#am i making too many pride jokes

[nopedontknow]

PRIDE SANJOU

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i think it's about time that we acknowledge that, no, that character would Not change their name in a groupchat! especially not to that. and, no, that character would not change everyone else's names! especially not to that.

[watsername]

this post was supposed to be a lighthearted post about aspec people by highlighting them in a joking way that still instills positivity and pride in the identity .

unfortunately too many people are too chronically online and media illiterate to realise that so let’s break down the post.

‘shout out to the people not having gay sex this pride month’

this was intentionally a worded to counter the ‘have lots of gay sex this pride month’ jokes and positivity that surround pride discussions. The wording directly associates with anti-queer activity and their frequent attempt to divert attention from queer people during the month of pride. it is worded intentionally. it is supposed to seem counter active to pride .

the humour is then seeing a pride flag. specifically the asexual flag- in which case this stands for an umbrella term across the aspec community which is more recognisable than the variety of aspec flags that i had seen whilst looking for a flag for this post . the grey line of the asexual flag stands for the spectrum between allosexual and asexual it represents the degrees of asexuality and in so, with the purple, stood for the aspec community in this post.

if the joke is still lost on you, the idea was to read a statement that counters the idea of queer pride and find it recontextualised to humorously represent an identity associated with the lack of sexual attraction; ergo no gay sex .

what this post is NOT, is a comment on varied asexual attraction. it us not a commentary on what makes a valid asexual person or whether or not you specifically will have sexual inter course this pride month . it is not saying asexuals are not allowed to have sex . this post is pushing any stereotype of asexuality . op is a sex having aspec person. i am demisexual . i have been with my partner for almost 2 years and engage in sexual activity .

what this post IS, is a joke. it’s a fucking joke i cant make it any clearer. not every single joke is going to relate to your own experiences and that’s ok. not every post about asexuality is going to relate to your own experiences that’s ok. you need to stop taking things at face value and actually engage in some media literacy to understand when something is a reductionist and stereotyping commentary which is inherently negative and when something uses a reductionist approach to convey humour because a lot of you really seem to be struggling with that one.

i fear a lot of you take yourselves too seriously and can’t find the humour in simple tumblr shitposts to the point where i’m having to actually explain what i thought was a very easy concept to grasp because it has upset a lot of people . stop taking everything so seriously .

if you are offended by the original post that is actually a you problem. that is something you have to work on where you cannot accept any form of lighthearted media that does not directly align with your own experiences . bc it’s not serious . it’s a joke x

also allo people can fuck off bc this is literally a post celebrating aspec ppl idc if your gf lives across the country or if you’re just a single loser this literally has nothing to do w u

yall make me want to kms for making me do this

[predestinatos]

you mean everything - MV1 ೀ⋆｡🌷

summary: max needed a wedding date and you were used to being his fake partner.

tags: max verstappen x fem!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, max is so whipped, fluff, a bit angsty maybe?, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

notes: i've been writing (and thinking) so much about max... my period is coming please give me a break i'm sensitive. also would love to get some feedback if possible so i know if it's worth making a series out of this!!!!

"If you want to make it believable at least hold my hand" you half-whispered to Max, who was buttoning his blazer while getting out of the car, you behind him.

"Sorry, I'm not used to this with you" he said chuckling. His sweaty palm held yours tightly, and the feeling of it was odd. Knowing Max for so long meant that these romantic gestures felt almost cringeworthy to you both, and you both had to put up award winning performances every time you played this game.

The game in question being fake-dating. It started as a funny joke where you both thought it would be great to test out the Get A Champagne Bottle For Free At This Restaurant If You Propose theory (which worked, by the way). From then onwards, you used each other as dates whenever asked by annoying family members, creepy coworkers, or just because you felt like lying.

The talking wasn't hard - you both felt comfortable in that part, lying with words coming off almost dangerously natural - but when it came to acting the part, both of you felt awkward, like kids who found relationships absolutely repulsive.

This time, though, the performance would last longer than usual: it was a wedding. Max's friend's wedding. Max could've just gone along, or bring a friend (even you as a friend). Yet he had told his friend, after one too many shots on his Bachelor's Party, and after being chosen as The Guy Who'll Take the Longest to Settle, that he had, in fact, a girlfriend. His friends didn't believe him, so he showed a picture of you two together - a selfie really, nothing much. And they still said they didn't believe it. So here you are.

You couldn't blame him, even if you wanted to. You agreed to use each other as a fake partner for as long as you could in as many situations as required, although when it all started none of you ever thought it would lead to wedding attendances.

So now there you were, Max's hand on yours, entering the small church. His eyes locked with the groom, who waved and called for you to sit near the altar.

"So you ARE real" he said, nervousness laced in his voice even as he tried to lighten the mood himself. You giggled at the irony of it, nodding as you said your congratulations.

"Just wait until the guys see this" he continued gesturing towards the bench where 3 other men around his age sat. Men you had seen before in some Instagram pictures, men you spent the previous night trying to memorize basic information about so you didn't sound suspicious.

Max's hand now fell on your waist almost instinctively - it wasn't instinctively, he told himself once he noticed its positioning. And if it was, it was only because he took this so seriously, almost as a sort of method acting. Sitting down next to his friends, he noticed how all of them seemed surprised at your presence, and something like pride filled his chest. He loved winning, loved being right even if he was lying; but most especially, he loved how jealous other men seemed to be over the fact that he was (at least in their minds) dating you.

He couldn't deny - though he tried, really - that you two looked good together. His rougher features mixed with your softer ones gave you both an aura of near unreachability, which yes, was pretentious of him to think but he thought nevertheless.

The ceremony was quick and endearing, a smile spread across everyone's faces at the shared loved between the bride and the groom. As the crowd clapped, Max leaned into you, "don't tell me you're crying". "I am, just to think that I'll have to keep pretending to date YOU for the next 10 hours" you replied, his mocking smile recognizing the joke.

The reception hall was beautifully decorated with shades of soft green and violet orchids. Max tried not to think about how much it matched the shade of your dress, how you looked like you had come to life from a classical novel. He tried to feel like anyone but Mr. Darcy as you felt so much like Elisabeth Bennett to him.

Sitting down next to him, you found this part easier - mingling and socializing was something you enjoyed more than he did - especially with alcohol in the mix. It's a wedding, you thought; this is what weddings are for.

So you drank the wine with the main course and sipper champagne to celebrate and ordered a few cocktails when it was time to dance and talk - and you felt it on your body almost as much as you felt Max's hand occasionally sitting on your thigh, but not even close to how strongly you felt his thumb caress your skin as he did so. Truth was, he too was drunk; his eyes looked smaller and his cheeks were flushed, and the amount of times he ran a hair through his dirty blonde hair had caused it to look messier. As you looked at him, you felt he never looks as attractive as when he is like this - loose and carefree, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a smile on his face when he notices people laugh at his joke.

"I have to admit I didn't think it was true" his friend said when Max left to go to the bathroom. He looked drunker than the two of you combined, his words hard to decypher, like a riddle. "He's been talking about you for months now and we never saw you for real so we thought you didn't exist" he laughed, and you laughed back before it registered.

"Months?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed yet attempting to remain composed. You shouldn't have asked it - a supposedly month old girlfriend wouldn't be surprised but you were his fake month old girlfriend and you weren't understanding it anymore.

"Yeah. He talks about you so much all the time I think even we started to date you" he laughed again, yet this time you didn't find the joke so funny. You were frozen in your seat, merely blinking as if trying to put the confusing puzzle together, the pieces not quite fitting the way you thought they would.

A touch on your shoulder unfroze you, almost like magic, like a disney film come to life. You turned around to find the groom, somewhat sober, smiling at you while also looking somewhat concerned. "He's calling for you... And he's also absolutely wasted" he said, pointing to the door of the hall.

"Shit" you cursed, getting up from your seat at a speed you couldn't believe, worry filling your heart, making you forget the conversation you were just having.

Opening the door to the garden outside, you found Max sitting down against the wall, shirt partly unbuttoned and disheveled hair. When he saw you, he grinned, such genuine happiness laced with tipsiness.

"Lightweight" you mocked as you crouched in front of him, trying to balance yourself on your heels, somehow managing it despite your own drunkness.

"You're laughing at my mis- Shit- my misery" his throat bobbed up and down, exaggerating his own agony with a hand on his chest and another on his forehead like a Shakespeare character.

"I have to admit it's quite fun sometimes" you bit your lip as you fixed his hair as best as you could, hands brushing through its soft, blonde mess.

"You're so– you're so sweet" he said, his words dragged and messy. He brought a beer bottle to his lips but you stopped him before any liquid touched them.

"I think that's enough of that for tonight" you grabbed it and placed it behind you, sitting in front of him.

"See now... Now you're being mean" his hand grabbed a strand of your hair and played with it softly as he pouted.

"Okay big boy I'm gonna get you some water" you say, getting up once again, yet his hand stops you, grabbing your wrist tightly.

You looked at him, startled. His drunken state is visible, and it felt frustrating that you had to be the one sobering up for him. The music vibrated through the wall he leaned against, somehow tickling him, making him giggle.

"Stay," he managed to say, eyes half closed, "I'm so glad we're- Fuck things are spinning so much" his hands rushed to his eyes and his head hung low, "Ah fuck. I'm so glad we're datin- Fuck, no, oops-" he continued laughing despite how sick he felt, the whole situation sounding hilarious when filtered through alcohol.

You giggled along with him, mostly because you wanted to see if you could convince him to move, scared he might feel worse or pass out on the cold floor if he doesn't do so. "Fake dating. Fake dating, I know. I knowww" he continued, his words dragged and his finger pointing at you before poking your nose with such innocent sweetness you were taken aback.

"Max" you tried to sound more assertive but found it hard to do so, your own intoxicated state making the situation lighter than what it actually was. Your heart racing was a symptom of it, one you wouldn't feel if sobriety was an option, you thought. Max's eyes wouldn't seem to stare at you differently were he sober as well, and the way he scanned your features, his gaze staying on your lips for longer than expected, wouldn't affect you in the slightest had you not drank some alcohol.

"I like it when you say my name" he looked up at you innocently, pleading, almost.

"Want me to say it again?" you asked, smiling. You complied with these demands because you knew they were childish whims of an intoxicated man, his happiness a priority in times like these. Upon his nod, you started saying his name, half teasingly, half reassuringly, the leaves rustling in the garden behind you.

"Max... Max!! Max Max-"

He shouldn't. It would complicate things, and he liked when they were simple, clean and organized. He knew he shouldn't even when his whole vision spun and his brain convinced him that he should do things he would never do otherwise. But every time he refrained from saying something he would stumble across all his words and trip and fall and his head would only hurt more, and it seemed as if he could only focus if he kept listening to you and talking to you and looking at you.

The lights shone behind you in a way that made it feel as though he was dreaming, like you were a mirage, too good to be true. Maybe his friends were right - you weren't actually real. He wanted to be sure, in that moment. That you were real and that he wanted you as much as he thought. And though he shouldn't, though it was a terrible idea, he couldn't help but lean over to kiss you.

He tasted like champagne - bubbly and slightly sweet, his movements sloppy given his state, yet you couldn't help but drink it all in. Part of you - a big part - reciprocated the kiss, felt his fingers on the side of your neck, pulling you messily towards him, and tried to steady him, guiding him gently with your own lips.

It was odd, how this felt so right yet the fake hand holding didn't. As Max kissed you, that thought entered his clouded mind - did it feel wrong because it was fake and this was real? Your skin felt so soft, so much softer now he could touch it freely and unapologetically.

"Fuck-" he started, pulling away, his head resting against the wall once again as he stared at you, noticing how it hasn't hit you yet; what you just did, how it affected everything. "I fucking love you" he shrugged as you fixed your hair, pausing with arms raised for a few seconds before smiling softly.

"You're drunk" you replied, looking at his own grin, the gleam in his eyes making him appear both innocent and guilty of so many things.

"I'm drunk and I fucking love you"

"Max..." you started, and he said your name back to you with such tenderness you couldn't believe his lips tasted of alcohol earlier and not something sweet.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" you continued, waiting for the silence to swallow you both.

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending One: Queen of the Jungle

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: Sorry this is short, I wasn't sure how to write this one lol.

In each hand you carried a bucket, filled to the brim with steaks. It was kind of nostalgic of your first time in the exhibit. It was hard to believe it wasn’t that long ago.

You hummed to yourself as you approached the lions’ area. You furrowed your brow- the rocks had been rearranged in nearly a complete circle, with just enough room for you to walk inside and approach the king of the jungle’s sunning rock.

“Hey, Leona!” you called out to the lion halfling lazily regarding you from his perch, “Dinner time!”

The pride’s leader leapt down from his resting spot and casually approached you, his movements lazy yet filled with grace. His eyes, intelligent and painfully sharp, never left you as you entered the circle of rocks.

The other lions were nowhere to be found. Confused, you searched for them in the shade of the rocks, but there was no one there.

As you reached the middle of the circle, something occurred to you. The usually-cackling hyenas were unusually quiet. The hairs on your arms stood on end. Something’s wrong.

You turned to face the circle’s exit and, within an instant, strong arms had wrapped around your stomach, pulling you back against a solid chest. You gasped and dropped both buckets as you struggled to break free. The grip did not budge no matter how hard you fought.

“Shhh, easy there, herbivore,” a voice murmured in your ear, low and gravely and filled with amusement.

Your heart jumped out of your chest. It was Leona who had spoken, but it wasn’t the Leona you knew. It was the Leona whose gaze had started to linger too long for your liking. The Leona who had always seemed too much like a predator than a human.

But he wasn’t alone. 

Now facing the circle’s gap, you saw Ruggie, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he blocked your only exit.

“Gotcha!” Ruggie snickered, “Took you long enough.”

“What… what are you doing?!” you cried, trying to twist out of Leona’s grasp, making no progress whatsoever on escaping.

Leona’s breath was hot against your neck, “You spend too much time with those other exhibits,” he spat out the word like it was a slur, “You must pay more attention to us.”

Ruggie snickered again and leaned casually against the towering rocks, his eyes tracking every movement you made, “You ignore us. Not fair, y’know? You must remember your real favorites.”

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay calm, “This isn’t funny- let me go.”

Leona chuckled, the sound vibrating through your back, “We’re not joking, herbivore. You play with fire, you get burnt. We don’t like to share.”

“Share?” you echoed, voice shaky with fear and confusion, “What do you-”

“You’re ours,” Leona interrupted sternly, “You have always been ours.”

Ruggie pushed off the rock and sauntered over, his sharp-canined grin widening as he got closer, “You should have seen this coming. We dropped hints. You’re just too silly to notice.”

Leona’s nose brushed against your hair, inhaling deeply, “We’re tired of waiting around. You stay here now.”

You began to thrash desperately in his hold, but he held you effortlessly, like a mouse in a cat’s jaws.

“You’ll love it here!” Ruggie cooed, “No more zoo. No more stress. Just you, us, and the savannah. We will keep you cool. It’s perfect.”

The reality of the situation hit you all at once. They weren’t going to let you leave. They were deadly serious. The playful smile Ruggie wore was just a mask for the possession lurking beneath.

It was too much for you, and as hopelessness began to sink in, you began to cry, “Please just let me go, we can forget this ever happ-”

“You will not leave,” Leona growled, “You are our mate. And if anyone tries to take you away…”

You gulped at the insinuation. 

Ruggie moved closer and brushed a stray tear from your cheek, “Don’t cry. We take good care of you, promise. You won’t worry ever again.”

The vast savannah, once one of your favorite parts of the zoo, now felt like a huge, hot cage.

You were no longer a researcher to them. That much was clear.

And there was no escape from the lion’s den.

[unmask-strange-aeons]

@strange-aeons is the @the-muppet-joker

As we all know the muppet joker is a joke, he is unreal. But who is he really? Who is the REAL identety behind the Muppet joker. I am proud to announce that I found out who HE is. His real name was Strange aeons all along. Think about it. The Muppet Joker makes constance references to Father Stranges videos. Like famous tumblr posts. His fanfiction feels like Onisions books that Strange read and made Videos about. He has a furry companion his kermit just like Father Strange has Thursday and Gurl-Girl. He was into Reality Shifting about the same time Father Strange made a video about it. The muppet Joker talkes like Mod Shadow from Sonic for real justice, which she has a video about, he also strangly is like edward in midnight sun, during his march crush, which Father Strange also read. Also the muppet joker hates horses because of the lesbian horse stories that Father Strange made a video about. He also has an unsettling methots to reach his ambition like Patrice Wilsons from ARK MUSIC FACTORY.

THE BROTHERHOOD AND SISTERHOOD

Is the snapewives, followering one devine leader, which is the muppet joker to them. The Brotherhood also has aspects of the cult of Thanfiction, the glorifying of the leader, the leader has unchecked authority. The commitment from the brotherhood also remembers me to the Rabies Pride situation.

Religion.

He stated to be a devoted catholic. Fahter Strange went to a catholic School. He also now has a rebranding going on to become a femenist, and it gives, girl defined and classically abby, which again Father Strange has Videos.

He uses Tumblr like Father Strange.

Now you might wonder how she would do all this. Well i can tell you how. She has made many videos about internet drama such as The Muppet Joker, see Mrs Scribe, Thanfiction, Sonic for real Justice, HIVliving, the My Immortal drama, they where fakers and liers just like the Muppet Joker. She also would know how to opperate a Soft puppet army through studding there strategies. BUT i dont belive that the muppet Jokers Follower all are soft puppet accounts more so I belive them to be Patreons from Father Strange. Who needs a soft puppet army when you have an army that PAYS you to be in your own army.

Now surely you wonder, why? Why would Father Strange do this? There are many explornations.

There is no more internet drama for her to make good videos about so she just makes her own.

This wasnt her idea at all but the Patreons to have some fun.

Father Strange is doing all of this to create to ultimate Tumblr fake story, something so big it escapes the realm of tumblr. And it did from Youtube too Tiktok to X, intergram, tumblr and Reddit its everywhere. She has created to ultimate Tumblr Fake story.

i know that this is not perfect evidence. BUT the once that fit like a glove are as the young people today say "SUS". And it cannot be left alone. If YOU find anymore similarites to Father Strange and the Muppet Joker Please inform me. Together i am sure we can reveal the turth.

What they didnt know was that his name was Strange aeons all along.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my partner not to talk about how happy he is that Ghandi was assassinated?

I hope this doesn't get too long! 🍀

I (26, F) am Irish Australian, my partner (33, M) is Sikh. He's shared many beautiful things about his culture with me, and has a thoughtful way of describing the relationship between Sikh history and current culture.

However I get a bit uncomfortable when he talks about how Gandhi was assassinated by a Sikh person. I know enough about Gandhi to be aware that while he might've had some good impact, he had plenty of underreported bad too. But I don't pretend to understand the extent of it all.

I also understand what a complex thing that sort of cultural history is, my family joke about being proud of the assassination of Mountbatten by the IRA. But we keep that talk behind closed doors, it requires more understanding of the Troubles than the average person has. Also, joking about death is a bit nasty unless you know everyone is comfortable

My issue with my partner is that when he talks about Gandhi's death he's not speaking with a historical context. He gets very serious and sits up all tall and says proudly that Sikhs are a warrior race and they fucking delivered. He has done this in company and in private and it's always very intense and a mood killer, he is not joking at all. I think that level of confident pride in the death of another is kinda messed up

So, I asked him to not talk about it in such a full on way. He refused to apologise because he is proud of it and he said that he's glad they did it (I appreciate his honestly there). I asked if he would be pleased to see a similar event play out today, a Sikh assassinating a major political influencer. He said he would be happy and asked the same of me regarding Mountbatten (this had come up in the conversation, obviously I'm paraphrasing, the whole thing was pretty upsetting tbh) and I said no cos it's not an active war. Also, that I don't actually stand behind that I'm just comfortable with the complexity of it to joke with my family and still know people understand where I stand. Like, the IRA killed his kids too. The whole time was fucked.

He said he's not joking. He, gently, said I was being a bit of a hypocrite. He didn't promise to not talk about Gandhi, but hasn't brought it up since. I feel like he's pretty unhappy about it

I dunno, I asked him without really thinking about it all and I think he makes a good point about the Mountbatten parallel. I'm not sure if the difference in my feelings is my own ethics or just me being a bit racist. And it's not his job to make me not be racist if I've got some stuff to work through. But still, I think if it was any culture I'd be uncomfortable with that much aggressive pride in murder. Like, I've grown up in a country without a death penalty, death is not something people can dole out imo, and his approval of it is so absolute and genuine, there's no pulling the punch. Unlike my way of talking about Mountbatten.

So, AITA for asking my partner to stop talking about his pride in a Sikh person assassinating Gandhi?

What are these acronyms?

[tessieee]

Main 7 x an MC that acts silly and talks to themselves when they’re alone

PT. 1 -- Pt. 2 after the fic that won the poll :p

Pairings: OBEY ME! Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC

༺═────────────═༻

Spending time alone in the House of Lamentation became a rarity as the brothers and you grew closer. Some days it was mediating a fight between Mammon and Levi, others it was being dragged to go shopping with Asmo, napping with Belphie, then a Fangol game for Beelzebub, and Lucifer on your tail over assignments from R.A.D. Regardless, you gave your precious time out like bread and water, feeding those who cried out for help; you knew being needed by so many people at once made your chest swell with pride and filled a void inside you that nothing else could. 

For a while, you’d convinced yourself that the exhaustion you felt was simply because you weren't used to so many people wanting to spend time with you at once, but your denial only went so far as you began to become snippy with your favorite demons. Talking to yourself was a habit you’d picked up every time you were home alone when you still lived with your parents. Staring in the mirror to finish off arguments, speaking to no one in particular while folding laundry, anything to fill the silence. Tonight you swore up and down that you finally had some time alone while finishing up a paper for Curses and Hexes and subconsciously, began to talk to yourself again.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Lucifer ~ 

“What the hell am I even saying here?” You guffawed at your words, strung together by nothing but the Devildom equivalent of Red Bull and your hopes and dreams.

“…great and then you decided to… to…completely ignore the hex counterpart”

You rolled your eyes, staring off to the side as if briefly looking at an off-screen camera. Someone has been watching too many sitcoms. “Awesome! Then I finish this and then I finish math and then I’m done. Dude, I think I’m the GOAT.”

“Thanks!”

Unbeknownst to you, your monologue had caught the attention of the eldest, who, like you, believed that he had been alone that night. Leaning up to your door, he continued to listen as you narrate your actions to an audience you never expected to have. 

“What would Lucifer say…”  You spew a poor impression of Lucifer. 

“You do know you forgot the hex counterpart! How will you be expected to make me look good for my boyfriend? Oh, Lord Diavolo!”

 Embarrassment weighed in your chest, joking about it only relieved the insecurity of whether or not he could like you back for a moment before stinging. You take note of the fact that the demon had been occupying your mind feverishly the past week, today was certainly no exception. You wished he’d check on you to see how diligently you were working. The thought of his approval made you wipe away a dazed grin, your face hot with shameful desire.

Laughter bubbled throughout the room as you made yourself laugh through the rest of your homework. Lucifer’s heart raced at the sound; as he had gotten to know you, your laughter became his favorite sound along with the haunted records he treasured. 

Being caught up in the moment certainly put him at a disadvantage as he almost missed your footsteps growing closer to the door. The prideful demon took this opportunity to feign intention and raise his hand to the door as if to knock on it. Smooth.

“Lucifer? To what do I owe.. the pleasure?” Your meek and confused demeanor threw him off. In front of his brothers you could be so witty, your retorts to the occasional friendly tease from one of his brothers at breakfast often resulted in his gaze focusing on your supple lips, he found that fantasizing about kissing you in the morning kept him distracted for hours to come. 

Your bravery and confidence that you had slowly built up with the time you spent in the Devildom was something he admired so to catch you in such a vulnerable state felt as if you two were sharing something intimate. If the hall wasn’t so dark you’d likely see his lightly flushed expression. 

“I- How long—“ You look behind you self-consciously. “Were you standing there?”

“I was just about to knock. Why do you ask?” You’re lucky he likes you. Sparing your pride, to the both of you, was almost a love language on its own. The executive decision to not nag you about your assignment at that moment was made soon after seeing your cute behavior.

“Oh,” a shy smile spreads upon your lips. You knew he’d be the last person to poke fun at you for this. “Well, it’s a little embarrassing but I tend to talk– to myself? When I’m alone— and.. sometimes around others and..” Your confession ended up sounding more like a question trailing off at the end into an awkward silence. Stupid beautiful demon face.

To your absolute delight, your awkwardness appeared endearing to the firstborn. Luckily you were able to catch sight of the slightly upturned corners of his mouth. He looked incredibly amused by your red cheeks and refusal to make eye contact.

“Are you laughing, Lucifer?” 

“You are the GOAT? Or so I’ve heard.”

“For that long?!”

There’s a moment of silence before you catch sight of his shoulders trembling with laughter, your fit of giggles in pursuit. Your heartbeat finally relaxed; you became aware of how comfortable you felt around him.

Who better than to keep your little secret? 

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Mammon ~ 

“Hooooly shit you’re a genius.” Your fingers flew furiously on your keyboard.

Quiet clacking noises emitted from your fingertips as your melodic voice broke the silence in your room. Music was much too distracting and you’d procrastinated enough on this assignment. Lucifer’s nagging reminded you a lot of your mother and it goes without saying you needed less of that. 

“Oh my god,” You scoff, noticing you had accidentally typed ‘Mammon’ instead of ‘divination’. The demon had been particularly clingy with you as of late, not that you were complaining. It felt nice to be needed, especially if it was him.

“Mammon.. oh he’s so cute.” You practically swooned, sighing loudly and quite dramatically. Your finger quickly made its way to your hair, twirling it mindlessly as your mind wandered from your assignment. The week’s adventures replayed in your mind. You didn’t miss the way your pose looked in the mirror, grinning and nodding in approval. Maybe you’ll post some selfies later!

It wasn’t unusual for Mammon to be demanding of your time if not the most out of all of his brothers. Who could blame him? Time flew when the two of you were together. Two peas in a pod.

“God, if I keep procrastinating like that I won’t be able to go with him.” 

You gasp quietly, taking note of the expression you chose.

“Is that like a cuss word here? Will I get smited?”

A singular “Ha!” Escaped from your lips followed by a string of words. Your frenzied typing had grown to a halt, the back of your seat used as a tool to help stretch your back. Truthfully you’d been at your homework for a couple of hours now and you still had so much left and it was so late. You wondered again where everyone went, you could hear the house creak and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t freak you the hell out.

Scrolling on your phone, you decided to open Deviltunes™ to cut the silence. Finally returning to your homework, you sang along and continued making small talk with yourself.

“Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be weird if someone was watching me right now? Nice question moron, of course, no one’s watching.” Your declaration came out less confident than you would’ve hoped. 

“You always talk t’yourself in private?” The speed at which you turned around almost gave you whiplash. Catching sight of Mammon all smug and disheveled, likely from a night out, made your breath hitch. “Worry not! The Great Mammon will grant you the favor of sparing your ego tonight!”

“Where’s everyone else?” Your arms stay crossed, attempting to make yourself look tougher. This moment didn’t affect you, certainly not! Especially because you did not care that he was the one to catch you talking to yourself and because you did not have enormous feelings for him. 

He only grinned at your weak attempt to change the subject. “Just out. Pretty sure Levi’s been here the whole time.” Both of you share a moment of agreement and you let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding. This didn’t deter the demon from prodding you until you answered his questions. 

“You talk to yourself too?” 

“Yes, Mammon.”

“You think I’m cute?” 

“Mammon.” His eyes widened at your tone, a smile plastered onto his face as he raised his hands defensively. The avatar of greed swore he meant no harm and came in peace.

Frustration bubbled in your chest as he continued to poke fun at your habit– you were embarrassed yet the expression on your face, fidgeting, and red face went right over the demon’s head. Luckily he managed to catch on before he got pushed too close to your door. Complaints spilled from his mouth like chants he knew he’d pushed your buttons a little too much this time and, still with a grin albeit smaller than when he started to make fun of you, shifted his tone. 

“Alright, human.” He grabs your wrist with one hand, brushing stray hairs from your blushing face. “Pay attention ‘cause m’ only doin’ this once! Better not make me regret it.”

Mammon pulls you into his chest, halting your brief nervous breakdown and reminding you that despite all of the chaos you two get yourselves into he’s still your peace. You swear time freezes for a moment as you take in a deep breath, the scent of his cologne and cigarette smoke wrapping around you as his arms do. That’s your Mammon. He knew very well he wouldn’t keep his promise and you wouldn’t rather have it any other way.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Leviathan ~

MC.hammah:

‘Yo Levi. You home 2nite?’

‘Heard u went 2 a Ruri-chan pop-up! Get me something cute. Thx!’

Leviathanreallordofshadows:

‘If I have time after dis line’

‘Get these randos out of line I need this figurine more than they do. > : (’

‘Ugh this is taking too longgggggg’

‘Hey! Where’d u go? Keep me company or ur fake’

You didn't bother waiting for the messages that followed, even the resident shut-in was out of the house tonight. You tossed your phone on the bed and twirled around your room in delight. The world was your oyster– except the world, for now, was confined to the walls that made up the House of Lamentation. You could go exploring, but the sight of your discontinued essay for class held you back from leaving your room. Trudging towards your desk from your bed had to be the hardest task you completed that day.

Your head rested on the palm of your hand as your fingers found themselves in a comfortable tangle in your hair. Scanning the online textbook excerpts in hopes of finding more context to your evidence. All of the right pieces were there, you just needed the glue that would connect them all. Attempt after attempt, the words began to blend into one another and you notice you’ve been reading the same paragraph for the past 5 minutes. 

Why was focusing on this so hard today?

 You lean back to rub your eyes gently, the blue light of your laptop stinging your retinas. Maybe you were just a little butthurt that you’d heard nothing about this, especially since you’d been the one to send him the Devilgram post notifying fans of the event in the first place.

“Not even an invite? Seriously, what’s going on with him..” You frown at your lap, deciding to grab your D.D.D once again. The lock screen turns on, a group picture you’d begged everyone to take, the highlight to you was the cute poses you and Levi had chosen for this picture. Inside jokes like these often provoked the occasional look from his brothers; no one was in on them except you, him, and maybe Henry 2.0.

You scroll down the messages in your DMs with him, scanning for some sort of subtle invitation you might’ve missed but still nothing. With a quiet thud, you threw yourself onto your bed, continuing to scroll yet not finding a moment that excuse his lack of invitation.

“Guess m’ just not cool enough for these anymore.” “Did he take the fish? If you took Henry I swear I’ll rip your soft purple hair right out of your head.” You glance once more at your desk and bury your face into your comforter to let out a boisterously loud groan.

“Homework. Right! Maybe that's why he didn't invite me!”

You look into a nearby reflection with an expression desperate for approval yet you only end up with loud silence and a realization that you look insane. Focusing on your homework doesn't seem that bad anymore. The walk back to your chair is a silent one, thanks to that you were able to catch the quick footsteps from your door. Did whoever just got home hear all of that? Counting your blessings for finding yet another distraction to the assignment you were putting off, you head towards the door hoping to catch the spy. Opening it you weren't expecting to find Levi, much less with a giftbag from the event.

“Were you–” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, embarrassed that he’d been caught so quickly. “On the phone? Y-Yknow’ with someone?”

Had he heard all of the self-deprecating monologuing you spewed? Oh, no. 

“No! No. Levi, I was just…” You trail off, talking quietly with newfound paranoia of being eavesdropped on. “Talking to myself. Obviously.”

Great. That sounded insincere! The demon shifts the weight on his feet awkwardly as his hands fidget with the gift bag in his hands. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering since it– uhm– sounded like you were on the phone.” Poor boy… “I dunno’ I’m probably just being stupid.”

Your face softens as you hear his words. You two were too similar sometimes, sympathy was almost inevitable. Taking his trembling hands in yours you peek up at him through his bangs.

“What’s this, Levi?” “For not– not inviting you. It was supposed to be a surprise.” Ohhhh…

“Levi!” Your arms soon find themselves wrapped around his neck, overcome with emotion as you pull him close. You note he runs cold and that he smells like linen and a day at the beach. “I’m so sorry. I thought– maybe you were over me coming to events like this.”

“No! Never! You’re my– my Henry.” Levi flushed at the sudden spike in intimacy between the two of you. How he was able to keep it together this long was beyond him. “I just figured you were too busy for another event so I’d bring you something special” 

His free hand clutched your shirt to keep you close as if he’d let go and wake up from this dream where a normie and an otaku could get so close without a rip in the space-time continuum. Yet again, he supposed over time you became so much more than just a normie to him.

“It’s amazing Levi. Thank you!”

Worth it!

༺═────────────═༻

Note: OKAYYY I know the fic that won the poll isn't technically my first fic. This one's kinda like a pilot episode? They're also all long kinda so that's why there's two parts soz be nice to me please

Feedback + constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[nanamis-bigtie]

party circle

↬ choso, geto, gojo & ino x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (more detailed description of genitalia), college au, drunk sex, cumdumpster (reader on receiving end), group sex, piv sex, blow job, rough sex, reader is called "doll" and "thing", sprinkle of degradation and dumbification summary: you've been dared to offer yourself as a cumdumpster during a party - and you're not a wimp. you haven't expected what kind of team is going to pay you a visit word count: 2.6k a/n: yes, i am aware this text is squeezed, i have run myself against my own word limit and i still crossed it ahem tag list: @thesacredfanfics

After an hour in almost complete darkness, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, you start to wonder if this all wasn't just a mean, drunk prank. Or another stupid test of courage, company's favorite. The party downstairs is flickering out, the voices and steps are fading, and none are heading towards you, lying half-naked in the host's guest bedroom and slowly going cold. Your heart is still fluttering like crazy and you're perking your ears for any sound nearby, but the level of your excitement is inexorably heading towards disappointment. All the commotion for nothing.

If not for your pride—and gut feeling telling you someone is secretly watching the door in case you chicken out—you would have already pulled your bottoms back up and returned to the living room. A bet is a bet, it still counts as won if someone else wimps out.

But eventually someone does come. More than one person even, you soon realize when the voices become more distinct, and you can pick some words. A few men are climbing the stairs, bantering on their way and laughing, one of them rather reluctant, you assume by the constant harsh chatter and steps heading downstairs from time to time. You can't follow the conversation but after a few tugs back and forth, you learn there are four of them, and at least one of the voices is... too familiar. Your heart, racing a moment ago, sinks; if it's someone from your class or the club, you're done for. You thought you're a solo player here, you got into the party with the invitation of a friend from outside of your college circle, and all the faces you passed by tonight were all new to you. But with so many guests gathered in a spacious house, the probability of running into someone you knew wasn't that close to zero.

When the men finally make it to the floor and stop in front of the door, you almost stop breathing. Are they looking for a free bathroom—or are they here for you? The uncertainty tears you apart the stronger, the more conflicted your thoughts grow. You don't want to find out the hard way if someone you know is in this group. But...you don't really want them to be gone, either. If you already mustered courage and offered yourself as a free-to-use party dumpster, drunk brain or not, not making that one crucial step would haunt you like a ghost. Were you surrounded by cowards? Or assholes who couldn't appreciate your body? No, with the number of advances made on you tonight, you can't really deem yourself unappreciated.

The shade of unanswered questions would remain, though. But luckily for you, the problem quickly solves itself.

"C'mon, man, don't be such a wimp." This voice is not the familiar one but comes from so close that you could swear the man is standing right by the bed. "It's likely just a stupid joke anyway."

The answer is too dull for you to understand and soon it drowns in laughter. The door creaks open, just enough to let a narrow wisp of light sneak into the room. You narrow eyes, blinded after such a long time in darkness, but you can pick silhouettes of four men peeking inside over each other. All stare right at the exposed and illumined part of your body: your left leg and hip, your cunt, and a bit of your torso and face. Instinct yells at you to cover yourself, you spread your legs wider instead, with no word spoken and hoping your guests have enough sober brain cells to connect the dots.

"It's...not a joke." The man from the previous line stands right in the front and his voice falters a little. The other right behind his back, shamelessly resting chin on his shoulder, whistles with appreciation.

"Hey, Kamo, you're in luck today," he turns around and flicks the light on. "I think that's Y/N."

Kamo? Choso Kamo? Why HIM of all familiar people who possibly could wander into this party?

You're hanging on a string of hope that maybe, just maybe, there are more guys going by this family name, and the one here is not Choso, your club crush, but once your eyes get used to light and all four of them step inside, you understand how screwed you are even before they pull their dicks out.

It is Choso, the reluctant one, leaning against the door with arms crossed and looking everywhere but at your face, his own scarlet red to the tips of his ears. But what's even worse, you recognize the other three as well. 

Suguru Geto, probably the most wanted man at your college, skimming your figure curiously from his spot at the front. 

Leaning against him, Satoru Gojo, the star of the football team and his best friend, currently shamelessly staring right at your cunt. 

More reserved than those two but as interested Takuma Ino, your friend's ex fuck buddy and a notorious party animal.

"It's been a while, huh?" He's the one who tries to initiate conversation, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to another. "This is not some crazy prank, right?"

"A bet, I heard." You understand now why Satoru has always been described as equally weird and handsome; the way his gaze is drilling into you sends shivers down your spine. And you can't decide if you hate it...or quite contrary.

With Choso staying behind, the men surround the bed, and you can't shake off the impression that they're cornering you like prey. Neither of them pounces on you though, the awkward tension almost unbearable—but at the same time clearly exciting for everyone involved. With initial shock fading away, replaced by the same excitement that prompted you to boldly announce in which room you're waiting for anyone as brave as you, you're slowly getting back into the groove. Racing heart pumps hot blood into the right veins, simmering lust perks its head up, your muscles relax and allow you to spread your legs as far as you can. Invitingly, you hope, and from the surrounding faces you can read you're understood well.

"Alright, doll, we gotta turn you around, or our virgin won't budge from his place." Satoru shamelessly pulls you to the edge of bed, then flips you face down. Another pair of hands helps you lift your hips until you find a comfortable and stable position.

"Shit, look at that..." Wooden floor creaks as one of them kneels down, his breath so hot against your exposed slit. He traces it with a thumb, gently, but enough to make your breathing heavier. "All wet and ready."

Someone else's big and warm hands knead your ass and spread your cheeks open. Curious thumb grazes your clit, long fingers slide inside you, two at once, and reach so deep your eyes roll into the back of your head. Long wait has worked up your appetite, your heat has built itself up steady and exploded as soon as your cunt has been touched. They soon grow bolder too, encouraged by your dripping slick and noises you make. The banter and dirty praises melt into white noise behind your back, mixed with the clicks of unbuckled belts and pants shoved down to the ankles. 

Someone's impatient cock slots itself against your rim, steals a shallow, wet thrust, followed by laughter from the other two. The eager one is pulled away, hungry hands leave your cunt empty and pulsing, not without a disappointed whine of yours. You wiggle your hips, the craving of being filled stronger than the prior awkwardness and your pride.

"Virgins come first." It's Takuma's voice that breaks through the white noise. 

A few steps creak back, there's a short tussle and the fourth man is forced to come closer. In the last moment of clear-headedness, your heart skips a beat; you fight against the instinct to look back at Choso. You've been turned around for a reason, despite temptation you want to respect it. You can't control the excited spasm of your cunt, though, much to men's loud enthusiasm.

"C'mon, don't make Y/N wait."

There's hesitation in Choso's touch. He reaches for you with both hands, just tracing your ass and hips at first, before he gives your curve the first, testing squeeze. You hear him groan, sound barely audible yet standing out with its characteristic timbre. You would recognize this knee-melting voice everywhere—and in this situation you react to it hundreds times stronger. You shove your hips back, bumping against his crotch, feeling the outline of his erection through his pants.

He groans again, nails sinking into your skin almost painfully.

Someone helps him with his pants when he's holding on to you for his dear life. He lets go of you with one hand, just enough to line himself up and guide his awkward thrusts towards your entrance. Clumsiness and need behind his moves drive you crazy; he's really losing his v-card with you, just like that, watched by his friends, drunk, with a party toy you've become. And as much as you want to make it easier for him, as soon as his throbbing length slots itself in you, finally easing the itching craving, you squeeze him tight and push your hips against him. 

You want everything he can offer, the sooner, the better.

"Fuck..." Choso mutters through clenched teeth, his pulse running crazy as you clench again, stronger. He won't last long, you can tell as much despite the fever overpowering every single one of your senses. Fuck, indeed. The thought of milking him dry so early adds fuel to burning fire; you take over the situation and grind against him, forcing him to follow suit with his awkward, desperate thrusts, until he suddenly stills and fills you up, with the most pathetic, beautiful moan you've heard from a man.

He starts leaning over your back, his hot breath nearly brushing against your skin, but he's pulled away as fast as he's been dragged to mount you. A different hand kneads your ass; it's Takuma, you guess from the breathy whimper he lets out when he's sliding the head of his cock between your wet folds. He doesn't lose his time either, soon filling your hungry cunt again and rutting inside, short but deep and strong thrusts.

"Squeezin' tight," he growls, shifting the weight and balance of your bodies forward. He places one hand on your back and pushes you down, forcing you to arch your hips and take him even deeper.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. Vision hazy and set under a weird angle, you can't see much but Takuma's face, flushed and beaming with pleasure, and Satoru peeking curiously at your entrance, working hard to swallow every single one of the thrust. He's stroking himself, the tip of his tongue peeking through his lips, so engrossed by the show he's almost bearing down on Takuma's back. Neither of them seem to notice, only one goal on their minds.

You're almost brought to your high this time but Takuma is there first, his last thrust almost tripping you over with the unexpected power. You end up pushed into the mattress, the sights mercilessly yanked away from you, and the next man in line doesn't give you a chance to collect himself.

Satoru is much bigger than the other two. His size takes you by surprise; you mewl loud at the sudden stretch, then almost scream when he slots himself so deep that he's poking at your cervix. He doesn't show you mercy at all, both hands holding your hips in place as he's fucking the brain out of you like a jackhammer. It's brutal, it's almost painful, it's so fucking good you're moaning and crying at the same time. The stretch and friction are frying your nerves; you're yanked into orgasm with his thrusts alone, and he doesn't stop even for a second, instead forcing you to stay still, one foot resting at the edge of the bed. Against his strength, you're nothing but a puppet, a sex toy he's moving with no regards for your state.

But even he has limits and soon you're again filled to the brim. You're not able to hold it inside any longer, the mix of cum and your juices drips out of your used hole as your legs tremble, without the support soon to collapse. The last man comes to your aid, his hold is surprisingly tender but as strong as Satoru's. He takes his time, the privilege of the last in the queue, making sure you're stable and collected before he steals the first thrust, shallow, just enough to slide his tip against the mess.

You're trembling from just this little, so overstimulated you're seeing white even without orgasm.

"You poor thing," Suguru coos and traces free hand against your sweaty back. "He's ruined you so much, that monster."

Satoru scoffs, the mattress dips by your side as he throws himself right next to you. He holds your chin and forces you to look at him. The sadistic, almost maniac, look in his terrifying eyes has your cunt fluttering.

"Be careful, poor thing," he mimics Suguru and slides a thumb between your lips. "He's the real monster here."

In contrast, Suguru moves so gently it's...frustrating. He gathers the cum leaking out of you with the head of his cock before he slides it into you slow and deep, then stills until frustration takes over you and makes you find some power to press hips against him.

He clicks his tongue, laughter shadowing over his words, "Don't be like that. You need to savor your strength."

Suguru moves so slow, terrifying with his precision for the first time he's having you. He touches you more than just having you in place, he traces your sides, back, nape, pinches your nipples and meticulously wanders down again, between your shaking thighs. You almost choke on sharp inhale when he rubs your clit, your mewls held back by Satoru's thumb fucking your mouth, then by his big tongue sliding deep inside. Looking for breath, you try to shake him off—Suguru's hold, fingers knotted tight in your hair, forces you to stay still, until you're shaking and melting, and Satoru has to withdraw.

"Don't be too rough," Takuma is on your other side, sounding concerned but still stroking himself, as far as you're aware by the sounds.

"We're just playing." Suguru's voice is sweet like honey, soft and comforting—and you believe him, let him coax you into comfort before he shows his true colors again and yanks you up and straight by your hair. 

Eyes filled with tears, you try to support yourself on trembling arms and ease the tension in your scalp and neck. Merciless hand guides you to other side, right into Choso's cock poking at your lips. You catch a glimpse of his face, bright pink with a blush but his eyes are dark with lust, gaze fixed at your tongue instinctually lolled out of your mouth. Takuma nudges him closer, almost forces him to slip himself into you, the tip of his dick poking at the back of your throat and making you gag.

Satoru's hand replaces Suguru's; he uses your head to get Choso off as the other man speeds up his thrusts, using your cunt without any mercy now. He pulls almost completely out right before he cums, his seed leaking out of your used hole. Next in line Takuma doesn't bother to shove it back, his thrusts push more of it out, the whole mess dripping on the sheets.

I need to pay for cleaning, the last thought crosses your mind before it gives in to pleasure—no, to ecstasy, no more sanity, just waves of your high washing over you over and over again as their cocks fill your cunt and mouth in turns and you're nothing but a trembling mess.

[bloodmoonmuses]

translation: i love you. | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, college au (not that important for the context tbh), friends to lovers, fluff, drabble (900 words)

summary: your friends referred to you as the mark lee interpreter. you weren't sure why, but you understood him- even the words he didn't say.

warnings: none!

To many, you were known as the Mark Lee Interpreter. Such was usually said in jest, but you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest when the moniker was bestowed upon you. Sure, the guy rambles a bit, but if you listen- really listen- he has quite a beautiful outlook on the world. 

You and Mark usually conversed in motion. You’ve divulged your deepest secrets to him while on aimless walks. You’ve cracked your wisest jokes to one another while biking. You’ve had entire conversations through your eyes while dancing in grimy bars.

Now was no different, though a more chill variation. It’s Spring, so the two of you are taking a stroll in between classes. The sun knocks the chill off an otherwise too-chilly day, its rays falling on your face like a smattering of kisses. Spring isn’t in its picturesque stage quite yet. The stasis of winter still lingers, trees barren and skies grayish amidst the light that peeks through the cloud coverage. It’s calming.

There’s a creek that runs through the center of campus, a little bridge arching over the widest part. This is where you stood now, watching the water trickle over stones. 

“I think about rocks a lot,” Mark says out of nowhere. (Translation: Nature is so beautiful- even the most mundane and minute aspects of it. Even the parts that people forget. I think about forgotten things a lot, like rocks.) You believe it. Mark thinks a lot about a lot of things.

“They’re, like, soooo varied. Y’know?”

You do know. Large rocks. Mountainous rocks. Boulders. Stones. Pebbles. There are many types of rocks. “The ones in the creek look super smooth. It’s… hypnotizing.” Mark speaks as though he’s constantly in amazement, or on the brink of an epiphany. He’s the embodiment of potential, of the hypothetical, of what could be. You think a lot about what you and Mark could be. 

Of the many possibilities, you conclude that as long as some form of togetherness is involved, you’d be anything for him.

“I think about water a lot,” you respond. 

“What’s your favorite kind of water?” (Translation: Indulge me. How intently do you think about the minutiae of the world? Are you as crazy about water as I am about rocks?)

“Hm,” you say. “Good question. No one’s ever asked me that.” You assume he’s asking you to identify a particular body of water as your favorite. A memory comes to mind. 

It was the summer after freshman year. You and Mark went to the beach everyday together.  You think of the chilly water that rolled over your toes in the waking moments of dawn. You think of how beautiful the sunrise looked reflected on the ocean. You think of Mark waking up with you, despite not being a morning person. That wasn’t your favorite type of water, no. You specifically liked the sea water that danced on the ends of Mark’s hair. The drops that traveled down the follicle, forming shimmering beads, and dripped onto the sand below. You made a game of watching and counting them that summer. (The highest you got was 47.) 

You’re not sure how to consolidate this memory into a sentence that doesn’t sound absolutely insane. You decide to omit the thought entirely. A conversation for a different day, you suppose. 

“The ocean. Cliche, I know,” you say. Mark nods to himself, then hums.

The creek beneath you harmonizes with Mark’s humming. He begins walking again, taking your hand in his. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary for your friendship, but it makes your heart do this twisty thing you can’t quite place. It was the one action of his you couldn’t interpret. Mark doesn’t make a big deal about it, nor does he discuss the matter afterwards. It was almost like he was entitled to your hand, clasping his calloused fingers around yours without a second thought.

You’ve never actually looked at your intertwined hands before. The first time he grabbed it (during one of those days on the beach), Mark acted so nonchalant. You figured the gesture didn’t mean much to him. You were scared that, if provided with a visual, you’d never stop thinking about his stupid hands. 

This time, you allow yourself a peek. The cuff of Mark’s jacket hangs over his fingers, and he squeezes your hand when he realizes you’re looking. (Translation: You’re finally acknowledging this. Are you here? Can you feel me?) 

Your hand is getting sweaty. You pull away to wipe it on your jeans.

Mark can’t believe you’re nervous right now. You’re never nervous around him. The two of you have become accustomed to the wordless ease of your relationship.

Mark’s eyeing you again. You pretend you can’t see him in your peripheral vision. It doesn’t work. “Nervous?”

“Not even a little bit,” you say defiantly. You snatch his hand back into yours as if to prove your point. However, this only does the opposite as you begin to literally tremble.

“You’re so funny,” says Mark, running his thumb over the back of your hand. He slowly lifts your hand to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss it. He simply presses your knuckles to his lips, maintaining eye contact while he does so. Your breath hitches.

“Mark-” is all you manage to say. You can’t meet his eyes, so you look at your conjoined hands as they swing between the two of you. Elation radiates off Mark’s skin. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Your hand is so warm,” Mark says. (Translation: I love you.) 

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!

[missblissy]

Domestic Astarion x Reader HCs

A/N: UwU just wanted to add to the married life headcanons after the events of the game. Fluffy good stuff below. GN!Tav, no class/race. Enjoy!

Some days always started better than others. But that’s only to say because someone didn’t need as much sleep as you, and had a life time left to learn new skills. One of them being cooking. Sure Astarion can’t taste and it’s a useless skill to him. But you? He would do anything for you. And that includes learning to cook for the sheer simple act of spoiling you with a warm and home made breakfast in bed.

It’s strange to say you two never had a wedding. That’s not to say you two weren’t married. “Oh…?” Astarion isn’t sure how to explain this when someone asks, “Well, you see, my darling little love here found this-” He holds up his hand and wiggles the ring in his finger, “On a rotting old skeleton then found the matching one, get this, on another smelly corpse!” Most people wouldn’t look fondly on something like that. But no, Astarion wasn’t most people. He’d smile and swoon, “And I suppose since then we’ve been married,”

It doesn’t help that back then when you did find those rings, you quite literally told him, “We’re married now,” As a joke. It wasn’t joke….

Astarion has a habit of leaving you poems to find in the most hidden of places. Like little lost treasures. Or maybe he just knows the looting demon you are at heart with your little grabby fingers going for anything they can touch. So it always comes to a surprise to you when you open a book and a poem written years ago flutters out… but the love and truth still rings pure despite the yellowing of the pages.

Crimson sons, vermillion daughters. Quivering maroon, burgundy, cardinal. Short fainting strokes Fester a broken carotid Free from feathers Unbound By the serpent's head no more.

His way of saying thank you for everything you've ever given him. And then some. No matter the message you cherished each treasured poem you would find.

The man had a knack for spoiling you, unconditionally, and most importantly, endlessly. If you saw something out in a shop that caught you eye, but you were just to stubborn to get it for yourself. Surprise, surprise when you get home and find it there with a man beaming proud like a puppy with his bone.

But that didn’t mean affection was off the table either. Astarion spoiled you with kisses, big ones, little ones, some on the back of your hand as he opened a door for you. Others on your cheek, gently but with sorrow as he left for some few weeks for whatever reason. He had his own things to do and sometimes you couldn’t go with him. But that just meant when he got home you could throw your arms around him, breathe him in and share the long awaited kiss of his return.

Married life strangely suited you both, from the little grabbing of hands under tables, the protective placement of an arm, the look of pride when the other did something extraordinary. And Astarion would always be the more boastful in pride when it came to talking about you.

And he couldn’t help but show off, sure he’s loud and arrogant about it. Saying he was best option of course, no one else stood a chance… blah blah blah. But when no one was around he can look you in the eye and practically grovel, “I am so lucky you chose me,”

There were many other things that came with the long life of being married together. The two of you were quite dedicated to learning to… dance. Astarion hadn’t a clue wether his left foot was right, and you may have been no better. It was your idea really. You heart would swoon watching other couples and with an eager voice you pointed a finger and declared, “I want to do that too!”

And so you did, but behind the close doors of your own home. Seeing as Astarion didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of so many people. Where you both could trip and side step and laugh, giggle and make the most out of learning something new together.

It seemed the two of you had a habit of learning things together. From silly little drawings, to paintings, perhaps an instrument or two. You both always found a way to share your hobbies and passions together.

And it was the mornings, where these happened most often. Naturally Astarion couldn’t be in the sun but that didn’t stop him from enjoying what little light he could. You’d find him in the dusty dusk right before the sun actually broke the horizon.

He had been teaching himself to play the piano, so to wake up in the morning and not hear the soft echos of keys down the halls would be a bad sign. It’d be another bad sign if you didn’t sit down beside him, stroking the keys as the two of you played a song that was always in the process of being made and never done.

Surely soon he’d go off to sleep, sharing kisses and affection. You wouldn’t see him again until the evening, when the sun was starting it decent. Day-phobia was real in vampires no matter how much they loved the sun and he didn’t have a worm anymore to help him fight that. But he managed, enjoying every sun rise and sun set he got to see just as the world of night came and went.

Despite staying up all night sometimes just to be beside him, it was fairly often that Astarion would have to nag you to go to sleep. You’d barely have even one eye open, drifting back and forth between dreams and you’d still tell him, “I’m not tired, I’m just resting my eyes,” All because he was up late in kitchen and you didn’t want to leave his side.

He often compromises though, making deals and barters, “If I go upstairs with you, will you go to sleep?”

“…” Surely you aren’t going to say no? “Will you be the big spoon?”

“Of course,” How could he say no to a face like yours? And such a sleepy one too?

He didn’t mind, not really. Some nights he’d stay in bed with you until the morning. Even though nothing would get done, or things he had planned were set aside, he wouldn’t sleep either, he truly really didn’t mind. He could lay there for eternity holding you close and be at peace.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company. 

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact. 

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face. 

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows.  “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite : Meet the pack

Helloooooo! Welcome to my new series titled All Bark and No Bite. Before the series officially begins I want to give a quick overview of the SKZ pack members and their roles within the pack! This is how I view the pack dynamics working and my own personal thoughts. I have sorted them based on where I think they would fall. I have also included what tendencies I think some of them would have. I am also including a small background for the story. Please let me know your thoughts as well! I’d love to discuss :)

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

My content is always for 18+ ONLY. If you are not 18+ please see yourselves out thanks

Background info: This story takes place in an alternate universe where people eventually present as one of three presentations: Alpha, beta and omega. Omegas are incredibly rare and many people have never even seen an omega in their lives. The new tradition is if an alpha does get an omega then that Omega does become the packs, though they will mainly ‘belong’ to the main alpha of the pack. Due to the submissive nature of the omegas this has turned many alphas and betas very misogynistic. 

Next Series masterlist Masterlist

Bang Chan aka Chris -Pack Main Alpha 

Chris is the head alpha of the SKZ pack. He is strong willed and carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Head of the pack and also unofficial head of the neighboring town has taken its toll on Chan mentally and emotionally. He is known as a strong leader who would and has done anything to protect his people. Other packs have heard of him and know better than to challenge him… Mostly anyways. The stupid few usually don’t make it home after coming for Chan. He is used to obedience and expects it in all aspects.

Lee Minho -Beta 

Minho can be hard to read sometimes, he gives off such a serious vibe but once you get to know him and how he interacts with the pack it’s clear he really cares for them. Minho is very blunt and will tell you exactly how he sees it. Even though he’s a beta he is still Chan's second in command in the pack. Minho is often there to remind Chan that he’s allowed to be a human and not a machine. Main cook for the pack. 

Seo Changbin -Alpha 

The main muscle (other than chan) of the pack. He takes pride in his strength and his ability to protect the pack as well as offer a shoulder to cry on. Changbin is often the one the pack goes too when they are down and just need a hug. According to them he gives the best hugs. Also really good for a laugh as he never stops joking around. 

Hwang Hyunjin -Beta 

Hyunjin is a true romantic through and through. When he’s not helping out at home with the pack you could usually find him painting out in a field somewhere or in town helping the townsfolk. He can often be found running errands for the elderly in town. He is a true artist and loves to do portraits of his fellow pack mates. 

Han Jisung -Beta with Omega tendencies

Precious Hannie, always so helpful and supportive. It was a surprise to his family he didn’t present as an omega growing up given how submissive he can be. He just wants to please the people he cares about! He can be a little introverted and shy around new people but once he warms up to you he never stops talking or joking around. Sunshine boy :) 

Lee Felix -Beta Omega tendencies 

Felix is another ray of sunshine for the pack. He is very dainty like a fairy and dances around like one too, despite his deep voice! His bubbly personality is contagious and anyone he meets is enamored by him. He can often be found in the kitchen baking during the day and singing along to whatever song is stuck in his head. Sometimes the pack wonders how he didn’t end up an omega. 

Kim Seungmin -Beta with Alpha tendencies 

This boy is very smart and is one of Chan's right hand men in the pack. He pays attention better than anyone else to small details and is good with strategy. He can come off as aloof and rude when you don’t know him yet, but once his shell is broken through he is actually a very caring person. He always tries to do right by his pack and would stop at nothing to protect them. 

Yang Jeongin -Alpha 

The youngest member of the pack and newest to present as an Alpha. He is very easy going and doesn’t have many responsibilities yet as he’s still trying to find himself as an alpha. He really looks up to the other members, especially Chan as he is a prime example of who Jeongin wants to become. The least experienced of the pack. One thing about him is he is very quick on his feet and even though he is young he knows he would die for the pack’s safety. 

If you got this far thank you :') I am not the best writer but I do enjoy it and hope you do too!

©doitforbangchan

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Taglist

@ihrtlix

[chiipay]

Hii, how are you? I hope you're doing well. I saw that your requests were open, I was wondering if you could write for Kaiser; A scenario where the Reader and Kaiser fight, he gets angry ignoring and insulting the reader, then she leaves and he must break his pride to get her back. Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write it. Thanks a lot 😊

AHHH A SECOND REQUEST. TYY I WAS DYING WAITING ANOTHER ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ aand I'm fine ty hbu?? I uhh actually want to do cheater kaiser but i couldn't find any idea of him cheating because of his lore i couldn't possibly see how he cheated on someone.

Shattered.

Kaiser knows that this is going to happen but he never thought it was going to be so soon.

No. It's too soon.

It's just another dumb fight he got with you. He never meant his words. You know that. So why...did you still leave him.?

He just got home after a match with the Ubers. 'fucking Lorenzo.' he was frustrated by getting blocked earlier so his mood wasn't really right on the mind right now. You were just a bit of a coincidence in his ' moody demeanor ' right now.

" Michael? You're back already? "

You were just making dinner in the kitchen hearing a loud thud making you stop whatever you were doing and went to the front door looking at Kaiser who is now hanging his head low.

You tried to reach out for him but he pushes you away while muttering some words you couldn't catch.

"... could you just leave me alone?"

" is something wrong?...you could talk to me y'know?.."

" Shut up- you won't understand. You never will."

"...hey- you could be a bit nicer.."

" yeah yeah acting all mighty up. You're just being annoying. No wonder no one has ever chosen you. At this point you were just so useless that i decided to take you ."

" I-..."

KAISER took you silent as well making him scoff at your silent demeanour and walk passed you leaving you with your own thoughts.

You were speechless. Mostly you would just beat the shit out of him and probably shrugged whatever that came out of his mouth but this time you were just feeling left out. Maybe his words have hit harder than it used to be. Even if it's just a joke he could have been a bit nicer.

Even so you realised that this happened almost every week. Insults, yelling and fighting- why are you still here? The thought of leaving crossed you. Why stay? It's not like you could fix him. no no.. you realised that maybe you weren't what he wished for.

It's better for you to leave.

And you did.

You started to pack your stuff in your duffle bag. You realised that you never had so many things in this place. This room was filled with Kaiser pride and ego. No wonder you get chills whenever you go here.

".. dang- am i that blind?"

You muttered to yourself. You never saw Kaiser red flags nor have you ever tried to find one. You never hated Kaiser. You never even have a reason to.

Kaiser left the bathroom as soon he got out of the shower- with just having his pants on and water dripping down from his hair he looked at you with confusion.

" going somewhere?"

Silent filled the room. Therefore you were still packing your clothes thinking that if you said anything it would just be a waste.

Kaiser walks up to you and stares at you while your hands are doing things. A hand reaches out to yours making your movements stop.

"... don't leave."

" I'm sorry. I think it's for the better."

"it's not."

Kaiser started cornering you beside the bedframe making you feel small.

"...let me go kaiser- I don't think this is working for both of us- i really do wish you could find someone better-.. I thin-"

Your mouth got shut by Kaiser's palm making you look up to him- confused.

"... Don't."

As much as toxic Kaiser is he still couldn't let you go. You have his head down kneeling for you. You were his joy. His one and only- He couldn't see his future with anyone else other than you.

He couldn't let you leave.

Even if it would hurt you... He couldn't just let you leave. Even after death he would hunt your soul. Curse you to be with him even in the afterlife.

"...Micha-"

" Even if you begged me to let you I won't. You can do anything you want to me. Yelling, thrashing, hitting- but don't you EVER think i will let you go. You belong to me. Your soul, body- from the single strand of your hair to your toes belong to me. Even after death, i will make sure you will be stuck beside me."

Therefore, Kaiser will make sure that he will sleep beside you. Night after night. Year after year. Every life. Every death.

You will always end up with him. He will make sure of that.

[jjkamochoso]

You Look Good in Green

Fluff

Gen Narumi x gn!reader

Request from Wattpad: Gen sees you speaking with Soshiro Hoshina and becomes jealous!

Warnings: none

It was always an interesting time when Third Division visited the Ariake base. The rivalries between members led to lots of banter and a renewed sense of pride for being in the First Division; it was like you all got even closer in the presence of your peers-turned-competitors. Nothing was more entertaining, though, than the roast sessions—er, conversations—between Third Division’s Soshiro Hoshina and your very own Gen Narumi.

“I don’t remember inviting a beady eyed brat onto my base,” snarked Gen upon seeing Soshiro, who was smirking as he approached your captain.

“Oh? Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in charge then,” Soshiro replied coolly. Gen was practically growling at the man, his nemesis never failing to push his buttons.

“Nice to see you again, Vice Captain,” you greeted, trying to maintain the peace and take the heat off Gen for a little bit.

“Now that’s a face I love seeing! How are you holding up over here, L/n? Gettin’ tired of being under the command of this dummy yet?”

Soshiro burst out in laughter at his own joke, holding his stomach and wiping the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes. Gen’s eye started twitching rapidly and you knew it was time to wrap this up before things got too out of control.

“May I show you the way to the conference room, Hoshina?”

“First class treatment from First Division? Never thought I’d see the day. See ya later, Narumi!”

Soshiro waved, grinning widely as you led him away from an annoyed Gen. The captain wasn’t too keen on you spending alone time with the unwelcome visitor, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t want his partner to go through the horror of having to talk to Hoshina. Gen moped all the way back to his room, hoping to find comfort in a video game or two… or three. He was looking forward to spending a slow morning with you by his side, but now that you were preoccupied elsewhere, he was left to his own devices (literally). As he turned on his BS5, he heard his phone ding with new text messages.

Y/n: somehow got wrapped up in this meeting🙃🔫 won’t be out of here for awhile

Y/n: don’t have too much fun without me🥺🫶

Gen: good luck dealing with the bowl cut baby🥣

You sent a laughing emoji and a thumbs up and Gen knew you were busy at that point so he threw himself into the virtual world in front of him, eager to occupy his mind for the time being. Even while on a winning streak that would normally make him ecstatic, he couldn’t help but fret about how friendly Hoshina was to you. You two were supposed to be mortal enemies, the rivalry between First and Third Divisions running deep, yet you got along quite well. It was enough to make Gen sick to his stomach witnessing you greet Hoshina with kindness and a friendly smile. Your smiles were supposed to be reserved for him and him only, not some cocky Third Division jerk.

Am I jealous?

He snorted.

No way, that would be beyond lame. I just don’t like seeing them together at all. I’m looking out for y/n’s sanity, that’s it. I’m totally chill.

That’s what he convinced himself, at least, but the controller being clutched within his white knuckled grasp begged to differ.

After a few hours, many video games won and lost, and copious amounts of retail therapy at Yamazon.com, Gen was finally rewarded with another message from his beloved partner.

Y/n: survived the meeting. total yapathon 🥱

Y/n: come meet me for lunch?😚🙏

Gen had never gotten up so fast in his life. He threw on whatever pair of shoes were closest to his door as he raced down the halls, excited to rescue you from the snooze fest you had been subjected to the entire morning. As he turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. There you were, standing in the doorway of the dining hall looking perfect as ever, but something was terribly wrong: Hoshina was there with you. Gen watched with his mouth agape as you laughed at something the vice captain said, your head thrown back in delight. If that wasn’t bad enough, Hoshina’s hand landed on your shoulder, an action much too intimate for Gen’s liking. His mouth snapped shut in an instant, his teeth clenched so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if a few cracked.

Soshiro Hoshina had made a grave mistake.

Blood boiling, Gen marched over to you, his feet smacking the floor and garnering your attention.

“Sorry I took so long,” you told your peeved boyfriend as he came into earshot, “we got stuck in the meeting. It was beyond boring.”

“Now that I’m here, you won’t have to worry about being bored any longer.”

Gen stood close behind you, a menacing aura emanating from him as he stared down Soshiro, who had calmly dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“Don’t worry Narumi, I kept them entertained the whole time,” the violet haired man teased, and you never knew Gen could feel so tense and bloodthirsty off the battlefield.

“That doesn’t surprise me, considering they love clowns,” he replied, his voice cracking with anger.

“Is that right?” Soshiro asked cheekily, his fangs peeking out. “No wonder you two are dating.”

That was your cue.

“Great talk, Hoshina, thanks for keeping me company. Gen and I are going to eat. I trust that you can find your way out of here?” you asked, softly placing your fingers around Gen’s wrist to stop him from lunging at the cackling vice captain.

“I can. Catch up with you kids later!”

Soshiro walked away, leaving you to deal with a very grumpy Gen.

“Kids? Aren’t we all around the same age?”

You were trying to lighten the mood but Gen didn’t answer you. He barely gave you a second glance as you filled your trays with food and you were starting to worry about what had gotten into him.

“Talk to me, Narumi. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe Hoshina was right in calling us kids if you’re gonna act childish.”

“‘M not childish,” he grumbled, pushing food around his plate.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re pouting right now.”

“According to you, I’m always pouting.”

“And you’re always childish.”

He rolled his eyes but sighed in resignation. “Okay, you got me there.”

You smiled, nudging him with the blunt end of your chopstick. “Spill. I wanna know what’s going on in that handsome head of yours.”

He sighed again. “It’s stupid. Like, really dumb.”

“So, the usual?” you teased, earning a glare from across the table.

“I didn’t like Hoshina talking with you like that.”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, like… like he’s your friend or something! Or something more,” he added quietly. What he was feeling, but wouldn’t admit on his own, immediately dawned on you.

“Are you jealous, First Division Captain Gen Narumi?”

“Don’t say that so loud!” he yelled, looking around furiously. “You’re gonna ruin my cool guy reputation!”

“Sure,” you nodded, holding back a giggle. “I take that as a yes, then?”

Gen wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring at his plate again. It was quite endearing seeing him openly care so much about you and you couldn’t deny it felt kind of good having the affirmation of knowing he didn’t want to lose you to another man. However, you hated seeing him sad and stressed out for no reason.

“Gen, baby, look at me.” You took one of his hands in yours as he raised his head, your other hand carding through his floppy bangs and brushing them away from his eyes so he could see how serious you were being. “There’s no need for you to be jealous. You’re the only man I want, there’s no one else for me. You’re it, I promise you that.”

“I hated the way he made you laugh,” he confessed. “That’s my job.”

“Yeah he’s funny, but more in the “coworker-keeps-your-mind-off-the-lame-meeting” sort of way. You’re much funnier.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

You raised his hand to your lips, brushing them across his knuckles as you gave them little kisses. “I could never lie to a pretty face like yours.”

“Ugh, you’re gross,” he complained, turning his head from your view, but you could tell he took your words to heart with the shy smile and light blush on his face he was trying to hide.

“Eat up,” you told him, getting back to munching happily on your meal, “you gotta be energized to be a worthy opponent for me to take on in whatever video game we’re playing for the foreseeable future.”

Gen broke out into a mischievous grin. “You have it all wrong. I’m gonna kick your ass!”

You watched him shovel food into his mouth at an alarming rate as he filled you in on the progress he had made in his earlier gaming session. He then told you about the ridiculous amounts of online purchases that were making your own credit card weep from your pocket.

“I even bought a dartboard,” he said, his eyes gleaming with joy. “I can’t wait to put a picture of Hoshina’s stupid face on it.”

Yep; Gen Narumi was all yours.