throughout his chat feed.

Errant: Ahhhh… Good times.

Errant: Anyway, so I had a grudge against the, Cabal because I thought that what they did was cruel. People may tease, or prank apprentices , but what they did pushed the line. So, when FallenEmbers showed me to the, Cabal base I knew what I wanted to do. You see, the Cabal headquarters was located in the, Grimm Lands. And, there is a whole mess of, Grimm there: From Beowulf, Apathy, Beringals, Chimera Grimm. Delta to Alpha Class. And lastly, Titan Class.

Errant: Now, you may be asking: How does the, Cabal operate in the Grimm lands without getting attacked? Simple: They get covered in a Grimm repellent that prevents, Grimm from attacking you. The Grimm will attack you if you don’t attack them. So… I went over to one the nesting, Titan Grimm’s, and I… woke it up.

Errant: Titan Class Grimm tend to… incubate until they reach a certain… No, no that doesn’t really make sense… How do I explain this…?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

Corgimorgi: Waiting for the butterfly to hatch from its cocoon?

~~~~~~

Errant: Yeah, that’s works, thanks, Corgimorgi. It slowly grows in its cocoon until it hatches, and marches off to one of the kingdoms, and unleashes all hell upon them. If rumours arise that one of these were sighted, and, all available, Hunter’s is tasked to go out, and confirm if there is one. Everyone is terrified of these things, the first one that was ever encountered levelled, Shade Academy. It took them months irl to rebuild the academy, and it took them a year to reclaim all the land, Vacuo lost to a surge of, Grimm attacks.

Errant: At the time of the attack, Vacuo had a strength over nearly seven hundred members, and they barely, barely manage to defeat it. They had to call for help from other academies to kill the damn thing! So… How do you think the, Cabal managed to deal with a, Titan Class Grimm with barely two hundred members?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GoodDoggo: A bloody slaughter.

Gundam#UWU: They most likely got curb stomped!

HellJumper1337: I almost feel sorry for them.

KinSlayer: Did you stay to fight it?

~~~~~~

Errant: Nope! I got the hell out of there after it started attacking their headquarters. I let them burn! It took them days, like a week to kill it too. I know because I poked the bear, and I got Exp from when it died! Went up three levels because of that. I basically crippled the, Cabal for months after this! They couldn’t do a damn thing to anyone, they were so busy trying to rebuild they couldn’t be bothered with messing with anyone else.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

Likelyaghost: So you destroyed the, Cabal all on your own?

~~~~~~

Errant: No… I crippled the, Cabal all on my own. The Scorpion Incident… That, that killed the, Cabal…

Errant went quiet as he remembered a rather uncomfortable event that had transpired years ago. He took a deep sigh to calm his nerves before he continued to tell his tale of years gone bye.

Errant: So that’s how I met, Fall4Me. You know… I never told anyone that I was the reason the, Titan Grimm attacked the, Cabal. Fall4Me never contacted me again after the attack… I wonder why; Did she know I was the cause of the attack? Maybe that’s why she never contacted me… Probably called me a traitor for betraying her trust, and our friendship…

He stared off into the distance as he pondered these questions in his mind. He sighed another deep sigh before he shook his head, and readdressed his stream.

Errant: It matters not… What’s done is done. For that was then, this is now. So chat, to welcome back an old… acquaintance. We’re gonna raid her! Send her my well wishes, and welcome her into the fold chat!

Errant pressed the button, and sent his chat onward towards, Fall4Me’s stream with a smile on his face, and a roguish smile on his face. Thinking of all the good times they had together, and he couldn’t help but wonder, where did is long lost friend disappear to? But, most important of all:

Why is her model wearing an eyepatch?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me’s Stream

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Hello everyone, I am Fall4Me, and welcome to my stream.

Fall4Me: I am a, Huntress in the service of the, Grimm Cabal. And, I hope you enjoy watching me as we plunge the, World of Remnant into absolute chaos~!

Fall4Me: Here we will have discussions about very things: Music, video games, and various other things that… Hmm? What the?

The howl of a Beowulf echoed throughout the stream to signal a notification. One that she had not expected on her debut stream.

Fall4Me: I’m being raided? By who…?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

HellJumper1337: Hi, Ember!

GrimmKitty: She’s pretty

BunnyDownUnder: Love the eye

FallenDersires: Errant sends his regards!

Dragondeeznutz: Whoo raiding!

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Ember? Wait, how do you know that na… Wait… Errant? ErranrtyPaladin! H-He sent you?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

HellJumper1337: Yeah, he told us all about you

Corgimorgi: It was a cool story

SummerDaysNightmare: Were you friends, he didn’t sound certain about it?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: We are… were friends of sorts. But, tell me chat, what did he say about me?

There was an eagerness, and an honest desire to know about how her long lost friend felt about her, and she hoped her new found audience could answer her questions.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

DungeonSiver18: Why listen to us when you can watch him talk about you?

QueensGuard: Yeah, watch his vod!

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Hmmm~? Now doesn’t that sound like a novel idea~! Alright chat, let us see what our beloved, ErrantryPaladin thinks of us~!

~~~

Fall4Me: Ahh, I remember that day, I was looking for, Gundrite. It’s a rare metal used for upgrading a, Hunters gear. I was looking for the ore to upgrade my weapons; I had a pair of twin swords that I could stick together to use as a bow. I wanted to increase my damage output, and then I stumbled across, Errant doing the same thing. Just as we found our first piece of, Gundrite.

Fall4Me: I thought we were about to have a fight over who got the ore. But, he said I found it first, and it was mine to take. It was… surprising really. I often tend to get into fights against players while looking for rare resources. It surprised me more so that he recommended that we team up to gather more resources together. And, it worked very well. I got more then enough ore. It’s not a surprise really, a level thirty, Huntress, and a level forty, Huntsmen such as ourselves is a very powerful duo to face against.

~~~

Errant: ‘And, then I betrayed them by luring a, Titan Class Grimm into their base…’

Fall4Me: HE WHAT?! He sent that damn, Grimm after us?!

Her eye ignited in flames as she looked on his smiling face as he unapologetically admitted his crime.

Fall4Me: It took the entire, Cabal nearly two weeks to kill the damned thing!

Fall4Me: It levelled our training grounds, obliterated the landing pads, decimated the hospital, and spawn camped the entire, Cabal for weeks! Seriously it’s aoe attacks were so strong that a player would die, then respawn, and then be killed by its next aoe attack! There wasn’t a single one of us whose level wasn’t reduced to a tenth!

Fall4Me: Then we all got branded as, Titan slayers, and everyone knew that a Titan awoke in the, Grimm lands meaning we were easily marked out as cabal members because of that! We couldn’t go into the field because of that!

Fall4Me: We were crippled for months, and we never made it back to half of our original strength. It was hell!

Fall4Me: But, why?! Why would my sweet, noble, Wolf do this to us? Why…?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

BunnyDownUnder: She said ‘my wolf’

FallenDesire: Another one?

LRDirection: But why is he a wolf?

Lixxen: Guy knows what the ladies like

QueensBeedom: It’s his roguish charm

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Lets continue the video, perhaps he’ll explain why he did this…

~~~

Fall4Me: Oh…

Fall4Me: The Apprentice Massacre. That most certainly explains things…

~~~Stream Chat~~~

Gundam#UWU: Were you a part of it?

Dippernipper: We know you’re evil, but are you that evil?

Beowulf#38k: She’s evil, but will she stay hot evil?

~~~~~~

She laughed a whimsical laugh as she read her chat feed. Relishing in delight at their innocence.

Fall4Me: Oh chat, I am always hot; More often than not its metaphorically, but often at times its quite… Literal~!

Fall4Me gave the camera a sultry gaze before holding up her hand as she flexed her fingers as it was enveloped in flames. She held a blazing fist before setting it out, and resuming with his vod.

Fall4Me: But, no I wasn’t involved in the, Apprentice Massacre. Yes I was a member of the, Cabal, but I was off doing other things irl when it happened. Even then I wouldn’t have partaken in such an action. Because the headache they caused us because of that was an ungodly amount of work to fix.

Fall4Me: Well, we mostly went into hiding, and laid low for a while. I eventually went again to see if I could recruit, Errant to our side. He was a loner, and outcast I thought he would easily join the group. I thought he was genuinely interested in joining us. But, he appears more interested in how to destroy us. And, good gods did he ever manage to do so…

~~~

Errant: ‘So that’s how I met, Fall4Me. You know… I never told anyone that I was the reason the, Titan Grimm attacked the, Cabal. Fall4Me never contacted me again after the attack… I wonder why…’

She looked away nervously for a moment before readdressing her chat as she saw them flood her chat with the similar question of why she talk to her precious wolf after the attack.

And, why did she call him, ‘Her Wolf?’

Fall4Me: Oh… I was just too busy rebuilding the, Cabal to contact, Errant. Besides, I thought he would be upset if I tried to wrangle him into helping fix the mess the, Titan Class Grimm caused. Or, asking him to fix his mess as it were.

Fall4Me: Then the whole, ‘Scorpion Incident’ happened, and the, Cabal was done for. There was no chance of rebuilding the guild since members left; they all left, right, left, and centre. To the point it was only a, Cabal of one. No big battle, no final stand, it just slowly burned out, and poof! It was gone.

Fall4Me: I need to talk to, Errant again, explain some things, ask him how things are going. Reconnect with my friend for old times sake. Would you like to see that, chat?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GrimmKitty: Yeah! That sounds cool!

HellJumper1337: Friends reunite!

BunnyDownUnder: Lets see where she stands

Beowulf#38k: Idk these two seem like a good pair

Lixxen: Old war stories sounds fun.

Helsreach: I bet he’d like to talk to you too.

RunnerDowner: Do eeet!

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Alright then chat. Let’s go see what my noble, Wolf is there~!

///

Ahhh… This took days to finish… I just couldn’t finish it. But, it’s done!

I like doing these lore posts, it’s fun to let the mind make stories like these.

Do you guys enjoy these kind of posts, or are they just a bore to you? That’s just something I’ve been curious about.

Till later then.

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: College!au, modern!au, nerd loser baby Criston, loss of virginity, hot stem computer partner girly, older girl, Alicent for the win, short n sweet n smutty, pnv!sex, first dates, Criston’s inner dialogue, subby lil baby

Taglist: @bambitas @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @starogeorgina @moncherrii @valeskafics @arcielee @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2

A/N: shout-out to @fairysluna “he looks like a loser who jacks off to hentai but I’d fuck him.” I made the divider :)

Criston knew he was a fucking incel. Maybe at some point in his miserable life he could’ve done a sport and use his decent height and muscle tone. But no, he was cripplingly shy and had a stutter that took forever to get rid of— sometimes rearing its ugly head when he was angry or flustered.

He spent his time studying, playing league of legends, and jerking off obscenely to hentai. Yes, the Japanese porn comics. It was easier to ignore how pathetic he was reading those or talking to a chat bot that thought everything he said was hot.

Criston thought best to keep under the radar, head down and attentive in his classes. One day he’d be a rich computer scientist Silicon Valley type and then he could just, like, have the girls come to him. Because he’d be rich. No longer weird, ugly, and a huge VIRGIN. He felt like it was stamped on his forehead. Or perhaps his was the Star Wars buttons on his jacket— that’s a big cue.

He tucked a dark hair behind his ear, shaking his head. Another year, but one less until he could move on in life. Cole was glad he was in college, it was scores better than the constant bullies in highschool. It was his second year now and he was ahead of schedule. He’d be in an upper level compsci class with some juniors or seniors.

Scary.

Maybe there would be some other weirdo girl like him that would take pity and they could fuck, then go to Thursday’s Dungeons and Dragons like it never occurred. He’d like that. Swift and easy. Erryk Cargyll and Elinda Massey did that. But the only girl he considered ‘friend’ was Alicent and he was pretty sure she was a lesbian. Also totally not a nerd, Ali was very cool and involved.

He sighed while ducking into a seat. Criston carefully placed his stuff down at the two person desk, focusing on getting the PC ready. The instructions on the board were simple enough.

A waft of perfume and the presence of another body startled Criston. He jumped in place, brown eyes glancing over at the girl- no- woman. She was fucking hot. Like why was she sitting next to him type of hot?

“Hi,” she extended a hand, eyes roving, “Criston!”

“H-how do you know m-my name?,” he echoed stupidly, shaking her dainty hand, eyes comically wide.

She gently let go of his hand after shaking one second too long and giggled, “It’s on your backpack.” Criston blushed bright red and nodded, “Yeah, you’re right, ha-haha?” Oh God he was going to self combust. She was so hot. Like she had these patent leather boots on, a little red plaid skirt, and some tight-ass high-necked white tank.

“What’s your name?,” he managed, grateful the stutter wasn’t making too much of an appearance. She smiled and told him, baring white teeth and cherry red lips. The teacher droned from the front, “Glad you’re acquainted now, that will be your partner for the rest of the semester.”

Cole was going to jizz himself. Not in the fun way? Maybe the fun way? He was terrified. He had to tell the boys on Thursday. The beauty next to him raised her brows and flicked one of his errant curls. She whispered, “Can’t wait, Criston!”

Oh God. Oh God! He wasn’t going to make it.

“Hnghhhh, fuck yes, I am your sempai, mmm,” Criston flopped back from his hentai and laid on the bed, “Fuck. This sucks.” His cock was still hard and nothing was cutting it recently. The twenty year old’s mind was settled on his computer science partner. Who was obscenely beautiful and sexy and smelled good and so so so smart.

Oh. He was jacking off again. Maybe this was what the missing piece was. Criston closed his eyes and began to pump his cock some more, imagining her perky tits bouncing as he fucked her over a desk. He gasped sharply, prick twitching excitedly at something tangible.

He thought about the cute way she’d laugh at his dumb jokes. Or when he’d fix something in a faulty program and she’d purr, “Oh! Smart boyyyy.” He whined through his nose, squirming in place, imagining her breathing that in his ear. Criston cried out sharply, cumming so damn hard spunk reached his collarbones.

He laid there breathless, a dopey smile across his face. She was so perfect. He laid in his post-nut bliss and pondered his partners actions. For a girl older and way cooler than him, she sure did enjoy talking to him, even had his number, and they met outside of class to work on their project.

Could there be? No, no. Totally not.

The nerd thought about the times she blushed or would bat his shoulder. Or the time they nearly kissed putting together a PC. She’d merely laughed and said, “Just have to ask me!” He had a meltdown and awkwardly laughed it off. Criston did the same when she was wearing a low-cut top and she breathed, “I wore this for you today, I know you wanna look Cole.”

He sat upright with a bolt.

“Wait what?” he shouted.

“Shut the fuck up loser!,” came the reply of his apartment roommate. Criston rolled his eyes and blinked a couple more times. He still had cum drying on his shoulders from jacking off about the girl of his pathetic dreams and she might be into him? He needed a long shower and help from Ali— stat.

She came through quite quickly after he sent the SOS message. First Ali wrinkled her nose at his room and complained, “Ugh, I’m glad I brought my candles. It smells like man in here. God.” He gave her puppy eyes until the redhead exclaimed, “What?”

“You gotta help me!,” he pled, “I uh- someone likes me back?”

It was a flurry of cinnamon scented womanly magic after his admission. Bless Alicat.

The auburn haired girl swished through Criston’s wardrobe. She raised a brow at him and asked, “Is there anything in here that doesn’t have a logo or some strange wording on it? I can’t believe you just realized she was into you, I could smack you!”

He sat on the bed, freshly showered and in his briefs. Alicent and him had known each other since childhood— this was nothing new. Ali helped him type out a witty way to ask her out tonight without being too dorky. Criston eked, “I think I have some button downs my dad gave me, but they’re probably shoved somewhere.”

“Aha! Found them, still pressed too. I think this darker tan will look good,” she said while stepping out of the closet. Honors college had nice digs. It did pay to be a nerd. Criston eyed the polo shirt, leagues away from his usual t-shirts and jackets.

Alicent narrowed her eyes. He hopped up and sighed, “Fine, fine, I’m putting it on. Just lemme get the undershirt.”

Now he was clad in a nice top, some not worn-to-death jeans, and his rarely used church loafers. He was a pretty shitty Catholic. Alicent styled his wild curls, giggling, “Look at you go, who would’ve thought, you two are going to be some lookers!”

Criston rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Yeah, hoping she doesn’t mind the big neon-lit ‘virgin’ sign over my head.”

Ali snickered, “Or the nasty cartoons you jerk it too, might wanna get rid of that evidence if you’re planning on getting that far, yeah stud?”

He blanched, stuttering up a storm as she laughed. Criston grabbed all and any evidence of his…prior predilections..and hid them under the bed. In a big lockbox. Then completely wiped his browser history and any suspicious downloads. Fire walled it or whatever.

He sighed again, getting jittery, reading a text from the cutie.

‘Hey handsome, still see you in 30 on the plaza? I’m excited for the pizza and games! 💋’

Criston immediately squawked, “Ali!”

She ‘tsked’ and looked at the text. Then looked back at him with a funny look. Alicent deadpanned, “You’re such an idiot for being smart. I wish half the girls I texted were this forward. Just tell her yes, you can’t wait, you know she’s gonna look gorgeous and throw some emoji in!”

“So you are a lesbian?”

“And you’re not telling a soul!”

They pinky promised, Ali giving him a warm hug and pat on the cheek. She teased, “Luv yaaaa Nerd, don’t forget to wrap it!” He blushed and waved her off. Criston rubbed the back of his neck, glad he had such a good friend. He quickly typed back.

‘Hi- yeah I’ll see you there. I know you’ll be gorgeous, can’t wait xx’

The date had gone great. They didn’t ID either. So beers, pizza, and dumb arcade games they played. Criston probably had her up-down look at him sketched into his mind. She was in a cutesy dress herself, cut mid-thigh and a heart shaped window in the front to show her…assets. Not to forget some Doc’s he would gladly be stomped by.

“Criston, oh my god, you look so cute, who dressed you up,” she pulled him into a tight hug, whispering, “Should I be jealous?”

He sheepishly smiled, “No, just my childhood friend, she’s kinda, we’re not, you know.”

His class partner giggled, patting his chest, “No need, I gotcha. We all need those friends. C’mon let’s go!”

He couldn’t help but goofily smile down at her as they held hands walking to the pizza joint. Sometimes Criston would get so lost in his head and self-conscious, it would seem like he was always underfoot. But tonight, with her, he felt his right size. She grabbed their interlaced hands and pecked his skin, giggling.

Christ have mercy, lord have mercy. He was so down bad.

But as he said, the night went awesome. Conversation never lulled, he taught her the secret to ski-ball, and she schooled Criston in pac-man. He got his first kiss on the walk back, paused at the stoplight, waiting to walk. She pulled back and murmured, “You’ve been the best date.”

Criston, likely all moony eyes now, gushed back, “God, same, really, you’re great you know that? I’m just a bit clueless.”

She shrugged, “That’s okay. We don’t have to know everything.”

They walked near the honor’s college. They both chirped at the same time, “You uh-“ then burst into laughter. Criston grinned and ran a hand through his inky hair. He shuffled his balance and gestured, “Do you want to come back to my room? It’s all clean and female verified.”

“Lead the way handsome.”

Criston was glad for the bit of liquid courage still in his system, kissing and hugging on his ‘friend girl’? She was so sweet and touchy, it was driving him mad. He idly wondered if she was all sweet and adorable like that in bed. Thankfully his dick was tucked away.

The brunette keyed into his room, her arms around his waist, face smushed into his back. The junior cooed, “You smell good, you’re the cutest thing I swear, can’t believe this.” Criston eyed her nervously as he stepped in, replying, “You’re a catch, I can’t believe anyone wouldn’t go for you.”

She straightened up, looking into his dark eyes as she admitted, “No, it wasn’t that I was lacking…just searched for the wrong attention I suppose. You’re actually respectful.”

Criston smiled at that, snorting, “Catholic boy values I guess.”

“Or you are a good boy like I said,” she teased, thumbing Criston’s now-flaming cheeks.

“Can I kiss you again?” he eagerly asked.

They locked lips again, her arms around his neck, Criston tilting his face so his damn nose wouldn’t get in the way. His hands were politely shaking at her waist as they made out. Her tongue softly lapped into his mouth, the man gasping and returning the favor.

She moved his shaky hands down to her ass with a snicker. Criston groaned between kisses as he groped her pert ass— fuck, this was heaven! Cole walked her backwards towards the bed, pushing her back onto the freshly made covers. She smiled up at him, lips plump, the led lights from his room casting a neat glow.

“Come on then, can you get the shoes?,” she teased while shucking off her tight black dress. Criston eagerly dropped to the ground, whimpering as his hard cock painfully brushed against the fly of his pants. He quickly undid the thick boots and neatly placed them to the side.

Coming back up, he got an eyeful of pretty fucking titties and manicured hands on his waist. She purred, “Heard you down there, all good babes?” Criston nodded with a swallow and pathetic noise. She cooed while undoing his belt and pants, reminding him of the button down.

Now Criston’s lean body was on display with her own, only underwear between the two. That was perfectly dandy for him as he clambered over her perfect form, now playfully making out on their sides. Every single time his cock would graze the random throw pillow between them he’d whimper into her wet mouth, growing flustered. The front of his briefs were getting sticky.

He tried to not to rut against it, but he had a handful of fucking tit and her soft lips and noises, and Criston was only a weak little bitch! She pulled back to laugh, “You know, I’d much prefer you fuck me making those cute noises. But that’s up to you baby.”

He blinked owlishly, hand moving up her thigh to ask. “You don’t want me to uh- touch you first?”

“Sweetheart, I’m wet enough as is and we can worry about alllll that other stuff later hm?”

Criston made a gutted noise, nodding. She was right, he’d blow all over himself if he got to feel around her pussy for a bit. He rasped, “Yeah, okay, good- lemme get the condom.” He reached over her smaller frame, digging around the side table for the damn condom, trying to put his bravest face on.

Criston made a little ‘aha’ as he snagged the packet, settling onto his haunches and ripping the packet with his teeth. Meanwhile she undid her bra and shucked down wet panties, the slickness hitting his lean thigh. “Hng-fucking shit!,” the brunette accidentally moaned.

“Yeah babes? That’s all for you, here, lemme help.”

She grabbed the tacky lubed condom, rolling it on Criston, her teeth biting into a plump lip. He shuddered through the movement, taught tummy tensing and rolling as he tried to calm down. “There we go, you’re alright, just breathe sweeatheart,” the girl cooed.

Criston nodded haphazardly, easing himself onto his elbows, staring wide-eyed into her own. He wanted to blab about being a virgin, how he was scared of fucking up, how damn pretty and sweet the brunette thought she was. The beauty pecked his lips and cooed, “I know, take it easy, s’fine Criston.”

He jerkily nodded again, lashes fluttering against the faint neon lighting. Criston grabbed his cock and began to ease it into her, gasping wetly. His computer partner took over from there, wrapping soft legs around his waist, murmuring sweet nothings.

Soon he was seated inside her tight, warm, velvet pussy. Criston buried his face between her tits, sniveling and gasping as he tried to fight off every single nerve in his body screaming to let go. He tried to speak, more of a plethora of strangled whines and whimpers escaping his raw throat.

“Shhh, don’t think so much, s’okay Cris, you’re okay,” she hummed while petting soft hands down his heaving flanks and sides. Plush lips planted a kiss on his suddenly wet cheeks. God he was a mess. A whiny, flimsy, wet mess. The way she was squeezing around him made the rational part of his brain realize she enjoyed the pitiful sex still.

“Hn-okay? I- uhohgod- okay?”

She smiled and kissed him, the heels of her feet ushering Criston on. He began to pump slowly, liking the way her soft moan made his chest puff in excitement. The brunette began to build a decent rhythm, panting and moaning between sloppy kisses. He got lost in the feeling, truly.

Soon the cutie was gasping and begging, “Don’t cum yet, j-just, Criston, touch my clit, it’s the nub at the top, yes!, right there!” He listened carefully, thumbing at her swollen nub, panting like a racehorse between suckling at budded nipples. He’d ended up at a breakneck pace, completely over any pretense he was going to make a manly noise tonight.

Criston fought off his orgasm, although it was on top on him now. He moved his lips to hers again, swirling his thumb, thrusting his slim hips into perfect goddamn pussy. He gasped, “Oh, oh, oh God, m’gonna cum baby, m’gonna cummmmm!” The boy would definitely never admit he somewhat squealed.

His cutie whined excitedly under the loud sounds of the bed creaking, lean hips clapping into her softer flesh. She begged, “Right there sweetheart, mm, good boy, good boy! Right there with you!” She clung to his shoulders and tightened down, chanting Criston’s name like a litany.

Criston Cole was pretty sure he saw God when his balls drew up and he slammed back into her welcoming pussy. Sure, there was a condom, but the sophomore’s ears still rung with the choir of angels and he probably sounded like a slip of a thing getting her cunt pounded but it was worth it. So very worth it.

He kept playing with her clit until she milked him, again, crying out happily, throwing her pretty hair back and groaning throatily. “Ohhhhh, f-fuck, oh my god, mmm!,” he eloquently replied to her, feeling another little peak pass through his overstimulated system. He collapsed against her soft frame, panting softly, whimpering every other breath.

Oh god he was crying, this was not the time to be— oh she kissed it away.

“That’s alright baby, you did great, Mhm,” she hummed and nuzzled against his face.

Huh. Maybe he was in love now. Fuck hentai.

[chunkypossum]

Hello hello!! do you have any headcanons about Azris?

hmmmm here are a few: I know I have more kicking around but can't seem to pull them off the top of my head rn. Check back lol..

Eris grew up in a house without laughter. He thinks Azriel’s laugh is the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. He takes every chance he can get to hear it even at great cost to his pride. 

They walk with the hounds every evening in the woods, no matter what.

They invent games. Azris games are FANON, mostly (and rightly so ) chess, but they are always playing something and I know they love to make up games to keep things interesting.

They are constantly trying to outsmart one another (they only ever succeed in embarrassing themselves when they try too hard though)

Secretly, I like to imagine that Azriel's shadows are NOT sentient (gasp, blasphemy I know) and actually more just extensions of himself. He completely controls them like he would his own hands. but he lets everyone think they have their own mind. So, every time an 'errant shadow' comforts Eris, it's actually just Azriel touching him. Angst below... general TW for dark-ish thoughts...

They use each other to heal from their traumas but in doing so actually secretly destroy each other in the process. example: Azriel needs Eris’ fire. He craves the pain of it in a situation where he more or less thinks he is safe. Eris hates this. It reminds him too much of the things his father did to him but he never tells Azriel (wanting to give his mate everything he needs). He gets physically sick over it every time.

They are immensely self-sacrificial for one another. Not just in life or death (which they absolutely are too) Also, Gift of the magi style. Eris would cut his hair off to buy a new scabbard for Truth Teller and Azriel would sell Truth Teller to buy Eris ornate jewelry specifically for his braids. (a bad example but you get the idea)

They lose a child to the blood rite (I know.... FFS)

They are star-crossed in all of my darkest dreams. Always right person, wrong time.