#anyway when characters have a special name that only a special few get to call them 😭

[yandere-daydreams]

How do you think divorcing any jjk man or genshin character would go? Like straight up just leaving them cold when you had the chance.

tw - non/con, controlling relationships, abusive themes.

hmmmm i've never actually written a divorce fic have i. anyway we're going jjk with this because i've thought long and hard and come up with neat and concise categories that encompass all of their freak needs.

some less controlling men, like gojo and nanami, might let you go through with it, less because they understand why you want to leave them and more because they don't fully believe you ever would. you're their soulmate, the love of their life, the light of their existence, and even if you're a little angry now, you'll come to your senses eventually. sure, they'll talk to your little attorney and go to your little court dates, but the moment you actually start to physically remove yourself from their vicinity, try to strip them of the parts of yourself that they've already taken ownership of, they'll put a stop to your temper tantrum with a few more locks on the front door and a long night or reminding you why you got married in the first place, followed immediately by burning those silly papers you brought home and sliding the ring that you tried to return back onto your finger, where it belongs. they'll let you have your fun, sure, but at the end of the day, they're your husband, and they'll remind you as many times as they have to until it sticks.

others, like geto and yuuta, never present divorce as an option. geto's a special case - if you got married legally, then there's a very, very good chance that he's got you locked away too tightly to so much as see a courthouse, let alone step inside of one long enough to file for something as time-consuming as divorce. if you ever get away from him, you should be fleeing the country, not hiring an attorny. you know better than to waste your time on something so petty.

as for yuuta, there's only a small chance you consented to marriage in the first place. it's much more likely that you simply woke up with a ring stitched surgically onto your finger and a strange man calling himself your husband in your bed, and 'divorce' just isn't a word in his vocabulary. he's going to be your husband until the day he dies, and no scrap of paper you might show him is going to change that.

and others still, like toji, are going to panic. you can't leave him. i mean, you can - it's not like he's around often enough to stop you - but you can't leave him. you can say that you're sick of him crashing on your couch, that you don't like how often he comes home covered in blood, that you concerned about the well-being of his kids, but that doesn't mean you have to start yelling about ""restraining orders"" and ""calling cps"". you two are good together, and he's sure you'll see that after he gives you a good reason to stay with him - namely, a broken leg and his cock shoved deep enough inside of you to push every other thought out of your mind. you're lucky he loves you so much. if you're lucky, he'll even recite his vows as he fucks the concept of divorce out of your head entirely <3

[sttoru]

can we get a pervert toji? as nasty as possible :3

“ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! ”

ෆ note. yehahshsbe yeeass please i love perv!toji.. :3 actually any perv!character s my weakness hehdhen i went a little wild writing this oopsie this is so detailed ohmyogddd anyways….. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

ෆ tags. perv!toji x female reader. somnophilia, age gap (reader early 20s, toji mid 30s), panties stealer, m! masturbation, daddy kink, implied threesome, cunnilingus, breeding (talks of pregnancy), manhandling, overstimulation, size difference, cum play, boob job, name calling (slut), cervic fucking, mating press, calls you ‘baby, little girl, doll’, uhh anyway toji’s just a big pervert who gets turned on by anything. includes compilation of seperate, small drabbles.

toji, whom you wouldn’t have guessed was a pervert of any kind at the start of your relationship. your first intimate experience with him went as expected; it was soft and slow vanilla sex. you were just getting to know each other’s preferences in bed, so for the first few times there were almost to no signs of toji’s sexual perversity. all you remember was him being the dominant one. nothing more.

but oh, there was so much more to that. it was just hidden from your view in the early stages of your relationship. you didn’t have any knowledge of what toji was doing behind your back or what his actual thoughts were during the times you’ve been intimate.

toji, whom you didn’t know wanted to get straight into business from the very beginning of your sex life; to have your wrists pinned above your head, his hips slamming into your small cunt and molding it to remember the shape of his big cock. toji needed to see your helpless body moaning, screaming, crying and drooling from underneath him. but he couldn’t achieve that just yet; he needed to take it easy on you at first—to build up the trust between you two in bed. especially because you weren’t as experienced as he was.

toji, whom could only count on his imagination to fulfil his secret desires. he does this whenever you’re staying over and are asleep in his bed next to him. the entire apartment would be dead quiet except for toji’s muffled grunts and the faint wet sounds of him jerking off underneath the blanket.

you’d be in deep slumber with your back facing him and he’ll pleasure himself at simply the sight of your body. the older man loved just how vulnerable and innocent you seemed in your sleep—leaving your figure open and accessible to his view.

the strokes on his cock would get faster each time his eyes land on the shape of your ass. toji always imagines how it’d look when he’s giving you backshots, how the fat would jiggle with each thrust or smack of his hand. he wants to see your plump ass bounce back on him and maybe even have it covered in his cum.

toji, who sometimes stops palming himself just to turn your body around to face him. that way he can have a great view of your tits and fantasise of putting his cock between them, having the pair swallow his entire length once he squeezes them together. he’s never talked to you about it, but he will one day when you’re ready to explore more kinks and stuff in the bedroom.

toji, who keeps a pair of your panties in a secret drawer. those are his special panties, aka, the ones he uses to jerk off when you’re away. he’s done the filthiest of stuff with them; he has sniffed the insides-as if the scent of your sweet cunt lingered on the fabric- he has wrapped the cloth around his thick cock and even came multiple times all over it. he always imagines it being your pussy that he spills his load in; not his fist nor the panties.

toji, whose switch gets flipped the moment you (accidentally) call him ‘daddy’ in bed. it slipped from your mouth in the heat of the moment and the older man had to stop all movements to stare down at you— the scarred corner of his lip twitching and eventually forming a full on smirk.

not only that: it was like his entire demeanour changed. toji got more arrogant, cocky, confident and especially more dominant ever since then. that slip up of yours was the reason toji decided to let go of any restraints and just fuck you like he was always meant to do: nasty, dirty and roughly.

“yeah? mhh, fuck— say that again f’me, little girl— c’mon. if ya won’t, i’ll pull out and leave y’r cunt empty, so you better hurry up.”

toji, whose libido only increases with age rather than the opposite. you’d think dating an older guy in his mid 30s would mean that he’s going to be less sexually active. well, toji was your living proof that that wasn’t the case.. at all. he gets his dick hard just by seeing a tiny bit of your cleavage, never says ‘no’ to fucking you no matter where or when and has so much stamina that he can go on until you’re passed out. sometimes you’re fucked so full of his cum to the point that it’s impossible to push it all back into you— the white liquid just keeps leaking out of your poor pussy no matter what.

it makes toji super proud whenever you’re passed out on the bed, body still twitching and quivering in your sleep whilst he finishes himself within a few more pumps. he’s proud that he still has it in him and can last way longer compared to you, who’s still young and full of energy.

“aww, poor little baby��� fucked ya right to sleep, hm? c’mere.”

toji, whose secret drawer slowly piles up with raunchy pictures of you in all kinds of comprising positions. most of them are images taken from his point of view which he captures between videos. some of them are of your ass with his dick visible between your folds, others are pictures of your fucked out self— the state which toji thinks you look the most beautiful in.

his cum dripping from your cunt, your hair a mess, sweaty skin glistening under the dim light of the room, cheeks stained with your own tears; that afterglow was something toji liked to admire. that’s why keeps those memories in his drawer (but also to masturbate to them when you’re not around, of course).

toji, who’s on cloud nine whenever he gets the chance to drown your fertile womb in multiple loads of his hot cum. he was already over the moon once you told him he could hit it raw— but then you were begging him to cum in you? that man was not going to stop at just one round. that was set in stone.

the mating press is his favourite position since it allowed him to penetrate you deep— pink tip almost painfully hitting your cervix over and over again. toji also likes it because he can get to see your pretty face whenever he shoots ropes of his potent seed inside of your womb.

toji, who’d never admit it out loud, but desperately needs to see you grow a little belly full of a new life. one which you carry with you everywhere— even whilst attending your college lectures. he can’t get the image out of his head; you wearing those skintight shirts or materinity clothes that show off your swollen stomach. he’s gonna be so proud walking next to you on the streets, knowing you’re his baby mama.

“mmh, shit— gnna fuck a baby into you, yeah? haah,, wanna see you carry my child ‘round and have you be my baby mama. hmm, you’d like that? i knew you’d do, slut— i bet everyone at y’r college is gonna know who knocked you up.”

toji, who has dirty fantasies of sharing you with his agent. he’s never thought about it before, but there was one single moment that changed his mind.

shiu visited his place once to discuss a business deal and you coincidentally were over at toji’s as well. you were kind enough to serve the two men a meal while they were discussing something which you didn’t understand. you sat down and joined them anyway (much to shiu’s dismay since it was confidential information he was sharing, but toji insisted you’d stay or he won’t take on the job. he could be petty every now and then.)

toji’s mind began wandering to some dirty thoughts as he looked at you, peacefully sitting between the two men, your fingers playing with toji’s out of boredom. your lover was instantly intrigued by the idea of having you sandwiched between shiu and him—your holes stuffed with two cocks at the same time. or just you sucking toji off while shiu was pounding your tight pussy. that alone made toji’s dick twitch in his pants.

once shiu was gone, toji wasted no time and pinned you against the wall near the front door— kicking his sweatpants and underwear away whilst his calloused fingers pulled your panties to the side;

“c’mere, lemme put that cunt to use— did y’know how close i was to jus’ fuckin’ you right in front of him? to let him see how good of a girl you can be f’me? mhmm, might even call him back so he join us.”

toji, who eats pussy like an absolute madman. he’s obsessed with eating you out and making it messy—his spit and your body fluids are always all over his lips, chin and cheeks when he’s done with you. one moment you’re chilling on the couch in your shorts and in the next you’re arching your back as toji’s head was nestled between your thighs.

he’d moan and grunt against you, his voice creating vibrations against your cunt which only adds to the pleasure that his mouth and tongue were giving you. toji’s nose would rub against your wet folds, his big hands holding your thighs apart while his tongue was lapping up all that it could. he definitely sniffs your pussy as well from time to time;

“mmm— aw, gonna cum already? do it, wanna taste you so bad, wanna see you cum all over my tongue. c’mon, you can do it—mhmmm, yes you can. do it for me, doll. cum for daddy. give it to him.”

[artsninspo]

"Baby-Girl" - Rio X Reader

RIO MASTERLIST

Author's Note: The draft clear out continues. I know these characters aren't my usual subjects but Rio from Good Girls ... love to hate his mean ass. I think I may have a few more with him, let me know what you think 😊

Summary: It's your sister-in-law Ruby's 40th birthday so you come into town to show her and her friends a good time. Only you meet a flirty stranger who screams trouble in her house.

Word-Count: 957

Your step falters as you see the G-Wagon parked in front of yours. This is the furthest thing from the neighborhood you see luxury vehicles in. Not to mention it looks kitted out. You can't remember the last time you saw one of these around and wonder if maybe Stan rented it for Ruby’s 40th. But with all the money trouble they’ve been having it seems like an unlikely expense. Continuing to the door you knock three times. Stan doesn't answer, a stranger with a neck tattoo does. Hispanic, tall, dark hair, olive skin and dark eyes.

“Uh… is Ruby home?” you ask skeptical and the stranger steps back looking you over. He likes what he sees.

“Ruby, you didn't say you have a sister” the man calls and Ruby materializes from the corner looking nervous.

“You’re early” she smiles and it feels insincere when you see her two best friends in the house and wave. They too look uneasy.

“Thought I would get ready here instead” you explain wheeling your suitcase forward. “Oh, and Ruby’s my sister-in-law Stan, her husband is my brother” you explain. The man smirks again, his charm is infections but there's something infectious about it.

“Got it baby-girl” he nods.

“Don’t call me baby-girl, unless you’re gonna treat me like it” you smile flirting with the handsome stranger and the ladies give an audible gasp. You laugh a little at the wives crew’s reaction to a little flirting.

“Anyways Ruby, I’m gonna go get dressed and when I get back downstairs we’re leaving. You only turn forty once” you tell her running up the stairs to the bedroom. When your brother Stan suggested you take a trip to lighten things up you were reluctant at first. Beth isn’t Your favorite person despite being Rubys. But Ruby has been having a tough time and you decide to support however you can. Tonight’s theme is Vegas. You get on your showgirl jumpsuit and do a quick face before stepping into your heels. You head back down to find Beth and Mr. Neck tattoo in what looks like a heated conversation. Minding your own business you head to the kitchen without a word. You procure shot glasses and retrieve your special bottles from your suitcase, still chilled to perfection. You turn to see him standing alone in the doorway.

“Expensive bottles,” he comments.

“Who wants to celebrate with the cheap stuff?” You ask. He looks you over giving a satisfied smile and you smile impressed by his presence. 

“Ruby doesn’t seem like the type,” he shrugs, coming closer.

“Of course not she’s  sensible, they have kids and expenses” you say getting the bottle open.

“You don’t?” He asks and you smile.

“I don’t even know your name, you don’t get to know my business,” you comment.

“I’m Rio” he introduces, making you smile.

“No, that’s not your name. You don’t look Brazilian, so your mom named you something classic, religious” you say knowing people from your years of service work.

“You’re good,” he nods with a smirk.

“And your trouble. I know because you’re not sweating or stuttering around me like all of Stan’s other friends.” You confess.

“I'm not your brother's friend,” he responds, and you look him over again. It makes sense, he’s far too cool to be a friend of Stans.

“No?”

“Nah, Beth and I’s kids play soccer together,” he says smoothly.

“I’m sure you’re a hit with all the moms. I’d be bored of the Deanzies too” you confess pouring tequila into shot glasses and cutting the lime. Tequila before champagne is a surefire way to make sure these ladies have fun.

“You bartend?” he asks perceptively.

“Yup” You nod as Annie enters. Her outfit isn’t to theme and she takes a shot without waiting for Ruby.

“That’s like a $400 bottle of champagne” she says looking at the bottle with watery eyes.

“For Ruby” you justify.

“Who spends that on booze!” she exclaims.

“A lot of people do,” you inform and she huffs.

“You spent four hundred dollars on champagne!” Ruby emerges.

“This guy who’s into me asked me what I wanted and I said a bottle of Ace because I knew I was coming here for a milestone. Why don’t you ladies stop being the IRS and relax” you snap as Beth emerges with a black duffle and hands it to Rio.

“What does he get in return?” Ruby asks unimpressed.

“For a bottle?” You scoff. “A thank you” you shrug.

“Must be the ass,” Annie says, making you laugh.

“It’s my job to know who’s generous. Stan! Nope, Dean well god bless him, I know girls that could get him to spend mortgage money. Annie, you had a good one” you deduce handing the ladies their drinks. Beth sends you a heated glance full of animosity. Rio chuckles seemingly amused.

“What about him?” Annie asks glaring at the tattooed visitor. He raises a brow with a smirk.

“Nope; and he’s got it too. He’s possessive so he’d probably cash out on his wife and kids. You know, as an ego thing. Might leave a good tip for his regulars. Not just anyone though.” You say throwing a shot back. “Am I right?” You ask and he smiles heading towards you, his cologne is intoxicating and expensive.

“She’s trouble Ruby” he says. “Nice meeting you baby-girl” he says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. He places it in your hands. “On me”. He walks out without a care in the world and you count five hundred dollars.

“Happy birthday Ruby!” You smile handing her the funds.

“You have to teach me how to do that” Annie remarks as Ruby and Beth look shocked.

Part Two

[queenpiranhadon]

okay I'm sorry but I'm in celebrity Satoru Gojo married to actress reader chokehold.

Don't know how aware you all are about the one video where Ryan Reynolds interviews Brandon Sklenar because he's playing the love interest of his wife's character and that is PEAK Gojo behavior.

You're actually in a different city while this is happening, off for an interview with Buzzfeed.

Anyways, your upcoming movie, titled In the Stars, is about a young woman named Sora who had been diagnosed with cancer, and with only a few months left to live, she decides to live the life she's always wanted. One of love.

She eventually decides to pursue one of her lifelong interests of stargazing, something she's always been interested in as a child. Sora however never got to achieve her dream of becoming an astrologist due to her father's death at age 17, having to now juggle hospital and funeral bills without a very stable job.

With only a few hours to live however, she goes camping, only to almost murder a man who encounters her campsite by accident because she was startled.

The man's name was Daichi, he was a college professor who taught astronomy and was immediately overjoyed at Sora's enthusiasm for the sky.

The two ended up becoming close friends, regularly going out to camp with each other, and slowly gaining feelings along the way.

However, they're too late.

After one last camping trip, Sora wakes up vomiting uncontrollably and Daichi worriedly takes her to the hospital.

She's hooked up to millions of tubes and liquids, but it's futile. Sora passes away, leaving Daichi to mourn her on earth, hoping she's happy in the stars.

It's a relatively cliche plot, and yet, the movie becomes such a big hit because of you. The way you portray your character with so much genuine pain and longing, is what hooked the world in from the start.

Satoru couldn't have been more proud of you.

He's just a little disgruntled that your "love story" wasn't with him.

He knew it wasn't serious, but Satoru Gojo also tended to have a jealous streak - after watching the trailer for the movie he was unimpressed, because no one who truly loves you would ever look at you that way.

However that knowledge did help him feel a little better because it was just a movie after all, just acting.

That didn't stop him from causing shenanigans though.

Your coworker was a nice guy, his name was Ren Akiyama, and he was just a few years younger than Satoru and yourself.

The interviewer exits abruptly, leaving Ren confused in his chair, only for the famous Satoru Gojo to enter the set and sit in the interviewer's chair, with some cards of his own.

Ren looks around, muttering an "Oh boy, get me out of here", as your husband clears his throat, cameras trained on him.

"So...Ren, is it? You and Mrs. Gojo seem very close, do you call her anything special, like a nickname or-"

Ren cuts him off with a shake of his head. "No sir."

The interview begins to resemble that of every father's first interrogation of his daughter boyfriend, except in very different circumstance as we see Satoru grill the poor man about his relationship with you.

It's hilarious and endearing, seeing how much Satoru loves you and his interactions with Ren are quite entertaining as well.

It's even more adorable when the press catch you and Satoru going into the theaters to watch your movie, even after watching the premiere and seeing Satoru's eyes visibly tear up as he holds you tight, watching Sora's last living moments in her hospital bed, Daichi by her side.

He really does love you so much.

A/N: I acc loved writing this omg hahah - should I write more about this??

[ghostycritter]

Observing ☆

Context - Eyes don't lie. Certainly not theirs. Here, we unravel what's behind them. Eyes are the window to the soul after all. So how would their glances and glares feel?

Characters - Jing Yuan,Blade, Dr Ratio, Gepard, Aventurine

Warnings - none

A/N - first writing.

Masterlist (✧) HSR Masterlist

[景元] Jing Yuan -

Being under the general’s glare felt like a small stroke of lightning anytime his eyes fell on you.

The shock was gentle though. A shock that made you feel alive—a shock that kicked off your heartrate to rapid speeds. His eyes would always leave your heart pounding from how gentle his glances were.

It was almost comforting in a way. You always feel your cheeks flush every time. No matter how used to it you get, you can never comprehend the warm emotion that simmers deep within your heart.

On his end, his attention is always directed towards those who have caught his attention. Birds, Starskriffs, and maybe… You?

You, being the most memorable moment of his day.

Jing Yuan carries recollections of many amber eras. Everyday, he doesn’t notice himself getting older, however, days to him are desaturated in speciality. All he acknowledges is his duty as general.

But ever since you, everyday was like a blessing. He wished that days would travel at a hindered pace, just so he could look at your person again. Though conversation was rare, those glimpses at you were without a doubt the highlight of his days.

As you passed by him, you found his head following your direction. You lifted your hand to give the general a wave.

“Pleasant to see you [name].” That was relieving to say.

[刃] Blade -

He doesn’t know why he does it. He doesn’t feel like this, he never does.

But why does he keep looking back? Looking again, and again?

Blade has never reached out for an answer why, he’d much rather not ask. He’d just stare, like always.

Blade’s stares are cold. Your spine would go erect anytime you feel him eyeballing you.

You weren’t scared of course—there’s no act of maliciousness behind his crimson eyes. But rather, the word to describe your feeling would be intimidation.

Fear doesn’t overcome you, but his glare was so intense. It felt like a piercing blow to the chest. You had no complaints, because he would always look away when you catch him staring.

But you always know from your peripheral, that Blade’s eyes never abandon you as long as you don’t reciprocate the act. Maybe one day, his eyes would meet yours.

Blade crosses his arms, his mighty sword tightly gripped within the confinements of his fists. His head tilted downwards, it’s not like he has much to see anyways. His surroundings were deafening, he only observed his own being. How he can breathe when he takes up a flush of air with his nose. It’s like living.

But nothing comes close to ever making him feel more alive than being observant. Observing you.

Just a few system hours ago, he found himself looking… again. It’s always you. Never Kafka, Silverwolf, Firefly, or even Elio can drag his irises along like you do.

“Blade, time to go,” He heard Silverwolf call for him.

He must’ve been too submerged in his thoughts.

[真理医生] Dr Ratio -

Veritas Ratio was a piece of work. Brimming with knowledge and practically unparalleled in academics. So how come he catches himself eyeing you?

He doesn’t have time for such trivial matters; the doctor has more crucial things to focus on

However, it always comes back to you. He doesn’t even realise, but when he does, he internally scolds himself.

How his maroon eyes would stalk you, absorbing every miniscule detail about you. Any differences from the day before, he’d notice.

Oh, you’re missing that accessory you’d usually wear. Your facial features seemed more captivating today. In fact it seems that way now since he’s finally paying attention.

To you, the doctor’s stares were strict. It made you feel tingly, making you stiffen your spine on instinct or even walking differently. It’s as if you were being inspected thoroughly.

Another exhausting day finally came to an end. His usual routine, finding himself in front of his large bathtub. He stripped himself of his clothing and immersed himself in the waters beneath him. He let out a small sigh, he needed this.

Veritas was deep in thought. He simmered in the warm water, he thought about you. He remembered how you dressed today, but it seems as though you look more exceptional everyday.

Observing you became somewhat of a cycle he has gotten used to, taking mental notes after every look. But obviously it didn’t matter to him, it’s all a part of his nature to inspect things after all—or atleast, that’s what he tells himself.

[杰帕德] Gepard -

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards, a title he upholds dearly. Never once he lets his emotions get to him, staining his reputation when it comes to the military.

However, recently, some of his comrades have noticed Gepard covering less ground when it comes to patrolling.

He was always told to not overthink, to stay true to himself, but he never realised how often his gaze lingers on you.

His glances were quick when you’re aware, however, whenever you turn your back to him, his eyes linger a little longer. He looks at you with so much admiration, it’s innocent, he would question why, but all those inquiries would be muted by the sensation of adoration.

Gepard’s glare would boil a proud sensation in you. You notice how he looks, he isn’t very experienced in hiding it. You find it amusing the captain would find you so tranquil that he would pay more attention to you than patrolling.

Gepard stood firm and tall as he walked around the city. He found an abundance of citizens moving around town. He’s glad that the stellaron crisis was over, it made his job a bit easier with the fragmentum.

In the density of the crowd, with every person roaming and going on with their lives, he found you.

You caught his eye again.

How does this keep happening? He froze. The sight of you alone kept his heart rate surging, it was abnormal. His lips parted and slowly cracked into a subtle smile.

It’s good to see you today.

[砂金] Aventurine -

Nobody would ever expect the lucky risk taker of the IPC to have so much interest in someone else.

Usually, his ordeals would leave him to abandon the other party. Although his interest in you appears to be a wonderful exception from all others.

He had always had a keen eye for people. Most people being those deemed as ‘business’ to him. Subsequently, he finds you intriguing, but not in a professional way. Rather he took his own interest to you.

His unique eyes were sharp and enthralling, leaving anybody on edge when he peered, especially with his lips curved into a wide smile. He can’t blame himself, you were so entertaining.

Every little action that you’d commit would be under watch of Aventurine. Those contrasting eyes with his dark, sharp pupils made movement impossible to follow. It’d make you freeze, stumble, and stupefy anytime you’d catch him eyeing you.

He doesn’t hide it either, he isn’t ashamed. Why would he be?

Business has been accomplished, another risky negotiation in favour of him. With that success out of the way, he can finally rest with that achievement in mind.

He wonders, will he ever feel so obliged to watch over someone again? Was it out of concern? Interest? Or something more? He watches as you stand there, minding your own business. His irises locked onto your person. His smile grew a bit wider, he felt amused. It’s ridiculous how you can conquer his attention with leisure, he almost felt sorry for himself for being so helpless, but that would be impossible.

Regardless, having you under his vision was enough for him, he doesn’t expect you to take the time to notice it, rather that would be a miracle.

[inkykeiji]

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”  “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too. 

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart. 

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes). 

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives. 

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate. 

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan. 

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible. 

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want. 

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling. 

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want. 

Because it always is. 

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed. 

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed. 

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded. 

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels. 

“Oh, I remember this one!” 

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.” 

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle. 

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.” 

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.” 

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…” 

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole. 

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock. 

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…” 

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” 

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.” 

You can’t always get what you want. 

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you. 

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?” 

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too. 

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please. 

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile. 

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention. 

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.” 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony. 

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?” 

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.” 

No. 

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No. 

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no! 

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do. 

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth. 

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup. 

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile. 

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want. 

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.” 

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.” 

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.” 

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat. 

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth. 

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!” 

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” 

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw. 

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted. 

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff. 

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.” 

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple. 

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity. 

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs. 

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity. 

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.” 

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should. 

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?” 

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little. 

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?” 

“Well, sometimes I…” 

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.” 

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot? 

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…” 

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water. 

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?” 

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…” 

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?” 

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does. 

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer. 

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores. 

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick. 

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?” 

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes. 

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear. 

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit. 

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.” 

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific. 

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it. 

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.” 

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint. 

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder. 

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps. 

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” 

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—” 

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice. 

But not him.

No, he knows better now. 

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls. 

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!” 

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.” 

“You little bitch!” 

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight. 

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?” 

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower. 

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful. 

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest. 

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching. 

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, onii-chan.” 

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine. 

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.” 

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy. 

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure. 

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good! 

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth. 

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?” 

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan! 

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars. 

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?” 

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.��� 

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal. 

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous. 

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!” 

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine. 

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.  

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!” 

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!” 

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form. 

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?” 

[ginnysgraffiti]

Paul Atreides x reader? Where the reader does not believe in the prophecy of the Lisan-al-Gaib or in any god or Messiah that they say will come, to which Paul is interested in her but also feels anger because the reader does not show fear or submission, and when inquiring about why she has no faith in anything she reads or gods is because she went through many horrible things and when she prayed for it to be a nightmare but it never happened, and that's why she believes in nothing but herself.

thanks for the request! sorry if i hadn't answered before :(

PAUL ATREIDES x yn.

your people lived on arrakis under one name: the fremen. people who have inhabited arrakis for many millennia, originally arriving after an interplanetary diaspora.

your planet became the center of immense interests of the empire following the discovery of the powerful drug called melange or spice, capable of significantly extending the length of human life and increasing.

you have been trained in guerrilla warfare since childhood, reason why you're considered among the best fighters in the universe, the only ones capable of holding your own against even the emperor's ferocious sardaukar.

people can comfortably call you interstellar nomads who follow a particular philosophy, people who live together in desert tents and who are more like a big big family or army.

therefore, you don't hide the fact that you get along very well, despite the fact that fremen have challenging, ambitious characters, and you often want to prove our superiority by fighting or calling sandworms.

if someone has already heard the famous prophecy "blessed be the creator and his water" well, that's you, these are the fremen. that's your prophecy or the thing people think you believe in. or at least, your people believe in.

you worship shai-hulud, the sand worm, a gigantic and dangerous creature that populates the deserts of arrakis and is the source of the spice cycle. your religion, like almost all those of the primitive worlds of the empire, was profoundly influenced by the bene gesserit missionaria protectiva.

if you ask stilgar, he will answer you by saying he believes in the arrival of the messiah, of the lisan al-gaib. so please, don't ask stilgar.

lisan al-gaib, in your fremen language, "the voice from the outside world".

in later use the name messiah specializes to indicate the "anointed one" par excellence, sent as a savior of the fremen, the chosen people, and to turn the desert into the green paradise it used to be. this is how stilgar would happily explain it to others.

bullshit.

the biggest lie you've ever heard.

you have waited ages for the messiah, and the only conclusion you managed to get was that even foreign people made fun of you all by saying they were the famous messiah you had been waiting for. really funny, right...

"the walker of the golden path" they say, just they don't know how much you have suffered or how different you feel about your people's adamant beliefs.

you know paul since a few weeks, and you hated every second of it, and you knew he did too.

at first you avoided him, dodged him or threatened him with your eyes as if he were an harkonnen. or, if you were in a bad mood, you ignored him completely, especially when he entertained stilgar with inappropriate and absolutely not funny jokes but that made the whole for-dinner-tent laugh.

you knew that everyone was at his feet, that they would even lick the sand he walked on.

you often heard your fremen friends talking or chatting about him, and you could have sworn some of them even wondered out loud of it would be to have sex with him.

you had never thought of paul as someone to have sex with, mostly because you hated him on principle.

for the first week you loved showing off your fighting moves when he looked, or throwing barbs at him to shut him up.

you knew that he was intimidated but also angry towards you, that he was curious about your people, and therefore you could show yourself superior anyway. you wanted to crush it like a desert fly and rejoice while it dies under your sole.

then, everything changed.

it was afternoon, and the wind was gently blowing, but not enough to make the sand rise.

he was a little too snuggled up next to you, on the highest dune you could reach from the fremen camp.

at first, you didn't even like the idea of starting a conversation, but paul was the one who talked first.

he told you about his visions first, about his nightmare correlated, about the mental torture he had to kneel upon when he used to live on caladan, because everyone thought he was the kwisatz haderach.

he told you about his training, his father's death and how he felt so alone, abandoned by the little people he loved and betrayed by the ones he barely knew.

something about it woke up a new feeling inside your chest. you felt understood.

and he was not there forcing you to go on your knees and pray the messiah and his rise to power.

he was simply chatting, his eyes almost tearing, playing with some sand in his right hand.

he wanted to understand you, to understand why you were the only one who refused to believe the prophecy and yet the only one who captured your attention.

your mind returned to the morning where a few of your friends wished to have sex with him, but right in that moment, when the sun was melting under the dunes, far away, you could only wonder how plump and soft his lips could become against yours.

that same evening, you got confirmed paul atreides was the best kisser you had ever known.

in your tent, with a slight scent of spice and body

skin and sweat, he held you close as if you were

his only lifeline, as if you were about to become

small microscopic grains of sand, and he would no longer be able to hold the right ones in his hands.

you stood there, under his slim and perfect body, stroking his curls in a slow and sleepy gesture, until he closed his eyes and let his cheek rest against your breasts.

messiah or not, you believe he was the love of your life.

[chouettecrivaine]

Ah, Young Love! [Our Life: Now & Forever]

Fandom: Our Life: Now & Forever

Characters: Qiu Lin, Tamarack Baumann

Notes: takes place during Step 1, so he/him is used for Qiu as that is how he identifies at this point in the story!

So anyway I'm obsessed with how everybody wants Qiu but Qiu only has eyes for MC once they meet so I'm thinking about his silly little boyhood crush. And then I couldn't leave best girl Tamarack out of the love fest so here's just a few little things I was thinking about with them having childhood crushes on u <3

Note that only the demo is publicly available and I am not currently a patron so anything here that is proven true is coincidence and anything proven false is just me having a little fun

Qiu Lin

So like. I've seen Qiu call you pretty twice in the demo. Once when you meet him if you choose to call him pretty first, and again towards the end of what's available in the demo when he's listing off reasons why you should be allowed to join the club..

I just think that whenever he talks about you he always has to let it slip that he thinks you're cute. "They had on a really nice hair clip today!" "Their hair looked so cute when they took off their hat at school." "When I picked them up to walk to school, I was so surprised at how pretty they looked!"

When he told his parents about you he probably said "this really pretty kid surprised me in our yard and we went on a miniature adventure!"

Also (and note that my MC uses she/her so im gonna quote him using gendered terms but only for this one instance) When he's introducing you to one of his friends, he starts off with your name and says "she's a girl!" (Or whatever terms you have set)

So I just think he says the most basic facts about you with so much awe and wonder 🥺 like you wore overalls to school? He talks like you invented denim. You had a funny comment or joke? It's like he's never heard one before in his life when he retells it.

I feel like…the first thing that makes him interested in you is that you're new. Not only does this make you fun to mess with, but it makes you far more interesting than the people he's known his whole life. Plus you, unlike Tamarack, don't immediately brush off the cool things he wants to show you or do with you if it isn't immediately your cup of tea.

Darren and Baxter are sick and tired of hearing your name !! If you're not around Qiu wonders aloud at least once if he should or should've invite(d) you. If he did invite you and you had to decline, then he wonders what you're doing.

The type of kid to skip out on his weekend chores at home and go to your house to help you unpack instead

Ok so MC says they used to live in an apartment, right? Probably in the city? And MC was only allowed to play on their own because Golden Grove is "a safe neighborhood?" What if MC doesn't know how to ride a bike. What if Qiu teaches them…

Whether you get a hang of it or not, he daydreams about doing that thing where he rides the bike and you sit backwards on the seat or on the handlebars or something

When he finds out you can't ride a bike, he definitely shows off by riding around without his hands on the handlebars.

Will teach you how to jump off the swing set too, then will have competitions over who can swing the highest and leap the farthest

I feel like Golden Grove has a cute little main street with a bunch of locally owned shops. If you're interested, he'll show you every. single. business. Even if most of them are "granny shops" he isn't interested in. He'll let you poke around for a bit :)

He has a special page in his notebook for all the little notes and doodles about you

If you look closely at the note he gives you after class, you can see the remnants of a few tiny little hearts that he erased!!

Going back to him offering you to ride on his bike: he probably got you in trouble once because you were on your front lawn and he rode up asking you to go on an adventure with him on his bike. You're expecting a fun little 20 min ride through the walkable path in the woods that'll have you back home by dinner. Instead he takes you to town and buys you ice cream and the two of you have to struggle your way back up the hill on foot and it takes like an hour and a half to get back and your mom was worried SICK

Buys a pack of pens with one/some of your favorite color(s) and writes you notes exclusively in that/those ink(s)

If you and your mom go somewhere and he knocks on your door while you're out, you will come home to see him sitting on the steps to your front porch and waiting for you

Before class starts, he always gives you a funny face or a wave. If you come in late because of a doctor's appointment or something, naturally a lot of the kids turn to look at your entrance, and he immediately waves at you. Maybe even says hi to you out loud if he knows Mrs. Murray is in a good mood / he can get away with it.

If he finishes his work early or something, he'll turn around in his seat and just watch you from across the room with major heart eyes. He smiles wider and waves when you notice.

Anything you compliment him on, he immediately draws attention to around others. Say his hair looks good today? He'll hit you with a "oh but not every other day?" but then tell his seatmates about what you said.

Buys extra portions of his little snack bags of chips and candy or whatever he likes when he can so that he can give them to you during lunch.

Gets on a kick and will pester you about having a secret handshake until you let him come up with one. He likes having special things just you and him 🥺

Probably invites you to his hideout at a specific time and day every week and he gets soooooo excited for that time to roll around.

Tries extra hard in your favorite subject, even if it's one he hates. He's not trying to be top of the class, but he doesn't want you to think he doesn't care about something you care about!

If you like a class he's terrible at, he'll ask for your help! Or, if you struggle in a class he's good at, he'll volunteer to help you out even though he HATES the concept of doing extra schoolwork. That's how much he likes u

He'll do this with any windows but especially if one of your bedroom windows faces his: he will definitely pull a Taylor Swift in "You Belong With Me" and write notes for you guys to read to each other

Since he can't sit with you, he'll write you notes or make you doodles and then pretend he has to get up to sharpen his pencil so he can pass your desk and slip it to you

Tamarack Baumann

Tamarack will straight up just stare at you 👁👁

She follows you around like a lost puppy and visibly brightens up when you're around

Looks forward to school because she gets to sit next to you all day! Like she'll skip happily along the path with you and Qiu and you'll ask her if she's looking forward to all these things and she'll just go "No!" and when you finally give up and ask why she says "because I get to spend the whole day next to you!"

When she goes to play in the woods, sometimes she'll spend a while in the shallower end of the tree line waiting to see if you'll come outside and play with her

Has definitely thrown sticks and pebbles at your back door to lure you out before she gets bored

Likes to go around and pick up the coolest rock, the prettiest flower, the biggest piece of tree bark, a leaf the size of her head…then before she goes home for the night, she stops by your house and gives what she picked up to you!!

If you're not home then she leaves it on your porch with a note, usually held down by a rock if it's not something heavy 

She'll be over the moon if you give her cool rocks and stuff you found. Even if you're literally giving her trash, like if you ONLY give her bottle caps or pop tabs you find on the sidewalk, she cherishes them. Would make jewelry out of them tbh

Ok so quick tangent but there's a book I read in about 4th grade called Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, and in it the love interest girl is the quirky type. One thing she has is a little decorative cart on her dresser which she puts rocks in every time she's happy and takes rocks out when she's sad. When the protag goes to her house and finds out, she explains how she has put the most rocks in it since meeting him. They kiss sometime after that and she puts another rock in and tells him about it. I think Tamarack would have a jar or a doll house bathtub and she would do the same thing, putting rocks in it when she's happy! So what I'm saying is give her plenty of rocks so she can exclusively use MC rocks for that 

Also will make matching jewelry for the two of you without even stopping to think if you even wear what she's making. She'll buy kits to make special rings and headbands, braid a million friendship bracelets out of multicolored string, use acorns she found to make earrings…anything! She is just as happy if you wear it then she is if you buy a jewelry display stand and show them off in your room. Eventually she adds keychains into the mix for some variety

Doesn't mean to spend a lot of her time waiting on you but she does. On weekends, instead of going directly into the woods, she'll just lie on her back in her yard and stare up at the clouds, completely still, daydreaming (about you) until she hears your door opening. Then she runs to you.

If any of your windows are open, particularly your bedroom window, she'll send a bunch of paper airplanes your way. Most of them make it! However, you've learned that if you find even one paper airplane inside, you're going to have to check that side of the house for more scattered on the ground

Grips onto your arms or your clothes whenever she can. You two are connected.

Makes a BIG effort to like anything that you like as much as you do! And when she follows you around, it doesn't really matter if you're doing something she doesn't care about. She just wants to spend time with you! It does make her whole week if you follow her into the woods, though.

She doesn't take notes in class, but you leave a writing implement out for her and sometimes she'll reach over and doodle a cute bear or something on your paper :)

If you say you're cold, she'll give you her scarf, no questions asked. Is also down to share but don't let her do that while you're walking because it WILL end badly 

Has wrapped the scarf around the two of you and tied you guys together before and yes it was the best recess of her life 

When walking, she tends to lean into you which sometimes almost turns into pushing you and Qiu into the road if you're not careful

Likes to drag you around places and pretty quickly invites you to her house. She doesn't tell her grandparents that she's inviting you over, so they're surprised by you almost every time, but they don't mind! She's dragging you up the stairs to her room too quickly for them to say anything anyway

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the dropout anthony padilla/courtney miller interview! (aka things i liked or didnt know)

ally IMMEDIATELY kicking us off by introducing themselves as vic michaelis and dabbing so softly

ally ALSO IMMEDIATELY kicking us off by calmly answering the 'tell us about yourself' question with "ive been testing positive for covid for about 3 weeks now" "is that true?" "of COURSE NOT OH MY GOD??"

ally calls the covid vaccine the "Fauci-ouchie"

its been 1 minute into the video

VIC LYING ABOUT THEIR FAVORITE COLOR FOR NO REASON

its been TWO minutes into the video

ALLY HIJACKING HER ATTEMPT TO ASK AGAIN BY MOVING ONTO THE TRANSITION THEMSELF

ok we're locking in locking in

everyone needs to hear the ally wrongpile beardsley story at least once <3

vic was 100% in on sam's vision for dropout and ally COULD not have been more full of doubt.

all of them saying a contemplative 'ooooo' when asked if they miss sketches and then a beat afterwards vic immediately bursting out with 'sketch is dead i hate sketch. anyway-"

IFY MOO DENG MENTION

ify talking about how close and interconnected the cast is and was off screen since way back

"noo c'mon c'mon those are those pale clammy little hands i love so much 🥺" "theyre DRY AS A BONE"

vic's "I just dont ever think that anyone is thinking about me. like i am thinking about myself 100% more than anyone else is thinking about me"

vic thought it was crazy when they got asked to host VIP because she felt too new for it despite having a lot of experience

ally thinks its funny to make each other do the thing theyre known for but also they agree brennan is just that analytical about every topic and birds are not special KHADGKASJDF

vic and ify enthusiastically agreeing with the above LMAO

vic plays a character of herself while ify performs very close to his actual self

'is the broke comedian bit real' all of them immediately exaggeratedly laughing and looking away and going NOOO WE'RE FINEEE WE'RE FINEEE

ally's analogy of watering a plant that has been dead for a long time and how they might be doing good but the water has a lot of past cracks to fill in which i dont know enough about plants to tell if this is an accurate analogy but its an effective one

money-wise, the tide has turned for the better for them in the last few years 🥺

dropout did profit-share last year! vic cried 🥺

ify "i was there when youtube was created by a couple of guys" GOOGLE HOW OLD IS YOUTUBE. ONLY 19??????

ally needing clarification on if he was actually THERE when it was created or not

ify talking about how more people in the industry are recognizing him FROM dropout things

THE EDITORS ACTUALLY USING THE CLIP OF ALLY'S DAB AS A TRANSITION

vic "10 years ago if you told me i could actually make money from doing improv and my reaction was anything other than 'holy shit thats incredible' i would like murder myself. i would throw myself into a trash can"

immediate no's on "do you feel like you have to share your personal lives on camera" because they just like oversharing

"oh you grew up mormon too?" "no but i just LOVE 💞🥰 the mormons"

"studio CE shoutout. dont shout them out actually. well, you can if you want to."

some great takes on parasocial relationships

ify thinks his audience are the kinky poly folks. can we get a shout from the kinky poly folks!

ify pointing right at the camera and saying "IF you are at a sex party and i introduce myself as IFY do NOT give me your fake stage name. you are saying my REAL GOVERNMENT name here"

ally bringing up chappell roan in the parasocial relationships discussion yoooo

ify doing a voice imitation of his uncle suggesting he do jokes for a relative's graduation KHAGKAJKAKJDFSD

the horror on all their faces when courtney says they're lucky that fans dont ask them to do something funny in public when they meet them

grilled cheese scale: ify's are solid. ally is a good cook but they're allergic to bread, vic inconclusive

vic loves the joke of being called vehicular and would change their government name to it even LMAO

izzy roland shoutout!!!!!

ify's sex dungeon would also be where he paints warhammer minis.

"what is your favorite thing that he did" "...anthony?" "yeah" "th. this? this channel? this right here?"

SZA talked about ify on VIP in a variety article???

SZA INTENTIONALLY DRESSED UP LIKE IFY WAS ON VIP?????

this is like the first time i saw mxmtoon commented on zac's instagram except magnified by a hundred

"Grimes if you're watching this, slide into the DMs"

ally fanning themselves going "thats actually too hot i simply need to go" hearing that lana del rey graduated studying philosophy with an emphasis in metaphysics

everyone at this table ships ally beardsley and lana del rey

nice to know ify and em are still together!

"do you consider yourself an angel of death? i consider myself an angel of death for network television" vic talking about how theyve been on SO many second-to-last episodes of shows that were canceled 😭

Super fun and insightful!!!! we dont get to see these three vibe together much on screen 🥺 video under cut!

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter Four

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: ridiculous dialogue, pining between so many characters, unrealistic heroics technology used as plot contrivances

Summary: After the Heroics manage to close the Rift, trapping Marcus Acacius on the wrong side of time and space, the group enlists Marcus Moreno for help. The leader of the Heroics is still dealing with the fallout of the Rift, but he's fascinated by the unlikely visitor to their time... almost as much as he is interested in the FBI Agent who called him.

A/N: LOOK AT OUR LITTLE GUYS GO!!!! They're settling in nicely to their routine of talking late into the night ;)

Masterlist | Chapter Three | Next chapter>>

(Moreno)

Closing the Rift hadn’t solved all of Marcus’s problems, but then again, he should never have expected it to. Sure, the White House was much happier now that a giant crack in space was no longer glowing ominously just a few steps from the White House lawn, but the general public seemed to take any excuse to take to the streets. When the Rift had appeared, groups protested Heroics’ control of the area, despite Marcus’s repeated comments about being concerned with public safety and the general wellbeing of space and time in general. Now, predictably, people are angry that the Rift had been closed with little-to-no exploration of the phenomenon. And he gets it, really, he does. But his first priority had to be the safety of the city, not to mention the department’s accountability to the US Government. The powers that be had said “Shut the portal,” and Marcus wasn’t in any place to disobey direct orders.

He pinches the bridge of his nose again, pushing up the thick frames of his glasses as he does so, and glances at the muted plasma screen in the corner of his office. The news has been showing footage of the protests for hours now, and Marcus watches glumly as the camera zooms in on a hastily-written posterboard that reads “I WANTED TO SEE WHAT WAS IN THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA.”

His intercom buzzes, and Marcus angrily presses the ‘off’ button on the TV remote before answering, “Yes?” The metal stapler on his desk wobbles back and forth slightly, and the Heroic has to shake his head rapidly back and forth to force his powers back down to a low simmer.

“Someone from the FBI here to see you?”

Marcus’s stapler suddenly implodes on itself. Shit.

“Listen, will you National Security guys give it a rest?” he snaps irritably as the door opens. “We’ve got the situation under control. If I have any updates, I’ll contact you, but at the moment, consider no news is good news.”

The Agent looks surprised at the outburst. “I’m not from NSB,” he says slowly. 

“Which department is coming to yell at me, now?” Marcus deadpans.

“My name is Special Agent Pike, I’m with Art Crimes.”

“...Art Crimes?”

“And actually, I really need your help.”

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh, shit.” The Heroic paces back and forth in front of his desk taking in everything Agent Pike had just told him. This is what happens when you’re pulled in a million different directions. His own research department had been begging for access, the CIA was screaming at him every day about Homeland Security, and the fucking President called him personally to ask what he was doing to make the Rift go away.

This is how mistakes happen. Things get missed, people get hurt. He sinks, with defeat, into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“This man, you said he’s at your apartment right now?”

“Not mine, no. My, uh… my friend’s. Actually, more of a consultant. Yeah, a consultant. She’s a curator at the National Gallery of Art,” Pike says, as if this explains everything. 

“Why involve this other person? This… museum employee?”

“I mean, she’s an expert,” the Agent says vehemently. “She’s a classical Archaeologist, was helping us with some smuggled artifacts relating to the Rift… Anyway, she’s brilliant, and I knew she’d be able to help, and sure enough, she’s speaking Latin like it’s a normal, everyday thing to do and teaching this guy English.”

“How long did you say this man has been in your custody?” Marcus asks.

“About eight hours.”

Marcus studies the Agent. He feels like being a public servant has beaten him down over the years, turning the once-optimistic superhero who wanted to save the world into the jaded, tired old man he is now. Agent Pike’s demeanor seems to indicate that he’d somehow escaped the gradual decline into pessimism. No, this was a man who loved his job wholeheartedly, and it showed. The fire in his eyes was galvanizing… and beautiful.

The Heroic stands abruptly. “I want to see him.”

(Pike)

Marcus hesitantly taps on your door, having no idea what to expect on the other side. 

Even still, when the tall, broad man who was formerly dressed in full Roman regalia and is now wearing a faded Bryn Mawr hoodie and pajama pants and holding a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch answers the door, Marcus is struck dumb. 

“Hello!” the man announces seriously.

“Hey! Sorry. We’ve been practicing.” your face pops up near his elbow, giving Marcus a little wave.

“How are you today! I am fine, how are you!” the man at the door bellows loudly.

“What the…” Marcus Moreno mutters under his breath. 

“My. Name. Is. Marcus. Acacius,” Marcus Acacius says haltingly. 

“That’s his last name!” you pipe up with a giddy smile. “He is a general in the Emperor’s army.”

“See-ree-all,” Marcus Acacius says, holding up the box before grabbing another handful of his snack. 

“That’s a tough word,” you shrug. 

“You’re feeding a Roman general processed sugar from a box,” Marcus Pike says flatly.

“I’m sorry, I’m single-handedly teaching a Roman man how to speak modern English and you are criticizing my choice of food?”

“His name is Marcus?” the Hero asks skeptically. 

“Yep,” you chirp brightly. “Marcus, meet Marcus. And you’ve already met Marcus. Hi Marcus, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” You hold out your hand for the newcomer to shake. 

“This is chaos,” Marcus says as he takes your hand. 

The General also offers his hand. “Hello, how are you today! I am fine, how are you!”

“I’ve barely been gone two hours,” Marcus says with a disbelieving laugh. “And he’s speaking full sentences.”

“Tee-vee is magic,” the General tells him. “I also come here by magic.”

“Pretty much,” the Agent agrees with a chuckle. “You okay?” he asks, looking at you. 

“You showed up in the middle of the night with a man who happens to come from exactly the time of my expertise and area of study,” you say, leveling a finger at him. “I’m doing… amazing! Honestly, this is the most exciting day of my life.” Sobering, you glance between your new pupil and the leader of the Heroics. “What about him? Will he be able to return home?”

“Home,” Marcus Acacius nods enthusiastically. “To Roma.”

Marcus Pike looks at the hero with discerning eyes. He can see the lines on his face, the worry etched on his forehead. A man who’s in over his head, struggling to stay afloat as the pressure threatens to pull him under. He knows that feeling well. 

The man shakes his head sadly, looking pained.

“No?” the Roman asks. “No Roma?”

“I… I don’t know,” the hero admits. 

“Nescio,” you translate, and the man looks troubled. 

The Hero glances over at Marcus, and something in his return gaze seems to spur him into action. “No, hang on,” Moreno adds. “The Heroics caused this mess. The Heroics will fix it. I’ll see to it.” 

“How will I get in touch with you?” Marcus asks as he turns for the door. Moreno pauses, and looks back. “Let me give you my direct line, okay?” 

Wordlessly, Marcus hands him his phone and watches as the man taps in his number and hands it back. He presses the ‘Call’ button, and the Hero’s own phone dings in his pocket before Marcus cancels the call. 

“Now you’ve got mine, too.”

The Heroic flushes slightly, and nods. “I’ll be in touch. Marcus. And uh, Marcus.” He nods perfunctorily at the Roman general, and leaves. 

“That was weird,” you laugh, breaking the silence that had fallen over the apartment.

“What was?”

“It was like he had a crush on you or something,” you tell Marcus. 

He snorts. “I find that hard to believe.” 

“Why? You’ve a good-looking man.”

Marcus tries to ignore the way his heart aches at your words. “Sure,” he jokes.

“What? I’m serious.”

“He’s the leader of the Heroics. He could do better.” It’s meant to be another joke, but it comes out slightly more maudlin than intended. 

“That’s your protest? That he could do better? Hang on–Marcus, are you gay?”

“No!” The protest is far too loud. “I mean, I’ve dabbled. It’s not… y’know.”

“You should go for it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders in a way that’s meant to be nonchalant, but Marcus can see the strain behind your eyes with the effort of playing it cool. 

“That’s not who I’m interested in,” he says quietly. He forces himself to look directly into your eyes as he says this, despite the pounding in his heart. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly as you flash him a cautious, shy smile. 

“Quid est?”

The question cuts through the moment, and Marcus turns to see the General holding a souvenir snow globe of the Parthenon and looking very confused. 

“Your turn,” you tell Marcus with a laugh.

(Moreno)

It takes one week for the leader of the Heroics to call.

A few metal pens clink together in the sleek black canister on Marcus’s desk as he taps on the words ‘Agent Pike’ and puts the phone to his ear. 

“This is Pike,” comes the response at the other end of the call.

“Hi–” Marcus clears his throat. “Hi. It’s Marcus. Moreno.”

“I know.” He can hear the chuckle in the man’s voice. “I hope you’ve got good news.”

“Yes, and no,” Marcus admits. 

“Can I get the ‘yes’ first?” Agent Pike jokes. 

“My team thinks they can recreate the energy blast that created the Rift without causing a massive explosion or a uh… black hole that swallows the entire planet.”

“That sounds like a positive,” the Agent says optimistically.

“The bad news is that they don’t know how long it’s going to take to invent that kind of technology from scratch. But I’ve explained the situation and the urgency behind it and I’ve got people working ‘round the clock to recreate the Rift and get Marcus Acacius back home.”

“That’s great,” the other man says cheerfully. In the background, he hears your voice cheering as well. “Sorry, I put it on speaker,” Marcus laughs. 

“How is the General, by the way?” he asks. 

“Oh, he’s fine. Learning more about modern life, has quite a few more words under his belt. We took him shopping for some new clothes the other day, that was… fun.” 

Marcus snorts, trying to imagine a person from two thousand years in the past attempting to navigate a modern mall. 

“And the two of you… you’re handling it? Keeping it quiet?”

“Oh, yeah. Haven’t told anyone else, obviously. We’ve been taking turns going to work, taking a few vacation days here and there, not raising any suspicions about our sudden odd behavior.”

“I appreciate it,” Marcus tells him sincerely. “Oh hey–I almost forgot. I have something for you. Bit of Heroics tech that might help you guys out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Can I stop by your colleague’s apartment later today to deliver it?” 

“Yeah, of course,” the Agent answers. “We’ll see you then.”

(You)

This might be the best week of your life. 

Hiding a fugitive Roman General in your apartment probably should be stressing you out, but instead you’re having the time of your life. 

The situation, by default, has forced you into close proximity with Special Agent Pike, a man you’ve longed to know as more than just an occasional colleague from the moment you met him. At a minimum, he’s at your place every evening as soon as he can get away from work without people asking questions, but there have been several days that the both of you had called off and spent the day together with your temporary houseguest.

And then there’s Marcus Acacius. 

A brilliant man, he’s done his best to adjust to his new surroundings. He certainly cut an intimidating figure dressed in full regalia on your doorstep at three in the morning, but even in his new wardrobe, he still manages to look just as commanding. He almost looks ‘normal’ standing in your kitchen, wearing khakis and a button-up and filling a glass of water from the tap, but there’s always a hint of otherworldliness about him that no amount of modern clothing can camouflage. 

His eyes are sharp and astute, and his gaze always seems to make the heat rise to your cheeks. His presence seems to fluster Marcus as well; you notice him trip over his words on occasion, and you swear you saw the man blush when he had to help button the General’s new shirt after your little shopping trip. 

If anything, having the two of them in your home feels… cozy. 

You almost wish it didn’t have to come to an end. 

A knock at the door startles you out of your reverie. 

“Take bets, is that the pizzas or the Heroic?” Marcus chuckles from his spot on the couch. 

“It’s the pizza,” you call out when you open the door to the intoxicating smell of cheese, bread, and garlic. As you’re paying the deliverer, however, the stairwell door opens and Marcus Moreno walks hesitantly toward you. 

“Is this a bad time?” he asks. “You guys look like you’re about to have dinner.”

“Of course not! We thought maybe you’d like to stay and have some, so we got extra.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” he begins.

Hearing the exchange, Pike joins you at the door and beckons the man in with a little jerk of his head. “Don’t be silly. Come have dinner with us.”

Marcus Moreno hesitates for just a moment longer, and then shrugs. “Okay.”

After spending most of the week together, you, Marcus, and Marcus have settled into a dinner routine. You line up and open the pizza boxes as the Roman grabs a stack of plates from the cabinet and Marcus fills four glasses with ice and water and carries them to the table.

“Hello, how are you?” Marcus Acacius asks the Heroic politely.

“Hey,” Moreno grins. “You look like you’re settling in.”

“I am very well,” the man answers. “Pizza is a very good food.”

The Hero laughs. “You’re right about that.” 

The four of you eat dinner in companionable silence. As usual, the General eats far more than anyone else, finishing off almost an entire pizza by himself. You can’t help but wonder about his life in Rome–what he does, what he eats, where he lives. You’ve tried to ask, but the language barrier forces your conversations to be short and simple. You wish you could talk to him, really talk. He must have some incredibly interesting things to say…

After dinner, you pour four glasses of wine. The Roman grins widely at you, flashing his teeth. “Vino, excellent,” and you smile back, ducking your head a little and subconsciously glancing over at Pike. You aren’t sure what you’re worried about–jealousy, maybe?–but the Agent nods fondly and raises his glass in a silent toast. 

“Let me show you what I brought,” the Heroic announces as the four of you sit in the living room. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple of devices that are slightly larger and thicker than cell phones, but not by much. 

“We actually developed these to speak to aliens back when we were dealing with that situation with the Throqans several years ago. They were indispensable in helping us communicate and deescalate what could have turned into some kind of intergalactic war,” Marcus Moreno explains, switching one of the devices on. “It wasn’t until after that we realized we could program it to translate human languages. I had someone add a new function just for you. Here, say something.” He holds the device up to Marcus Pike. 

“Uh… this is me, saying something.” 

Immediately, the device emits a string of perfect Latin. The General perks up, cocking his head to the side and examining the device intently. 

“These will translate anything you say in English into Latin, or vice versa,” Moreno says, and the words are again repeated back in Latin. “You want to try?” he asks, holding the device out to Marcus Acacius, who takes it carefully in one large hand and says something into it.

“So many times every day I say to myself, ‘This thing must be magic,’ and I find I must say it once again.”

You let out a little shriek of delight. Marcus Pike laughs joyfully and claps the Heroic on the shoulder. 

“This is incredible! Marcus, thank you,” he says, his hand still on the man’s shoulder. You don’t miss how the very tips of the Hero’s ears turn pink. 

“It’s the least I could do. They all come with earpieces, too, so you can each automatically hear translations of everything that’s said.” 

The Roman speaks into the translator again. “Do you also bring news of when I might return home?”

Marcus Moreno bites his lip. “I wish I could say I did, but I don’t. The technology is still only theoretical. We’ve been running tests, but so far, nothing has been successful.”

Acacius listens to the translation, nodding slowly and looking somewhat disappointed. Suddenly, though, he brightens, and speaks again. 

“Ah well, if there are more pizza dinners in my future, then so be it.”

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Looking back at the day you first met, you realise how far you've gone. You appreciate the little things in life and some little people, too.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: This is literally just plain fluff, LAST CHAPTER OF DOUZIÈME FILLE!!!

===

===

Chapter ten: I love you

===

You had six best days of your life.

Paris, France. 1973.

The wedding was one of the best days of your life. You had a beautiful gown, a beautiful cathedral, a beautiful ceremony, and a beautiful husband.

Everything was perdect from the venue, to the food, to the gifts, and to the guests.

You saw old friends. Callum, of course, came and was pronounced man of honour by Joseph. Simone and Jean Pierre had gotten locked in about two years ago, right after they finished college. Michèle and Laubrac came back after profuse apologies of leaving. They haven't married each other yet, but you have a feeling it's soon. Also because Joseph told you that Laubrac told him that he'll propose soon.

Europe Trip, 1973

The second best day of your life was your honeymoon. You and your now husband went around Europe. Going to places you've already been and places you haven't gone to.

A side note, you left that celebrity profile ages ago. It was too toxic anyway, with all the drama you didn't want to get into. Callum did the opposite of this. You're happy for him. And his fiancé, or as he likes to call him, his husband.

Bordeux, 1974

Moving was hard, but it was the third best day of your life. And carrying Briseis was a part of it.

Briseis, your first born. She was named after a character from the Iliad, the same Iliad you had presented in that project with Joseph back in high school.

She was as bright as her father, always laughing and wanting to have fun. Joseph loves her so much to the point that he will always be the one to put her back to sleep when she wakes in the early morning. He does that because he loves you, too.

Bordeux, 1976

The fourth best day of your life was when you gave birth to George.

George was named after your late cat you had in high school. He was taken care of both you and Joseph, which held a special place in your heart. Truly, George, your cat was your first child. But, let's not forget Briseis.

Briseis was two now, gaining the ability to speak, walk, run, whatever drained her unsifting energy. You were most proud, as well as your loving husband.

One of these nights, you'd catch him talking to both of them, talking about whatever they wanted to talk about, telling them stories, showing them fun. They fall sound asleep after, and you, for one, are grateful for him.

Also, you adopted two cats. One Achilles, one Patroclus. What? You couldn't help it.

Bordeux, 1980

Only a few months ago, your beautiful Callum was born. He was obviously named after your best friend. Callum cried when he found out. That was the fifth best day of your life.

He flew all the way to where you lived, seeing as now he lived with his lover in Sicily. He gave him countless amounts of gifts, even the ones month old babies couldn't use.

The house was fully packed. Your three children, two pets, and a mother and a father. Their very beautiful father.

You were in your 30s now, and you're so glad you're in this age with him by your side.

You sit in your husbands office, reading a book in the corner of the room. He was finishing up some papers, cigarettes between his lips, and sometime later blowing out the smoke.

You were halfway through a stanza when you heard a record break. Music started playing, the volume going up slowly. You look up from your hardcover to Joseph standing there, hands in his pockets and an eye on you. You raise your eyebrows. He does so, too.

"Dance with me, honey." He says, walking towards you slowly after he butted his cigarette out. You roll your eyes, putting your book down.

"You'll wake the kids up with that music." Even after saying that, you get up anyways, grabbing the hands he offered you a while ago.

He shrugs simply, sliding a hand on your hip and raising his other. "We'll take them back to sleep then. Dance with me." He presses his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

You can't help but close your eyes, relaxation hitting your body like a truck. It's been a while since you felt like this. You both had been so busy with work or with the kids. You needed this. He did, too.

He starts to hum along the song. "I can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before."

Your mind flashes back to your high school days. The weeks of ignoring each other was wasting time that could've been used for loving instead.

"And though it's just a line to you, for me, it's true and never seemed so right before."

You look back at the first day of school. You thought you hated him. You thought he hated you. But in trutg it was the opposite, he confessed. He loved you the second he laid eyes on you, and you had been too blind to see, trying to distract yourself from the fact you did actually love him, too.

"I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true. But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you."

Seven years you were away from each other. He told you how much he missed you that night after the gala. He told you he prepared, he practised, because he didn't want to mess anything up. You told him nothing could because even after convincing yourself in high school that you didn't love him, you still did.

"The time is right. Your perfume fills my head. The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue." He turns you to spin, and you get back to your place in front of him, swaying with a hand on his chest.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you. "" He looks deep into your eyes, now staying still. He takes your lifted hand to his lips, pressing his pretty pink lips on it.

"I love you." He says, the instruments in the background adding to the moment. You smile, and he mirrors you. You place a kiss on those lips, tilting your head a bit. You part away.

"I love you." You say, caressing his cheeks. You're so glad you ended up here. With him. This was your sixth favourite day of your life.

"Mommy? Daddy?" A tiny voice asks. You both turn your head to Briseis, eyes droopy and hair a mess. She walks closer to the two of you, and Joseph does the task of lifting her up to your level.

"Yes, sweetheart? Why aren't you asleep?" Joseph said gently, and you can't help but show a smile.

"I can't. I wanna hear a story." You two nod at each other before carrying on to turn the record player off and heading to Briseis' room.

Once you tuck her in well, leaving the bedside lamp on, you question. "Alright, which story do you want for tonight." Joseph sits on the other side, brushing your daughter's hair with his fingers.

"How did you two meet?" She asks, fluffing her blanket up. You and Joseph look at each other, smiling knowingly, before you continue.

"Well, this is where it started. It was 1963. They mixed boys and girls in the same school. I was the twelfth girl."

××《☆》××

End - Chapter ten: I love you/Douzième Fille Series

××《☆》××

The series has officially ended. I'm so sad and so happy at the same time. I can't believe it. It's been so long with this series, and it's over. Our babies have grown up and have their own babies.

To all the people who read this, thank you so much for keeping up with it. This was my first ever series, and its amazing how many people have come and followed the journey.

This is a memory that'll be embedded in me for the rest of my fuckign life, no matter how cringe that sounds, but it's true. I made a lot of memories with an online fanfic series. it's crazy

I love you all so much and want to thank you guys for the support. I will continue writing for joseph it just depends on my mood. I will now start to write for other ppl, like u guys saw me post abt hamzah.

ANWWW, it's been a journey. Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

[mellonieee]

Mellonie does FOP + A New Wish Analysis: 1

This is what a week of AC and Antifairy brainrot has led to. After this I think I’m going to actually watch through the entire original series from the Oh Yeah! Shorts all the way to Season 10. (Hopefully I wont hate it too much.) And then rewatch ANW again once it hits streaming for the full FOP experience. And also so I could maybe do more of this analysis stuff, its fun.

Plans for later aside, this and any I do in the future, will only use episodes the character actually appears in, and not ones that they are merely mentioned in. Its also important to note that I likely wont use all the episodes the Character appears in.

That old black magic is the introduction to Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, and the Anti-Fairies as a whole. They’re described as “Regular Fairies, but anti.”

This episode establishes a few things:

1.Fairy magic cannot interfere with Anti-fairy magic.

2.On Friday the 13th, Antifairies escape from Fairyworld and cause bad luck. Antifairies are naturally drawn to anything that triggers bad luck to happen.

3.Antifairies can only be seen by humans with anti-fairy goggles.

4.Antifairies are opposites of their fairy counterpart in personality. AW is “incredibly stupid and eats with her feet.” AC is “not an idiot, in any matter once so ever.”

But what’s really interesting about this episode is what Jorgen and Anti-Cosmo have to say about the anti-fairies.

“No one is allowed in Anti-fairy world!”

“You see, we’ve been trapped behind that blasted barrier for centuries.”

Jorgen, you cant just imprison a whole group without expecting any problems. Its no wonder they wanted to escape so badly. Is causing bad luck something, well, bad, enough to warrant the imprisonment of an entire race? The anti-fairies arent good at all, obviously, but they are biologically made to thrive off of bad luck and negative energy. This really muddies the waters when it comes to seeing this as a solely ‘black and white’ situation. Most, but not all, of what AC does is for the antifairies. He’s evil and chaotic by nature, but he’s not evil evil, yknow.

There isnt really anything else noteworthy to say about that old black magic outside of this, but I did notice that AC knew Timmy’s name despite the fact he never met him before that point, somehow. I merely brush it off as a minor goof and just figure AC mustve made a lucky (haha) guess, but if you want a crazy theory to explain it, then maybe anti-fairies share vague recollections or memories with their fairy counterparts. I dont actually think thats true, but theres your food for thought.

The second appearance of the antifairies, The Gland Plan instantly ditches the entire ‘antifairy goggles’ thing, which is honestly for the better, even if I do think it made anti-fairies more unique. They are sadly never getting the invisibilty thing back.

This episode establishes that the faggigly gland is a special organ in a fairies body that allows the fairy to change shape, and that both fairies and anti-fairies have one. Fairy biology in general is really questionable, especially if you factor in the angel forms from A New Wish, but thats a topic for another day.

A few things to note:

1.This is the start of that “Hello, Clarice.” quote that AC and Foop/Irep use. Its a reference to Silence of the Lambs but its a misquote anyway because Lecter never even says hello to Clarice.

2.AC claims that he cant see a thing without his monocle. If he isnt lying about that and isnt using the monocle only as a symbol of prestige, then he has really terrible eyesight and is most likely completely blind in one eye.

3.Despite AC calling his wife a twit, he prefaces it by saying that he loves her very much. Most instances of AC talking to his wife does include him being typically annoyed when she messes with his plans, but outside of that he acts courteous towards her. (��Chin up, my beloved Anti-Wanda! Your savior, Anti-Cosmo, will have you all free presently!”)

4.The more questionable line is when Anti-Cosmo and Cosmo are having the operation and AC claims that if he does live, Cosmo should take his wife. Needless to say, AC words things very poorly at times, but this statement does have them acknowledging that an anti-fairy and a fairy could hypothetically be with one another’s counterpart.

“Cosmo, old friend, since we both carry a piece of each other inside of us, I see no reason for us to do battle. But I warn you, don't look for me.”

AC doesnt hold that much ill-will towards Cosmo like how I figure most would expect him to. He seems to be fed up and annoyed by his counterpart’s foolishness, but he does not despise him.

Right as the episode ends, Timmy brings up the idea that maybe more than the faggigly glands got transplanted. There isnt much evidence to support this outside of the brief voice change Anti-Cosmo and Cosmo had, but I’m starting to think Timmy was right considering how Anti-Cosmo acts in A New Wish.

I dont know if AC and AW retired like Wanda and Cosmo did, but I feel like AC’s very obvious decline in intelligence is a likely theory as to why Irep now seems to be in charge of the anti-fairies as shown in A New Wish.

I frankly can’t see the New Wish Version of AC leading the antifairies compared to how he acted in the old show. Not when he now thinks leaving a cage unattended is a “good idea.” That isnt something AC would say at all if we’re going off of his original characterization. It’s interesting to think of a reason in-universe as to how he went from “not an idiot, in any matter once so ever.” to someone who definitely is not as smart as he use to be.

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon &lt;3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[cosmossystem]

ok fuck it. system tinder post. yes this is cringe. no i don't care i do what i want forever. NOT a joke post at all (it is a little silly though.) our protectors only let me get away with this because they think it's funny. mostly i just think it's funny because it makes me feel like i'm trying to convince you to adopt us, which is accurate. anyway enjoy my sales pitch

also sorry if this clogs the tags (feel free to block us. there will be no hard feelings) -cass

System Tinder Post

System (20) seeking Partner System(s) (18+)

Are YOU& over 18 and seeking a NEW QPR/PARTNER SYSTEM?? Look no further than US, THE COSMOS. Interested? Have more questions? Want a follow-up interview? Just want to say hi? That's all great! Send an ask, DM, or reply to this post.

We are: American, white, collectively nonbinary and transmasculine, disabled, autistic, OCD, polyamorous, objectum (but not POSIC), kinky, therians General interests: Minecraft & Hermitcraft, Baldur's Gate 3, art, writing, space and astronomy, disability activism, cartoons, sleeping, some bugs, clowns, original characters Ask privately for: fandoms, other interests, any more specific details (trying not to dox us too much here bc this is a sideblog)

What we NEED in a partner system: covid-conscious, anti-zionist, anti-transmedicalism, endo-friendly What we would PREFER in a partner system: having literally anything in common with us in terms of likes/identity What we are interested in: whatever the vibes are (platonic/romantic/sexual/whatever)

Love language: does not speak unless spoken to, but when spoken to, will NOT shut up ever. at first, needs constant reassurance we are not bothering you. our host gets b&w thinking VERY easily so you might need to be persistant in checking on us, however we will do the same for you. would love to get to know you and eventually maybe video call. will send you cool pictures and stuff that reminds us of you.

Trivia:

collectively a gemini

ate our twin in the womb

sleep with dozens of plushies on the bed (all of them are named)

have known about our plurality for over 8 years

currently have about 40-ish members but we are not counting

have had at least one in-system wedding

have had the same special interests for several years now

our regular pizza order is a cheese pizza plus pineapples, onions, and green bell peppers

we cover everything we own in stickers

our christmas tradition consists of making hot cocoa and watching the same movies every year

we are REALLY good at making kandi but we don't normally wear it

red knows how to play a kalimba/thumb piano and a ukulele (but he hates to admit it because he had a cringy soft-boy phase a few years ago)

jam can juggle!

crush makes his own plushies

several of us can code HTML/CSS

caspar and red can often be found watching bluey together when cass is regressed

avid players of Pokemon Go (have caught 2 shinies!)

we each have a favorite pokemon!!! ask what they are

we collect a lot of stuff (pins/buttons, keychains, plushies, mugs, hats, stickers)

ok if you read this far i feel like you are at least obliged to say hi in the notes

[zikkytheblicky]

hii! how are u?? Hope I'm not bothering<3

could u do (separate) headcanons with Alastor and Vox x a chubby Male Reader who is kinda insecure and very sweet and kind?

if u only do for one character for request, i prefer alastor

have a Nice day/night!

HIII IM GOOD YOURE NOT BOTHERING ME LMAO I JS SAW THIS 💓!!

(A LITTLE WARNING I DIDNT HAVE ANY TIME TO DO VOX N DIDNT WANT THIS TO COME OUT TOO LATE/DIDNT RLLY HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR HIM SO IM SO SO SORRY 😭!! )

anyway this idea is so AGGGGH its so adorable ☹️☹️☹️ also some characters might be a little ooc ! im not too sure that’s kinda ur pov!! :3

SORRY FOR THE bit of lore i js inserted for the angst

c/w:

you and charlie have a little brother older sister relationship. very loving <3.

for the french/creole i used google translate so im sorry if its wrong :(

ALSO YES ALASTOR IS HALF HATIAN LETS GOOO 🙏🏾 CARIBBEAN HUSBAND 🙏🏾🙏🏾

everything about the little niffty part i had to google cuz i genuinely thought niffty was 5..

husk is so black coded idc idc idc

sir pentious holds such a special place in my heart i love him. ☹️☹️💓

alastor’s is kinda crack like until you get to the NSFW and the angst part!!

mentions of cannibalism.

ALASTOR

MEETING A GENTLEMAN.

the first time alastor met you was the day after the meeting with the overlords. charlie mentioned you were one of her best friends and somethings about you and how you and her clicked like two puzzle pieces because of your similar personalities.

alastor, like the gentlemen he was, introduced himself first, complimenting your looks and calling you sweet names off the bat..

you obviously caught his interest. may it be because of your calm aura, your gentle eyes, or the sweet tone of your voice… or maybe the plushness of your body?

as the sinners finished trampling you with questions and introductions, alastor spawned right in front of you- you didn’t know he was watching or even there for that matter. “hello there my dear! it seems charlie has friends besides her girlfriend after all!-“ “hey!” you heard charlie interrupt, a pout on her lips. their antics caused you to giggle into your palm which immediately caught alastor’s and the rest of the sinners’ attentions. “you are quite the adorable thing aren’t you?” alastor whispered, his tone holding what seemed to be a seductive tone behind the static that filled the room. “huh ?!” you asked as your face became flustered, refraining the urge to hide your face into your palms and slowly sink into the floor of the hotel. alastor just smirked, standing up to his full height (wait.. he was leaning down this whole time? what the fuck is it with overlords and there overbearing heights ! you thought bitterly, craning your neck to look up at the (sadly) much taller demon.) later on when everyone went to there respectable bedrooms you went down stairs for a nice, tall glass of water. unknowing of the pairs of red eyes that stared hungrily at your abdomen.

that day you went into your specially made bedroom with a teeth mark on your tummy.

after a few months he got to know you better.. and better.. and ended up dating you. which wasn’t a shocker to charlie since she’s noticed the overbearing and possessive stares alastor has sent you and the bashful glances and flustered faces sent alastor’s way.

but the others..

“toots theres no way you’re dating that jackass.. though he’s good lookin’ though.. got taste.” angel dust had said with a disgusted yet amused look on his face, faking a gag as he stared at the claws massaging your scalp and the toothy grin on alastor’s face. “tsk. gays.” was all angel said before turning away from you both and going back to bothering husk.

“i know already. you guys don’t think i haven’t noticed the bite marks on m/n/n (male names’ nickname) thighs and stomach ?” husk had huffed out, rolling his eyes at the look that was sent his way from charlie and forcing himself not to laugh at the way blush that was already on your face sprouted from your face to your neck. “i had to keep it a buck. sorry.” (husk was definitely not sorry he likes seeing you flustered it’s funny to him.)

“oh! sssso i guess the eggssss were right!” sir pentious slurred out, a grin in his face. “you too make such an interesting couple! one a nice, kind and sweet sinner and the other a… a..” sir pentious stuttered as static started to fill his ears. “a..a very well put together gentlemen overlord!” sir pentious rushed out before going back upstairs to his pet eggs.

“wait men can impregnate other men ?” niffty had asked curiously. all you did was sigh, clasping your hands together as you shook your head while alastor let out a staticky cackle, clutching his chest as he leaned over in laughter. “thats- thats not what we said niffty .” you murmured, rubbing your temple gentle before playfully hitting alastor. “it’s not funny she’s like 5.. or something!” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. “she-“ alastor coughed- “she was in her 20s when she died, mon amour (my love). and that was in the 1950s.” alastor corrected you gently with a toothy grin and a pat to your head. “oh..” you mumbled leaning into the touch with a pleased sigh. “gay people!” niffty blurted out, raising a rainbow flag she clearly stole from charlie in the air in front of you both. “oh my god. so out of pocket.” you gasped out, a slight giggle coming out while alastor cackled even harder than before

ALASTOR ver 2

(IN)SECURITY.

when alastor found out about your insecurity he was very confused. very. who cares about how you look? you’re so beautiful to him and that’s all that mattered. who cared if someone wouldn’t date you because of your weight? most people like that are still lonely masturbating themselves on valentines day while listening to those break up songs.

though that’s what he wanted to say, he was actually very gentle with you and was so sweet and practically worshiping your body when he found out (not like he didn’t worship your body on the daily.) though he was a little silly.

“what’s all this nonsense you’re saying, Mon pécheur ? (my sinner)” alastor cooed with a frown, pulling you into his lap and gently squeezing your stomach. “you see this? this is what keeps me sane.” “and these?” alaator grabs your thighs pressing small kisses to them. “these keep me from killing everyone in hell.” alastor mumbled into your thighs, resting his head on them as you combed through his hair. sitting in comfortable silence despite the happy tears that flowed down your chubby cheeks beautifully.

the time you fat shamed yourself in front of charlie and he got so mad at you. (he comforted you by being scary as fuck and then complimenting snd practically worshipping your body.)

“‘m so.. fat i need to start starving myself again.” you murmured quietly. so quietly. so quietly the sinners you say near didn’t hear you. but who did? charlie. she was standing across the room talking to vaggie and she STILL heard you. the only reason alastor didn’t hear you along with charlie was because he was out taking “care” of the eggs (you made sure he listened to vaggie by threatening to revoke his permission to bite your thighs and stomach.) charlie turned your direction and furrowed her eyebrows. “hold on, vaggie. i’ll be right back..” charlie mumbled as she strutted her way towards you where you, angel, husk, and sir pentious were in a group chatting.. well except you. you only sat with them because you were lonely and didn’t want to disturb charlie and vaggie- that’d be rude. charlie pulled you away with her to the second floor of the hotel in a dark corner. “m/n/n..” charlie started, a knowing frown and glance in her eyes. no. not this again. “charlie- charlie please..“ “listen, m/n/n. i don’t wanna have to tell him but i kinda have to. alastor will never trust me again if i dont tell him this… but seriously, amour (platonically.) going back to starving yourself? you remember what happened last time?” charlie whispered, cupping your cheeks with her soft palms. “‘m sorry.” you mumbled into her palm. “it’s ok. now are you ready for me to tell al?” charlie asked as she slowly took out a bracelet that had “INCASE OF EMERGENCY” written on it. “yes..” you mumbled, slowly moving towards al’s room as you got ready for a feral alastor to appear. “now.” charlie clicked the button on the bracelet, flashing a smile at m/n before disappearing back downstairs on the main floor. almost immediately alastor appeared behind you, grabbing you by your waist rather roughly and taking you inside of his room. “al, please i didn’t-“ “silans (hatian creole; silence).” was what you could make out- he was glitching slightly and his voice was very staticky. and also- oh god he’s speaking creole. he usually only spoke creole when he was pissed or was cursing someone out. you felt a shiver down your spine as alastor’s shadow locked the door- hell even it looked mad. and it’s a shadow for hell’s sake. “Wi mesye (yes sir)” you mumbled back in his native language, pulling your legs closer to your chest and resting your head against your thighs, sniffling slightly. you felt like such a disappointment (your nails digged into your thighs), why couldn’t you just listen for once? so useless. useless, useless, useless.“are you crying, love? what are you thinking?” alastor pulled you hands away from your thighs, watching the skin heal in a split second. “‘m such a disappointment. why can’t i just listen to you and charlie? im so fat too- why can’t i be as skinny as-“ you were immediately shut up by the cruel, almost scary laugh alastor let out. when you rubbed your blurry eyes full of tears you could see al’s eyes glowing, his regular toothy grin was now a scary, painfully fake (even more fake than his usual one), and prey-like. “silly boy. so stupid yet sweet and bashful yet so careless. do you not know how much your body is worth? in the city i practically was born in (cannibal city) your body is worth over a million. and i get to have it all to myself- every curve, every freckle, every birthmark, every bump and every hair. just to myself. do you know how nice it feels to know that, little deer?” alastor hummed out, pulling his coat off and pulling you up onto him to sit on his chest, his hands roamed around your chest and thighs, treating each and every curve with so much love it hurt.

ALASTOR ver 3

NSFW HEADCANNONS (SHORT)

he uses your ass or thighs as a pillow sometimes and likes to bully you by telling people he’s friends with on how much he recommends your ass or thighs to his friends (as a joke of course).

“i truly recommend this pillow to you, dear !” alastor lifted his head up slightly, grabbing your ass in his sharp claws and squeezing it gently. “very soft and squishy too!” al gave his signature toothy grin as rosie chuckled into her palm. eating another piece of human legs that she had boiled up nicely and was seasoned to perfection; just the way she liked it.

purposefully does doggystyle just to see your ass jiggle (very much an ass man imo.)

loves your kind personality. one time you told him not to go to hard because charlie wanted you to help her do documents the next day and it required you to move a lot. alastor purposefully fucked you into the stars (his excuse was, “i don’t like getting told what to do.”). you didn’t realized though. you just thought he was really pent up and didn’t mean it.

alastor added special noise cancellation to his room once he started dating you. you never asked him why when you started dating but now..? you understand.

alastor loves watching your ass idk why.

alr that’s it bye bye!! :J this is a lil late (๑´·.̫ · `๑)

[the-daiz]

Flashy flash (and sonic's) emotional depth

idk what to call this. It’s a character analysis ig?🤷 Anyway, I was thinking about this and wanted to talk about it. Excuse me if I sound stupid or something, I don't do this often. spoilers for the manga and webcomic (ninja arc) Long post ahead

I was thinking, as one does, about the ideal romantic partner for Flashy flash. This is all of course very fanon based because realistically most opm cast are not even semi-datable or fit to be in a healthy, fulfilling relationship (who cares about realistic here though, this is a fanfic blog), but it made me start wondering about Flashy flash's complexity and the possibly suppressed psychological affects the ninja village had/has on him, and how isolation, deprivation and abandonment at a young age probably affected him.

When Flashy flash is first introduced in the series, he shows few emotions/expressions, just the same stoic face with a fitting, confidently arrogant attitude. Even as the story progresses and we see him interact with other characters, such as fellow heroes and even Saitama, while, yes, there is a greater depth to his character now, he's still rather self-pretentious.

I'm not trying to say that there is nothing to him but his stuck-up-ness, but that the most we've seen of him thus far is him being, to simply put it, self-absorbed.

It's only in the Ninjas arc, where the fated reunion between him and Sonic finally occurs, that a more complex version of him is finally brought to light. In my perspective, at the very least.

in the webcomic, it’s revealed that Flashy flash wiped out his entire ninja class, including sonic, but instead of murdering him brutally head-on, he decided to poison him out of mercy. That obviously didn’t work.

his motive behind killing his class was to rid evil from this world, starting with his origins, or the origins of his darkness.

After that, he left the village and lived a life of honor and pride as a hero, and in doing so, removing himself from his past and (almost) completely forgetting about the village.

until he stood face-to-face with Sonic, his old comrade and his failed assassination , after 9 years.

flash forward a bit to the fight between empty void and Sonic + flashy flash. Flashy flash almost gets tricked by “god” via a vision of younger Sonic telling younger flash that they’re going to finally build the ideal ninja village they used to talk about.

Flashy flash’s swift willingness and lack of skepticism makes me believe that he had truly never removed himself from his past.

That all those years he ‘forgot’ about those precious memories, was just him suppressing his regret.

I don’t believe flash regretted wiping out his clan, but I do believe he always (in the far far farrr depths of his mind) longed for a different outcome, where he could’ve built that village with Sonic, and gave orphans the freedom to become strong on their own conditions and have their own goals and dreams. But that’s pretty telling from the vision the cube made for him.

Anyhow, his past never passed, it was just suppressed. He, as an individual now, is still shrouded by those hidden affects of his upbringing.

And it manifests in parts of his character, like his need to be recognized and in the spotlight (noting how irked he got when Saitama kept forgetting his name), his pride, and his drive for power (but that’s pretty lowkey).

That being said, he is emotionally unstable, but anyone can figure that much out.

Why can’t I confidently say the same things about Sonic, though? He was also brought up in the ninja village, alongside flashy flash no less.

While Flashy flash lacks emotional intelligence, Sonic excels in it to a surprising degree, considering his similarly dull past.

This can be seen in the ‘One punch man special 3: A ninja who’s too complicated’ where the viewer gets to witness a more meaningful side of Sonic and his average daily life, as well as watching him form decent emotional bonds. Like with the tiny wild boar “Ino” and the hunter “Frank” in the forest.

On to my main point: in the OVA, he navigates his emotions regarding Saitama, including the fear he felt in regards of facing him again. While training, he recognizes these feelings and where they stem from, and works to improve not only his physical capabilities but also his mental clarity in order to overcome those fears and have the will power to face his destined nemesis once more. While it’s true that at first he was denying his fear, he still managed to accept and harness it by the end of his training.

And he successfully does. Even after being defeated time and time again by Saitama, he uses it as another lesson, a sign that he’s still capable of getting stronger.

that’s another thing, while Sonic accepted the fact the Saitama was stronger than him, and even way above his league, Flashy flash denied it despite witnessing Sai’s strength first hand and even experiencing the overwhelming fear of ‘death’.

I should preface this by saying that Sonic definitely isn’t crazy emotionally intelligent or anything, he’s still our insane, menacing and a little manic ninja. He’s definitely no where near ‘mentally/emotionally perfect’, but between the two, Sonic is significantly more stable than Flashy flash.

Why is that? Sonic moves on. He doesn’t forget or look away or ‘remove himself from his past’. He moves on. He’s always been future oriented, while allowing his past to exist and his present to shape him. Even as a child, that’s what grounded him in contrast with all the other ninjas there, including flashy flash. In a sense, Sonic, with his spirit, personality and ambitions, is the one that guided Flash into that ‘righteous’ mindset, the one that grounded him in that miserable place, too. if it wasn’t for Sonic, Flash would’ve ended up like any other ninja assassin: dull, boring and vacant inside.

Like he said, Sonic was born with a ‘powerful soul’, full of life and rejecting submission. His spirit and inwardly strength since birth had always been resilient. Perhaps that’s the difference between Flashy flash and Sonic,

But we also need to account for the fact that Flashy flash was abandoned and sold off to the village by his parents when he was 5, while Sonic was born there. It’s safe to say that Flash probably doesn’t remember anything from before he entered the village, however, that doesn’t mean it didn’t have some kind of influence on him,

I believe it was his personal experience from the outside before he was sent to the village that also helped in growing the “righteousness” mindset. Along with the fact that they both have their own different personality and mind, their goals could’ve also played a part in how they moved forward with their life. Flashy Flash wanted a fresh slate, to be born anew. A hero that eradicated evil. But if he came from that dreaded place, killed many in cold blood, isn’t he also considered an ‘evil’? Pretending that part of his life didn’t mean anything, or no longer existed all together, perhaps reassured him that he was the pure ‘good’. Maybe it was the only way he thought he could achieve his ambition.

With Sonic, I’d imagine after the massacre of his class and his escape, he was merely focused on survival. He simply didn’t care at the time. And even when he had the time to think about his goal, which I believe he still always planned to build that ideal village even if it was on his own, the whole goal revolves AROUND his past, his life since he was born trapped inside the ninja village. And besides, he truly just didn’t care for all that complicated stuff about erasing the past and whatnot. ‘What happened, happened 🤷’

Now onto the more hidden influences of the ninja village upbringing: Isolation and deprivation of parental affection

In the case of isolation, Flashy flash and Sonic interacted quite often so we’ll just cross that one out for now.

Deprivation of parental affection, or even any type of caregiver, is terrible for any child. And in Flashy Flash’s case, not only was he deprived of that approval and love for years, but he probably had something akin to it before being abandoned. Maybe he didn’t too, and whoever was taking care of him at that time wasn’t kind, but that sense of abandonment and being carelessly tossed into an environment predictably ten times worse than whatever he lived in before then, intensified any sense of deprivation originally brought on by the absence of parental involvement. This could be the reason why he wants and/or needs to be popular and well known, and dislikes being overshadowed by others.

but frankly, that’s a pretty weak point, i feel like I’m just yapping here.

After all this blabbering, I’m finally going back to the whole point of this analysis, or rather the reason that made me start thinking about this topic: ‘a romantic partner’.

If, by some miracle, Flashy Flash managed to land himself in a romantic relationship with someone, how would that play out? the simple answer to this is: not well. Definitely not well. Of course, he’s going to act drastically different from his exterior persona with said significant other, and I believe the way he would act is a problem all by itself.

Going back to my ‘deprivation of parental affection’ point from earlier, he would seek out that attention, love and security in his partner, which in of itself isn’t bad, its the intensity of it that would point to a clear instability in him. I think he would seek validation and attention constantly, to an overbearing extent, if I may. Always calling and texting his partner, getting agitated when they don’t respond at least within 30 minutes, even if they’re busy.

For all his devotion to his work as a hero, his partner would consume a big portion of his thoughts, perhaps even when he’s on missions. And he’d assume his significant other should be as reliant on their relationship as he is. His interactions with them even through the phone would possibly determine his overall mood for that day. That’s far from how any sort of healthy relationship should work.

Aside from all of this, as I mentioned in the beginning of the post, Flashy flash is still self-absorbed. He’d want to be above his partner in many aspects, especially strength and intelligence. He would want to feel superior in a relationship. Overall, his mindset in a relationship would likely be very unhealthy. He’d probably think that his partner is lucky to have him, even if he feels grateful for having them, he would expect them to be grateful for him by ten folds. Not because he’s the ideal romantic partner (from everyones point of view except his), but because he’s the embodiment of perfection. He’s clean, handsome, powerful, rich, smart, devoted. Who would want anything else? He can’t differentiate between those attributes and what it takes for you to be a good spouse.

This point is demonstrated by his acute possessiveness and well-veiled but intense jealousy. If his partner planned to go out with some friends while he so happened to be free at that time, he wouldn’t understand why they wouldn’t bail on their friends to hangout with him instead; his utterly glorious and charming self, their enchanting partner who’s better than everyone else.

I’m assuming this would lead to many arguments. In his head, he would criticize all their friends or colleagues, mentally comparing them to him.

He would grow obsessively attached to his partner. He would constantly yearn for all their love, attention and praise. Subconsciously, his mind is trying to use his partner to fill in the missing gaps left by his childhood, while also accounting for his need for support as an adult. All things considered, he needs way too much. He also tries to give way too much, which for some people could be overwhelming.

With all those issues and toxicity in the relationship, naturally the partner would eventually try to breakup with flashy flash. This is where I believe his abandonment issues would finally show. He wouldn’t accept the breakup, and would deny or try to excuse their reasoning. If that doesn’t work, he’d start growing desperate.

He’s revolved his life and schedule around this person ever since their relationship started, every waking step he takes he’s thinking about them in any sense, they’d seen so much vulnerability and need in him, how could they just leave? He’d grow proper desperate, doing anything, even if it may be seen as pathetic (which is surprising coming from someone who cares a lot about how he’s perceived), to get them to stay.

‘He would never do that, that is so out of character for him.’, and I agree, it IS out of character of him, but I think people tend to underestimate the sheer intensity of limerence and attachment when someone hasn’t received that crucial part of development growing up. Think about it, he had probably been deprived of that sense of safety and gentleness for around 20-25 years of his life, and when he finally gets it and is intoxicated by it, his entire existence is coiled around it. Wouldn’t losing that shred of touch he needed for years send him into mental distress?

that being said, you don’t need to take anything I say seriously, I’m mostly just overthinking and spilling my maladaptive daydreaming thoughts into this post.

IN CONLUSION:

Flashy flash is still held up by his past (to an extent)

Flashy Flash would probably have preoccupied anxious attachment style

He needs some intense therapy

THEN AGAIN, this whole post could just be a huge miss on my part 💥

exhales deeply. Siri, play ‘Crack baby' by mitski. *takes in a big puff from my hookah* Man.