#anyway this drawing doesn't really have a meaning behind it

[quamticious]

Chipped innocence

[scatteredraysofhope]

@strawberryfaced I just thought you might also relate^^

This is going to sound so out of the blue but can I just say thank GOD for sweet retail workers??

Like I've had a particularly bad week Horrors wise, the anxiety is literally crushing my chest, and so I couldn't make myself go to college and have like, y'know, as much social interaction as I normally would with friends and stuff.

But the interactions I did have were with the food deliverymen and the retail workers at IKEA and I know it's like a three second interaction at most but when they smiled at me after answering my question or they had a kind voice or they just exchanged a few casual words it fucking MADE my day.

I've seen people talk about how important those less intense interactions with strangers are for mental health and stuff but I really really felt it this week.

Just, man. I've had a lot of lovely and chaotic interactions with retail workers before and those are fun stories for another time but just, even those casual smiles or a gentle tone when helping out, it means so much. And maybe sometimes it's for the job, but even then, it still heals me, just a bit.

And it must be really difficult when so many customers are shitty and the pay is next to nothing and you're treated so poorly, and I wouldn't blame every single retail worker for being extremely on edge and disillusioned, but somehow, sometimes, you manage to find it in you to have a gentle voice and a genuine smile or laugh and just know how grateful I am for y'all. It's like crawling out of my mind expecting the world to be hell but then someone is unexpectedly kind and it's so healing.

So, um, this has been very rambly and I'm not entirely sure I made sense, but thank you. Thank you for existing.

[lovebugism]

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them. 

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?” 

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache. 

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself. 

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper. 

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?” 

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong. 

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.” 

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them. 

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief. 

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

[despairforme]

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 05

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You spend the Sunday in bed, trying to watch a TV show to shut up your mind, which keeps coming up with all too vivid images of what Sukuna and you did in the locker room. But you can't focus on the show. Instead, your gaze wanders distractedly through your room and brushes over the white, too-large hoodie that is draped over the backrest of your chair. Sukuna's hoodie. And you are mentally back where you started: In the locker room on Sukuna's lap.

You groan and bury your face in your hands. You will have to go to your classes again tomorrow, which means there is a high chance you will bump into a certain pink-haired, tattooed hockey player. But you have no idea how to act around Sukuna after this! Hopefully, you won't run into him, at least for a few days!

But of course, it doesn't work like that. You haven't even started your first class of the week before you see Sukuna again. He is leaning against one of the vending machines in the hallway that leads to your creative writing class, talking to one of his teammates while looking gorgeous as always, with his pink hair slicked back, tight black jeans that accentuate his muscular thighs, and a white team hoodie, just like the one that is waiting for you in your room.

You duck behind a large plant, groaning inwardly at how insane you must look to everyone around you. But you simply cannot face Sukuna right now! Just one look at him brings back the memories of those firm muscles under your fingers and how those large, calloused hands trailed all over your skin, and how good that thick cock felt inside you.

You make a strangled noise as you try to determine whether Sukuna already saw you or whether you can still turn around and run the other way. You are about to give in to the second option. But it's already too late.

"Hey, princess!"

You draw in a sharp breath as you clutch your books to your chest and slowly turn around again. Sukuna is casually strolling over to you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jeans, his typical arrogant smirk on his handsome, tattooed face.

You exhale slowly, lifting your head and straightening your shoulders, trying to will your embarrassment away as Sukuna stops in front of you.

Act cool, act cool, act cool!

"Hey, Ice Prince."

Sukuna's eyes sparkle in amusement, and he laughs that sexy low laugh and runs a tattooed hand through his pink hair as he cocks his head,

"Prince? I'd rather think I am the Ice King. But of course, I can be anything you want, princess."

Suddenly, he is so close to you again, towering over you, tall and big, and your back bumps against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing wildly as you look at Sukuna. At his lips precisely. Lips that lift in that sexy, rude smirk. Lips that you know feel so hot and soft against yours when they kiss you. Your breath hitches. And Sukuna laughs softly.

He leans down, his sexy cologne filling your nose, and his warm breath is on your neck when he whispers in your ear,

"Do I make you nervous?"

You grit your teeth and bring a hand up to push weakly against his broad chest, not really trying to push him away (not that you could move him an inch anyway), but in a helpless attempt to cover up your embarrassment. Why does he have to be like this? Why isn't he nervous, too? You shake your head, eyes burning into Sukuna's,

"No, of course not!"

But Sukuna huffs, leaning even closer, his voice full of smug amusement,

"Liar."

He smirks at you, his maroon eyes filled with a far too knowing look, when he adds in a teasing voice,

"Why do you act so flustered then? Like a scared little bunny. Is it maybe because you can't stop thinking about what we did in the locker room? How you bounced on my cock and how my cum was dripping down your hand and..."

You make a squeaking sound and reach up to press your hand over Sukuna's mouth to shut him up. And he laughs. You feel his lips move against your palm, feel his smirk, and then something warm and wet.

You jump, and your gaze snaps to Sukuna's eyes. He is staring right at you, a teasing, amused spark in his eyes while he is licking your palm.

There's another slow, teasing flick of his tongue, and much to your horror, it sends bolts of electricity and desire through you, making you press your thighs together involuntarily. But at least you finally come to your senses and quickly pull your hand away, wiping it on your jeans while you roll your eyes at Sukuna.

"Stop it!"

Sukuna grins broadly at you, his tattooed face still full of mischief, but at least he lowers his voice when he says,

"It's fine, princess. I enjoyed our little locker room fuck, too."

You restrain yourself from pressing your hand on his mouth again, and Sukuna adds smoothly,

"How about we make this a regular thing? It doesn't have to be exclusive to the locker room. We could also use a bed next time, or a shower, or anywhere else you like. You and I get along, and the sex is good, so why not have some fun together? It doesn't have to be a big deal. What do you say?"

You stare at him, your pulse racing and your head spinning at his offer, unable to form a response.

Sukuna smirks and touches your shoulder, letting his large hand trail down your arm until he reaches the pocket of your cardigan, where your phone is sitting. Sukuna pulls it out and holds it out to you,

"Unlock it."

You do as he says as if on autopilot and watch as Sukuna types in his number before handing the phone back to you. He takes a step away from you, slinging his backpack casually over one broad shoulder, and jerks his chin at you,

"Think about my offer, princess, and hit me up if you crave a little fun in your life."

He winks at you before he turns around and strolls away, leaving you standing there leaning bonelessly against the wall with your heart beating up to your throat and your mind whirling.

Did Sukuna just offer me a fuck-buddies arrangement?

This new development turns you into a distracted mess for the rest of the day. You get into trouble with your grumpy professor once again when you fail to reply to her question because your mind is too occupied thinking about Sukuna and what to do about this whole arrangement he is offering you.

You drop your books and forget your jacket and curse yourself for being such a flustered idiot just because some hot hockey boy blessed you with the best dick of your life and is asking for a repeat!

Get a grip!

But even when you are back in your dorm, you can't stop obsessing over this whole situation with Sukuna. You keep playing with your phone, unlocking it to stare at the new contact.

Sukuna 🏒👑

Your lips twitch when you see the hockey stick and crown emoji next to his name.

Your fingers hover over the message icon several times, but you always lock your screen again before you can write anything.

You throw your phone onto your bed with a heavy sigh. You are too flustered and too shy to text Sukuna and agree to whatever it is he is offering. But at the same time, there's this excited tingle in your veins that screams at you to text him and just enjoy that star player dick.

Isn't this the kind of exciting thing you dreamed about happening to you when coming to this college? And now you get it presented to you on a silver platter, but you are too chicken to take it?

You groan and bury your burning face in your hands. Maybe you can make a decision tomorrow. You need some time to think, or rather overthink.

You manage to avoid Sukuna the whole next day during classes, feeling like a complete fool with the way you sneak through the hallways, always checking if you see his pink hair somewhere. Your lunchtime is spent in your classic literature classroom, munching on some sandwich you hastily prepared this morning. Hiding away like a coward.

You feel relieved when your last class of the day is over. Now you just have to head to the library to get some research material for a new assignment, and then you can go back to the safety of your dorm, where you can lock yourself in your room and obsess in peace over a phone contact with a hockey stick and a crown.

You roll your eyes at yourself, and the librarian tells you to stop giving her such mean looks. Your eyes widen, and you hastily apologize, fleeing towards the section she told you the book you are looking for is.

The old floorboards creak beneath your feet, the smell of old books fills your nostrils, and you feel at least part of the familiar comfort the library always offers you. You scan the bookshelves, looking for the number the librarian gave you. And sigh in annoyance when you finally spot the title you were looking for.

Of course, it has to be on one of the higher shelves, and you can't see a ladder anywhere! You get on your tiptoes, bracing yourself on the shelf with one hand while you try to reach the book you want. You curse softly when your fingertips barely manage to graze the wooden shelf on which the book is standing.

And suddenly a familiar smug, low voice speaks up behind you,

"Need help, princess?"

You whip your head around, looking over your shoulder at the very person you have been avoiding all day. He has that typical, lazy smirk on his tattooed face, and there's an amused glint in his maroon eyes.

"Sukuna?"

You blink at him in surprise, and Sukuna's grin grows broader.

He steps closer, closing the distance between you so his body presses lightly against your back, making your heart race like crazy. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to run from him anymore with the way you are trapped between the bookshelf and Sukuna's tall, muscular body. You gulp hard, pulse fluttering at the feeling of Sukuna pressed against you and the enticing smell of his cologne and the cigarette smoke on his clothes filling your nose.

Sukuna reaches above your head, effortlessly plucking the book from the shelf.

He doesn't pull away immediately but stays right there, pressed lightly against you, his buff body caging you in while his warm breath brushes over your earlobe. His velvety voice has dropped to a low, seductive murmur that makes goosebumps appear on your arms,

"I haven't seen you all day. Where were you hiding, princess?"

You huff, trying to sound casual, but you cringe inwardly when you hear how breathy your voice comes out,

"What do you mean? I wasn't hiding."

Sukuna finally steps away, and you let out a breath and turn around to look at him. He is holding the book you need in his large hand, and you reach for it, but you see a shit-eating grin spread over Sukuna's face, and even as you reach out, you know it means trouble.

And, of course, right before you can grab the book, Sukuna lifts his arm above his head, letting your book dangle from his long tattooed fingers out of reach for you.

"Uh uh, not so fast."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest,

"What are you doing? Give me the book!"

Sukuna laughs softly, smirking at you in that rude and sexy way that infuriates you and turns you on at the same time. He shakes his head and drawls in a low, amused voice,

"I'll give you your book if you promise to see me tonight. My dorm, 8 p.m. We can just talk if you want. Or we can do more than that. It's your choice, princess."

Heat throbs between your thighs as your mind provides you with an image of the two of you on Sukuna's bed, naked bodies moving rhythmically against each other. Your hands trailing over Sukuna's smooth tattooed skin, your fingers feeling up his buff muscles... You draw in a sharp breath and look up at him with big eyes and a face that feels way too hot.

"I..."

Sukuna laughs softly, his cat-like eyes gazing deeply into yours, completely shameless, far too arrogant, but damn, it drives you crazy in a very good way. One corner of his lips lifts in that sexy smirk, and he cocks his head,

"Is that a yes?"

It's not fair how charming and sexy he looks and how he is tempting you with a good time. The kind of good time you really want. The thought of meeting him again, knowing what it will lead to, still makes you flustered and feel like some shy little virgin, but you really like what he is offering you. And so you nod and mutter a soft,

"Y.. yes."

And Sukuna looks so pleased.

"Hmm, smart girl."

He leans down, his grin downright devilish now, and his breath brushes over your neck, making your skin tingle everywhere. And it gets even worse when Sukuna's tongue darts out and licks a slow, wet trail up your neck while you feel his rude smirk against your skin.

You screech and push at his broad chest,

"Hey! Don't drool on me!"

But you can't hide how playful and amused your voice sounds. You shake your head and laugh breathlessly as you look up at Sukuna's grinning face and he laughs and pulls away. He lowers his hand, holding the book out for you to take.

You quickly snatch it from his tattooed fingers. But Sukuna is fast. It must be his hockey-player-reflexes. He manages to grab your hand before you can pull away, holding onto it while his maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours.

"8 p.m. at my dorm. Don't keep me waiting, princess."

He doesn't wait for an answer but lets go of you, leaving you standing in the middle of the library with wobbly knees and wide eyes.

You are a nervous, excited, giggly mess when you make your way over campus and to Sukuna's dorm.

You feel embarrassed and exposed when you slip through the front door of the large dorm building, thinking that everyone who sees you must know exactly what you are up to. As if you are holding a blinking red sign that reads, "I am going to have sex with your star player."

But at the same time, your veins are singing with excitement. You feel almost high. You are meeting a super hot hockey player/the resident bad boy to get into a fuckbuddy arrangement with him or something like that! It's the kind of crazy thing you would have never thought you would ever get to experience.

You, who were always too scared, too anxious, too careful to experience anything exciting. But somehow, Sukuna made that whole cardhouse tumble down so easily, and suddenly, you feel so light, with your pulse racing and your whole body buzzing.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest when you reach the Itadori twins' apartment. You need a moment before you finally make up the courage to lift your hand and knock on the door. The seconds tick away, and your breath comes out in nervous, quick huffs as you wait for Sukuna to let you in.

Finally, the door swings open, and Sukuna stands in the doorway in low-hanging grey sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and that damn boyish smirk on his handsome face.

"Hey, my lucky charm."

He waves you inside, and you slip off your shoes and follow Sukuna into the apartment. It's bigger than the one you and Nobara share, which is probably a bonus the beloved hockey players get. The living area and open kitchen look clean but a bit chaotic, with hockey equipment, weights, and other gym stuff strewn everywhere. A red hoodie is hanging over the backrest of the couch, and various video games and manga are scattered all over the couch table next to several empty protein shake containers.

"Ignore the mess. I just came back from practice and didn't have time to clean. It's not my mess, by the way. My brother can't keep a clean room."

You smile to yourself, thinking that it's kind of cute that big bad hockey star Sukuna apologizes for how his living room looks. But before you can tease him about it, Sukuna already pushes open the door to his bedroom and ushers you inside.

It's surprisingly neat compared to the mess in the shared living area. The first thing you see is Sukuna's bed, which is actually made and suits him really well with the all-black bedding. On the left side of the room is a window and a desk with neatly stacked books. Above it is a shelf with trophies and next to that, a big pinboard with some hockey tactics written in Sukuna's elegant handwriting and a few pictures of Yuuji and Sukuna and an old man with a face shape that looks very similar to Sukuna's and Yuuji's, so you assume it must be their grandpa.

You look curiously around the rest of the room. A flag with the team crest is hanging on the wall behind the bed, and on the right side of the room, you can see a half-opened closet. The clothes you can spot in it are all black, with the exception of some white and red, which you assume must be Tigers merch.

A stack of cigarette packages and some energy drinks sit on a shelf next to a whole array of hair products (cherry flavored, like you already assumed), as well as several big bottles of cologne and a smaller bottle of black nail polish. You smile to yourself.

Vain idiot.

"So, did you think about my offer? About our little arrangement? You okay with it, princess?"

Sukuna's low voice interrupts your nosiness, and you whip around to look at him, feeling flustered again. You shrug and tug nervously on your fingers,

"What does it include exactly?"

Sukuna laughs and shrugs,

"Anything you want. We just have fun."

He has taken a step closer to you, and his low voice is smooth and velvety like a caress. You feel nervous, intimidated, and overwhelmed by the way your mind screams at you: You had sex with him! He was inside you. And you know you want it again. You are in his room. You just have to reach out and touch him!

A shaky laugh comes out of your mouth, but you nod and smile nervously at Sukuna,

"Okay, sounds good."

You gulp hard and lick your lips. They feel too dry suddenly as you look up at Sukuna's tattooed face, too aware of how small the room seems all of a sudden, and how good he smells, and how tall and strong he is. You add shyly,

"So... um, how do we go about this?"

You gesture helplessly at the bed and at Sukuna, suddenly ready to just run from his room and hide away forever. But Sukuna laughs softly and cocks his head, his face softer than usual, as if he feels bad for you.

He puts a hand on your waist.

"No need to be so nervous, princess. It's easy. Just come here, and I assure you, you will know what to do. It worked really fine the last time, don't you agree? Our chemistry is good."

He is right.

The moment Sukuna wraps an arm around you and pulls you against him, it's really easy.

Your hands automatically wrap around his neck, and you get on your tiptoes, pressing your body against Sukuna's, sighing when you feel his warm, firm body against yours. Your lips crash into his, kissing him hard as if to make up for your shyness a moment ago. And Sukuna kisses you back, his tongue licking hungrily into your mouth, both of you instantly overcome with the same craving you felt in the locker room.

Sukuna's large, warm hands are on your hips, steering you to his bed, while your lips trail from his mouth down his jaw, kissing his sexy tattoos before they close around his Adam's apple and suck on it, smiling when you hear the soft growl coming from Sukuna.

You tumble onto Sukuna's bed, and everything feels completely natural. As if you have never done anything other than make out with Sukuna. It's as easy as breathing.

Your hands slip so naturally under Sukuna's t-shirt and explore his abs and pecs before you tug on the soft cotton shirt, and Sukuna helps you pull it off.

It's the most natural thing ever to lift your arms above your head when Sukuna tells you to do so, letting him undress you too, pulling off your shirt, and then opening your bra expertly with one hand. He lets your bra drop to the floor before he replaces it with his large tattooed hands, cupping your tits and brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples while his lips find yours in a sloppy, wet, open-mouthed tongue kiss.

From that moment on, the only thing you know are passionate, wet kisses and wandering hands, tearing at each other's clothes until you are both naked and writhing against each other on Sukuna's bed. You don't have to think. You just have to feel. And it's really as easy as he said. No shame, no worries, just pleasure.

Soon you are on all fours, your ass up, your face pressed into Sukuna's pillow, which smells so intoxicatingly like him. And you mewl loudly into that pillow because Sukuna dicks you down so good that you feel like you will melt.

He is kneeling behind you, one foot placed on the mattress, his large, strong hands on your hips as he takes you from behind, fucking you hard and fast and so deep. Dominant, in control, and knowing exactly how to fuck you right.

His strong hands hold your hips tightly, pulling you closer again anytime you try to get away when you think the pleasure becomes too much. But Sukuna won't have it and just holds you in place while his sexy, low voice tells you,

"Stay here, princess. I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good. Just be my good girl and let go. You can be as messy and loud in my bed as you want."

His words drag a loud, desperate cry from your lips as Sukuna's hips hump against your ass and your swollen pussy, fucking his thick cock deep into you, hitting your sweet spot in a maddeningly delicious rhythm.

You feel tears run down your cheeks from how good you are getting fucked, and you do as Sukuna says. You relax and let him take full control.

You are a babbling, sobbing mess, but it's just like Sukuna said, you know, here with him, you don't have to be embarrassed or shy. You eagerly lift your ass, pushing back against Sukuna's body, taking his thick cock deeper, begging him for more, whining loudly anytime his thick mushroom head hits your sweet spot.

And Sukuna laughs and moans, and it's so sexy that it makes your pussy clench around his gorgeous, talented cock, making him groan that sexy breathless "fuuuck" that drives you absolutely wild.

The way Sukuna fucks you with those deep, hard strokes makes you almost delirious. His gorgeous cock is giving you such a fluttery feeling in your stomach and in your pussy, growing more blissful every moment.

You let out a high-pitched squeal when you cum, muffling the noise by pressing your face deeper into Sukuna's pillow. And Sukuna fucks you through it, groaning in that sexy low voice,

"Fuck yeah, princess. Cum on my fucking cock!"

Your breath hitches, and you scream and kick your legs, cumming so hard and intense that you think you will lose your mind.

And Sukuna groans and grabs your wrists with his large rough hands, keeping them in place as he pushes you down on the bed with his heavy body, mounting you, fucking you into the mattress. He snaps his hips faster, fucking his twitching cock into you at a maddening pace that makes the headboard of the bed bang loudly against the wall.

You whimper needily at the feeling of Sukuna's heavy weight on top of you and the switch of position it brings with it. The earlier doggy turned into a deep, intense prone bone that makes Sukuna's cock push even deeper into your sensitive pussy.

One of Sukuna's large hands grabs your chin roughly, turning your head to the side so he can give you nasty deep tongue kisses while he fucks you with those deep, intense strokes that grow harder and become more erratic as he nears his orgasm.

You mewl under him when you hear him growl and feel him push his cock deep inside you. And then Sukuna stills his movements, cumming inside you, fucking his cum into the condom he put on this time.

His hand around your wrists squeezes them tightly. His breath is loud and harsh, and a low, sexy moan falls from his lips only centimeters from your lips before Sukuna kisses you again.

A breathless laugh escapes his lips, and you feel his smirk against your mouth as Sukuna starts to move again, slow, shallow thrusts, fucking his whole orgasm into you while you mewl softly beneath him and squeeze your pussy around him.

With a last, teasing flick of his tongue, Sukuna pulls away.

He rolls off you and lets his heavy body fall onto the mattress next to you, a broad, satisfied grin on his tattooed face and a low laugh falling from his lips.

One of his large hands lands on your naked ass giving it a squeeze, and then his tattooed fingers trail slowly up and down your thigh, caressing it as if you are a beloved pet he is pleased with.

You still feel dazed when Sukuna gets up after a moment, shamelessly walking around his room completely naked, throwing the condom into the trash bin before he bends down to pick up his black boxer briefs from his bedroom floor.

He pulls them up lazily with one tattooed hand as he walks over to his desk, making you lick your lips as you watch his gorgeous muscles flex while he moves. He grabs his cigarettes and a lighter from his desk and opens the window next to it, leaning casually against the window frame as he lights a cigarette and brings it to his lips, inhaling the smoke with a soft little hum.

Sukuna turns his head, looking at you with heavy-lidded maroon eyes and a lazy smirk.

"See, I told you it's easy."

And you laugh and roll on your side, pulling Sukuna's blanket over your naked body, feeling exhilarated and a bit dreamy after such amazing sex.

"Yeah, you were right."

Sukuna smirks, getting that smug expression on his tattooed face again.

"I know. I am always right."

He turns his face to blow his cigarette smoke out the window while you groan in playful annoyance.

You walk out of Sukuna's bedroom fifteen minutes later, after you both got dressed again, and Sukuna showed you the various medals and trophies on the small shelf above his desk and explained what he got them for. It felt less awkward than after your locker room fuck, though it still makes you a bit shy to just talk to him like you are friends after he was balls-deep in you and you cried into his pillow from how good he fucked you.

Sukuna is close behind you, bumping into you when you stop short as your gaze lands on Yuuji.

Sukuna's twin is lounging on the couch in the shared living area, his feet resting on the couch table while he watches TV. Yuuji turns his head to greet you and smiles his big sunshine smile at you, honey eyes wandering from you to his brother and back again.

And you smile back awkwardly, feeling your face get hot again,

"Hey, Yuuji."

How long has he been here? Did he hear you? Does he know what you did in Sukuna's room?

You quickly flee towards the door, but before you can leave, Yuuji laughs happily and says,

"So Kuna found you! He was complaining the whole day because he hadn't seen you. I'm glad you came over!"

You blink and look back over your shoulder just in time to see a protein bar getting thrown at Yuuji's head while Sukuna yells at his brother to shut the fuck up.

And you quickly slip out the door, grinning from ear to ear as you hear the twins bickering. Your steps feel incredibly light as you jog down the staircase, snickering to yourself the whole way to the front door.

I FELT THE FLUTTERY FEELING IN MY STOMACH AND MY PUSSY TOO 😭😭💗💗

Here we are in a fuckbuddies arrangement with our sexy hockey boy ;) Also, big applause to Yuuji for exposing his dear brother. I know you are obsessed with us, Kuna. It's ok, baby 😘

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

In Chapter 6, Reader and Sukuna have some more fun with each other + also some bonding moments.

Thank you so much for all the love on this story!! It makes me so happy 💗💗

[livelaughloveluffy]

love languages - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: i definitely needed this fic, i've been a bit sad today so writing this cheered me up a bit, hopefully it can do the same for you all as well!! i started a higher dose of sertraline today, so hopefully i level out and feel better soon.

nothing but fluff here 💗

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how he shows love:

acts of service - law is a silent lover. words have never really been his strong suit and he often has a hard time physically conveying his emotions. his silence, however, is not synonymous to lack of effort. law shows up for you physically. he does hundreds of menial little tasks for you (when he found the time to get them done, you'll never know). whether it's pre-packing your lunch, having your meds ready next to water and breakfast when you wake up, drawing you a warm bath, taking care of your laundry and other chores. and he'll never mention it at all, you'll just happen to find these things all done on your own. he'll constantly brush of your thanks and appreciation with a mumble of "it's nothing.. i was already doing it anyways..." but one restless night, you catch him in the act of secretly folding your laundry, a rare sight you savored and committed to memory.

quality time - it doesn't matter if the two of you are together but focused on your own tasks, attention divided from each other, or if you're wrapped up in each other's arms. law truly doesn't mind either way, just knowing that you're close by is more than enough for him. and while the captain of the heart pirates may do his best to act otherwise, he definitely prefers having you a minimum of an arm's length away. of course, law does enjoy actively finding activities for the two of you to partake in together or places to visit and explore, in his opinion, it's all worthless without you to do it with.

how he feels loved:

words of affirmation - as much as it flusters the captain, your small whispers of praise and affection mean the world to him. while law may have a hard time returning the gesture, the way his entire body seems to relax at your words doesn't go unnoticed by you. until finally just the melodious sound of your voice instantly brings him comfort, something that unconsciously conditioned him to unwind. law is the type of man to take every comment to heart, as if he's collecting and saving them in his very being. so your sincere admiration and words of encouragement hold much more power than you'll ever know, fueling him to keep going.

physical touch - despite the limited conversations the two of you have shared about the topic of his rough childhood, it is abundantly clear that law never fully got over a lot of his abandonment issues. he only truly feels safe when your arms are wrapped around him, lips pressing gentle kisses against his forehead as you softly stroke his raven locks. every kiss and hand hold is treasure in his eyes, and if he could freeze time, he'd live in those moments forever. while the crew of the heart pirates may roll their eyes and poke fun at your sickly sweet nothings and other expressions of pda, they will never comment on your physical closeness to the captain. your hands often resting on his thigh whenever the two of you are sitting down, or on the smalls of his back as you two stand together, are acknowledged but never discussed among the crew. though shachi and penguin can often be found with their faces almost turning blue trying to hold back addressing the amount of times you'll walk into meetings, just to stand behind law's chair, resting your chin of the top of his head while you rub his shoulders.

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tags ♡: @dindjarins1ut @twiishaa @chibinasuu @3v37773 @dreamcastgirl99 @acesdiary @suga-tofu @vamphoria @raddelusionaldive @sparkyvibes @chillerkiller @teewon @all-by-myself98 @moonpri @thissaintjessi @sunshineagony

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[enderlovez]

Late-Night Genius

Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 1500+

Summary: During a late night in the BAU, reader finds Spencer hunched over his desk muttering to himself about the deranged killer on the loose, and decides that in the midst of all this carnage, he needs someone to look after him, too.

Content Warning: mentions of death, mutilation of the human body, blood and murder, pocket knife used as a murder weapon, intentional sleep deprivation, strangulation, overworking yourself

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Nine people are already dead, and nobody has a single piece of useful information on the unsub, only that they are — possibly, not definitely — an old white man, which sums up half the human population.

Most of the team, including yourself, have been staying in the office until stupid hours of the morning recently, to try and figure out what you're missing before this mysterious killer takes another victim.

Some believe he's already done so, but the bodies are still unfound.

There are no connections between the victims, except for the fact that each of them are from out of town, but each of them were killed in similar fashions — strangled with a noose made of fishing line, then their throats jaggedly sliced open post-mortem.

All of them were also missing both hands and both feet, hacked off poorly by a pocket knife found near the crime scene. That, however, was not post-mortem, meaning that these poor people were mutilated while still alive, possibly fully aware of what was happening.

It should be impossible that the unsub left no trace with something such as this, but here you are, struggling in the behavioral analysis unit at two in the bloody morning, to come up with what should be the most basic details.

You sigh dejectedly as you relax into your chair, pressing your palm into your nose with a little more force than necessary and tiredly rubbing your shut eyes with your thumb and pointer finger.

Right now, you think you'd do just about anything to be back home in bed — not that you technically can't go home, you're free to go home anytime you please as long as you're back in... later this morning, but you feel an uncomfortable sense of duty to this case.

A sound draws you out of your half-asleep state on the chair, a soft mumbling from the desk adjacent to yours. You begrudgingly peel your eyes open to find Spencer Reid hunched over his desk in a way that definitely can't be good for his back.

His face is twisted up in concentration as his finger runs up and down the page he's reading.

"You're going to give yourself back problems, Spencer," you mumble, using your hands as leverage to push yourself up from your seat. He doesn't look away from the paper in front of him, but hums in acknowledgement, though you're not entirely sure he heard you.

It's probably a really bad idea to be overworking yourself so much, tiring out your body to the point of exhaustion, considering your line of work. But you don't plan on stopping until this killer is behind bars, and apparently as it turns out, neither does Spencer — you can sleep once the risk of another person dying is handled.

With another near-silent sigh, rubbing your hands over your face once more, you grab a few things out of your bag and start making your way towards the exit.

Spencer doesn't ask where you're going, but you feel the need to specify anyway, albeit vaguely.

"I'm heading out for a bit," you whisper over your shoulder, waving your hand around limply. Realistically, you know you should head home like Hotch suggested, catch some sleep before you're back at work, but you just... can't. Exhausted as you may be, you don't think you could sleep even if you tried.

The cool early-morning air against your skin soothes the heat lingering just beneath as you slowly trudge towards your car, hopping into the drivers seat and pulling away from the building. You shouldn't be driving in this state, but you desperately need something to eat.

If Spencer were here, he'd be telling you all about how many people die while driving tired. Probably lightly scold you and insist on driving, even though he's just as, if not more tired than you are.

You're only half-aware as the car takes you away from the building, mind zeroing in on the music playing quietly over the radio. Boring, not something you would ever listen to on your own.

It's a miracle that you're able to reach your destination without getting pulled over — a little twenty-four hour café you frequently visit. Granted, it's usually at more appropriate hours of the morning.

The girl behind the counter looks bored and tired, just over everything and likely wanting to be at home in bed, much like you. As you shuffle up to the register and see her smile falter, you feel pity.

Poor girl probably doesn't get paid enough for this.

"Hello, welcome to Pine and Pastry," she says in a flat voice. "What can I get for you this morning?"

"Hi there, Caroline," you whisper, eyes halfway shut. For a moment she looks surprised that you know her name, before you point to the nametag pinned to her apron.

She writes down your order in sloppy handwriting as you speak — a plain black coffee with a crap ton of sugar for Spencer, and a hazelnut latte for yourself, along with some extra espresso shots in a cup just in case. You also get a couple of breakfast bagels and a box of cinnamon rolls.

It takes her maybe ten minutes to get everything ready, making the coffee, and even going the extra mile to warm up the cinnamon rolls.

"Your total is $34.79," she says, rubbing her eyes with one hand as you place a fifty dollar bill into her other, murmuring a quiet 'keep the change' and grabbing a handful of sugar packets before collecting your things and stepping back outside.

The drive back to work is easier, you're more aware of your surroundings now that you've been off your ass for a little while.

"You're back," Spencer comments softly as you walk back into the office, though he doesn't even look up from the page — a different one than before, but still one he's looked over hundreds of times.

"I'm back," you agree as you set everything down on your desk. He glances up at you once as you place the coffee and breakfast bagel on his side. "I got you some coffee and something to eat."

He watches you for a second before offering a quiet 'thank you', picking up the bagel and taking a bite out of it — still hunched over.

Spencer's eyes widen when you're suddenly beside him, ushering him out of that horrid position and into a chair, holding him up straight for a moment before returning to your own desk.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Spence," you demand softly, looking down at your own files, fully aware of how intently he's staring at you. "It's bad enough that we're keeping ourselves awake at all hours of the night and into the morning, you can't just not eat."

If you're being honest, you've always had a bit of a thing for the genius boy, so seeing him doing so... not well upsets you a lot little.

A small smile appears on his lips as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You already take such good care of me, though," he snipes back playfully, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You really shouldn't drive while this tired, it can actually be worse than—"

"—Worse than driving intoxicated, I know, Spence," you finish for him, rolling your eyes and taking a bite of your own bagel. "I think Hotch might put us on mandatory rest, if we don't get some sleep soon."

Spencer hums in agreement, looking back to the files on the desk in front of him, making a sudden thought spark in your mind.

He doesn't look at you as you stand up again, rounding the desks so you're back on his side, but he does give you a side-eye when you place your hands on his shoulders and start pushing his head down towards the desk.

"What are you doing?" he asks, though he doesn't make any moves to stop your ministrations, folding his arms on the hard surface and letting the side of his head rest atop them.

"You've been working so hard," you whisper soothingly, gently squeezing his shoulders in what you hope is a comforting gesture, "just give your mind a minute to rest — and I know you'll say you don't need it, but maybe it'll help you think better."

He bites his bottom lip a little before giving in, letting his eyes close. "Maybe if it's just a minute," he agrees quietly, voice already drifting off into silence. He's out like a light before he can stop it.

With a small, tender smile on your face, you use your finger to brush some of his hair out of his face and let your thumb briefly stroke over his temple.

He's so absolutely, heartbreakingly adorable when he's sleeping, you realize, heart stuttering and eyes watering at the sight before you. His face is no longer twisted in concentration, rather soft and peaceful.

Just because you're tired, doesn't mean poor Spencer needs to be, not if you have any say in the matter.

He might be slightly upset with you when he wakes up, even if it's only brief, but all of that's fine if it means he'll get at least a little bit of sleep.

Humming a quiet little tune to yourself, you return to your desk and continue your work where you left off.

[wyllaztopia]

2025 is coming so i let my friend @kayseeye [new agdt mod and assistant!!] clear agdt's askbox

as devastating as it was to see a bunch of creative remarks and asks go down the drain - let's be real, i won't have time to answer them with how linear the story is becoming for ease of access [goodbye 500 asks... though kacey took screenshots of drawings you guys sent in our inbox!!!]

hooowever, there's also another key reason we had to clear the inbox

[^ satire btw]

very long and convoluted psa/ramble about this matter ahead! but also slightly important and i encourage you to read it if you think about using agdt's inbox as a way to vent or share things about your irl troubles

some people treat the blog's inbox as a venting area

it doesn't really make me uncomfortable, it's just something i prefer not seeing. i don't like sharing or being shared personal information especially from an anon or a stranger

this doesn't go for just agdt - it goes for all blogs you interact with: please don't make yourself vulnerable to a stranger on the internet. you are putting yourself in a dangerous spot.

if you need escapism or help, turn to a professional or someone close - going to a stranger can go horribly wrong in two ways: you make them uncomfortable and subject them to a responsibility they never signed up for, or you let someone use your vulnerabilities and personal information against you.

i can probably count like 100 or so asks of people sharing something overly personal and asking for comfort. i don't hate it, i'm not mad, i'm just worried and i hope the people who send them become aware that they should not send those asks knowing that if they're answered, they could be answered publicly with everyone and their mama being able to see that vulnerable moment in that ask.

"just ignore them, wyll! besides, you didn't have any rules abt yo blog anyway, yo!"

nah, i'd win

can't exactly ignore them when it's been almost a year of young impressionable users over sharing to a stranger who answers asks publicly [along with the fact that i hardly see people talk about this matter when it comes to rp/ask blogs.] also so they don't do this to another askblog that has another impressionable youngin running it and publicizes asks that contain personal life info.

we don't add rules to asks on agdt because we can pick and choose which ones we answer. a set of rules isn't going to stop an asshole from breaking them so i'm not wasting my time trying to enforce one. and that's not what i'm trying to do in this post either. i'm putting this out there because i don't want people making the irrational decision of making their life and weakest moments accessible to people who want to use it against them.

i'm not trying to make a big deal out of this either. i can just skip or delete asks that i know i shouldn't answer or won't be able to. but that's my side of responsibility as someone with a platform. i want to make it clear that the audience that decides to interact with these kinds of blogs should be aware that just because you're behind a screen and concealed by an internet persona, that doesn't mean you're any safer from other people using your vulnerabilities against you.

[peacheeeliz]

030. my wife! (wc: 960)

“Okay, Sera, Jake, you'll stay in that little bunker over there,” Heeseung explains, referencing the small bunker built in the middle of the desert. “Roz and I will stay out here to keep Voodoo and Quix away, but if they get at least five blocks away, there's a level for you to pull that'll set off a good amount of TNT I set up.”

“A good amount of TNT?” You question, staring at the sandy bunker. “And we'll be safe from the TNT in there, right?” Heeseung's character stares at you without a word, his lack of answer leaving you on edge. “Your bunker isn't going to kill us, right?”

“Nooooo,” he says, voice pitchy as his character turns away slowly. “It'll be fine, I promise. There's nothing safer.”

“I highly doubt that,” you whisper to yourself as he goes on to continue more of the plan.

As Heeseung yaps away, Sunghoon's character turns to you. “Hey, I wasn't lying earlier. I'm here to protect you,” he says softly.

“Ew, can we keep the flirting to a minimum today?” Jake questions, rolling his eyes behind his camera. “This is a life or death situation. Now is not the time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sunghoon lets out, huffing. “You're just jealous.”

“Yeah, I'm so jealous,” Jake continues. “So jealous that we're in the middle of a war and our allies are too busy flirting to listen to the plan.”

“The plan that will most likely kill us?” You say, laughing when he doesn't respond. “Yeah, something tells me being inside that bunker will be more dangerous than out here.”

“You guys have no faith in me,” Heeseung huffs, after finally realizing no one was listening to his explanation. “Maybe if you actually listened to me, you'd feel more confident staying in the bunker.”

“I really don't think it will,” you answer, shrugging – despite the fact he can't see it. Before he can retort, an arrow flies straight past your screen. “Oh fuck.”

Just over in the next biome, Sunoo and Taeyoung are standing in the tree line with their bows drawn. Sunghoon immediately turns back to you, “Go. We'll hold them back, alright?” He starts, ushering you towards the bunker. “And remember, if they get too close, pull that lever.”

“But we don't even know if it's safe for us,” you retort, but you still make your way towards the bunker with Jake.

“You'll be okay, baby, I promise,” he tells you. “Now go. Stay safe in there, okay?”

Your smile brightens at his comforting voice, but Jake is quick to pull you out of your trance as he calls you from across the desert. The two of you take your place in the bunker, watching as the chaos unfolds in front of you. Many shots fly across through the air, but the battle takes a while to get close and personal; and eventually, swords are drawn.

“Red Winter is coming!” Taeyoung calls out, targeting Heeseung and slashing his sword towards the older boy.

Jake's character slowly turns toward you, “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks quietly, and you can barely hold back your laugh. “This is a Minecraft series… What does that mean?”

“It means we're at war with theater kids,” you answer, laughing with the man. Your eyes find their way back to the fight outside, landing on Sunghoon as he crosses swords with Sunoo. The two draw closer and closer to the bunker, Sunghoon backtracking when he realizes just how low his health has gotten.

“Wait, wait, wait, Sera, look,” Jake exclaims, trying to show you just how close Sunoo was getting to the bunker. “You gotta pull the lever!”

“Me? Why do I have to pull the lever?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows. “Why can't you?”

“Because I don't wanna,” he says sheepishly, showcasing a nice toothy grin towards his screen. “Come on, if they get too close, they could kill us! You have to pull it.”

“Whatever, whatever,” you say, but you make your way towards the lever anyway. “If we die, I'm blaming you.”

“I can accept that,” he answers, making his character nod quickly. “Now go! He's right there with Roz” He pauses. “Wait, don't pull it. Roz is too close. It might get him, too.”

“I,” you take a deep breath. “Do you want me to pull it or not?”

“Don't pull it,” he says. Just then, an arrow is shot right into the bunker, flying right between your two characters. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again. “Okay, pull it.”

You roll your eyes and move your mouse to hover over the lever. Taking in another deep breath, you click, and everything happens in a flash. TNT explodes all around the bunker, and your hearts drop faster than you can even count, until YOU DIED is written across your screen. Your mouth falls wide open, eyes wide in disbelief as you stare at your screen in silence.

Meanwhile, Jake has a similar reaction, watching your character disappear as sand falls all around him. He lost a few hearts, but not nearly enough to kill him off. He's brought out of his trance when he hears Sunghoon scream, “My wife!”

At Sunghoon's outburst and the crash of thunder that rings through the sky, the four out in the desert to the giant hole in the sand. “No, no, no, no,” the man babbles, eyes wide as he reads the chat over and over again. How could he have let you die? He was standing there with all three lives left, and you were gone. In his state of shock, left unaware of his surroundings, Taeyoung takes his chance to attack.

Within seconds, the same YOU DIED screen shines across Sunghoon's face.

synopsis ⤏ popular youtubers team up on all new minecraft smp, quick to name themselves the "newly weds" after sunghoon gifts y/n a poppy. but will these romantic endeavors between the two just be "for the lore," or will feelings blossom?

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[iid-smile]

★★ RUSSIAN ROULETTE ⋆

CHAPTER 01 — MiSFiT

series m.list — next >>

content — itoshi rin x gn!reader, spiderman au, crack (its not funny 🙁), bickering, basically just a lil intro of spiderman and the readers friendship, heights, lil mentions of motion sickness, a tiny tiny bit suggestive if you squint but nothing too obvious, protective rin, also mean rin

wc — 1.2k (+0.4k)

a/n — since im planning on having rin being both in and out of his suit, im just gonna call him spiderman when he's actually spiderman to the reader (youll get what i mean l8r) also can we take about how the masterlist actually suits rins colours and this doesn't? there was no way i was going to sit there and edit each and every one of my headers so it would look more like rin's suit. nuh uh... yes anyways me thinks i'll introduce the real rin and the reader in the next chapter

it was both a blessing and a curse to say that you've met spiderman more times than anyone else in japan. that's minus the fake ones at mall meet and greets by the way. time and time again, he comes to rescue you, whether that be in a real life or death situation, or minor inconveniences when you're out and about.

he's like a little guardian angel, but add in an insult every other minute.

once again, he's saved your life, effortlessly swooping in at the perfect moment and pulling you out of a sticky situation that could have ended (not) very badly. you weren't in any dire danger at all, but it's too late to say that when you're already hundreds of feet into the air that you really could've handled it yourself.

as he gripped onto you by the waist, a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins, sending your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. the wind whipped around you, and the world blurred in a dizzying, blinding dance of colours and light as he spun you effortlessly.

thank god this wasn’t your first time being swung around like this, otherwise you would've been guaranteed to get motion sickness. okay, maybe you are, but still, you couldn’t help but marvel at how he seemed unfazed by all of the comotion. your squeals of terror echoed in his ears as you clung to him, feeling as if you're going to teeter out of his grasp.

sure, you could have easily sidestepped the trouble if you were watching where you were going, but there's nothing better than a pair of strong arms protecting you from any and all sorts of harm. and what better way was there to draw him in than to create a moment where he feels like the hero?

well, he is a hero, just... not a very... good one.

as you finally approach an open clearing where you're unlikely to smash into a skyscraper, you build up the courage to properly open your eyes, taking in the busy streets and traffic below you. this doesn't feel real at all.

"you're unlike anyone i've ever met, spidey!" you yell loud enough for him to hear you as he cuts through gusts of wind. your hands manage to land on his shoulders, lifting yourself up more for a better view. as scary as it was, you knew he wouldn't drop you.

spiderman's heart starts to pick up from the simple, random declaration, already beating ten times faster than it was before. put it on a scale; it's about as fast as... um... it's really fast. was this the moment he's been waiting for?

"what do you mean?" he tries to keep his voice as even as possible, not letting the anticipation get to him as he awaits your answer. the side of your face was now pressed against his, allowing the both of you to speak normally.

"you're weird as hell!"

oh.

his expression immediately drops back to his usual scowl behind the mask. was that supposed to be a compliment, or..? that was the only word that came to mind in your tiny word bank, apparently. his eyes narrow as he avoids yet another shortcut back to your apartment, opting to take the "safer" way.

not very safe when he purposely makes a hard left, leaving your body threatening to slip out of his hold with your fingers digging into his suit. this guy is a piece of shit. "i don't think you can say that when this is the third day in a row that i've had to save you." he grumbled.

your grin turns sour, pursing your lips and squinting your eyes as you look off to the side in mock offence. if he's gonna play this game, then there's no way in hell you're backing down. "i don't think you can say that when you literally saved me from a piece of gum."

"you were stuck to the road."

"it was blocked off and under construction."

"and you know how quickly construction workers work. what if you got buried under concrete?"

"i wouldn't!"

"of course not." he flatly replies, though his arm tightens around your waist. "you're hard to miss." (he meant that in a good way, but it came out wrong. cons of having a grumpy voice)

wow. isn't he so sweet? "fuck you!" you hiss, kicking your legs to throw him off balance, but it only makes you feel worse. you want to lift your hand, hit him or just do something, but it's like it's glued onto him. "do you want me to start screaming?"

"please don't."

"i will—"

"no." the last thing he wanted was to go deaf from your voice in his ears. was it too late to add in a noise cancelling feature to his mask?

still, he makes another risky decision to swing underneath a bridge, staying attached as the two of you do an entire loop around the structure before shooting into the air.

obviously, your first instinct was to scream.

with your arms securely clasped around his neck, you clung on as if your very life depended on it (which it did), your voice rising in panic as you shouted out into the air. your eyes squeeze shut, head banging from what felt like a headache as you rambled whatever sentences came to mind. "just say that you like hearing me scream then!"

"...what?" his mind goes blank for a split second but he shakes himself out of it, switching the conversation. "hang on tight, we're nearly there."

your legs wrap around him. "can you not see that i'm—"

"just shut up, will you?" he whispers, a "mysterious" heat starting to spread hotter and hotter over his cheeks.

spiderman finally returns you to your bedroom balcony, landing on the railing with light feet before carefully easing you off of him. he keeps a hand on your shoulder, making sure you stay upright and don't tumble over. yes, you were dizzy. yes, you definitely needed to lay down. but you cannot deny that was so fun!

you let out a lazy giggle, pretty much falling into his arms once more from your legs giving out. "thanks for the joyride, spidey..."

he scoffs, pushing you off him and ushering you through your bedroom door. "i got you home safe. that's all that matters." he sounded almost bashful, but your silly self didn't notice.

amid the silence between the two of you, a piercing alarm blares in the distance, its urgent sound slicing through the a a quiet like a knife. the mechanical wail rises and falls, echoing off the buildings and rolling through the streets, creating a sense of urgency that captures the attention of innocent pedestrians.

spiderman glanced over his shoulder, assessing the situation. spidey senses — or something like that. another bank robbery.

you smile playfully at him, your body leaned against the glass door. "i think actually saving the city is more important right now."

though you couldn't tell too well, he wasn't looking directly at you. "...right." reluctant to leave, he stalled for a few seconds, not knowing if he should say goodbye or... no. no. he doesn't need to. it's already hard enough to talk when he's around you.

and just like that, japan's hero was off.

bonus! block blast newbie

after a long day, nighttime started to settle in, though the amount of people outside barely decreased. spiderman was crouched over the edge of a tall building, considering this his "rest time."

"i don't get why they're obsessed with this..." rin pulled off his mask, squinting at his phone illuminating his face as he tried to make sense of the empty blue grid before him.

it was merely a cheap, money-grabbing knock off of tetris — designed for those who seemed to specialise in incompetence and lacking the ability of putting on shoes and going outside for once in their lives. honestly, he doesn't get the hype, and in his experience, only genuine idiots seem to play this game. that doesn't include you, of course!

frustration bubbled beneath the surface as he wondered how something so straightforward could be so interesting that it risks your (and others') safety. actually, even worse, how bad good could it be that it dragged you right into the fate of stepping on a piece of gum?

this might be dangerous...

"oh?" he was expecting the tiles to fall, but instead they stayed exactly where they are, stuck in their position in some sort of awkward shape. coincidentally, the next shapes were a perfect fit, and it was easy enough to fit them into the right space, clearing the board.

'excellent!' his eyebrows furrow at the random male voice coming from the game, weirded out from the sudden praise just from getting a combo. "...i don't appreciate that." he mumbles to himself, quickly turning his volume down until it was on mute.

this was the game that you're obsessed with?

"huh?"

so then, a few minutes passed...

"just how was i supposed to fix that?"

and then an hour... maybe two...

"what—!?" his exclamation was drowned out by the distant but approaching sound of of police sirens, interrupting his little gaming session. he was this close— this close to throwing his phone over the edge.

with a childish huff, he raises a hand to rake his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands before yanking his mask back on. duties come first, but his battle with this shitty tetris lookalike was not over.

rin never got pass his high score of three thousand eight hundred and nine that day. and he broke his duolingo streak. he was pissed for the rest of the night.

fun fact! — rin is currently learning spanish on duolingo. why? um... he cannot say.

taglist (open!)

@aise-30 @faylvrs @17020 @sara4uuu @adoresia @defnotciara @levihanmyotp @withlovesai @thenightsflower

[meo-eiru]

*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

[strangerstilinski]

𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It's like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

You huff, “Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you guys 're hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and his chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I'm not sure any of us were that invested hearing you drone on about the ‘big tip’ some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve. C'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugs, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet, alright? It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just because you're a jackass, that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you. The rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background, the rest mist of your rage yet again blinding you to anything that isn't Steve fucking Harrington. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“So what, if I don't care that some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “Sue me. If that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, except I'm able to do so without acting like such a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? He'd been the highlight of your god-awful day. The rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. Subsequently, you'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks that squelched wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit for the whole mess, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd proceeded to burn yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had little choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what?” You grumble in defeat, “Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your half-finished beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of your own emotional state.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, as if he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are scattered protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

You're not sure why, but Steve's voice makes you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around to face him. He calls out to you again as he finally catches up with you. He all but throws himself into your path and at the risk of running straight into him, your steps finally come to a stop.

“C'mon, honey. Wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that's begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back. You nearly lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. Warmth seeps into your palms from beneath the thin cotton of Steve's tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from back inside the house. Your eyes are level with Steve's chin, your wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You're still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly — unexpectedly earnest.

It's only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face, smelling of the gum he's always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he's leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can't think, and you're not entirely sure you're even breathing, but Steve's lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You're gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve' arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes warmly against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when you separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you're gasping almost comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve's quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the nape of your neck.

“You kissed me.”

The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — Casual and tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he's kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve's breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D'you want me to stop?”

“No, no, I- Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The streetlight light at the end of his driveway catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to get you to shut up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Yeah.. Yeah, Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it's ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It's like there are hearts in his eyes.

[ombiblombi]

P.AI.nter is SUCH an interesting character to me... he's probably become one of my all time favorites, as I haven't fixated on a character this hard since since...TMC. It physically hurts to think about it in the best way possible-

That being said, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS to say about 'em... so I'm going to dump them here.

First and formost, it's so interesting that P.AI.nter has such a wide array of emotions when it comes to attacking and interacting with the Expendables. At first it's strange, like "WTF?? You're trying to kill me and you just yelled how I was boring, wdym you're sorry??" But... knowing his lore and backstory, it makes so much sense.

P.AI.nters creator was gunned down on accident by Urbanshade, which upon the discovery of P.AI.nter, then decided to trap him in a harddrive and make it mine whats essenically crypto at the Hadal Site- For years, it's stuck mining for the company unwillingly, unable to draw the lanscapes it loved. For fucks sake, P.AI.nter tried to FRY HIS CIRCUTS just to get out. He's desprate, miserable and lonely, and just wants to escape- Any way possible.

And so when Sebastian comes reeks his havoc on the site and finds it, P.AI.nter is incredibly trusting of him to get them both out. Maybe alittle too trusting, but whats he got left to loose? They've both been used by the company and want nothing more to leave, leave and never return. So when Sebastian connects it to the servers- to the Navi-Path & Turrets and tells him to stop the Expendables, P.AI.nter does.

However.

This is self preservation down here. P.AI.nter of course, is rightfully angry at times. I mean- The same company that killed it's creator before his very (nonexistant) eyes, trapped it down here, and even sucked the joy he has from creating art away is now actively getting in the way of the freedom he yearns for. But at the same time... this isn't something done that it entirely wants to be doing. Like I said. This is self preservation. And his actions, and even your deaths weigh heavy. Theres a voiceline, and its delievered so well- Of P.AI.nter pleading for the player to wake up and apologizing profusely if it kills you.

That line sparked this whole theory in the first place.

Your death, reminds it of his creator.

Isn't it ironic how it's now manning the very same weapon that killed the one who brought him sentience in the first place? That he's now the one at fault? Thats gotta be on the back of his mind each and every time it leads an expendable to their demise.

This isn't personal.

He doesn't know who you are.

But it still hurts.

It really annoys me when people in the community call P.AI.nter two faced, or god forbid, do the shitty thing of saying in a derogatory manner that he's bipolar or such as a "joke". Thats just disrespectful to both the character and folks who do have it. It's just plain rude. People do something similar for Sebastian, saying that oh, they're ruining his character by making him mean and snarky and whatnot. I know this happens in every fandom out there, and that this rant is fruitless, but... people need to understand that characters like P.AI.nter and Sebastian have reasons behind their actions and have existing trauma that if you take a moment to look at, you can go "Wowie! Thats a complex character! Everything makes so much sense now, like a puzzle peice I can see traces of in their character in almost every aspect!" Rather than doing awful things like I brought up at the start. But... I digress. I know this rant wont change much so. I hope y'all enjoyed my mini character analysis

Anyway this video has all of P.AI.nters voicelines if 'ya wanna go have a listen after this :] also I got plenty more thoughts about P.AI.nter and Sebastian if anyone wants to know!

[mingi-s-dimples]

Heart on Loan - Yunho

KINKTOBER DAY 16, REQ. BY anon

~"Hi I'd like to request a Yunho Mafia fic. The reader pisses him off in some way and now she had to pay him back by working for him. At first he's really mean to her but then starts to be attracted and that's when the smut starts. The reader is also a virgin and doesn't have any experience being in a relationship or talking to guys. I hope that's not too much!"

pairing: mafia leader!yunho x fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth ish

summary: you piss off the most dangerous person in the city... only to spend the most memorable night with him, after supposedly working for him to pay your debt off.

wc: 2.4k

warnings: mafia au, dom!yunho, virgin!reader, deepthroating, fingering, oral (m), head pushing, hair *pulling/tangling*, teasing slightly, he's a cocky one, making out, mentions of guns, missionary, implied 2nd round, use of pet names, slight possessiveness, unprotected (boo use protection irl), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unedited.

Author's Note: Mafia Yunho is chef's kiss idc what y'all say and idc that this fic is damn short but omfg... I need this man in my life *sigh* why do I not bump into pretty and tall men that would make me pay off my own sillt debt and fucking them later in my life 😞😞 I'm so sorry words slipped out of my mouth upsi. Anyways, anon, I hope yoh like it !

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The city had a heartbeat of its own, a relentless pulse of neon lights and shadowed alleyways where secrets and power moved in. You knew it well, though you’d never been bold enough to dip more than a toe into its murky underbelly. That was, until tonight.

You’d been passing through the dimly lit streets, minding your own business, when fate—or rather, an unfortunate case of bad timing and bad attitude—threw you directly in Yunho's path. Yunho was the city’s most notorious Mafia leader, his name spoken in whispers by even the bravest. Some said his fortune was built on power, manipulation, and charm as dangerous as his temper. But none of that registered with you in the moment you bumped into him and, in a flustered reaction, spilled coffee on his impeccable suit.

There was a silence so thick you could feel it pressing against your lungs. You had barely glanced up when you realized the towering figure before you, the dangerous gleam in his eyes, and the ominous smirk pulling at his lips. Your blood ran cold as he inspected his now-ruined clothes, a dark promise flickering behind his expression.

"You’ve got some nerve," he finally muttered, his voice soft but sharp enough to cut through the heavy night air. You felt his gaze drilling into you, appraising, as if deciding your fate. Without another word, he stepped closer, towering over you.

“I’m… really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—” you stammered, but he cut you off with a smirk that sent chills down your spine.

“Oh, you will be,” he said, his tone dark yet almost amused, and something inside you told you that your apology wouldn’t be enough. “Let’s call this… a debt. And you’re going to work it off.”

That was how it all began. Within days, you found yourself stepping into a new life, a strange, thrilling, and utterly terrifying world at Yunho’s command. The rules were strict, and the punishment for mistakes even stricter. You had no idea what you'd be asked to do next, whether it was tracking contacts, running errands, or, most frequently, dealing with his endless collection of firearms. It was in these moments, whenever you were alone with him, that Yunho’s intensity seemed to turn up a notch.

The rough edges of his demeanor wore on you, his biting sarcasm and occasional harshness drawing out every ounce of your patience and nerves. But gradually, you began to notice something beyond the intimidation. In the way he watched you, sometimes with an intensity that felt heavier than his threats, there was something almost like curiosity.

Days passed, and your debt stretched on, keeping you ensnared in Yunho’s world. But one night, as you were organizing his cache of sleek, dangerous-looking firearms in his private room, the silence between you felt charged, more potent than ever. Yunho was watching you from the doorway, arms crossed, the smallest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Do you know what you’re holding there?” he asked, his tone softer than usual as he took a step toward you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to focus on the task, feeling his gaze travel from your hands to your face, lingering just a little too long. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint cologne that seemed to fit him all too well. You struggled to keep your attention on the weapon you were packing, but your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your chest like a warning.

Without a word, Yunho reached over, his fingers brushing yours as he adjusted the weapon in your grip. His touch sent a jolt through you, making it hard to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. You’d been cautious around him, knowing he was dangerous in more ways than one, but you hadn’t expected the casual, unexpected intimacy he was capable of. He lingered, his fingers tracing over yours with a gentleness that seemed foreign for someone so ruthless. And you couldn’t look away.

“Shy, huh?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble as he leaned closer, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement—and something else. You felt a knot of tension twist in your stomach, unsure if it was fear or something far more dangerous, but Yunho didn’t pull back. If anything, he moved closer, a teasing smile curving his lips as he caught your gaze.

“You make me want to forget every rule I’ve ever made.” your eyed widened at his words, not knowing what he meant.

Oh.. yeah. The rule.. of not having any kind of affair with one another. Did he possibly mean.. that one?

For a split second, the entire world seemed to melt away, leaving just you and him in that small, dimly lit room. It was a line you knew you shouldn't cross, a tension you shouldn’t indulge. But as he stayed close, his fingers lightly grazing yours again, you realized you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

"Your heart is... racing" Yunho smirks, pressing his fingers lightly against your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken under his touch, “You want this too, don’t you?”

Your lips part to respond but words falter, looking away, and he chuckles.

Yunho's hands traveled from your wrist to your hand, then to your shoulder and collarbone, “Don’t go shy on me now. I want to hear you say it.”

"I-" you tried to say.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Getting all silent on me?” he confidently said, as your eyes instantly chose a random spot on a wall to look at, rather to make eye contact with him. His right hand rode up your neck, resting there for a second, then went for your chin and he made you look at him.

“Come on… look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes when you blush like that.”

"I- uh"

"Say it." he said, authority conveyed in his words.

"I haven't done this.. b-before." you stuttered, eyes wandering around.

He looked at you, slightly confused. “So… you’re telling me you’re a virgin?”

“I don’t want you to think… I’m not interested. I’m just… not experienced.” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, embarrassed of your words.

“Trust me, I’d never assume that.” he leans in, voice droping, “But if anything, it makes me want to go slower… yeah. I’ll take my time with you… make sure you feel every second of it. That’s a promise.”

---

The atmosphere suddenly got heavier as his hands rode up and down on your body, feeling you up.

He took a small step back, his gaze softening as he let out a slow breath, as though grounding himself. “You have no idea how much I want this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if even saying the words too loudly might break the spell between you.

With a tenderness that surprised you, he traced his hands up your arms, letting them settle on your waist as he gently lifted you, your body instinctively wrapping around him. His movements were deliberate yet unhurried, carrying you as if you were something delicate, precious.

The quiet thud of the door closing behind him, the warmth of his touch, and the way his breath lingered near your neck all heightened the sense of intimacy. The room was cast in dim light, shadows dancing along the walls, adding a surreal quality to the moment. Every brush of his fingers, every whispered breath, seemed to amplify the silence between you.

Gently, he lowered you onto the bed, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. His fingers trailed lightly over your cheek, tracing your jaw.

In that moment, you felt safe, even if hr was the most dangerous person in your city.. if not even in the country.

Your hands left his shoulders as he backed off for a second, taking in the view. He then started to slowly undress himself, taking his sweet time.

"L-let me.. help you" you suddenly said, not even expecting your own words to slip out. He giggled at your words and stopped, letting you do it. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, feeling up his muscles. His shoulders are broad and heavily built, signaling his strength and resilience. His chest muscles are well-defined, showing the dense training that shapes his form, while his biceps and triceps look strong and hardened, giving him an imposing presence. His abs are chiseled, likely from rigorous workouts and possibly some close-call encounters. Every part of him exudes power, from his veined forearms to the taut muscles of his back, showcasing the blend of elegance and intensity fitting for someone who commands respect and fear. Though, his soft skin was tainted by some pretty harsh scars, probably from cuts or bullets he got hit by in combat. You then got to his pants and well.. it went kind of.. downhill from there.

"Let's see what you're capable of, sweetie. Don't worry.. I'll guide you." he said as he unbuckled his pants, letting them fall down to his ankles and pushing them away. He then got rid of his briefs and oh god.. he was *huge*. His hand hovered over your head and urged you down on your knees, right in front of his cock. You innocently looked up at him, like you didn't fucking enjoy every second of it, while being entirely freaked out.

Your hands rode up his thighs and got to his cock, slowly pumping it. As you were looking at him, your eyes widened as he signaled you to... suck. "It won't be that hard, I promise..." he whispered as he guided your head to his cock, your lips parting against the red, leaking tip. You started to softly suck on it, not sure if you could take all of his length. You deepened a bit, leaving sloppy trails of kisses whenever you got to his tip. You liked his length from the base all the way to the shaft, sucking on his tip multiple times before he.. got slightly bored of it. "Sweetie..?"

"Mhm?" you muffle, his cock inches deep in your mouth.

"Let's... try a bit more " he said as he pushed himself slowly deep down your throat, gagging on it while he thrusted forwards in your mouth. He didn't seem like the man to be noisy but.. muffled sounds and whines could be heard from above you. His hand tangled in your hair as he started rapidly fsce-fucking you, catching his high.

"Don't stop.." he said and braced his hands in your hair and on your head and deepthroated you, making you gag multiple times on it. He was not.. the most gentle person, but you also loved it so, no need for him to be gentle. Your hands were holding tightily ok his thighs, and as he fucked your mouth a couple more times, he came right down your throat and in your mouth. When he pulled out, silky white cum dripped off your lips. He kneeled down in front of you and wiped it off, moment to distract you from his hand going under you, lifting you up. He threw you on the bed and undressed you, hastily.

"Let me spoil you, pretty." he said and pushed you on your back, crawling over to you. His lips found yours, and in a matter of time while he was making out with you, his hand found it's way between your legs. He stopped for a moment to look at you. and when you nodded, he didn't hesitate any longer. He inserted one finger in, then the second one. He slowly started pumping them in and out while still kissing you, feeling each and every of your muffled and quiet moans. It was not long before he started fingering your rapidly, helping you catch your high. But.. that wasn't his plan. In fact, his plans was to only.. stretch you out for his length. So that when he felt you'd be prepped enough for him, he pulled back for a moment and guided his cock to your entrance, then slowly pushed himself in. Your hands held thightly onto the linen as he bottomed down, his length and girth stretching you the fuck out.

"Tell me... if you want me to stop" he said but.. he didn't mean it. You also never planned in making him stop so, you nodded, not answering him. That simply was the easiest way of telling him you wanted to be fucked dumb by him, to which he compiled.

His hands found their way to your waist, burying himself deep down in you. His eyes widened as you put your legs over his waist, missionary style. He smirked, going even faster than he was before.

"I- Yunho!" you moaned his name, tears forming in your eyes as he bottomed down every time he thrusted into you.

"I'm close, sweetie... you feel so damn good, I might as well go fucking insane." he said as he let his torso down to yours, his lips finding their way to your collarbones, leaving soft kisses which transformed into harsh marks, where he sucked your skin. He fucked you a couple more times before coming undone right in front of you and in you, feeling yourself getting absolutely filled up by his load. You, too, also came as soon as you felt his cock pulse in you. He whined out when he felt your walls clench tightly on his cock, draining him out. He fucked you through his and your orgasm, then slowly came to a stop.

He pulled out and stepped back for a moment, admiring his work. Your pretty, fucked out, teary face, and your cunt dripping with both of your juices.

"You look so damn hot like this.. might as well go for another round, if you're up for it?" Yunho said, a little bit too excited about it as his cock hardened again.

"P-please.. I need you" you whined out, dirty thoughts flooding in your mind.

"You didn't have a choice anyway.. I gotta show you just how much you pissed me off when you ruined my favourite suit, sweeheart." he said and leaned in for a kiss, to which he lifted you up in his embrace.

The night was just about to start and... ironically, you felt safer and wanted in the nicest way by the most dangerous person in the city.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26

[mcrslover]

MCR quotes for anyone who needs them:

"Kids would say they were going to kill themselves then they heard our music... it's our mission"

- Mikey Way.

...

"Reasons why mcr is good for you

juradsleigh:

Feeling like a rad vampire? Listen to bullets

Feeling angry? Listen to 3 cheers

Feeling sad? Listen to black parade

Feeling colourful and happy? Listen to danger days

Feeling like breaking up your band? Listen to death never stop you"

...

"This is for every kid out there... That dyed their hair a fucked up colour and can't get a job. They got a tattoo on their neck like Frank, and can't get a job. That does this because they fuckin' love this. This song is for every kid in the audience- even if you don't have fucked up hair or tattoos-every kid on stage, this song's about us, this song's about you, it's called The Kids From Yesterday."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Stop covering your children's eyes.

Everything is fucked up and pretending it's not won't make it any better. I'm tired of people praying for a change when it's up to them to get off their asses and make a change."

- Frank Iero.

...

"I spent most of my time in the back of the class, just drawing. My goal was to not get noticed in school, because spent so long not being noticed anyway or being treated as if I were invisible that I started to like it.

I've learned that it's actually not very lonely... It's like, you have less friends but the friends you have count more. I met a lot of people that weren't outsiders, or they were very popular, and they have a lot of friends but I don't know if they're the kinds of friends you would call up at 3 am to help you out or talk about being depressed."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Promise me, when MCR's gone, you'll do what it takes to survive. You're strong enough to do it without us."

- Gerard Way.

...

"All your quirks and all your problems, even your depressions, and your failures that's.. that's what makes you, you."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you or someone you know is severely depressed you need to fucking talk to someone! Your mom, someone in school, I don't give a fuck! Because suicide is fucking bullshit."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over, nothing is worth taking your life over"

- Gerard Way.

...

"If we never play another show again, just keep yourself alive."

- Gerard Way.

...

"We're outsiders, we're the kids who didn't get dates for the prom, we're the kids who were confused, who didn't fit in with the cliques, who weren't part of the in-crowd.

Growing up can be a very frightening and confusing time, and I think people look at us and see it's okay to be different. They see that there is a way other than what they're being offered. That you can stand out, that you can be creative, that you can be yourself."

- Gerard Way.

...

"gerard-hey:

I love MCR so much it's like they have a song for every situation. Feeling sad? Listen to The Lights Behind Your Eyes. Feeling frustrated? Listen to I'm Not Okay. Feeling Energetic? Listen to Na Na Na. Feeling like you wanna kick some ass? Listen to Destroya.

Feeling rebellious? Listen to Teenagers. Feel like you wanna break up your band? Listen to Fake Your Death."

...

"The difference we want to make is, number one, to let these kids know that they're not alone, that they're actually not that messed up, and that they can do whatever they want they can express themselves in any way they want without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. Really just get people to get over their stuff so they can live."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Whatever happens to you, no matter what, l'm always fucking there for you... Don't forget that. I don't give a shit if your boyfriend dumps you. If your girlfriend dumps you. If you're working a shitty job or can't get through school. If you can't get through a fucking Harry Potter book, there's nothing worth dying over. There's nothing worth taking your life over. I will always fucking be there."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you come to an MCR show, you're probably a little fucked up, and that's okay because we're just as fucked up as you. It's us against the world. And it's great because there's thousands of us in one place."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Someone doesn't like you? Fuck it.

Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn't get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it.

What matters now won't matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, 'Damn, I have it good."

- Gerard Way.

...

"You're going to come across a lot of shitty bands, and a lot of shitty people. And if anyone of those people call your names because of what you look like, or bedause they don't accept you for who you are. I want you to look right at that mother fucker, stick up your middle finger and scream

"FUCK YOU!!"

- Gerard Way.

...

"Real revenge is making something of yourself."

- Gerard Way.

❤️🖤❤️🖤

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil VI

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!royal! reader Summary: Paul Atreides returns from the dead and you must once again consider whether it is really worth it to follow the path he offers you. You also analyze your feelings towards a certain Harkonnen. And you are afraid of what you might conclude from them. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VII ~•♤♤♤•~

"So the Harkonnens attacked your family on Arrakis, and you... you're the only survivor? And you came here on a smuggler's ship with some Fremen who believe that you are their messiah who is to provide them with a better life, freedom and independence?" You make sure, summarising everything Paul has told you over the past few hours.

"In a nutshell." He confirms and nods at you. You watch him carefully. His complexion isn't as porcelain as it used to be. He's more tanned, has a few wrinkles, and his eyes… you can see from them that he's been through a lot.

"Amazing." You sigh, sending him an incredulous look.

"And you ended up engaged to Feyd?" He asks carefully, poking at the stones with a stick. He doesn't meet your gaze. You don't know why, for fear of reading something in your eyes, or of realizing that he's been gone so long, that things have changed so much when he was away.

"In a nutshell." You nod, swallowing as reality hits you with the words he says. You really were engaged to Feyd. And was about do become his wife. FOR REAL.

"Not so amazing... or is it?" He asks carefully and stares at you uncertainly.

"Of course not!" You snort, shaking your head at his absurd question. "I would never… not with HIM. Not after what they did to you and your family, Paul. You're… one of my oldest and dearest friends. You're all I have left." You say and garb his hand in a strong grip.

Paul lifts his eyes to meet with yours. You stare at each other for a moment, and he turns his attention to absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand. He lowers his head and shifts his thoughtful gaze to the ring on your finger.

"Well... I remember times when you wished to be his wife."

"It was... a long time ago. Very long." You say, swallowing hard and unconsciously digging your nails into his palm. Paul doesn't make a sound, he just gently repositions your hand so you don't dig your nails into his anymore.

"You never told me what happened. I mean... I suspect a few things, especially since you and Irulan stopped being so friendly and start to passionately hate each other..."

"I... don't like to talk about it. I never told anyone about what happened then." You sigh, remembering what happened reluctantly. But if you were to confide in anyone, it could only be Paul.

So you start your story.

Caladan had never felt so... cold before. Once it was one of your favourite places on earth. Now as you walked the halls of the palace, you feared for the future the Bene Gesserit witches, the Atreides, your parents, the Emperor, and the Harkonnens had planned for you Caladan isn't anymore such... stunning.

You didn't want to marry Paul. Not when your heart had long since been stolen and molded by someone else entirely.

"Practicing the art of stealth?" The raspy voice right next to your ear sent shivers down your spine. Your body involuntarily tenses as Feyd wraps his arms around you from behind and drags you into one of the palace's side passages. You wonder how the hell he even knows about it, since he's barely been here in the first place. "You were avoiding me, my deadly sweetness. Why?"

"I wasn't." You answer with a sort of confidence, but Feyd knows you perfectly well. He knows you're lying. You don't even know why you bothered to tell him a lie.

"Is it because of the Atreides? I can kill them, the Baron plans to break the peace treaty between us soon anyway."

"Feyd!" You hiss at him and punch him in the arm, giving him a reproachful look. You look around, making sure no one has heard you or will, and continue without looking at him, because you feel like the moment your eyes meet his you'll break down in his arms. And then Feyd would kill hundreds, if not thousands. "No. It's not them. Partially. And I don't want to get you in more trouble than you already are. It took your uncle a long time to get over you killing one of the nobles who… wanted too much from me. And I know, I know. He deserved it, I'm not questioning that, just the way you handled it, but we've talked about this before. Back to the main topic. Yes, I've been avoiding you because I… I… I just don't want to make it harder if they decide to… marry me off to Paul."

The silience that comes after your confession is killing you. You imagined in your head a variety of scenarios. In the worst of them, you are losing him completely.

You wonder if it wouldn't be better for all of you. After all, you and he had always been from different worlds, connected only by one small event in your past that made you care about each other. Eventually, you had to grow up and face reality. You didn't belong together. You never did.

And yet, despite the odds, despite all reason… you had developed true feelings for the young Harkonnen. Your mother would kill you if she knew how vulnerable you had allowed yourself to be towards a man. Not to mention that that man was Na-Barony, heir to Giedi Prime.

You are torn from your dark thoughts by his rough hand, which gently cups your cheek. You hold your breath as he leans towards you, his nose brushing against yours, his forehead resting against yours as he inhales the same air as you. Your heart beats like crazy as you think that he might kiss you, but to your great disappointment, he doesn't. He looks into your eyes, as if he wants to convince himself that you mean anything but leaving him.

"The only prophecy that I accept is that you are supposed to be mine." A soft growl leaves his chapped lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his other hand shaking uncontrollably as the thought of never again being as close to you as he wanted it to be crosses his mind. He couldn't let you go. He wouldn't let you go.

If necessary, Feyd would burn Caladan to ashes, slaughter House Atreides and Corrino, and his own, if it meant he finally got what he truly desired. Someone's willing company, closeness, affection. He was too addicted to your softness to let you go completely. He was too drunk on the sweetness of your scent and innocence to let anyone desecrate it. He was too addicted to you to let anyone rip you from his arms.

"So what are you gonna do? You can't just claim me." You say, swallowing hard. The tension between you grows, the heat from his chest somehow seeping through his black armor, his musky scent mixed with a hint of smoke and metal overwhelming you.

"Can't I?"

Your heart beats faster at his question. The fact that he was practically asking for your permission made your head spin. How easy it would be for him to just give himself over to you. How easy it would be to just let him snatch you away and claim you as his in front of the world. But you knew the consequences. You knew how much he would pay for this. And the last thing you wanted was to cause him more pain and suffering than he had already experienced.

"You know it is not that easy."

"It is that easy. All you had to do is say yes."

"They won't let us do that." You shake your head as if that would dissuade him from that stupid idea. Although… you can't say you're not tempted to just run away with him, far away from here...

"I'm not asking their permission, I'm asking yours. Respect that. I could as well take you here and now. Take you to a ship to Arrakis and make sure we don't return to court without my heir in your womb."

"Thank you for your great grace and not treating me like one of your whores." You mock him and take a step to move away from him, but Feyd grabs you tightly by the arms and presses you against the wall with his body, preventing you from any form of escape.

"Don't try to argue with me. We both know you're more than that. As well as the fact that my idea captivates you as much as it captivates me."

This effectively silences you. It was true. You wanted this. Some twisted part of you did. But you knew perfectly well that you couldn't just refuse to marry Paul and decide otherwise. No matter how much you loved your prince from Lankiveil and wanted to be with him.

"Even if... even if I want it… it doesn't matter. They'll probably marry you off to Irulan. You'll be emperor and soon you'll forget about me. Those are the facts. We should stay away from each other."

You don't give him time to respond. You shrug his hands off you and run away from him. Tears gather in your eyes, but you try with all your might to keep them at bay. You run until you find yourself in the palace gardens.

Dark, black storm clouds stretch over Caladan, a cold wind blowing against your trembling figure. You kneel on the wet grass, and, not caring about the dirt on your dress, you put your hand to your mouth and let out a silent scream. The water soaks your hair and soaks into your clothes, but you don't move an inch. All you can do is cry, fooling yourself that the water running down your cheeks is rain as you bite your fist to keep from making any sound.

Paul is the one who finds you. And bless his sweet soul, he doesn't ask you any questions. He simply scoops you up in his arms and leads you back to the palace, obediently ignoring your quiet snorting. He knows exactly which corridors to lead you through so you don't have to run into any of the servants, and he returns you to the safety of your chambers with the promise that he'll be back to you soon.

In your hopelessness, you can't move, can't force a single coherent thought from your mind that doesn't involve Feyd. And with every tear that's shed, every tremble in your chest and sniffle, you realize that you don't care about anything but him. So you stand up and practically run to the secret passage in your room that connected to his guest chambers.

You wonder what you're going to tell him, how you're going to convey that you've changed your mind, that he can really do whatever he wants with you, just so long as you're his, just so long as you don't have to be apart any longer.

You couldn't; you didn't want to live like that. Not without him. Never without him. And you were terrified at first that he had such a huge influence on you, that you couldn't see your future without him, and that he was able to bring you to a state of mind where you didn't care about anything but him. But if you had to burn in his embrace to finally feel content and happy, then so be it.

But your determination falls apart when you reach his chambers. Everything falls apart.

"You never loved her, did you?" Irulan’s question rings in your ears. You hold your breath in shock, staring through a vent in the wall as she idly plays with the material of his shoulder armor.

"Y/N was… a lovely distraction."You feel his words tearing at your heart. Part of you doesn't believe what he's saying, doesn't want to believe what he's saying. But the other…

"It's quite pathetic. How fate has turned. You know, I used to think you were… a psychopath. Reckless. Dumb. But I can say that those traits fit her a little better now than they do you."

"I have to admit that I had a lot of fun breaking her and shaping her for my pleasure." You freeze in place. Completely.

He couldn't have meant it… but what if he did? What if he was really just playing with you this whole time? What if he really saw you as entertainment, someone to keep him company until he became emperor and could enjoy all the perks that entails?

"Will you have this much fun with me too?" Irulan whispers seductively against his lips, her hand falling to the back of his neck as she pulls him closer to her.

"Even more, my princess." Feyd responds with a growl, and with that, he kisses her like he kissed you not a few hours ago.

You take a few steps back in shock until you fall through the wall behind you. You put your hand to your mouth for the umpteenth time that day, stifling a cry of despair, and close your eyes, completely blocking yourself from what is happening in the room in front of you. You take a few calming breaths and retreat back to your chambers. You lock the passage carefully, making sure several times that no one will be able to get through it and sit down on your bed.

You reach over to your nightstand and pull out a sheet of paper, an inkwell, and a pen. You write, ignoring the ink staining your fingers, not noticing when Paul arrives with tea and biscuits for you, but you gorge yourself on the food like a week-starved man when the last word finally moves from your head to the page. You let him read what you’ve written, staring at him expectantly.

"Lady Whistledown?" He just asks, raising an eyebrow at you as he reaches the signature at the bottom of the page. You nod, placing your cup of tea on the bed.

Two important words from today—the day a completely new version of you was born. Whistle—from the whistle of the wind heard in the mysterious passage, which you still had in your ears when you saw Irulan and Feyd. And down. Complete collapse, the bottom you reached today and from which you promised to bounce back. If they... if he thought you were a pathetic little doll... what worse could happen to you? You couldn't make a bigger fool of yourself than you already had, wasting so much time on him.

"I want to make a difference. Something new. Something no one expects."

"Certainly no one would expect this… and especially not from Irulan. Who is this mysterious lover?" Paul asks curiously, to which you only smile mysteriously.

You take the notes you wrote in the heat of the moment from him and put on your coat to… seek advice on distributing them around the palace before dawn.

"Nobody important." You state, gathering all the confidence you could muster. You lean in and kiss him with the exact same intensity and desire Feyd had kissed Irulan with moments ago.

And though the guilt grows inside you, forming a lump in your throat, you don't break the kiss. You had to adapt to the new circumstances.

Even if the memory of Feyd's lips will always stick in the back of your mind.

"You were together then?!" Paul asks in shock, and you just nod, playing with a stick in the dying fire. "And you told him you didn't want him, and then he and Irulan…"

"You sound like you're about to start defending him."

"No. No. I… I want to understand. If you loved him… why did you run away from him and... start this Lady Whistledown thing?"

"I… I don't know why I ran. I just did. It's not like your parents and mine, the Emperor and the Baron, would let us change anything about how they arranged our futures." Paul nods. He places his hand on yours, making you look up at him.

"You know… he always seemed more human when he was around you." You barely hold back the tears, but you manage it. You nod in thanks and pull him into a hug. He tenses, but after a moment he manages to relax in your arms and hugs you back.

"Maybe it's better that we didn't get married. I guess we're better friends anyway."

"Maybe." He agrees, tightening his grip around you. You sit there for a moment, holding each other, when suddenly the stone doors of the bunker slide open.

You pull away from Paul as if burned, glancing back the way you came. You shove the torch and weapon into his hands and push him deeper into the cave.

"You need to get out of it. Use the emergency exit. We'll contact each other somehow when I get back to the palace. For now, wait in your hideout. I... I promise you they'll pay for what they did to you."

Paul looks at you with gratitude in his eyes and disappears before you can say anything. You sigh and run your hand through your hair nervously, grabbing the small dagger you carried with you everywhere. You hide in the shadows, listening carefully for the intruder's footsteps.

When you see movement in the darkness, you attack. You push the intruder against the wall and put your dagger to his neck. You freeze as your gaze meet a Feyd's blue eyes.

"What are you doing here?" You hiss at him angrily and step away from him, making sure that no part of your body is touching his.

He presses some buttom on his armour, causing a small ball of light to fly out to illuminate the room. He looks around, not giving you an answer yet, as he carefully and suspiciously examines the area around him.

"I should ask you this question." He mumbles and finally turns his accusing gaze to you. You sigh and roll your eyes at him.

"Irulan?" You ask, knowing full well that only she could tell him the location of your secret hideout. "Of course. It is alwasy about her, isn't it?" You mutter to yourself and walk over to the extinguished campfire, ignoring the Harkonnen following you.

"We should come back before they notice that we disappaired." He suggests, but you completely ignore him in favour of building a fire.

He doesn't like it. That's why he suddenly rips the kindling out of your hands and kneels in front of you, putting him at your height. You pull away from him, feeling awkward having his face so close to yours.

"What for? My reputation is already ruined."

"Just because someone wrote..."

"Lady Whistledown is not someone!" You shout, turning your furious gaze back at him. The small glow of the light ball highlights the sharp lines of his jaw even more. You curse him for how disgustingly distracting he is and take a deep breath before continuing. "We both know how... society react to her paper. They will believe everything she wrote."

"Or he." He corrects you thoughtfully, to which you just snort, even more furious.

"Please. It can't be man."

There's a deep silence between you, broken only by your breathing. You try your best to keep a poker face and not give him away in any way how close you are to Lady Whistledown's true identity. But, luckily for you, he seems to be interested in something completely different.

"Why did you run away?" The question is as uncomfortable for you as if he were pestering you about Whistledown.

You swallow and look away from him, mentally reminding yourself like a mantra that it was he—his kin—who killed the Atreides. And he almost killed Paul. Paul, who, despite everything, had been a great support to you when Feyd was gone.

"Maybe that's my thing?" You say, trying with all your might to maintain your hostile attitude.

He didn't deserve anything more; hell, he didn't deserve anything you gave him. You should be thinking about how best to get rid of him, how to kill him, and how to get out of this unwanted marriage to a monster who was once the most precious person on earth to you. But all you can do is be furious at him for not being able to just love him—exactly the way you want to.

"What happened to you?" He asks, furrowing his hairless brows, accusing you of suddenly returning your hostility towards him with redoubled force.

"You! It's always you, damn it!" You scream at him angrily and punch his chest. Feyd stares at you in shock as your dam breaks and you unleash all your pent-up emotions from years past on him. "For 5 fucking years I've pined for you while you fucked your three pets! And probably a ton of other women! You're a disgusting monster who's only good at killing and destroying other people's lives! I hate the influence you have over me and my life! I hate that after everything you've done to me, Paul, and hundreds of others, you have the nerve to stand in front of me and beg for my love, for any feeling other than the disgust I should have for you and your house! I hate you! I hate you with every fiber of my being as much as I love you and it's killing me! So stop it! Stop your sick games and tell me that all of this, all of we went throught is just one of your sick plans to ruin my life! Say fucking something!!"

You are perfectly aware that you are behaving hysterically, that with every cry and hitting at him you are only sinking deeper in your pitifulness and coming off as pathetic, but you can't take it anymore. You can't stand that you love him and hate him at the same time, that you want to burn him to ashes and at the same time immerse yourself in the feeling of his strong arms around you. You are simply tired of fighting with the whole world and with yourself at the same time.

And Feyd, surprisingly, holds you through it all as you fall apart against his chest.

He gently tangles his hand in your hair and pulls you close. You rub your nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and crying quietly as he whispers soft, sweet nothings to you.

Your heart swells with love as you hate him even more for being so sweet and protective towards you.

But you don't want softness. No. Softness won't throw out all the thoughts you have, it won't make you finally feel the blog's emptiness.

So you stand on your tiptoes, digging your nails into his bald head as you pull him in for a kiss.

Feyd groans in shock at your actions. At first, he responds to your kiss instinctively, digging his fingers into your waist and pulling you close to him. Your tongues fight for dominance, and you feel your lungs burn from lack of breath. But you need more. So much more.

Your fingers themselves find their way to the buckles of his armour.

You undress him with a strange skill, and he's too focused on the feeling of your eager mouth on him to realise what you're doing. But when the pads of your soft, delicate fingers touch his skin, he wakes from the frenzy you've put him in.

He pushes you away from him. He breathes deeply, heavily, standing with his chest exposed to your hungry eyes.

"Y/N... wait..." He blurted out, not believing that the words were really leaving his mouth as much as you were. He hadn't imagined that he would be… reluctant and resistant when you initiated anything between you, but if anything, he didn't want to use you in such a state…

"I don't want to." You growl at him furious and move closer to him. Feyd groans when your mouth falls on him again and you loosen the ties of your dress.

You guide his much larger hand to your breast and knead it, making him harden in his pants at the mere touch of you. And fuck he wants more. He wants more so desperately. But he shouldn't. He shouldn't be using you like this.

“Fuck the hate for you out of me.” You demand, not beg or ask, against his mouth and slide your hands along his chest and abdomen to the button of his pants, which do nothing to hide the bulge that grows with every touch and gasp you make. "Make me forget about everything."

And Feyd is just a man, after all. A man who has given in to his desires for years and has never fought them. So after making sure that you want it too, he grabs you hard by the hips and lifts you, forcing your legs to wrap around his hips.

Feyd groans, laying you down by the fire, on stones that are still a little warm from the fire that died down. He tears the remnants of your dress from you, running his tongue along the column of your neck and to your bare breasts.

He sucks on one of your nipples, nibbling on it every now and then out of pure desire to see you howl and scream under his touch or to feel your fingers dig a little harder into his back. He needed to feel you close. He needed to know you weren't going anywhere. He could give you a reason to stay. Like he should have all those years ago.

"Feyd…" You moan softly as his fingers travel to your other breast and play with your nipple. Feyd hardens at the thought that one day, maybe, his children will be the ones to receive your beautiful breasts. And fuck, he's going to make sure of that.

He moves his mouth lower, tracing colors, a red-purple trail of hickeys across your breasts, the valley between them, your stomach, your hips, your thighs, to the place that interests him the most. He growls, nuzzling your wet core and inhaling your scent. He licks once, kittenishly, gently, just enough to get you impatient and savor you before he lunges to devour everything your sweet pussy has to offer.

Your moans and chants of pleasure make Feyd work you even harder, wanting to bring you to a sweet, blissful climax at least twice before he obediently fucks anything other than him out of you.

Feyd exactly feels the moment you're about to come. You dig your heels deeper into his back, your thighs gripping his head as if in some kind of trap, you shake under the thrill he's giving you. He looks at you and can't help but smirk possessively as he watches you, eyes closed, fall apart under his tongue, crying out of pure pleasure and relief.

He wastes no time. Feyd climbs over you, encouraged by your hands as you pull him down on top of you. He rests his forehead against yours and kisses you lazily before, with your help, he gently enters you. He stops when he sees you close your eyes and clench your teeth to keep from hissing in pain. He holds you protectively in his arms and slows your hasty movements. Ironically, he's the one who wants to slow down. He takes no pleasure in your pain and doesn't want to see you suffer. He wants to see the same look of blissful pleasure on your face from moments ago. So, to your protests, he slows down and presses his lips to your neck, sucking little raspberries as his fingers return to your swollen cunt, playing with it as he slowly conquers the deepest parts of you.

And it feels so fucking right and good. For both of you. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his abalaster skin as you draw his black blood, as he pushes himself inside you up to his balls.

You bite your lip, and he growls when he sees you trying to make the sound he has rightly earned sound. He kisses you with such fervour that you barely notice he has begun to thrust into you. His pace gradually increases until it is so fast that you don't register when he leaves you empty and when he completely fills every space in you. All you know is that you are one in this moment. You and him. And it feels so damn good. His lips mark every inch of your skin he can get to, just as your nails leave scratches on his back. You mark each other completely, as if either of you will forget what is happening between you now.

The moment you feel like you're going to fall apart you try to hold back, to come with him, but Feyd won't let you. He thrusts into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do, forcing you over the edge.

The force of his thrusts increases, stimulating your orgasm as he drinks in the sight of you beneath him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, the scream of his name, and the way you dig your wonderful nails deep into the skin of his neck make him come. Your wet walls clench around his aching length as he kisses you one last time with everything he has, wanting to make sure your swollen lips, the hickeys on your body, and the pleasant ache between your legs remind you of how perfectly you both fit together. Hoping you won't run away from him the moment you get the chance.

He clings to you like a frightened little boy, afraid that when the fog of lust lifts you will come to your senses and pull away, push him away, to declare once again your great hatred for him.

But you don't. True, you gently push him off of you and snuggle into his side, completely exhausted, both emotionally and mentally, but you don't walk away completely; you don't throw insults.

Feyd believes that it's only and exclusively because you're too tired to do so.

Without a word, he pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms tightly around you, making sure to cover you with his black paladin first. You fall asleep quite quickly in his arms, allowing him to relax a little too. Feyd places his lips on the top of your head and presses a long kiss there.

"I've never played with you, little swan. It's always been… real. The realest thing I've ever experienced." He mumbles, his heart pounding faster than ever before with his confession. Even though you’re too deeply asleep to hear him, Feyd still finds it nerve-racking to admit it out loud.

For now, he falls asleep with you in his arms, enjoying the small truce between you. He just wonders how long it will last before you decide you hate him too much to even consider touching him.

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73 @aleemendoza2425-blog @peggyao3

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark @forgedfromthestars

@toertche

@emzzlyy