#assuming this is in the past before they become a real couple

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her. 

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun. 

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage. 

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect. 

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow. 

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside. 

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars. 

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner. 

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high. 

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more. 

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you. 

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room. 

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses. 

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation. 

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.” 

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature. 

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers. 

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is. 

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you. 

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away. 

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it. 

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him. 

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii I absolutely adore ur writing and I was wondering if maybe you could write something where like tom attempts to do no nut November but fails and it ends with smut??? Thank youuu💗

CAN’T RESIST - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: wierdly, tom is determined to get through the entire month of november with zero sex, having failed within the first few days for the past five years you have been together. you have other ideas, focused on getting him to crack, becoming desperate yourself.

content: smut

a/n: omg i loveeee this idea thanku sm for the request!! the way u sent this at like the start of november and i’m only just posting it i’m so sorry - i’ve had like the first paragraph written for a couple weeks😭also tom would def fail nnn on november 1st at 00:01am he is not lasting a second…

“oh my god.” tom pants, pulling out of me and climbing off of my limp frame, rolling to lay beside me, his chest heaving up and down as beads of sweat line the soft skin. “don’t know how i’m gonna last a whole month without this schatz.”

his confession doesn’t come as a surprise, in fact it is the exact opposite. tom is the horniest person i have ever met, and usually, he can’t go a day without sex - whether it be something rushed and desperate in public, or a long night of raw passion between the sheets, he can’t live without sex, which is why i am so surprised that he is attempting to go through with this whole ‘no nut november’ bullshit. he won’t last a second, and deep down i think he knows that too. though after the hours that he has spent inside of me, deciding to use the entirety of today - october 31st, the day before he had to give up his uncontrollable desires - fucking me just about anywhere he could, stating that it will ‘make up for the lost time’ and ‘make it a little easier for him’, i don’t see how he could even have the energy to do anything remotely sexual for the next month, his body spent and exhausted as it collapses beside me.

“i can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” a small giggle leaves my lips amidst the shaky breaths, hands pulling the sheets upward and over my naked body before snuggling into his frame, wrapping my arm loosely across his chest. “you know that you won’t even last a day, right?”

“this means no sex for you too you know.” his eyebrow raises, eyes tiredly meeting mine with a hint of mischief, thinking that he has caught me out, though he doesn’t realise that i can handle my needs in other ways, it is him that is totally restricted.

“i don’t need your help to cum baby. cute of you to assume i do.” i smirk, kissing his cheek lazily before rolling out of bed, grabbing my panties from the soft carpet, sensing his eyes burning into me from behind. i pay no attention, flashing him a teasing smile as a reminder that i have won, slowly walking into the bathroom to freshen up, his own steps soon following.

“the fuck do you mean you don’t need my help? i can still help you cum, i just can’t fuck you, which don’t get me wrong is the worst part, but nothing says that i can’t touch you. you know i’ll go insane if i can’t even do that.” he already sounds frustrated, a small smile tugging along my lips at the realisation that he really won’t last two seconds, his desperation embarrassingly clear despite the challenge not even starting yet.

“we’ll see. you just focus on getting yourself through this dumb challenge of yours baby.” i chuckle, that same knowing grin on my face once i palm him through his boxers, his mouth falling open at the sensation. though it doesn’t last long, my hand pulling away firmly to adjust the straps of my bra as i put it back on, leaving tom shocked as i walk away, the realisation that i don’t intend to make this easy for him soon becoming real.

and i stick to my plans - set on making this the most painful month of his life, certain that he will never consider doing this challenge again.

if only he knew what he was getting himself into.

“baby?” my voice sounds throughout the quiet house, loud enough for tom to pick up on it from downstairs. i smile to myself, turning to the mirror and adjusting the strap of the bra that i had bought earlier on, whilst tom had been at practice. the black lace - a colour which tom had never been able to control himself when ever i wore it - tightly cupped my breasts, pushing them upward and highlighting my cleavage in the most tempting way possible. small silver jewels line the lace of my thongs, matching perfectly with my upper half, leaving little to the imagination - though far too much that tom wouldn’t be able to touch, a task which would seem impossible the second he laid his eyes on mine.

“yeah?”

“can you come here for a second?” my question is nothing short of innocent, calm with a slight hint of mischief, though it is clearly not enough for him to pick up on as he shouts a quick ‘sure’, the rhythmic sound of his feet trudging up the stairs signalling that he is close, and clearly not expecting anything like this. but it has been two days- fourty eight hours of no sex, no touching, not even an implicit complaint of needing anything sexual from tom. he has been strangely okay with not fucking me, a task which any other time, would be next to impossible. and i feel it - i feel the difference in his actions. he is restricted, almost holding back just in case his impulses get the better of him. but right now, his mind has no choice, my own doing the thinking for him as he is walking blindly into my carefully calculated trap.

“is everything okay-” his calm question is soon cut off by the short curses that spill from his lips when his eyes make contact with my body, not bothering to hide the way they rake down my figure, drinking in the prominent cleavage, moving downward to my curves, finally landing on the slightly transparent panties.

“jesus christ schatz you’re gonna fucking kill me.” he mutters, walking toward me and attacking his hands to my waist, the pads of his fingers tracing the bare skin of my stomach, one slipping teasingly into my panties. his lips are inches away from my own, about to lean in and seal them in a heated kiss, though i pull away, leaving him dumbfounded.

“you like?” i ask innocently, doing a quick twirl as his eyes quickly glue to my ass, soon looking upward once i face him once again. he is in some sort of trance, mouth hanging open slightly, eyes dark and lustful, though the most noticeable difference is the tent that has formed through his sweatpants, a tinge of satisfaction in my veins at the realisation that my plan has worked. despite this, i keep the naive act up, acting as if i do not notice his change in demeanour. “i bought it from victoria’s secret today. it was on sale, and this was the last one in my size. what do you think?”

“you know what i think.” he states frustratedly, his hands doing the talking as they trail down to my ass, giving the bare flesh a rough squeeze, his lips ghosting over my own. “you’re so sexy schatz, so beautiful.”

his lips attach to my own, an indisputable hunger evident as he kisses me, his free hand latching onto the loose curls that fall to my upper waist, running through them harshly. he groans lowly into my mouth, pressing his hips against my own, silently drawing my attention to the hardness between his thighs.

“look what you’re doing to me baby.” he breathes out, seeming a little angry that i have managed to get to him so easily. though he doesn’t kiss me again, instead he holds back, pressing his forehead against mine whilst his hands continue to rest on my lower back, bringing our bodies closer together. “fuck you’re making this so hard…you know that?”

“you gonna give up already?” my voice is seductive, a torturous mix of sympathetic and lustful, lips moving to rest just below his ear, kissing the skin as his eyes flutter shut, a loud sigh leaving his parted mouth, the grip on my waist simultaneously becoming tighter when my kisses speed up. “if you want me…i’m right here.”

“jesus fucking christ.” he trails off, his eyes now squeezing shut as my lips work against his neck, his mind visibly contemplating on whether he should give in. i am right in front of him, my body a blank canvas, willing to give myself up, to allow myself to be used as he pleases, in exchange for the pathetic remainder of his pride - the two days that he has gone without me going down the drain if he decides to act on the desire that is so clearly eating him up.

his visible indecisiveness isn’t enough for me. i need him to give up, to no longer care about holding back anymore, my hand moving underneath his sweatpants as i run my fingers along his length through his boxers, a loud groan leaving his lips in response. he doesn’t object, instead he seems to lean into my touch, confirmation of his defeat on the tip of his tongue, just about to be uttered, my eyes wide open as i wait for him to finally say it.

a loud buzzing sound resonating from his pocket soon takes his attention, totally destroying the moment as i remove my hand from his pants, his eyes shooting open as he takes his phone, the source of the noise, eyes slightly widening once he sees the who is calling, their name lighting up the screen. bill.

“i have to take this baby. you look beautiful by the way, and, nice try.” he says, shooting me a wink and placing a quick kiss on my lips before adjusting himself, clearing his throat and disappearing out of the room. pretty fucking convenient.

i groan in frustration, collapsing backward onto the bed, completely infuriated at the fact that he was so close to letting go, knowing that right now he could be inside of me if it weren’t for that phone call - quickly realising that this is going to be much harder than i had thought.

my eyes make direct contact with the fresh towel folded neatly on the bathroom counter, scrambling quickly to hide it in the cupboard below as i step out of the shower, hands twisting the tap as the fast flow of water soon stops. i smile to myself when i hear the faint sound of a guitar from our bedroom, signalling that tom is in there, this key to my plan. nine days - nine whole days and he hadn’t cracked, not even close to wanting to fuck, the quick make out sessions and ability to still touch me as he pleases seeming to be sufficient. and whilst his mouth and fingers feel good, i need more, desperate to feel him inside of me, willing to go to any lengths to make him crack.

my fingers rake hurriedly through my freshly washed hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat neater, whilst my body remains completely naked, dripping with water. i take one final look at myself through the fogged up mirror, certain that my plan will work this time, figuring that if it doesn’t, then literally nothing else will.

i open the door that leads directly into our bedroom, acting totally nonchalant and squeezing any last droplets of water from my hair. i walk over to the closet, pretending to scan the shelves for towels, knowing that there aren’t any in here, my entire body on display for him. the gentle strumming of the guitar soon comes to a stop, signalling that i have gotten tom’s attention almost immediately, as i had expected.

“baby have you seen the towels? i can’t find any fresh ones anywhere.” i sigh obliviously, eyes finally landing on his own, only his are fixed on my figure, clearly not paying attention to a word that i am saying. his lips are parted, eyes shifting downward as they slowly take in each inch of skin, nothing at all left to his imagination which, despite his silence, clearly offers him no thoughts deemed holy.

“hm?” he mutters, moving his guitar from where it had been resting in his lap and setting it beside him on the bed. he gets up quickly, walking toward me, the awestruck expression plastered on his face now replaced with one unable to be mistaken for anything else besides pure lust. and when his hands find my waist, running up and down it softly, tongue dipping in and out of his mouth to play with the piercing there whilst his lips are curved into a smirk, i know that i have him right where i want him.

“i said do you know where the towels are. i can’t find any and i need to get dry.” his eyes look everywhere but my face, the only thing i get in response being a subtle nod. instead, his hands move upward, cupping my breasts, whilst his head finally tilts, eyes tearing away from where his hands now roam, lips nearing closer and closer, until they roughly collide with my own.

and i waste no time kissing back, silently thanking his almost non-existent willpower, channelling my pent up sexual frustration into the kiss as my lips mould with his, sighing loudly when his teeth sink into the plush of my bottom lip. he presses himself against me, the tent in his jeans more obvious than ever, one that he won’t be able to ignore as easily as he had done last time - one that i know he has to fix, meaning that this time, he won’t leave me totally desperate. his tongue slips into my mouth when i moan slightly, the kiss more messier than before, totally unrecognisable to the soft ones we had shared up until this moment, because this time, they show that he wants this just as badly as i do.

“jump.” he mutters almost inaudibly against my lips, soon reconnecting them once he breathes in shakily, his hands grabbing the flesh under my thighs once i hoist myself upward, wrapping them around his waist. he guides us toward the bed, using the steady hold he has on my hips to grind me against his, the sensation making it harder for him to kiss back, soon reminding me that this is the first sexual contact he has had in over a week. my back collides harshly with the soft sheets as he climbs above me, reconnecting our lips and slowly spreading my legs apart. he hurriedly scrambles to take his shirt off, throwing the material carelessly across the room, revealing his bare torso.

my hands run down the skin, trailing the muscle of his abs, watching how his eyes fall shut as i move lower and lower, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans. his eyes open when i hesitate, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he quickly places his hand on top of mine, now guiding my movements as he forces my fingers to slip below the denim, moving below the cotton of his boxers.

“what about your challenge?” i ask, just before my fingers make contact with his dick, eyes widening when he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at my question.

“fuck the challenge.” he mumbles, forcing my hand to wrap around his dick, his head falling backward the second that the pads of my fingers trace his length, soon running up and down at a slow pace.

“oh jesus christ.” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he fights to keep them open, desperate to watch my movements, no matter how lethargic they are. because though i have gotten what i wanted, managing to divert his attention from the ridiculous challenge onto me, i want him to be in control, opposed to me doing all the work. and somehow, he seems to read my mind, removing my hand from underneath his pants despite the unmistakable satisfaction etched upon his face. his movements are fast as he removes his jeans, boxers soon following in a messy heap of clothing on the floor.

being naked already works in my favour, allowing tom to line his tip at my entrance, hand pumping his dick lazily a few times before slowly sliding in. as he does so, the tip slips in and out of my folds ever so slightly as i whine in frustration, the stimulation not enough as it reminds me of everything that i have within arms reach, tom holding back only agitating me even more. he picks up on my impatience, my anger buying him time to savour this moment, to tease me just a little more, having me under his mercy just as i had him last time i had gotten close to making him surrender. and i am not willing to have him ripped away again, to be taunted beyond belief, instead willing to beg for him.

“stop playing around and just fuck me.” i sigh through pathetic moans, hands reaching to his neck, pulling it downward so our foreheads our inches apart. and surprisingly, he puts me out of my misery, slowly sliding into me in one smooth snap of his hips. my mouth falls open, a high-pitched moan leaving it when he bottoms out, his tip brushing against my g-spot perfectly, hands raking down his back.

and though my nails dig into the skin with enough force to draw blood, he uses the pain to build up the speed of his thrusts, teeth gritting together as he winces lowly, somewhat used to the feeling, knowing that his pace warranted the strength of my fingers dragging down his back. despite the stinging pain, he maintains a soft smirk, knowing that the soft red marks are nothing more than evidence of the pleasure that only he can provide me with. desperate to feel him just a little closer, my legs hook around his waist, drawing him even deeper inside me, so deep that i swear i can feel him in my stomach.

“you knew what you were doing.” he breathes out between soft groans, so quiet they are almost inaudible. “knew that i’d give in, didn’t you?”

whilst he can speak somewhat coherently, i had lost that ability the second his dick had entered me, any sound that i make an embarrassing mix of moans and whines - nowhere near a properly understandable sentence. though tom wants more, using one hand to grab hold of my cheeks firmly, though not enough to hurt me, forcing my eyes to make contact with his own, prompting me to answer his question.

“mhm…” i manage to mumble, eyes rolling to the back of my head when his tip repeatedly hits the soft spot inside of me, soft curses now pouring from tom’s lips as i clench around him, knowing the reaction that such movements usually encourage out of him, recognising that this time is no different.

“fuck- it’s worth it though schatz. you feel so good, taking me so well.” his words of encouragement are all i need to attach my lips to his neck, placing messy, open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin, noticing the way his lips part, quiet and almost restricted moans escaping them. it isn’t enough for me, feeling somewhat frustrated that he holds back, wanting nothing more for him to cry out in pleasure as i already am, craving for him to mirror my own ecstasy.

“i wanna hear you…” i whine quietly, clenching around him as he curses once again before mumbling a low ‘okay baby’, his lips falling open as rough moans now sound from the back of his throat, getting louder when he drills into me at a certain angle, far deeper than he has ever been before.

and when that familiar knot begins to build within my stomach, i don’t need to ask tom if he is close to, his dick beginning to twitch faintly inside of me. his teeth sink into his bottom lip, thrusts becoming slow and deep, no longer rough and fast as they had been moments ago. now i can really feel him, every inch of his dick slowly pushing inside of me, stopping for a second when he bottoms out, soft grunts leaving his lips as quiet moans escape my own, feeling him closer than i ever had before.

“gonna cum baby. do it with me, yeah?” he whispers, head dipping downward to place messy kisses across my face, starting at my forehead, trailing downward to my nose and cheeks, before ending at my lips, capturing them in yet another rough kiss, nothing like the slow and deep movements of his hips as he continues to push in and out of me.

when his lips falter, no longer able to kiss me with such force as they had when they had initiated it, i know that he can’t hold on anymore, his head tilting backward as a loud moan escapes his mouth, followed with hot spurts of cum that coat my walls, his hips rocking back and forth tiredly as he releases. the pressure of his own climax soon triggers my own, his name spilling from my lips over and over again, high off the feeling of his dick as it continues to thrust into me, fucking his seed deeper, riding both our highs.

his hold on my waist becomes softer, slight red marks in place of his fingers, our breathing loud and heavy as it envelops the room, thick with the smell of sex. he pulls out of me, sighing loudly as a mix of our juices seeps out, his hands lazily grabbing some tissue to wipe it away.

tiredly, he moves upward, his body collapsing on top of me, lips pecking my own a few times. my own arms wrap around his back, fingers tracing the skin softly in an attempt to ease the stinging pain my nails had left whilst his own hands run along my trembling frame, lips pressing sweet kisses into my hair.

“you okay?” his voice is hoarse as he speaks, attempting to appear as unbothered as possible, though i can tell he is totally worn out. i manage a quick ‘mhm’, lips turning to kiss just above his shoulder, noticing him smile weakly against me.

“are you upset about the challenge?” i ask tiredly, eyes on the verge of closing, ears barely picking up the soft chuckle that leaves his lips, his fingers squeezing the flesh of my hips as he kisses me softly, shaking his head.

“fuck the challenge.” he stretches out, bringing my body closer to his. “sex is just too good, plus it’s hard when my girlfriend walks around naked in front of me, what kind of guy ignores that shit? i don’t care if someone paid me, i’d never pass up on a chance like that. especially when you look this good.”

“you’re so romantic.” i scoff sarcastically, shaking my head at his impulsiveness, feeling him smile against me, his head lifting up to look into my eyes.

“what, i’m not allowed to say you’re beautiful?” he smirks, hands trailing my body once again, eyes visibly lighting up with that same look i had seen just minutes ago, knowing exactly what it means. “i mean, i could show you that you’re beautiful instead, if you want me to…”

though the grin on his face says otherwise, i know that he is serious about it, his actions proving so if my instincts weren’t enough. his hands trail upward knowingly, fingers running across my breasts as his lips makes content with them, placing harsh kisses onto the skin, his teeth digging in every few seconds. my head falls backward, back arching to allow him better access, silently accepting his proposal. he stops momentarily, looking into my eyes.

“we’ve got nine days of lost time to make up for schatz. i think now seems like a good time to start, don’t you?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[scaranation]

hi hi !! could you write an ANGST with Dottore and Zhongli where we break up with them? maybe in dottore we break up because we can't bear(?) his experiments anymore and in Zhongli one we feel not enough/that he loves someone else (maybe Guizhong?)

Gn reader or Fem!reader(if u write for fem. sorry if u do not,i couldnt find rules and im really really sorry ! :( ... )

p.s will there be To love another 3rd part? it's my fav fanfic ever !!

love your work ♡♡

hihihi i know this is like super late but this prompt is literally so good 😭 also im thinking of writing another part to that fic, but i just dont know where to take it so ive been procrastinating haha

dottore’s part is kinda ooc bcs let’s be real if he’s that whipped for reader he wouldn’t let them break up with him, but im going to pretend that he’s not as much of a red flag as he actually is 🤭🤭

༊*·˚ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Pairing: Dottore x GN!reader, Zhongli x GN!reader (separate)

Content: Angst, no comfort. Mentions of canon typical violence, assumed past Guizhong x Zhongli

DOTTORE

“It seems my beloved has finally thought to visit me.”

You cringed from the overpowering metallic scent as you stepped into your boyfriend’s laboratory, trying hard not to look at the borderline gruesome sights on the clinical beds.

Dottore cleaned the blood off a bone saw he was holding, setting the instrument down carefully before walking towards you - eyes lit up, but holding a gleam different to the maniacal one he usually possessed.

“How was your day, my love?” His voice was humorous. He seemed to be in a good mood, humming lightly while opening the door for you.

“It was fine.” You sighed as you felt the weight of Dottore’s harbinger coat settle across your shoulders, registering the touch of his hand as he pulled you into him and away from the Snezhnayan cold.

“Has that coworker of yours still been bothering you?”

“… Don’t try pretending.”

“Whatever could you be talking about?” The Doctor’s grip on you tightened.

“I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, even if they annoyed me to that extent.” You sighed, finally tilting your head to stare into the planes of your lover’s mask.

“Oh, they’re not dead. Rather, they’ve been subject to some biological modifications of an experimental kind - would you like to see?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I’m hungry, don’t make me lose my appetite.”

“Good thing I have a nice place booked for dinner, my love.”

His compliance was almost uncanny.

-

Normal couples gazed affectionately into each other’s eyes over meat and wine, fingers fondly interlaced over the dining table. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to return Dottore’s adoring scarlet gaze, and his hold on your hand felt more like a death trap.

“Is the food to your liking?” He asked. He hadn’t touched any of the vegetables on his plate, only biting into the steak.

“Yes. You should eat greens, too.” You commented.

“Mm. Why don’t you feed me, then?” Dottore only tilted his head, smiling eagerly. Recently, a fear of you being turned into one of the harbinger’s countless experiments had taken hold, and it was this same fear that drove you to play right how he wanted. And so, lifting your fork, you fed him with all the patience you could muster - staring into those deep red eyes, feeling like nothing more than prey. Those eyes would’ve been the last thing many others had seen before their death, the end of their lives marked by that sadistic grin. You almost shuddered at the thought.

Normal couples slept under starry nights reflected in their star crossed hearts as they cuddled close under soft sheets. Normality was such a strange concept, you decided. Despite the fact that you were doing just what normal couples should, the situation was still absurd. However, your fear of becoming another one of the harbinger’s lab rats wasn’t unfounded. You mulled over this fact, almost snorting at the juxtaposition. Here you were - wondering if the man who cradled you in his arms would strap you down to a table in the name of research.

“My love, are you still awake?” You felt Dottore’s breath ghost over your neck, his face pressing into your nape. With a rustle, he readjusted the blanket over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares, perhaps? I have a pill you can use for those.”

“No, just… thinking.” You squirmed in Dottore’s hold. His comment only reignited your spiralling train of thought, pushing you further to the point of resolve.

If he could kill his clones - literal versions of himself - then what would stop him from doing the same to you? Even if you remained alive, would you have to continue to tolerate being exposed to such grotesque horrors?

It was simply better to break things off, before you no longer had the option to.

Breakfast.

The first meal of the day, and the last meal you’d share with your boyfriend.

“Dottore.”

“Yes?” The Doctor’s head jerked up immediately from where he was chewing. You could feel the undivided weight of all his attention sinking into you, and for a moment, you faltered. He was notorious for paying little mind to anyone else, and yet, he treated you with the utmost attentiveness. You steeled your resolve.

“I think… we should break up.”

Silence. Then, the grating scrape of cutlery against crockery.

“Why.”

Not a question, more of a demand. You gulped.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Yes. Is it something I did?”

“I can’t bear your experiments anymore, Dottore. They’ve gone too far, and I don’t think I can stomach living normally with you as if I don’t know the kind of things you do. Even worse, every day I’m wary that I might be your next test subject - whenever I walk into your lab, I wonder when I’ll be the one under your needles. It’s exhausting.”

Another beat of silence. You could see Dottore’s chest rising and falling at an increasingly fast pace, his jaw tensing.

“I would never, ever do that to you. It’s ridiculous that you’d even think that, and as for your prior reason… I can arrange for you to come to the lab less often…”

“So you’re just going to cover my eyes and act like you’re not doing anything with those experiments? I just can’t be ignorant here, nor can I trust you. If you can get rid of your clones so easily, then what am I? What value do I hold-“

“Those creations do not even compare to you.” Dottore finally snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. You flinched, and he felt as though his lung capacity had been halved. His head spun in tandem with the rapid tightening of his heart, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

It hurt Dottore, realising that you didn’t trust him. That all those fond, intimate memories together were just you acting out of fear - or at least, the most recent ones were. It hurt, beyond anything Dottore thought he could inflict on his patients. And even worse, you were frightened of him. The light shaking of your shoulders and the way you flinched were enough indication.

The Doctor enjoyed seeing his victims become terrified, but that same terror on you almost made him feel like he’d been the one stabbed with a scalpel. Foolishly, he’d fallen victim to his own maniacal research tendencies.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant to say… that you can trust me.” Dottore raised his hand towards you to cup your cheek, wincing when you avoided the action.

“I tried to, I really did. But I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“My love, please.”

The second harbinger was begging. What a strange sight.

“Let me go, Dottore.” You murmured shakily. You saw hesitation, hurt, and anger flit through those vermilion eyes you’d used to love. But that love you held for him had only smouldered into disgust and fear.

“… Then go. Get out of my sight.” Dottore hissed, his teeth clenching at the wary expression on your face.

It was painful, how you walked out without a second glance.

“My love…” Dottore whispered. He stared at the closed door, almost expecting you to return. He repeated the phrase, over and over to himself - his face contorting into an expression he himself couldn’t name. Was there truly an emotion as human as this? It was a twisted, unimaginable feeling the Doctor couldn’t categorise. The syllables came off his quivering lips, as though by uttering them he could make you come back.

But the truth was, your not-so-normal relationship was over. Perhaps, Dottore would return to the normality of his heartless experiments, and you’d return to the normality of a better fate than one you’d endure by his side.

He only regretted not being able to hold you more.

ZHONGLI

There were only two letters between you and your lover, but those two letters seemed to stretch wider every day - ‘I’, and ‘M’. The seemingly infinite synapse between mere ‘mortal’, and ‘immortal’.

Zhongli was undeniably a mortal vessel, but he as a being was not. He’d lived eons before you, loved and hated thousands. He’d experienced things you couldn’t even fathom, and yet, you couldn’t comprehend how he treated you as though your fleeting existence was the centre of his much larger world.

Whenever you looked into Zhongli’s amber eyes, heard his deep laugh, or felt his gentle caress, you could only feel insignificant. After all, he used to be a literal god. You couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at your conscience, couldn’t stamp out the incessant feeling that he was too good for you, that you couldn’t compare to whatever lovers he’d had in the past.

“How’s the tea, darling?” Zhongli prompted. He sat with his back to the window, basking in an almost ethereal glow.

“Ah, I have yet to try it.” You shook yourself out of your thoughts to raise the cup in front of you. Zhongli only smiled warmly, but the gesture made your hand shake a little. You’d planned to break up with him today, and yet the way he still stared lovingly at you - full of infinite trust - made you feel terrible.

But how many others had he also treated this way? In his life, those others were probably far more special than you, possessing talents far more worthy of a god’s attention.

Suddenly, a shattering sound pierced your ears, and a scalding warmth set into your thigh. You looked down in a daze, before snapping out of it upon realising that you’d dropped the teacup.

“Are you okay?” Zhongli was at your side in an instant, mopping up the spilled tea and collecting the broken fragments of the cup.

“Yeah.” You gritted your teeth again. How dare someone as insignificant as you make Rex Lapis get down on his knees to clean the mess you’d made. It simply made you feel as though you didn’t deserve such a wonderful man at all.

“You’ve been distracted lately. Is there anything I should know about?” Zhongli asked slowly.

“No. Well, yes.” You stammered. You hadn’t planned this out very well, and your heart squeezed tighter.

“Go ahead. You know you can tell me anything, darling.”

A warm hand came to rest against your cheek. You closed your eyes, feeling tears build and slip down your face.

Zhongli wiped at your tears, holding your hands in your lap as he looked up at you worriedly - his thumbs tracing comforting circles on your knuckles. He thought of saying something, before deciding against it. He knew it was better to let you speak first.

“Let’s break up.” You blurted, feeling Zhongli’s fingers come to a complete stop.

“We can work through this, tell me why first. Has something been upsetting you?”

Your tears fell harder. He still showed you so much kindness, never jumping to any conclusions.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, it makes me feel guilty that someone like me can have you.” You sobbed.

“Darling, you know it makes me happy to just spend time with you. That in itself is fair exchange, no?”

“But what makes that so special? You’ve lived for so long, you could’ve done this with anyone else, and you probably have. Who am I in comparison to someone like Guizhong?”

Through your blurred vision, you could still see Zhongli’s form kneeled by your side. He seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You and her are both special, in your own way. Why don’t you calm down a little first? I can pour you some more tea.”

“I’m so selfish, Zhongli. I really don’t think I can stay with you.”

“Do you really want to leave that badly?”

Your heart twisted. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay in his warm embrace, his soft understanding gaze. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“… Yes.”

“Very well then. You know I won’t stop you, because I just want what’s best for you.”

The light grip on your hands released, and as you stood up everything seemed to spin.

“Thank you… for everything.” You murmured, stealing one last glance at the man you loved - before leaving.

Zhongli remained where he was for some time. In his life, many things came to an end, but this hurt a little more. When Guizhong had left him, it was due to her passing - the youthful Rex Lapis had found someone to blame, to ventilate his grief. But the most crude fact in this situation was that you were still alive, and had chosen to leave him of your own volition. Zhongli himself had made this happen.

However, an archon’s most prized trait was impartiality. Therefore, Zhongli knew that he had to maintain indifference. He refused to let himself chase after you, or force you into anything. It was only unfair, if an immortal were to impose such a fate onto a mortal.

And so, he could only watch as you faded from his life, like the cyclic ebb of waves on an ocean shore.

[foolishlovers]

FAKE DATING FIC RECS: Below you can find a list of Good Omens fics in which Crowley and Aziraphale are fake dating each other. [AUs and non-AUs included]

[Requested by @waitingtobebroken. You can request more fic recs here.]

Tell Your Plants I Love Them by JustJReally (T, 3k) Trying to get over Crowley by going on a date with someone else, Aziraphale reflected, was not a good plan. Agreeing to go on a date with Gabriel, of all people, was an even worse plan.   In which Aziraphale is rescued from a terrible date by a knight in shining sunglasses.

My Memory With You by jessikast (T, 4k) “Does anyone there look familiar? I am going to kill Adam, he’s done this on purpose!” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale frowned. “Well, Adam of course. And-“ “Nanny Ashtoreth?” came a disbelieving – and American – voice. “Is that you?” *** Adam brings his boyfriend, Warlock, home for the holiday. Adam figures out that Warlock's nanny and gardner may, in fact, be a certain demon and angel of his acquaintance. Adam has a very, very good idea. In which Aziraphale and Crowley are required to pull on some old disguises at short notice, Warlock is delighted to see his old caretakers again, and Adam's going to pay for this later but right now it's hilarious.

when you take me by the hand by summerofspock, wargoddess9 (E, 9k) Crowley's got a plan for managing his rekindled friendship with Aziraphale. It all goes to hell when he opens his big mouth. ** “I have a rather large favor to ask.”   When he is silent for too long, Aziraphale prompts, “And what is it?”   “So, my cheer captain was going to ask me out and I panicked and said I was dating someone and when they asked who it was I may or may not have implied it was…you.”

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden (E, 9k) He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel. “Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

Side Mission by KannaOphelia (T, 11k) Some time after Warlock's ninth birthday, Aziraphale and Crowley have realised they made a mistake, and tracked the real Antichrist down to Tadfield. Two years to save the world is more than enough, right? Except everyone keeps assuming they are a married couple, and it's almost too much for a hopelessly in love demon to bear. Especially when Aziraphale suggests they might as well go along with it.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T, 11k) Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

The Arrangement by TawnyOwl95 (E, 19k) Aziraphale and Crowley are set up on a blind date as a joke by their respective housemates. They decide to get their own back and call everybody's bluff by gasp fake dating!

Talk About It by hope_in_the_dark (T, 20k) Aziraphale and Crowley have been best friends for sixteen years. Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale for almost that long. When Aziraphale tells his family that he'll be bringing his boyfriend to his step-brother's wedding, things get a bit complicated. A Fake Dating AU.

Like Best Friends Do by LittleLynn (E, 21k) As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam. At least Aziraphale could usually be relied upon to take pity on him. This was a big ask though, even by Crowley's please-let-me-keep-empty-aerosol-cans-in-your-cellar-it's-nothing-illegal-I-swear standards. This was, without a doubt, a bigger ask than the aerosol cans.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (T, 27k) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

Faking It by bisasterdi (E, 28k) In the immediate aftermath of the Nope-Let's-Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale tentatively begin to move on, hoping Heaven and Hell will leave them alone in the wake of both of their failed trials. Of course, nothing could possibly be that simple. It isn't that Gabriel or Beelzebub have actually figured out how the trials were subverted…but boy, do they THINK they have it figured out. Thankfully, it won't take much to keep them in the dark. (Crowley and Aziraphale just have to spend eternity together, pretending to be in love with each other. All Crowley needs to do is make sure Aziraphale never finds out that everything he's saying and doing is true.)

dearly departed by attheborder (T, 29k) Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?” “Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —” “You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?” *** Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E, 31k) PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples… Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

The Small Ad by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 32k) WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao.   It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

In The Shadows Of Our Past, A Flicker by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 36k)

One went to Aziraphale's bookshop to exchange secrets, buy information or simply to use as a safe haven from the powers that be.

One did not go there looking for a partner for a seemingly-innocent mission to a tropical island, stalking a perfectly normal couple. Where unfortunately they would have to pretend they were married. As if that would have stopped Crowley, anyway.

Throw in their mysterious and complicated past, danger lurking from where they are least expecting and Crowley's very naked, very tattooed body that suddenly seems to be everywhere, and you might find them in a situation they are too ineffable to escape.

Or, my entry for the Good AUmens fest for the Fake Marriage prompt, with a hearty dash of Spies subplot.

Green Things Are Flowers Too by summerofspock (E, 60k) “Oh yes,” Crowley said breezily. “This is my husband, Francis. He’s a gardener by trade. We were hoping you might have an opening. An estate such as this.” Aziraphale gaped from where he stood on the stoop, feeling his heart speed up. Husband? Francis? Gardener? He’d never agreed to any of this! ** In which Aziraphale and Crowley pretend to be married while they stay at the Dowlings as Nanny and Francis.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E, 70k, WIP) Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

on the same page by Chekhov (E, 117k) Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less… appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is… until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Curve of Old Bones by Jenanigans1207 (E, 201k) Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

[You can find more fic rec masterposts here.]

[lanaaa-14]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

Basically, u and Ethan have been dating for a while, and r currently studying for a test in Econ and he’s finally ready to lose his v-card. ;)

Warnings: kissing, cuddling, unprotected sex, oral ( f and m receiving and giving), dom! reader, sub! Ethan, experienced! reader, virgin! Ethan, I think that’s it idk.

———————————————————————

“Ethan.” Y/n whined, he wouldn’t stop goofing around while you too were studying for a major test in Econ. “I’m sorry, it’s just so easy to make you mad.” He laughed while the annoyed girl in front of him rubbed her temples. “Haha so funny. We actually need to study though. I cannot handle another bad grade in there.” She said, giving him a serious look. “How about we take a break? We’ve been studying for the past three hours and I can’t even focus anymore.” He complained, throwing his pencil down. “Fine as long as I get to pick a movie for us. I’m tired of watching stab 1 over and over again when you pick.” She giggled as they both closed their textbooks and went to Ethan’s room. “Cmon! You know you love stab!” He smiled as you both collapsed on his bed. “Whatever. I’m putting on a romcom.” He fake gagged at her choice in movies.

After a while, the couple was under the blankets and Ethan was cuddled into y/n’s chest. She was playing with his curls and every now and then, giggling at the movie. Ethan slowly moved his hand from around her waist, and started to move it up her hoodie. She gave him a look that he didn’t see, but honestly just ignored his movements. That was until his cold fingers brushed her bra covered breast. “Ethan?” She asked, not really knowing what he was doing. She already knew he was a virgin before they started dating, so she usually made the first move. Not him. She would kiss him and hug him but every time she touched any skin that was under clothing, he would freak the fuck out. But here he was, his slim fingers getting very close to her bare breasts. “Y/n, I think I’m ready.” He whispered. She immediately knew what he meant. “Are you sure?” She asked. She couldn’t lie, she’d been waiting for this moment for months.

“I’m extremely sure.” He responded, finally reaching his hand up all the way and massaging her left boob. She whimpered in response and quickly placed her lips on his. He didn’t really know what to do, so he just followed her movements and continued kissing her. After a while, she knew he needed some guidance. “Touch me, Ethan.” She moaned against his lips. “Can you help me? I want to make you feel good.” He asked. She nodded her head as she examined his face. He still looked so innocent as if his fingers weren’t brushing the elastic band of her panties. Before he actually touched her, he seemed to have changed his mind as he removed his hand and pulled down her sweatpants. “I wanna try something. Tell me if you want me to stop.” He said as he slowly removed her panties. He gave her a look, asking her for consent and she quickly nodded. “Wow. Your so fucking beautiful.” He spoke softly as he leaned down, his breath hitting her clit. He placed his thumb on a little ball shaped thing that he assumed was the clit.

He knew he was right based on how her back arched. He nearly came at the sight of his pretty girlfriend laid out like this. He’d always imagined doing this but never thought it would become real. He slowly licked through her folds and watched her reaction thoroughly. She moaned loudly, so he continued to lick up and down. “You taste so good.” He smiled against her pussy. He had his arms wrapped around her thighs, practically digging in. She began to grind her hips in an upward motion, trying to get as much pleasure as she could. He placed a hand on her lower abdomen, pushing her down. He used his other hand to finger her. After adding two finger, she was already a moaning mess. “Go faster!” She begged as she gripped his curly hair tight. He curled his fingers in her and that was the last straw. “Fuck! Ethan!” She screamed as she came on his face. He continued to eat her out, making sure she was able to finish her high. She was laid out on the bed, breathing heavily. “Who would’ve guessed Ethan Landry was so good at eating pussy?” She laughed as she looked at the pretty boy that was still between her legs. “Who would’ve guessed y/n l/n would taste so good?” He teased, making her roll her eyes in response.

“Since you were so good… I’ll help you out too.” She said as she eyed his obvious boner in his khakis. “Sit.” She demanded, patting the space beside her. He quickly crawled on the bed and sat down. She crawled onto his lap and began kissing him. It was soft and passionate, almost like a thank you for making her cum. “Can I?” She asked, placing her hands on his belt buckle. “Please.” He begged, his body aching from having a boner for so long. She unbuckled his belt and he lifted his body up so she could pull his pants down to his knees. She slowly pulled down his grey boxers and admired the sight in front of her. It was her first time seeing Ethan’s dick. They’d been dating a year but Ethan was so insecure about being a virgin he never did anything with you and you never did anything to him. For fucks sake, she even sent him an ass pic once and he sent a heart eyes emoji back. His dick was big, bout 7 inches; pretty decent width. The tip was a light pink that matched the blush on his cheeks perfectly. He definitely shaved before she came to study, he for sure planned this. She placed her hand on his cock and began to stroke up and down at a medium pace.

She admired his facial expression’s knowing that she was the only one who’s ever seen him this vulnerable. His eyes widened at her touch, and his mouth was slightly parted as he breathed slowly. She noticed how instead of grunts like men usually do in bed, Ethan whimpered. Like, a lot. It turned her on so she didn’t really mind. Hearing Ethan whimper her name was the best thing she’d ever heard. “If your already moaning like that because of my hand, wait till I put my mouth on it.” She whispered in his ear, making him thrust into her hands without realizing. Before going down, she tugged on his shirt signaling for him to remove it. She removed her hand from his cock to do the same. She even unclipped her bra and threw it to the ground. She bent down and kissed the tip, before swallowing his dick whole. She had never heard any man moan the way Ethan just did. She bobbed her head up and down his cock, while fisting his lower penis with her left hand. Her other hand was holding his hand. It was his first time so she still wanted to make him feel comfortable. She knew it felt good by the way he was squeezing her hand. “Wait!” He whimpered. She removed her mouth and looked at him with a concerned face. “Did I hurt you on accident?” She asked, rubbing her thumb on his cheek. “I want to… you know. Actually feel you.” He refused to make eye contact while talking. She smiled at his actions. “Of course baby. I know what you mean. Do you want me to be in control or you?” She asked him, placing a quick peck to his lips. “Is it okay if you lead?” He asked, finally looking at her. “Yeah I’m okay with that. Also Ethan, since it’s your first time you might cum before me or super early. But I don’t want you to be embarrassed about it because it’s completely normal.” She let him know.

“I know. I’ll try to make you finish before me and if I don’t I’ll just eat you out again.” He smirked, making the girl let out a small giggle. She aliened herself with his dick. “You ready?” She asked. “Yes.” He responded. She slowly lowered herself and could feel him starting to fill her up. “God Ethan.” She moaned as she sat down all the way. “Your so ahh! Tight.” He grunted. Y/n began grinding her hips and savoring every moan that came from his lips. He looked so pretty like this. Curls wet from sweat sticking to his forehead, his eyes glossy, his doe eyes begging for more, and his soft pink lips that were releasing his soft whimpers. His hands found there way to her hips and began helping her go up and down. She continued to bounce up and down as Ethan whimpered like crazy. He reached a hand down to rub her clit. He could feel his climax coming so he tried to make hers come at the same time. “Your so wet.” He moaned as he rubbed his fingers on her clit. “Only for you, baby.” She whispered in his ear. This sent him over the edge. He rubbed her clit as fast as he could and even was humping into her. They both were moaning nonstop, both feeling their climax coming. “Agh! Y/n!” He yelled as he came inside her pussy. The feeling of his warm seed filling her up made her cum.

She continued to ride him until she felt overstimulation. She moaned one last time, and collapsed beside him. “Fuck.” Is all she could get out as she breathed heavily. “Shit I’ll be right back.” Ethan said as he left the room. Y/n was extremely confused, but then understood when she saw him come back with a juice box and a rag. “Here you go.” He said, handing her the juice. He spread her legs with his hands and then cleaned the leaking cum from her pussy. He put the rag on the side table and pulled the cover over the both of them. “You did so good baby.” She praised, running a hand through his curls. “You did too. I never knew that someone’s mouth could feel so good.” He grinned making the girl chuckle. “I never knew a virgin could be so good in bed.” She joked as she traced her fingers along his chest. “What can I say? I’m just great like that. And, Chad can’t make fun of me for being a virgin anymore so it’s a win win.” Ethan smirked, making the girl beside him laugh.

—————————————————

Finally fucking finished this omggg. School is kicking my ass rn with all these damn assignments as if we don’t get out in 2 weeks… anyway, this was my first time writing a one shot smut soooo hope u liked it ! Also sorry if it’s a bit short, I’m an amateur writer. Have a great day lovely!

lana xo

[wishmaster]

Body swap 72 : ErroR- Merged Subjects

Zeke was your regular cop at least by day he was straight acting one of the guys but at night is when his kinky side kicked in. For months he had been kicking around the idea of doing one of those 72 hour body swap to really let his freak flag fly. He decided he was going to do it and he knew the kind of guy he wanted to swap with, a real slutty twink in fact that was all he could picture was spending three daysa s a firm assed kinky Twink getting fucked 24/7. Something he knew he could never do in his current life.

Kevin was a 21 year old exotic dancer and escort, his real money came from online but for the extra cash he signed up to swap his body it was good money for a couple days work. Besides he usually got to see how the other half lived. On the day of the swap it was extremely stormy, thunder, lightning. When the programmer went o perform the swap his computer was struck by lightning mid swap. the body's lit up, Kevin's body disappeared and Zeke's, well Zekes seemed to change. Hid big gruff body seemingly aged down a bit and became well different, all of his clothes, his uniforms including the one he was wearing, they all became leather. He looked at himself in the mirror, he'd become a twink cop hybrid.

He went off to live his life, the clinc assumed somehow during the storm the two had become merged and now Kevin and Zeke were some sort of super version of themseslves.

The first few days were awkward as Zeke could get used to seeing stranger in his mirror, Tensions at the station became high as Zeke only ever showed up in his new leather uniforms which didn't sit well with the captain. But it was the nights, when he'd go to sleep he'd black out as if he was no longer in charge of his body... He wasn't at night Kevin took over and for rthe past month he's been continuing his life as an kinky exotic dancer under the name of Officer Dick.

When Kevin took over there was a slight change to Zeke's body

He's whore himself out as well until one night he managed to whore himself out to his Captain's Son, his father discovering his kinkiest officers night time activities when he turned back in his son's bed the next morning. This would be the end of his Police career but soon Zeke would give in to the kinky Twink side that he so wanted to experience all those weeks before deciding to let Kevin take full control on a permanent basis, he merely enjoyed the ride and what a ride it was.

[ystrike1]

He's Just My Brother, Your Grace! - By Yeoroeun (8/10)

Soap opera style drama. The yandere often isn't even present, even though he is the main love interest. Revenge and intrigue are the main focal points of this story. Our protagonist is the daughter of a fallen mage family, who lives for her revenge. She has the kill the mastermind behind her parents deaths, before she dies. Again.

Astel and Cassian are two tragic main characters. A brother and a sister. They die at the end of their story, unable to unmask the mastermind that framed their parents. They were framed for treason, so the twins can't use their family name to get support.

Cassian becomes a famous commoner knight after years of brutal training, but he still dies. Astel experiences an even more pathetic death, but she wakes up again.

She wakes up motivated. Her brother is a good person. She wants to save him. She decides to put her talent to use, while hiding her identity. Using magic would be a terrible idea, because it's rare. She'd get exposed.

She uses what she knows about the "story" to unmask the mastermind.

Their parents casted a very powerful, ancient spell before they were executed for teason. The spell "erased" Astel and Anais. Nobody can remember their faces. It's an absurdly powerful spell. Astel decides to hide in plain sight this time. She trains as a medic, and she becomes a potions expert.

She must infiltrate the shapeshifter castle. The mastermind is hiding in the north, causing trouble with his pawns. Shapeshifters are powerful, and they used to be slaves. They hate humans and most humans don't like them much. The mastermind is currently causing discord in the shapeshifter lands.

Astel waits for YEARS. She knows Duke Anais, the shapeshifter in charge, will be grievously injured on a certain day. She arrives before his medics do, and she saves him without calling for extra help on purpose.

The Duke is cold, but in her past life he gave the medic who helped him one wish.

Things get weird.

Astel feels chest pain around the Duke. He kind of acts like he knows her, but when she says she doesn't recognize him...he hides. He's shady. He doesn't explain why he was being so overly familiar.

Astel and the Duke are "Temporary" Mates. A spell is binding them together. It's not a "real" mating bond. Someone put it on her. It's a serious thing. The Duke will die if she dies. The Duke brings her to his castle, and they start living together because mated couples must stay close.

I'm pretty sure the Duke placed the spell on her when she was a child. Duke Anais used to be an orphan. The shapeshifters have alot of power now, but they were second class citizens for ages. A blond girl once reached out to Anais, with kindness. He probably attempted to forcefully bond with her, with his magic, even though humans and shapeshifters...don't do that? It's not a natural thing that happens.

Also the death thing and the pain.

Astel gets horrible chest pain if she doesn't touch the Duke at least once every couple of days.

It's hard to deny the yandere. Anais is very quiet and jealous. That doesn't mean he's LESS crazy. He's just quiet about it.

He's a really tough guy. He got the Duke title by fighting for it. He did not inherit it. He is the first of his line. Daddy didn't give him a silver spoon etc. It makes him a little more interesting.

He's waiting for Astel to remember him, but she's a little too worried about dying to care. The mastermind is looking for her and her beloved brother.

She finds the first rat. Sam, a healer who works for the shapeshifter community. The shapeshifters are hostile to him, but the territory is very low on medical staff. That's how he got in.

Sam has been slowly poisoning the head of the Jaguar family. An old man, who is quickly losing hope. Sam told him he was cursed, but he never was. That was a trap to isolate the poor old man.

Astel saves him. I won't spoil her plan, because it's actually good.

Anais starts to get crazy jealous. He assumes Astel is romantically interested in Sam. He sort of stalks Astel, but he tells his staff to do it for him because he's busy...which is pretty funny.

Cassian heads to shapeshifter country to help fight an onslaught of demons. He wants to check on his sister too so bonus. Nobody knows the siblings are siblings because of the curse. Astel and Cassian have been pretending to be "friends" for years now. Cassian is trying to get to the mastermind the old fashioned way, with his sword. He doesn’t know Astel is trying to sniff out the killer with clues. It's very complicated.

Anais assumes Cassian is the man she loves, and it makes perfect sense.

WE know he's her brother, but the misunderstanding is understandable.

By the way Cassian is a "known womanizer", so Anais wants to save his beloved from the scoundrel.

Cassian is playing the part of womanizer to gain respect. He's handsome, but he's a broke commoner right now. He pretends to only have shallow relationships, to keep his real friends and sister safe from the mastermind. The mastermind is intent on killing them and everybody they love too by the way.

It gets funnier. The Jaguar Family LOOOVVEES Astel now. They think she's a total angel and a genius, because she swiftly revealed the killer in their midst. She saved a very beloved Jaguar grandpa too. They send her lavish gifts all the time...and that also makes Anais jealous.

He goes completely over the edge and he tells the other animal families to back off.

Astel is his.

She just hasn't accepted that yet.

.

It's good but slow. The Duke is kind of...lurking in the background??? Some of the misunderstandings are funny but the painful mating bond is not. Even if it does actually wear off after a year he's not letting her go.

He,most likely, slapped the mating bond on her so he would be able to find her.

Which is just nuts. Can you imagine? You wake up with horrible chest pain and some guy is standing over you like...hi I did this to you on purpose, please marry me...

.....

...no wonder the Duke is hiding the truth.

[skyeblue8]

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐯𝐬. 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 (𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬)

Whether or not you're all familiar with the Webcomic, Lore Olympus is an award-winning comic created by Rachel Smythe that's essentially about a modern retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth with various other Gods and references in it, and what not. And, assuming you have a critical eye when it comes to writing, it's has become wildly disliked and even hated by a lot of critics and former fans due to the butchering of myths and gods (and a religion), unlikeable characters, poor character design, poorer handling of sensitive topics like SA and racism, and overall the author's inability to listen and take critism that would've helped her improve.

The reason I bring this up at all is because I have the nagging fear that Helluva Boss and, by extension, Hazbin Hotel, are going to be doomed to fall into the same pit of failure as Lore Olympus is, mainly due to a nagging pattern that I've noticed between the two:

The Writers. The two are relatively close in age and, in my opinion, immaturity in writing as evidenced by the various plot inconsistencies, character treatment and development, and poor world-building established in both media. On top of that, however, both have a significantly bad reception to criticism of their work in any way, shape, or form. We've seen this before in how Viv herself states that she's been told that she can't take criticism well since she was 17.

Now, it's one thing to have these claims as a teenager, it's another to have them as a fully grown adult and not learn to mature past this issue by now. The number one issue with ignoring criticism for so long, especially in your very popular work, is that eventually, it's going to show. Sooner or later, many of your fans, regardless of how they felt about your work prior, are gonna notice small flaws that gradually become bigger and more glaring the longer they are ignored.

Time and time again, this issue has arisen in Rachel Smythe's work, both in design:

As well as writing...

Speaking of which, I'm beginning to see a similarity in their writing issues in the fact that, evidently, neither creator had/has any set plan for how their stories are gonna be told. Readers of LO have seen that from the frequent additions of various, random plots with the previously established plots having not been concluded in a meaningful or tactful way, and we see this with Vivzie and Season 2.

Going off this, both Vivzie and Smythe show blatant favoritism towards their main characters or love interests that prevent other characters from having their own development (i.e., Millie), as well as keeps the main couple from having any sort of flaws that the audience would perceive as truly bad, thus removing any nuance to them.

We see this in Persephone and her character:

And we see the same with Stolas and Blitzo, mainly in regards to Stolas' past and situation with Stella, as well as Blitzø's own past as we're made to constantly feel bad for him despite him not being the victim. It's made worse since we've yet to know what he did to every single person he's wronged, but, for that, I'm willing to give the benefit of the doubt until we see more of Season 2.

Lastly, and probably the most glaring thing for me, both Smythe and Vivize take inspiration from real-world religions (RS –> Greek Polytheism; Vivzie –> Christianity/Demonology). These religions are both widespread in their popularity and, thus, are important to millions around the world. Because of this, both should surely have a sense of obligation to not bastardize the stories and characters they referenced in their work and/or should make their likeness relatively similar to their original works so others who know of it are familiar with the characters.

Both creators have failed to do so at some point in time and have gone so far as to push the blame on their audience rather than admit fault and work to improve.

Viv with Beelezbub

And Smythe with Persephone and the other gods/Goddesses:

Worst yet, both use social media as a means of weaponizing their fanbase against those who have a few critiques about each work of media. Now, what I can say for Viv is that the severity of these issues hasn't fully hit her yet, whereas Smythe, despite her awards, is feeling the brunt of her poor writing choices from former fans and readers. While Helluva Boss is more new and doesn't hold as much overwhelming significance to me, I've been with Hazbin Hotel since the beginning before the pilot even aired.

It's because of this that my greatest concern is that if Viv doesn't start seeing through these issues within Helluva Boss and, really, herself, then both shows may be doomed to fail, without Hazbin airing in its entirety. Worse yet, it would be a major blow for fellow indie creators who look up to her as an inspiration, so I really hope she doesn't reach RS's level of infamy in her work. 🙏

*PS: For a better Lore Olympus's viewing experience, I recommend this:

[babiebom]

When You Fall (V)

A/N: take what I am writing with a grain of salt I have no idea how lawyers speak or how their letters work lmao.

Tw:mental breakdown, cursing, slight su*cide attempt, talks of de*th, violence

Wc:2.4k

Previous Next Masterlist

Your day was ruined before it even truly began. You didn't even get to eat breakfast before one letter ruined what you assume to be your entire week. There was going to be no mental healing for a little while longer. 

'To whom it may concern,

Y/N L/N is being summoned to the reading of the final will and testament of {ENTER NAME(S) HERE} on May 22, 2023 or whenever is soonest possible…'

You don't even finish reading it before crumpling up the paper and tossing it away from you. You laugh bitterly, in disbelief at the fact that they couldn't even be bothered to actually enter all three names…they didn't even enter one except for yours and it was misspelled. After a second you go and pick it up, throwing it inside of your home before grabbing your pickaxe and fleeing to where you think the mines are. 

Seeing your parents and grandfather buried was final enough for you, the almost literal nails in the coffin confirming the fact that you would never see them again unless you believed in God or an afterlife. Yet now things seemed even more real, as if the funeral and the police calls and the planning and the crying weren't enough to get it through your head that this was all real. As if you needed one more punch to the gut to remind you of all your past mistakes. 

Tears stream down your face as you power walk your way up the mountain. You puff, chest already burning from how hard you were walking, the air growing just the slightest bit thinner. Your eyes land on a house, lonely by itself on the mountain. There were potted plants decorating the outside, and a gate that was propped open as if the space didn't truly need to be fenced off at all. You walk passed, not wanting to be caught standing around outside and also not wanting to have a conversation with whoever lived there. It was too early anyways. There was also a tent, a couple yards out further up the mountain under a tree. You could kind of see an outline of a person, but again you didn't want to have any sort of conversation. Continuing on, you begin to see debris littering the ground, large rocks and wood and other…things lying around as if whoever was doing something around here hadn't cleaned up at all. 

Gratefully you follow the debris, all the way to the entrance of a cave. Stepping inside, you almost feel relieved you can collapse in here and no one would ever find you. Hell, you could die here and no one would ever see you again. You doubted anyone in town really came into the caves. 

You laugh loudly, hysterically as you allow yourself to fall to the ground, away from the entrance but not deep enough inside that no one outside wouldn't be able to hear you. Your laughs echo and bounce around the cavern as they grow louder and louder. Your lungs burn and your stomach twists as you continue, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you fold and press your forehead to the cold wet floor. You hit your head once against the floor before bursting into sobs, laughing in between each one.

It felt as if your mind was melting and going deeper into the caves was becoming the best idea you have ever had. You would surely get what you wanted that way, you could hopefully see your parents again, or realistically be freed from whatever nightmare you had found yourself trapped in. You were nowhere close to a professional miner, and one wrong move could bring down everything onto your head. 

There was a ladder and a broken down elevator a few meters ahead of you, and the thought that maybe just...maybe sabotaging yourself would get the job done far more quickly than hoping some rocks would fall on your head. Just one slip off of the ladder, just one jump that was too heavy for the elevator to hold and you would be free. 

Your sobs quieted down as you dragged yourself towards the ladder. Only pausing when you hear something move. The something moving turns into more movements and you slowly come to the realization that someone was walking towards you, slowly. 

The man wasn't really paying attention to anything, his eyes…well eye was pointed to the ground, his eyebrows furrowing. The other eye was covered by an eyepatch and he wore some sort of cloak on his shoulders. He sort of looked like a pirate. Is he a pirate? Do pirates even exist anymore?

He hums and moves closer, stepping around you. Was he not going to say anything? The feeling of annoyance crept up your throat, but slowly as it was being weighed down by relief and gratitude. He wasn't here for you, and you weren't here for him, so whatever you were doing is none of his business. The man looks down the hole where the ladder is and you curiously follow his lead still from your position on the ground. What was he doing?

After a second he frowns then backs away, finally looking at you. Embarrassed, you look away, before opening your mouth to speak. You wanted to ask him what he was doing before he could ask you. 

"...I was just peering down into this old mine shaft. It's been abandoned for decades." He sighs and offers you a hand which you take, standing up on wobbling legs. He doesn't question it. "Still, there's probably good ore down there."

"Ore?" You ask, trying to regain your balance. He nods with a grunt, the eye not covered by the eyepatch looking at you with an emotion you couldn't quite read. Was he judging you?

"But a dark place, undisturbed for so long…I'm afraid ore isn't the only thing you'll find." He's silent for a moment while you look down again. You can't really see anything, apart from darkness. Were you really going to go down there?

"Here, take this," he hands you an old sword that was hanging from his belt. The thing is old and rusted but it made your heart swell just from receiving it. The man didn't even know you and he gave you something that you assume meant something to him. "You might need it." 

You thank him, holding the sword awkwardly in your hands. It wasn't too heavy, but the weight was still an unfamiliar one. You hadn't gotten many chances to hold an actual sword before. "Name's Marlon, by the way. I run the adventurers guild right outside." 

You don't recall seeing anything of the sort on your way up here, but then again you had your sights set only on this cave. Maybe you can explore some more since the self sabotage plan couldn't be done now. "I'll keep my eye on you. Prove yourself and I might think about making you a member." 

You blink rapidly at his words, confused on when you had made it apparent that you wanted to join. You didn't want to join. You open your mouth to object him, but the white haired man is already walking away from you and out of the cave. You frown as you watch him, turning back to the ladder. There had to be no way he just did that, right? It felt as if you had been tricked by some sort of forest imp or something into giving your soul away, and while the situation wasn't that dramatic you still felt almost played. You assumed there weren't many members to begin with, which is probably why he did that in the first place. You didn't think anyone else in the valley would do anything like this so he needed who he could get. 

Sighing loudly, you try and put your feet on a rung of the ladder. The thing was shaky and, as he mentioned, old so caution needed to be used. The thought of trying to purposefully get hurt leaves your mind, now your need is to somehow prove yourself to this strange man because what else did you have to do? And though you did not wish to admit it you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that things were only bad for now, and that youd at least needed to use the gift that your grandfather made without doing anything rash. It would be rude to not use a gift, especially one as grand as an entire farm. 

It was hard for your eyes to adjust during your descent. The darkness overtaking your sight and the smell of rocks and dust overtaking your nose. Your lungs, nose, and throat burned as you forced yourself to hold in any coughs or sneezes until you got all the way down. One wrong or rough move would have the whole rickety thing coming down and despite what you wished for previously, dying a slow and painful death if probably starvation at the bottom of this ladder wasn't ideal. 

Thankfully you got to the bottom pretty quickly, torches lit up around you casting an eerie glow around the cave. It was empty except for the rocks that littered the ground, was this all there is to the cave? You wondered for a second why you would need a sword if this is how far down it went, except you didn't see any sign of the supposed elevator or the ore he was talking about earlier. 

It took a second to adjust yourself, but luckily the sword Marlon gave you came with a sheath that you struggled to attach to your backpack. Putting the sword away you take out your pickaxe, the tool seemingly lighter in your hands from all the hours you spent hitting rocks. 

In here was no different, though the air was cooler and a little more muggy. Particles stirring with every move you make. Soon enough you find a ladder hidden under one of the rocks. And so level after level, rock after rock, you make your steady descent into the somehow dry cavern. 

It was past the first time you saw the elevator when you came across your first…thing. It was almost similar to the little thing you saw in the community center, though it was almost also completely different. 

This thing looked like sentient jelly, see through even though it was green. No arms or legs, and it bounced like a ball. It was kinda cute…in a creepy sort of way. Its eyes are black and empty, not really focusing on anything until you take a step closer. For a split second you think the thing might be friendly, it's small and cute-ish, only coming up to your ankle. There was no way this thing could damage you in any way, right?

Wrong. The thing sets its sights on you and it's like the air around you changes. Its eyes somehow grow darker and it lunges towards you in a leap that even a frog would think is risky. You move backwards, staring at the thing in confusion, what did it think it could do? It's a ball of sentient jello. Frowning at it you make a noise of surprise as you get lunged at again.  

The thing gets too close somehow, way too quickly and unexpectedly. The slime thing bounces against your leg and you're suddenly overcome with a sluggish feeling, as if your body was being weighed down by a ton of bricks. 

In a panic you scrunch your face, trying to stomp on the thing. It doesn't do much damage to the things as you frantically attempt to stomp it out like a fire. The feeling leaves you after a couple moments, allowing your movement to pick up speed. All this does is serve to make the little thing angry, its eyes turning a vibrant red. Just like you had been able to pick up speed, it picks up speed and launches itself at you again. This time you move, allowing it to fly past you giving you a little time to scramble and take out your sword. 

Swinging hard, the sword passes through the thing and to your relief it seems to do a little damage to it though it was still moving at an alarming rate. You swing again, and again, and again until the thing is just a puddle of goo. 

Panting, you rest your hands on your knees, tears springing to your eyes. It wasn't as if you were hurt. You were cut, or bleeding, or dying; but somehow it felt as if that thing took some of your life force away and the thought makes you angry. Sure you had been wishing for death earlier, but you absolutely did not want to be killed by a ball of jello. Not only would that be embarrassing, but it would be shameful. 

A sort of rage filled you and for a moment it fuelled your steady descent. Now determined tonat least stomp out one of those jellies for the sin that the first you had come across had committed. Yeah, it was kind of petty, and dramatic, but you couldn't quite get control of your emotions just yet. 

So you stomp and stomp, kicking and slashing at every jelly you see, letting the rage in their eyes ignite yours more. They wanted to fight? So did you. By the time you had gotten to the elevator again, you were exhausted. Luckily for you the stupid thing seems to now work. 

Hobbling towards it, you can feel the weight of everything you had carried in your bag, quite a bit of rocks, some orange stuff that you thought might be valuable, and an even larger rock that you hoped held something in it. When you step into the elevator you pause for a moment, trying to get your bearings. 

That now familiar feeling takes over your body, as if you were being held down by a ton of bricks. The rage had fizzled out, but you still refused to die by the hands, or lack thereof, of these stupid things. So you turn, and swing at it even with all of your exhaustion. The thing charges for you again the second you swing, hoping it would be the last one. 

You get hit the same time you hear the sound of the jelly splattering. The noise is reassuring and satisfying even as you begin to pass out. Frantically you jab your finger against the only buttons in the elevator that glow, hoping it would get you out of your situation. Just as you hear the ding and the sound of the doors closing, your world fades to black. 

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day thirty-six!)

(warning: slight spoilers from chapters 403 and following chapters! (bakugo can now sweat nitroglycerin from his entire body))

shaken as you were, you were determined not to get katsuki involved. you were certain that it would sort itself out, and, if all else fails, the police are perfectly good at catching criminals. heroes are just… a bonus.

katsuki had to patrol after he left the shop; he had a meeting, so he had kirishima cover the couple hours he’d needed for it. katsuki would continue the patrol after his coffee. so, you didn’t ask him to walk you home that day.

big mistake.

your shift was a blur. katsuki had come in, and made an off handed comment about how you look distracted, but you’d quickly shut it down and resumed your regular small talk. katsuki had left, you had closed, and you were now walking home on a crisp thursday afternoon. you were horrified, but not surprised, to find that the man was following you, albeit from a distance.

you abruptly turn around, fed up with him.

“why are you following me?” you demand. the man looks slightly taken aback, before glancing around nervously.

“‘m not following you.” the man snapped. you furrow your brow, hesitating for only a second before bolting.

you could feel your body screaming. you were running as fast as you could, but you could feel him. you could hear the pounding of the pavement behind you, hear the crunch of the leaves under his shoes. you felt sweat drip down your face and the muscles in your legs burn, despite the cool, november air. you gulped in dry breaths that were so deep they made your lungs hurt.

go go go go don’t stop you have to get—

you felt a wave of dread crash over your body. you couldn’t go to your apartment. you can’t go home or he’ll know where you live— assuming he doesn’t already. assuming your hallucination from that night were real.

where the hell do i go?

you frantically look around as you try to find somewhere to go instead. suddenly, your eyes lock in on a townhouse on the corner of two streets. you recognized it— the owners painted it with flowers, and had a pretty garden.

it was also on katsuki’s patrol route.

you glance at the road. there were cars— not too many— but then were stopped—red light. you skid to the left, running across the crosswalk as the orange numbers ticked down the seconds.

you felt like the breath was being stolen from you as you run, stumbling slightly, down the street by the flower house.

you look back, only to see the man gaining on you. he had a knife— ten of them. his nails. his nails could become knives. oh my god. oh my god. you pull out your phone as you run, your fingers flying as they frantically type in your password. wrong one. you type it again, and choke back a whimper as it unlocks and your thumb slams on the call button as you look back up, trees planted next to the sidewalk flying past.

nononononono

you scroll as fast as you can down your contacts, trying to locate katsuki’s name, and then you do and then you press call and then—

your foot hits something.

one glance tells you it was a tree root that sent you to the ground, skidding slightly, feeling the scratchy cement sidewalk claw at your skin. you barely register the yelp your voice produces, instead focused on the phone that slid out of your grip as it rang.

calling…

you try to scream, but your dry throat didn’t produce a sound.

calling…

“stop-“ you finally manage to croak out as the man slowed to a menacing prowl, his fist gripping the knife. “please—“

calling…

“dunno why y’gotta be so damn loud.” the man snarled. “fuckin’ annoyin’, f’ya ask me.”

00:00

“i’m on patrol, make it quick, dumbass.”

your attention whips to the phone, and you scramble away from the man, closer to the phone.

“flower house—“ you gasp out, “flower- flower house— no!” your voice elevates into a shriek as the man suddenly stomps on your phone, shattering the screen to pieces.

“the fuck’s that, huh?” he grins, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. “better not be tellin’ on me.”

you know you’re hyperventilating. you can tell. but you can’t figure out what to do. what do you do? he’s armed, you’re not. you try to even your breathing, try to stop thinking about what your loved ones will do once you’re dead.

“please—“ breathe in, breathe out. “please don’t do this. i don’t— i don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“i don’t hafta answer you.” the man snapped. “you better shut yer pretty mouth up, huh? shut it up before i shut it for ya.”

“don’t have to answer? you’ve been stalking me and now you’re threatening me— and i don’t even get to know why?” you hiss, anger slowly starting to bubble up. you continue to breathe, trying to stay level-headed. an outburst would surely get you hurt.

“hell naw. listen here, you little-“ the man stops, and so do you. you tilt your head, listening close. an undeniable crackle, not unlike the sound of sparklers. the man turns around.

katsuki.

he’s walking slowly, menacingly, towards the man. the man stiffens— he knows who dynamight is.

“absolutely not.” katsuki stalks towards you and the man. you’d never found his massive figure to be intimidating— not til now. “absolutely the fuck not.”

“there’s nothing happening.” the man said stiffly as katsuki stepped closer. the man turned to face you and reached your wrist. “my daughter, she just fell s’all— c’mon, young’in, up ye go-“ katsuki’s massive hand ripped the man’s hand away from your wrist. how did he get there so fast?

“i said, absolutely the fuck not.” katsuki rumbled, before clocking the man in the face, knocking him out, just like that. the man crumpled, and katsuki clicked on quirk suppressors for good measure. katsuki’s expression changed, softened, undid the contorted snarl and furrowed eyebrows. pretty red eyed stared down at you before crouching down to your level.

“oi. you call the police yet?” katsuki asked in that gravelly voice of his. you shake your head, before pointing quietly to your crushed phone.

“tch. that explains it.” katsuki scowled. standing up, he pulled out his phone, dialing what was without a doubt the police. “just gimme one second, sweetheart, ‘m gonna call the police for ya.” you nod, curling your scraped knees to your chest.

“it’s dynamight.”

a pause.

“yeah. no, a civilian almost got attacked by some fuckwad—“

another pause.

“no, i’m not gonna refer to him as a civilian too, he’s a goddamn asshole.”

“goddammit, will you shut the hell up and send some damn police? someone’s gotta take this fuck away, i can’t do it right now, i got shit to do.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. fuck you. you got my location or what?”

“…yeah, okay.”

“yeah, she’s fine, just some scrapes from fallin’.”

“yeah.”

“yeah, okay.”

katsuki hung up, then turned back to you, crouching down on the pavement.

“can ya stand up?” he asked. he frowned, studying your expression. “…you’re crying.”

“oh.” you bring your hand to your face, feeling the tear trails on your cheek. you look around. “i can stand up.” but once you tried, you found that your legs were numb. totally numb. you stumbled, and you fell to the ground again, only for katsuki to catch you.

“hey, easy.” he warned, his hands holding your waist securely. katsuki eased you down to sit so close to him that you may as well be in his lap. once you were stable, he slipped his gloves off, wiping them on his baggy pants, probably to wipe the sweat off. his hands held your face, and his eyes studied yours. you were too exhausted to react. he must have found something in your face (which you later learned were your then-dilated pupils) because he said, “you’re in shock, dumbass, don’t move yet.”

“ok.” you agree. you glance at the unconscious man. his nose was gushing blood. you shudder and quickly turn your attention back to katsuki.

“can ya breathe f’me?” katsuki’s question seemed to make you realize how incredibly fast your breathing actually was. “c’mon, deep breaths.”

you nod. your eyes were unfocused, looking in the general direction of katsuki’s chest, and your ears just barely registered his voice. regardless, you matched his breaths as he breathed in, out, in, out.

you and katsuki continued to breathe together as bright red-and-blue lights lit up the road. this time, though, katsuki had picked you up, holding you like a baby so that you could bury your face in the crook of his neck if you so chose, one massive hand placing itself on your back to make sure you kept breathing as he talked to the cops. the cops took the man and left, leaving you and katsuki once more.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” he asked finally as your breathing stabilized and the tears slowed down. he was walking back towards the direction of the coffee shop— or maybe his agency. probably the latter.

“yeah.” you agreed, your voice scratchy. you pause for a moment, trying to find a way to keep it short. the last thing you wanted was to relive the events of thirty minutes ago. “he’d been stalking me for days. then i confronted him then ran. he chased me. that’s it.”

“stalking? why didn’t you tell me?” katsuki frowned. “that asshole’s being arrested for attempted assault. stalking’s a whole other charge to be added.” you shrug. truth be told, you just wanted to go to sleep and be done with it. katsuki sighed.

“well, whatever.” he grumbled. “listen… you probably don’t wanna be alone tonight, do you? lotta people don’t after this kind of thing.” you shook your head. he was spot-on.

“you want me to call up pinky? she’ll let you crash if you—“

“you.” you interrupt. katsuki stopped, his hand putting just a little more pressure on your back as he stiffened.

“…you wanna crash at my place.” he confirmed. you nod.

“if i can.” you add. katsuki stayed quiet for a moment before exhaling.

“yeah, whatever. dumbass.” katsuki huffed, boots scraping against the pavement. “you need to get anything from your place?”

“no.” you lied. you did technically need a change of clothes, pajamas, and hygiene products, but at this point, you didn’t care. you didn’t want to go back there right now. katsuki gave you a skeptical look, but didn’t protest.

“i’m gonna blast us back, got it? it’s gonna be loud, so cover your damn ears.” katsuki looked up towards the star-speckled sky, shifting you to one muscly arm. “ready?”

“…you’re crying.”

“oh.”

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

tags: @k0z3me @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @cherryblossomclarity @jazzafayesworld @faerikitty

[eldritch-spouse]

I wanna be hunted down by Zizz in a dream, come get me big boy

[Ah yes, I've wanted to do something with him for a while. The chase isn't that long, but I hope it's fine! Fem reader.]

TW: Dubcon then full consent; Mentions of past non-consensual somnophilia; Spit as lube.

You're not sure if you can call yourself a lucid dreamer.

Because while you've been aware of dreaming before, things have always felt a bit distant, fogged. When you touched a table, it didn't quite feel like a table. So you knew that it wasn't one, and that you weren't awake.

Lately however, your nightly episodes of brain activity have taken a sharp turn into the unexpected, if not mystical.

Everything has become so vivid. So real. It feels as if every part of your conscious has been pulled into these dreams, like there's nothing beyond the dreamscape. You truly are living in them, with no care for anything else. Nothing appears to be out of place, every minute detail sculpted to perfection, something one's brain is largely incapable of without extensive visual training beforehand. Which you have none.

They almost feels like someone else's dreams, as if you have been invited to take place in them.

Nothing about the location in which they take place is familiar to you either. This scarcely lit maze of rooms and halls is a warm, comforting mansion you have never set foot on in waking world. Not a bit of it rings a bell. The patterns in the floor are alien to you, the symbols inscribed in the ceilings and walls are meticulous but utterly nonsensical, the blue-lit candles, flickering into violet hues, are entirely new to you. Even the starry, abyssal skies fogging the small windows of this place raise no memory. Everything here is suspended in space and time, a crafted capsule which has consumed your resting hours.

At first, you were charmed. And how could one not be, right? It is a beautiful place, if a bit ominous, but you enjoyed roaming by those uninhabited divisions, captivated by pleasant scents and lulled into a comfortable tiredness that beckoned you to simply pick a corner and settle down. Although bizarre, this felt like home, like a cradle. A respite to life's many hurdles and clawing duties. No good thing lasts forever, as is common knowledge, and this is no exception...

A couple of days ago, the ambience in this dream mansion has become a tad stifling. Nothing has visually changed, that you can spot at least, but the air is heavier with some form of tension you can't quite place. Moving between rooms, no matter how much curiosity beckons, has become a slightly dreaded occasion, for every step of yours elicits goosebumps on your flesh. Eyes. There are eyes on you. Somewhere. Somehow. Someway. Immaterial and tireless, prey instincts pick up on them sharply. You turn and turn like a dancer in their stage, but there's only ever shadows staring back at you.

Someone has taken note of your presence here and you're an object of interest to them. Now comes the belated realization that you may not ever have been the owner of this mansion, as your mind liked to assume. Maybe not even a guest, but only a mere intruder. Are they angry at you?

You can't answer that. You don't know.

So, tonight, in an effort to not offend this entity of your lifelike dreams, you refuse to leave the banquet hall. Maybe, if you stay put in one place and don't touch anything, not even those beautiful padded chairs, it won't get angry at you. And it will look elsewhere. Should you apologize? To the air? No, come on, there's got to be a way to force yourself to wake up, right? Yes, you've read about this before. You need to blink! Blinking helps stimulate the brain into waking up.

After several moments of frantic eyelid flapping, you've determined that either this method is complete bullshit, you're horribly incompetent at basic functions, or this is simply too soft a strategy. The next hypothesis is to pinch yourself, or otherwise induce some form of pain that would be great enough to force an awakening. Pinch after pinch, scratching your arm, and finally, actually giving yourself a slap. Fruitless... And the worst part is that you felt it all.

Joy.

OH! Falling asleep! Falling asleep in lucid dreams helps. Perfect really, this place is already so tailored to personal comfort. The banquet hall is large, furnished with its laced curtains and the ambient blue lights that you love so much, there's many a plush seat to choose around these large, generously furnished tables, but your eyes gravitate towards another option a slight distance away. By one of the massive windows of this residence lies the most dreamy chaise-lounge you've ever witnessed. Dear God, had you not known any better, you'd say the damn thing is made for a giant. It's certainly about the size, no, bigger, than a king sized bed. Why is it so damn big?

Nonetheless, your hands drift across its velvet greedily as you sink onto it like an anchor, sighing in great satisfaction. Oh, what you wouldn't give for one of these in real life! The perfect solace after a day of troublesome, annoying work. This must be tremendously expensive... An adequate position is found, the mansion is warm enough that no chill dares pry into your bare skin and the nightgown you wear is more than enough cover. A smile resting on your cheeks, your eyes finally close and you bid this dreamscape adieu.

...

" Mm, are you truly that tired? "

Every bone in your body freezes.

Suddenly, the mansion has never been colder. You're afraid to turn around, because you know something large is behind you, so your horrified hues poise on the darkness of the sky, spotting a horned silhouette just barely reflected on the glass. What is this?

" I can't let you leave so soon, but worry not, we have all the time in the world. " It, or rather he, begins. This smooth, low and almost disinterested tone. Attractive, if not for the fact that you've never heard it before, that you've never pictured anything that sounded remotely like him. " There is no time in dreams. "

That's a very nice way of saying "you're here until I wish otherwise".

You can barely swallow the lump in your throat. " Who- Who are you? "

He's tapping something on the wooden table. This distinct clack clack clack that you know only something with claws can achieve. " Turn around and find out. "

Figures. Knowing you'll never move on if you dwell on the choice, you rip off the band aid entirely and turn faster than a startled cat, sitting up on the chaise-lounge and setting eyes on what might be the most majestic monster out there.

You were right, this is made for a giant. You're looking at him.

Where do you start? The way his grayish light skin almost seems to sparkle? The odd, dark garb that clings to his supple form maybe a tad too scandalously? The curious shape of his thin, crescent-tipped tail? Speaking of crescent- That's definitely the shape of his striking horns, this shapeless glob of matter swirling almost hypnotically between them, hues of yellow and blue framed prettily. Even more curious is the ashy veil covering his head and face, the sides bleeding into star-adorned shades of mauve. For lack of better wording, he's unexpectedly gorgeous. Fascinating. Certainly some type of demon, there's no doubt about it, though never did you think they could ever share this sort of ethereal look to them- Even mellow as he seems to be, your subconscious recognizes the power basically seeping off his presence.

Nothing in the room matters anymore, your vision and your dream shrink down to the monster before you.

What now? What the fuck do you say? This feels too real, too dangerous, too out of your depth, like you shouldn't even be talking to this guy.

" H- Hi? "

Bravo. Perfect. Survival ensured. You're a master of raw charisma.

The entity chuckles. " Good night. " He takes a step forward, making you lean back. " I'm glad to see you enjoy the mansion. "

It's his. That's obvious now. You've been loitering around his living space for nights on end apparently.

" I probably won't have to change too much about it. "

Change? Your eyes narrow. " ... You live here? "

A vague hand wave. " Yes and no. This is a careful reconstruction. I made sure to be as meticulous as possible, just so you can get a proper look at your new living quarters. "

Fucking what now?

" Excuse me? "

The demon pauses, then appears to brighten. " Ah yes, my faulty manners. Everyone calls me Zizz, I am Sloth's Icon. "

None of that made sense. " You lost me at ´Zee´."

" Zizz. "

That sounds a lot like jizz honeslty.

" Zizz. " You correct yourself. " Sloth as in, the deadly sin? Sloth? That exists, that's a place? "

He sighs, snickering to himself, probably at you. Amidst your inner questioning, you fail to react in time when he, Zizz, sits beside you on the sofa. The weight of the monster causes a slight depression that pulls you to him like a magnet. All it takes is one slight brush against his warm skin for you to jump back. Not very far away apparently, because he can still grasp your hand with unnerving ease. Even now, you feel like a toddler gazing at an adult, it's uncanny.

" Focus. " He coos, unaffected by the panicked pull that only results in making your wrist sore. " You don't need to worry about any of that for now, I want to share this night with you, ridden of any fear or doubt. " The grip tightens, his voice takes on a desperate lilt, excitement bleeding into his speech. "To get to know each other. I've met many a dreamer in my time alive, how can it be that my true mate has escaped me up until now? "

This is the most insane dream you've had in your entire life. Though, deep down, something tells you it's definitely not just a dream, maybe a curse. Some sort of nasty prank dealt onto you by something you can't comprehend for reasons that elude you. What if all of this truly is real, and you've caught the eye of a being older than you can conceive? Is there even anything you can do or is your fate being carved into stone with every word Zizz speaks? Sweat forms on your forehead the moment the demon starts moving your hand, hovering towards his chest.

" W-?! L-Let go! " But he doesn't, only stopping once that palm is firmly planted. Any further protests die when a frantic thump thump thump is felt. It takes you a moment to realize his chest is heaving a little.

" Can you feel my relief? My happiness? I swear on my name this heart has never beaten so fast. " You don't need to see his face to feel the level of mania this monster is under.

" S- Shut up. This isn't real! Get away-! " Perhaps it was the shock of hearing you shout, or the slight slump of the great monster's frame, but you manage to drag yourself out of his grasp, up to your feet, taking several steps back, as if he may lunge at any moment.

That never happens, but he does rise as well. One measured step at a time, attempting to close the distance that seems to deeply perturb him now. " You know better. My lonely little star, how I long to quell you... " A chill runs down your spine at the dip of his pitch, a baritone full of promises making it feel as if your knees are about to run off in opposite directions. " Your dreams have kept me warm at night, I only ask that you let me do the same for you. "

Nope. Mind racing, heart hammering, adrenaline making you feel lighter than a feather, you race out of the banquet hall with terror in each stride, fueled by the ringing of amused guffawing in the distance. It should have been a blaring flag that you heard no footsteps hot on your trail, and you only realize what a pathetic idea it was to attempt to hide in his mansion when Zizz appears standing in the next hall you come across.

" Where will you run to? "

Anywhere, anywhere you can. The door to your left disappears right as you are about to push it open, replaced by a seamless wall that you nearly rammed into, making the demon lord snicker. " This is childish, dear. "

You know you were only able to dash into the right one because he allowed you to. Lo and behold, it's a bedroom. Or at least you think it is, it's hard to tell with the ludicrous amount pillows tossed onto every corner. There's a humongous bed inundated in blankets and pelts, more cushions than you care to count, it even has a canopy with lights. Are those plushies? This... This looks like a rich kid's pillow fort. What the fu-

It was a mistake to linger, because a figure traps your back against itself.

" Ah, you've found my resting chambers, how astute. " Oh yes, he's definitely mocking you. Your flailing and kicking goes vastly ignored, not only is this creature immeasurably stronger than your untrained self, it appears determined to end your pointless game of cat-and-mouse. It's poetic that he didn't actually have to move much to catch you, really befitting of his title as, what did he say again, "Icon of Sloth"?

A tug at the hem of your nightgown distracts you. " Do you always dress this scantily to bed? " Zizz taunts, a lewd grin audible. " Perhaps for me? "

" In your dreams, pervert! " Maybe you should have thought twice about the wording. Though not all is lost, because he does let you go, taken by another fit of merry laughter.

" Oh, absolutely... " The giant moves towards the center of the room, tossing pillows away and arranging the blankets on that opulent bed. " Has anyone told you how adorable you look in deep slumber? I could barely keep my hands off you, there's a softness to your body that's so addicting, I could never hope to replicate it. Nothing feels half as good. "

The color washes off your skin, leaving you as pale as Zizz himself while you try to guess what was done to you when you were most vulnerable. Did he fondle you? Used you like some toy, some doll, unwilling to let you wake, to let you know- You feel dirty, skin crawling with all sorts of emotions, one of them being muted arousal. In spite of the repulsive act he's just admitted to doing, all your mind wants to focus on is the possibility of that large body covering yours, large hands curled over your limbs, taunting images filling you with shame. This is far from the reaction you should be having.

In an effort to escape, perhaps not so much from him but more so your reprehensible desires, you make one last ridiculous attempt to flee the room, rewarded by the door slamming itself shut. It signals the finality of your little game, as if he won't let you flee from your own wants.

" That's cute, but I'm not very fond of running. "

Cute. He thinks your genuine efforts to flee are cute.

Defeated, you stand by the door, in the most vain of hopes that it will miraculously open for you when most needed. When Zizz turns, you can almost feel the frown in his stance, like he's pondering. Sure enough, he was.

With a snap of his fingers, your clothes are gone. It was like a blink, one second they were there, the next your body was bare and cold. " Much better. " Zizz hums.

All you can do is squawk and cover yourself, face steaming in fury and embarrassment. " You sick fuck! "

That only earns you a senseless coo before he's making grabby hands and closing the distance. The pitiful attempt you made to dash left is halted by a thick forearm, and, in a blur of movement, you've been tossed onto that massive mattress.

The impact itself was painless, lord knows this particular division is so thickly padded that he could just about launch you at the walls with no risk of serious injury. Maybe motion sickness. But the shock of his strength keeps you still like a catatonic animal ready to die. He just- He slam dunked you into his bed like a fucking doll.

Said moment of weakness is fully taken advantage of, as Zizz crawls on after you, arms holding your naked form to his front and ripping a yelp out of your still very much terrified self when he flips to lay on his back. The move was calculated, he gets to rest his head and upper back on the several pillows and stuffed cushion he was previously arranging, trapping your dizzy body against him.

More than afraid, you're now mostly confused, grasping those merciful moments of motionlessness to steady your breathing. What now...?

Zizz appears to be very comfortable, if not happy, his light hum-turned-sigh letting you know how at peace the demon apparently is right now. You suppose he ought to be, with your tits against his abdomen and thighs brushing a- Oh for fuck's sake. He's hard. Of course he is, the freak. You can feel it pushing at his robes, nudging beneath you. That's definitely something to worry about. Dream or not, everything up until now has felt so unbelievably real that you're not chancing getting penetrated by something that would tear you in real life. Because you know you'll feel it.

Renewed, frantic squirming is smothered by a powerful embrace as Zizz allows you to tire yourself out, scratching and arching pointlessly like a pitiful bug's death throes. You're more than sure that achieved nothing except getting him noticeably stiffer. With neither grace nor dignity, you proceed to flop dead onto him.

" ... So? Come on, fuck me already, I can't do shit. " Taunting a demon is a horrid idea, but you're livid.

" Mmm, I was hoping it'd be the other way around. "

That just about makes your brain buffer entirely. " Huh? "

" I love your fire, it's perfect. " Large hands start roaming up and down your sides, warming you in more ways than one. " Show me more, please? "

You blink.

Is he serious? You thought he'd just take you however, get it over with. And yet, here he is, spreading his legs beneath you, short of breath at the mere thought of having a human so much tinier than himself taking control. This has to be some divine parody. A nasty god's prank. Although, possibly fueled by the novelty of that same idea, or maybe just hatching a brand new fetish, you consider it.

And by "consider", you mean you start grinding on him.

Zizz immediately lets out a hiss, immensely pleased, tail thrashing against silk sheets. " O-Oh, that was fast. I'm glad we're on the same page. "

" Shut up. " The nerve.

Unwilling to take it easy on the pervert that has forced you into these dreams for the past week or so, you start tugging and pushing at his outfit, annoyed by the way it appears to cling to his curves. Really it's just an impractical mess, do demons really wear this? " I hate this shit, it doesn't make sense. " You grumble, resigned to trying to tear the straps clinging to his hips and upper thighs.

The other only delights in your roughness it seems, laughing heatedly. " Maybe it's me who should wear less for you, no? "

That's not a bad idea, but like Hell you'll admit it. Nonetheless, he scoots and lifts his ass off the bed for you, but only just long enough for the garb to be edged up. You're not content with the way it looks balled up on his tummy, as you'd like to have full access to his body, but it'll do. Because it's not the main prize, that would be the purple-ish length that bobs free. Pretty. Zizz is hardly anything to scoff at, and even if you think the odd curl which appears to wrap around his cock is curious, you know that can't be safely ridden.

The doubt must show on your face, because he makes a quiet chuff. A digit rises, the amorphous blob shifting by his horns darts to it, until he flicks it your way. Although you recoiled, as if the thing was going to splat itself on your face, you squint an eye open and determine, after some gazing around, that it's perched above your own head now.

" Uh- Thanks? "

That solves nothing.

" Among other things, it will help you welcome me. "

That solves everything.

" Perfect. "

And, with little to no fanfare, you spit on his hard dick, using it to lube him as much as possible while you position yourself above that girthy trial. It's exhilarating, you've never been this rash and gross to a partner, you've never had so much control or been in a situation half as peculiar, your heart thunders when his tip pokes at your folds.

Zizz gasps, fingers trying to settle on your thighs, though you bat them away. " What's the rush, my star? We have endless time to enjo- Hhrk- Fuck ohh! "

Your eyes water and roll to the back of your head as, in a ballsy move, you take half of that cock inside. Your own breathless expletives join his noises when you feel him warm and twitching, filling you tightly. He really wasn't kidding, this thing works, the pain is minimal.

" L- Like you deserve that. " Rocking in an effort to sink further onto him, you can't help moaning, every shift bringing you sharp waves of pleasure. Lord, that strange growth around his member has a delectable texture. " Teasing me for nights on end, doing who knows what- Ah! "

A piston upwards has your vision spinning, a cry loud enough to pass as a scream ripped out of your throat, drowned out by his low, satisfied groan when the root of his member is swallowed and you're flush to him. Zizz appears to tremble, you don't have the wits to push his hands off again when he grabs onto your hips, stroking everywhere and moaning at the fluttering of your walls. " Every second of the wait was worth it, ohff- You're so tight. " The smirk behind his next words is almost gross. " Feels good? You can have this every single night if only- "

" I-... Is this really a dream? " You interrupt.

It feels too realistic, too accurate. Even with the powers you don't doubt this demon has, this is scarily vivid. Would a dream ever be able to replicate the sensation of something as huge as Zizz inside you? Are you being tricked and this is actually reality?

A touch to your cheek startles you back to the present.

" Do you want it to be more than a dream? "

Mouth agape, all you can do is stare back at the demon lord. The ensuing silence speaks volumes.

" Wake up. "

" W- What? "

" I said- " His other hand rips that dark veil off his face, lidded eyes on yours as a pearly white grin stretches on a void-like face. It's... Incredible.

" Wake up. "

With a harsh gasp, you jolt upwards on your bed, head smacking right into something solid and warm.

Oh God...

Gulping, you glance up in total darkness, greeted by the same face, with the same swirl of yellow and blue glowing above it. A sudden thrust makes you realize he's been here all this time, in your bedroom, in your mind.

In your body.

" Did you sleep well? "

[snackugaki]

more AU visdev shenanigans because I have both a problem and am trying to trick myself into doing visdev for my actual  projects

my tmnt au (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

tmnt au omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

lny visit 1 | 2

AU musings under the cut cuz truly, i have a goddamn problem and most of it is from my brain always go brr

uhhh... hm... Mirage spoilers pmuch right out the gate... probably IDW, and prrrrobably Next Mutation spoilers for the kids who haven’t started/caught up because surprise that’s where I pull from (aside from the 87 cartoon and 90s movies because who doesn’t pull mainly from their childhood turtles)

April being into punk, goth, alt, what have you just makes sense to me

...because she gravitated to the outsider nature of those subcultures since she, herself, didn’t feel like she quite belonged anywhere

which is natural when you’re a drawing made real

(it’s fine, she’s flesh and blood now)

shout out to poly styrene, april loved her

keeping them short kings just like my childhood turtles

Jennika absolutely comments to Donnie if he’s found any good cheese in any walls lately

god i hate plowing through the first couple of passes of a design

alas, the process

Venus ended up being dressed in hanfu since other clothes didn’t fit her quite right; a specific group of old women were ecstatic at breaking out hanfu patterns to use.

Chung I doted on Venus so much, the only thing that kept her from becoming spoiled was when she started taking up cultivation alongside Chung I and his sect

nothing more humbling that carrying 3 buckets of water up a steep mountain side while your sifu hurls mystic blasts at your feet

Venus progressed pretty quickly though; enough to be trusted with plans to circumvent Vam Mi’s return and reconnoiter with the sect’s allies in NYC

(it didn’t work but it’s okay they defeated Vam Mi anyway)

shit now I have to come up with a name for the sect hhhhh

Chung I’s sect is one of ?? who, like the ninja, have a responsibility (among others) to regulate the mortal plane with the less mundane ones

Venus IS training to serve in his role (give or take one of her brothers or sisters being bestowed the responsibility)

hmm... Venus likes keemun tea best if she has the choice, and for soup... oxtail soup and black sesame soup

and because it was fkkn metal in Next Mutation, Venus is primarily a pugilist who occasionally uses her cultivation techniques ; she trains a little with a fan when she gets to weapons training but she prefers the spear (link has blood and some real violent fighting but fuck Fog Hill is fucking siiiiick)

...a nickname Venus gains is ‘the spear fairy’ ‘cuz i’m indulgent :)

the supernatural side of NY was already getting antsy and unruly when Venus arrived so of course she and the boys ended up fighting upon first encounter

The fight happens after hours at a local walk-around market; Raph barges in and Venus fishes around for something that isn’t the requisite staff she was saddled with before setting out (because she knows how to deal some damage with it and she wasn’t about to do that to complete strangers she didn’t know the alignment of)

she ends up using a mannequin; one arm came off so Venus attacked with that and defended with the upper part of the mannequin; Raph was getting outmatched while Mikey and Donnie were laughing in increasing volume

at a certain point Leo tried to intervene but Venus assumed it was a double team, ripped the other arm off the mannequin and defended with both against Raph and Leo; eventually her hood was flipped and they saw she was a turtle so cue Venus using the opportunity to get them both on the ground and about to smash the now armless mannequin torso onto Leo and Raph before Donnie called for a truce

at which point, as is established, Mikey quipped up at the scene, “I call this... ‘Venus de Milo, triumph over dorkus maximuses’”

Leo DID try to address her by her actual name but his not-quite-right tone made her pity him and insisted he just use Mikey’s new nickname

Venus absolutely asked why the boys were running around half naked when she came across them; they didn’t have an answer they just shrugged and let Mikey change the subject with asking if she’s tried NY pizza yet

Venus is ambivalent in the end, she knew humans wore clothes since their bits are just ...like, out there dangling around; the yaoguai around her also dressed and thought they were just adhering to the custom out of simple consideration

Venus eventually gears up like the boys to help hide her mission from the sect trying to resurrect Vam Mi

Leo gives Venus a spare mask of his; it came from a bin of incorrectly dyed masks when he was attempting shibori dye experiments

Mikey was so enthusiastic about it, having only known April at the time he asked if he could try out braiding her mask tails since Leo didn’t bother tailoring it after he botched the dye job

Splinter helps Venus make contact with her sect’s allies ala Rescuers Down Under

NM!Venus canonically knows how to pick locks why not in this AU too

The boys take Venus to the library one night, Donnie pleads for Venus to break into the reference shelves, stoops to fibbing a little that information she might find handy could be in those shelves (they weren’t)

A hilarious exchange happens between April and Venus when Venus cycles through like 3 dialects and 2 languages before finding out April speaks Canto; Venus starts calling April Ah ze, in kind April calls Venus Ah mui

hmm hmmm... still torn between April meeting the boys once as little kids then running into them again when she’s an adult or having her meet them as little kids but connecting a little earlier, 1-2 years from graduating HS

mostly just cuz I wanna have this AU April taking them to GWAR concerts so they can enjoy being out without getting clocked 

Casey and Raph absolutely dressed as the Bash Brothers for a couple of halloweens

I like the idea of Casey thinking of himself as the fifth turtle brother because it’s sweet, thassit AU canon it is done

I feel like Jennika probably ran into April and Casey at separate music venues; befriended Casey first tho

Jennika spent two years in China with Venus, getting her handle on her new turtle body; when she came back she nearly cleaned out 3 thrift stores and basically commandeered a portion of Donnie’s lab for almost a year to tailor clothes for herself

Donnie basically made himself a mini-clothing manufacturing  factory by salvaging and rebuilding embroidery, pattern cutting, and industrial sewing machines

Jennika and Mondo have jam sessions

The brockhampton parody in this AU is northbrockton, Jennika and Mondo are rotational members

Mondo can speak hawaiian pidgin, he speak liddat when he go an talk story with Mikey ova some grinds, Mikey also starts picking it up

 Mondo sometimes refers to Mikey as Braddah Honu

One of the stolen waste/mutagen barrels from That Night rolled and got shunted conveniently to a desolate lot where it leaked for years

Mondo came across it looking for a place for his band to jam without getting interrupted, pop goes the lizard mutation

tl;dr a video of urban explorers stumbling on it got onto Mona’s feed (and I’m smudging her original start as a physicist to a biophysicist) and since she’s a can do sort of girl she goes to check it out herself before reporting it to the proper organizations-- bam, mutant lizard Mona Lisa rip

that same video came across on one of Donnie’s feeds, Raph’n Mikey go to investigate and come upon a distraught lizard Mona Lisa; Mikey uses her assumption they were also originally human to bring her back to the lair and get her calmed down

god it’s so messy, thankfully Splinter, Leo and April are far better at helping Mona come to grips with her mutation, Donnie helps out in setting her up to survive the first couple months of transitioning between her old human life to navigating her mutant one

For me, she’s now Mona Lisa Saperfeld purely for this exact reference link

Raph and Casey also get the occasional treats from the local bodegas, but for running off extortionists and other assorted dipshits with too much time an not enough supervision

Jennika, Mondo, and Mikey are constantly replacing each others’ high scores in Guitar Hero and DDR in Donnie’s arcade

When Donnie, Casey, and Raph are left in the garage for too long... they end up making the weirdest shit (link to a Handy Geng playlist, a dude who makes funky inventions)

[specialinterestsgalore]

The M*A*S*H Time Loop

This was pretty much just a stream of consciousness writing. I haven't looked at it much since I wrote it a couple of days ago but I wanted to post it anyway.

The sitcom M*A*S*H ran from 1972 to 1983 and captured households around America. The series follows M*A*S*H (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) unit 4077 through the Korean War. Knowledgable readers might have noticed that the Korean War lasted 3 years from June 1950 to July 1953 while the M*A*S*H series ran for 11 years from September 1972 to February 1983. This significant timeline difference created an interesting effect on M*A*S*H that led to many fans discussing the ‘M*A*S*H time loop theory.’ As the name would imply, this fan theory posits that the events of M*A*S*H do not take place during the Korean War as we know it, but instead that the show follows the 4077th as they are stuck in an endless time loop and are unable to escape the war. 

Clearly, the timeline of M*A*S*H is a bit difficult to line up with the events of the actual Korean War due to the 8-year difference. Characters such as BJ Hunnicutt and Radar O’Riley were on the sitcom for 8 years but canonically it is difficult to say if they were meant to have spent the same amount of time in Korea. While the episodes were aired weekly, it is impossible to say if most of the episodes were meant to take place a week apart. There are several episodes for which we know this is not the case, for example, the season 9 episode ‘A War for All Seasons’  begins with the 4077th ringing in the new year and follows several key events throughout 1951 and ends on New Year’s Day 1952. This seems to imply that the previous 8 seasons all take place in 1950. It could also imply that subsequent episodes all take place in 1952 or later, though many assume that some episodes show events that were not seen in ‘A War for All Seasons.’ On the opposite end of the spectrum, several episodes take place over a matter of hours. The season 8 episode ‘Life Time’ happens essentially in real time as Hawkeye has only 20 minutes to complete an arterial graft on a wounded soldier. These and other episodes make creating a sensible timeline for the M*A*S*H series an incredibly complicated process. Trapper John leaves in the first episode of season 4, does this mean that he was only in Korea for 6 months? As mentioned earlier, Radar and BJ were on M*A*S*H for the same number of years, but Radar leaves before ‘A War for All Seasons,’ does this mean that Radar was enlisted for a year or less while BJ was present for 2 years? Does it matter how long any of these characters were engaged in the Korean War? The time loop theory certainly says no. 

The nature of all sitcom television lends itself very well to the concept of a time loop. The show almost always resets itself at the end of every episode and it begins the next episode in essentially the same place. The order of the episodes often doesn’t matter. Everything is always happening, nothing happens, it doesn’t matter. In M*A*S*H specifically, one of the core themes of the show is the cyclical nature of war. It intentionally pokes fun at the repetition, the monotony with lines like ‘the future’s been canceled by the war department’ and ‘Father, what do you think of purgatory so far?’ as well as with aspects such as the omnipresent PA voice. Hawkeye Pierce becomes the main focus of the show and the audience's lens in many ways and as such is one of the easiest introductions to this concept. Hawkeye complains about being stuck nearly every episode and often phrases it as though he is not just stuck as a surgeon in a war zone, but as if his whole life is stuck, as if his past and future are all contained within the war. Another character giving credence to this theory is Radar O’Riley. Radar earned his nickname due to his uncanny ability to sense incoming wounded before anyone else and to predict what his commanding officers will ask for before they open their mouths. While this is certainly a fun gag for the show, many think it shows that Radar is aware, consciously or unconsciously, of the time loop. Radar is aware of when the choppers will arrive and when Henry needs files because it has all happened before and will happen again. Many fans also point out that this could be the reason for Radar’s reaction to Henry being sent home. It is more than just realizing that he will be left in Korea while the man he has come to see as a father figure goes home to his family. On some level, Radar remembers that Henry will not make it home; he knows he can not stop it. Of course one of the biggest pieces of evidence against the idea of a time loop is the fact that it does end. Everyone goes home in the end, however, this does not entirely disprove the theory. Many pieces of media that focus on the concept of time loops end with our protagonists escaping. But they can not escape entirely. Though all of our characters leave Korea by the end of the series, those who are still alive have not left completely. They will be stuck remembering this time forever. 

While the original intention of M*A*S*H certainly was not to tell a story about a group of army doctors, nurses, and enlisted men trapped in a time loop, that is in many ways the story we got. It is the best showcase of the cycle, the monotonous horror of war in modern media. The only changes come with tragedy, death, or abandonment. It is a time loop in the only ways that matter.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine Shuri becoming jealous and protective when someone approaches you in a club

Everyone assumed after Shuri and Namor were able to see past their need for vengeance and form an alliance. Things would go back to normal for Wakanda, and in a way, they did. The civilians were able to return to the city and got to work on rebuilding on what was destroyed. Businesses were open again, families were able to properly mourn those lost in the conflict, and M'Baku took over the throne to give Shuri some much needed time to heal. The only enemies Wakanda had to ward off were the other countries who were still hell-bent on getting some vibramium for themselves.

The only difference now was that the Black Panther had officially returned and with the announcement made worldwide. Some of the countries were now a bit more wary about attacking the Outreach centers. Especially after Shuri made a statement threatening to close them all down. If the attacks didn't cease immediately, she had been through too much in the past couple of days to have patience for them anymore. So yes, in a way, things were back to normal with everyone going through the healing process.

But that still didn't stop the Princess from throwing herself back into her work. The second she returned from her trip to Haiti, and while she seemed to be in a better headspace. None of those closest to her thought it was healthy for her to be in the lab to the break of dawn. Unfortunately, the only person available who could probably stand a chance in pulling her away from her numerous projects was also throwing themselves into their duty.

You were no better than Shuri, and sometimes people truly wondered. How the two of you were able to maintain a healthy relationship considering you rarely spent any time together these days. You were one of Wakanda's finest warriors, and although you weren't a member of any Wakanda army. All of the soldiers respected you and fought along side of you when it was needed. You had accompanied Shuri on her trip to Haiti, so whenever someone brought it up to you. That you and Shuri didn't have enough time for each other. You just shrugged at their concern and pointed out the two of you had just returned from a two-month vacation.

And the excuse would've worked if it hadn't been three months since that vacation. You spent most of your morning doing combat lessons for the new trainees, and afterward, doing some training on your own. Wakanda's army was severely depleted after the war with Talokan, and it would take a lot to restore its strength. Shuri spent the first half of the morning in bed catching up on sleep before returning to the lab. Her main concern was building more Midnight Angel suits even though Okoye insisted. The project could wait because, for now, Wakanda was not in need of a new military division. You would stop by the lab for an hour or so every day to have lunch with her, but as far as they could tell, that was the only real interaction between you two.

Everyone was growing tired of watching both of you work yourselves to death, and was determined to make you and Shuri take a break. Aneka was the one who came up with the master plan and tasked Okoye with removing Shuri from the lab. Her and Ayo were in charge of pulling you out of the training room. Even though Shuri was the stronger one with the strength of the Black Panther. There was no doubt in Aneka's heart that the Princess wouldn't hold back in order to not hurt Okoye. But you, on the other hand, would have no problem putting Aneka on her back or anyone else for that matter.

They found you in one of the many training rooms of the palace practicing with a pair of twin swords. Shuri had actually gifted you the weapons upon the return from Haiti. The previous ones you wielded were destroyed in a fight between you and Namor. You were torn up about them since the weapons were family heirlooms passed down from generation to generation. But the new ones were starting to grow on you more and more every day. They were stronger and had a built-in energy force field.

"Hey y/n, do you mind putting the swords down for a quick second?" Aneka asked, capturing your attention.

You paused mid swing, ready to decapitate a dummy's head at the sound of her voice. You turned to see her and Ayo standing on either side of you just a few feet away. "What's up? Are you guys looking for a quick sparring match."

"Not exactly," Ayo answered.

You zeroed in the way both of their bodies were slightly bent at the knees. Both of them could pounce on you at a moment's notice, and then it was the way they kept exchanging nervous glances. What were they up to? You decided whatever it was, it wasn't worth hurting them over, at least not seriously anyway. So you walked over to where your bag was located and placed the swords on top of them. The next thing you knew, both of them had seized by the arms and started dragging you out of the training room.

Aneka had your right arm while Ayo had the left, and they both a your arms pulled back into a hold. It wasn't painful, but it made it impossible for you to pull away as you struggled. "What the hell?" You hissed through clenched teeth.

"You and Shuri have been spending way too much time working. Both of you need a break okay its time to let loose and have fun, " Aneka explained.

"Are you serious our arm-"

Ayo tugged on your wrist, causing you to pause in whatever you were getting ready to say. "Our armies are still recovering, yes, but thanks to you. They are on the right path, and you deserve to have some fun. This isn't up for discussion. You and Shuri are going out tonight."

"Oh yeah, I would love to see someone get Shuri out of the lab." You scoffed at the idea.

Five minutes later and you were eating your words as you found Shuri in your shared room going through the closet. Okoye had been positioned outside the door with her arms crossed a smug expression on her face.

"Okoye took a prototype for a new weapon I was working on. It was almost complete and the only one I had. She threatened to smash it to pieces with her spear if I didn't cooperate, " Shuri said. Before you could even ask, "How would that work? Is it not made out of vibranium as well?" You questioned.

"No, it is, but I don't doubt she will find a way to accomplish it, and that's a risk I won't take. It's only one night sthandwa we could really use it, I guess."

You let out a deep sigh of defeat knowing she was right. Plus none of your friends were giving either of you a choice. But by the end of the night they would wish they had.

The girls took you and Shuri out to one of the many clubs in the city. You knew Wakanda had an active nightlife but never cared to take part in it yourself. It wasn't exactly your scene, but there was one thing you loved to do. Before you dedicated your life to becoming the best warrior you could be.

Dancing.

So, while you didn't care for the drinking or the rowdy crowd. Once the beat of the music got a hold of your heart, your body started moving along to the rhythm. You completely forgot about the need to rebuild the armies and future threats. All of your worries were washed away by the hypnotizing music. Aneka joined you on the dance floor while Shuri hung back, watching the two of you dance. She sat back in a nice and comfy velvet sofa with Okoye and Ayo by her side with a red rope surrounding the area. Of course, the club had a VIP section for the royal family. Every establishment in the city did.

Shuri threw another shot back as her eyes stayed glued to the way your body was moving. It wasn't just romantic time the two of you had been neglecting. It had been a while since the two of you had taken part in any act of physical intimacy as well. She missed the feel of her hands running down your body, pulling you closer to her as you moaned her name, and writhed under her in absolute pleasure.

Okoye could see the lust forming in her eyes and let out a chuckle at the sight. "Are you going to continue to undress her with your eyes, Princess, or do you plan to join her on the dance floor?"

Ayo smirked and nodded her head in agreement. "You're supposed to be enjoying yourself as well, Shuri."

"Oh, I am enjoying myself plenty right here. The view is perfect," Shuri said. Her voice was a bit hazy.

You could feel her eyes on you and knew what your dancing was doing to her. It was an added bonus, and while you had no problem with her throwing you over her shoulder and waltzing out of this club to the car. And doing whatever she was thinking about to you right in that vehicle. You wanted to spend just a little more time dancing right now. Aneka had stepped away to get drinks for both of you, and that was when it happened. A pair of strong hands settled on your waist, and a stranger pressed their body up against yours from behind. You feel someone breathing heavily on your neck. "Now, what is a pretty thing like you do all alone? The voice belongs to an unfamiliar man.

You could have easily broken free of his hold and pushed him away, but you wanted to have a little fun first. Jealous and overprotective Shuri was your favorite. "I'm actually spoken for honey," you told him, turning around to face him.

The man was dark-skinned and pretty tall, not completely towering over you, though. He had a nice face with a well-defined jawline, and you could see women dying to have his attention. It made you wonder why he was here trying to dance with you. Did he not have other choices, or was he just a walking red flag?

"Mmmm, well, tell me baby, what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave you alone?"

Even though the club was pretty light, the strobing lights spinning all over the dance floor lit up your face pretty well. Either this guy didn't keep up with the royal news, or he was just plain stupid. Everyone in Wakanda knew you were with Shuri exclusively, and you figured he would recognize you. Once he got a good look at your face but you could tell. He had no idea who you really were as his eyes bore into yours.

"Well, she actually isn't that far away. I'm always in her line of sight. So, if you were smart, you would just walk away right now. I really don't want to see such a pretty face get smashed in, " you warned him.

Back in the VIP section, both Okoye and Ayo attempted to jump to their feet. Shuri placed a firm hand on both of their thighs, keeping them seated. "Let her be for now," she said through gritted teeth.

"But Princess," Okoye protested.

Shuri only tightened her grip on her thigh as she listened carefully to the exchange between you and the man.

"So you really do need a real man in your life now, I see. It's a good thing I came along now, isn't it? " the man said. Not heeding your warning at all

You frowned at his reply and placed both of your hands on his chest to give him a hard shove. "Alright, buddy, this conservation is over. Keep it moving." He was definitely a walking red flag.

But the man came back, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you to his chest. "Hey, I'm not done with you alright you should be nicer to me. I mean, come on, don't you want to make your parents proud and get married to someone worthy."

You saw a quick flash of anger in his eyes under the red passing lights. You glanced over his shoulder to see Shuri getting up from the sofa. She had reached her breaking point it was all fun and games until he came back. After you pushed him away.

"Alright buddy, I don't think you know who's girl you're messing with, and trust me when I say you don't want to find out the hard way. Just let me go and leave while you still can. " You tried to warn him again.

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about some stupid chick. I can make her mine t-ahhhhh." His words were cut off with a cry of pain as you twisted out of his hold, latched onto his hand, and bent his wrist backward. You brought your knee up into his stomach, making him double over with a groan.

"Don't you dare talk about her" You growled.

Shuri had reached both of you by now and gripped him by the back of his knee. "You don't mind if I take over sthandwa, do you?" she asked with a sickly sweet smile.

"Not at all usana," you replied, releasing his wrist and taking a step back.

She forced him to stand up straight so he could get a look at her face. He was trying to get his breath back but opened his mouth, ready to throw insults.

"Look chick, no offense, but your girl dese-" He paused as his eyes settled on her face, and he realized just exactly who he was talking to. His eyes grew wide with fear as his gaze flickered back and forth between the two of you.

"No, please go on. You were saying," Shuri encouraged him.

"Um, your Highness Princess, I meant no disrespect truly. I'm sorry. I didn't know she was with you, " He said. It wasn't just an apology, but a desperate plea for his life.

"Don't waste your breath usisidenge she whispered into his ear and kicked his legs out from under him. She released her hold on his neck, letting him fly back to the floor.

He landed on his back with a low thud that could barely be heard over the music. He started to groan but had no real time to recover as Shuri loomed over him. She gathered his shirt up in her right hand, lifting his head up from the floor, and delivered a hard left hook to his face. His head snapped to the side so hard you thought his neck had been broken. if she hadn't been holding back, then it would have snapped.

She let the man drop to the floor now unconscious. Her eyes found yours just a few feet away filled with want no need for her touch. Shuri beckoned for you to come to her, which you did right away, letting her take you by the hand.

"Should we um stop them?" Aneka asked, watching as the Princess pulled you in the direction of the exit.

"No, trust me, they're not going anywhere besides the car," Okoye told her.

Aneka didn't pick up on what she was implying right away, but her eyes widened in surprise a few seconds later. "So what now?"

"We continue to enjoy our night out, my love," Ayo said, taking her by the hand. She led her lover back onto the dance floor, looking back at the General. "You to Okoye, let's go."

Outside the club, Shuri had led you back to the car, pushing you up against it. A hand wrapped around your throat, she kissed you roughly on the mouth. You kissed back, placing your hands on her hip. Your mouth moved in sync with hers for the longest time, turning you even more. You let out a moan as you felt her hand drift under your dress and move your panties aside.

In a flash, she had plunged two fingers inside of you, feeling how wet you were for her. "This better be because of me," she whispered in a harsh tone in your ear.

"It is," you promised.

Shuri smirked, pulling her fingers free as you let out a soft whine. "Get in the car now," she ordered, yanking the back door open for you.

You made a mental note to thank all of the girls tomorrow. Or maybe the next day because you were starting to doubt that you would even be able to walk tomorrow. As Shuri climbed into the backseat with you, the lust filling the air.

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Question of Trust: Clandestine F*cks [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader] 18+

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection [link] A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (10) Your secret lover Loki is on a date with someone else. This can't end well. Or can it? It all comes down to one question. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Jealousy. Smut. Language. PV Sex. Voyeurism. Posessiveness. Brief cum play. Mild angst. (w/c 2.5k)

“Wanda, will you shut up.” you hissed harshly as she fumbled beside you in the darkness. The two of you were concealed behind a hedge opposite a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant in the East Village, spying on Loki. “I’m sorry I just argh...I think I stepped in dog shit” she grumbled, as you rolled your eyes towards the wide glass windows where he and Megan from operations sat in full view. The waiter poured wine as she traced her fingers over her ample cleavage, leaning forward towards your secret lover who...was leaning forward too. Oh god. “What are they doing, are they kissing?” Wanda said distractedly as she inspected the sole of her boot. It had been five days since you had last so much as touched Loki. Not that you were angry with him exactly, you just didn’t know what to say. Wanda's question made you feel sick.

His grand plan to distract the team from your secret liaisons with an evening entertaining the gorgeous Megan was a little too real. You had barely slept all week. But as Loki had pointed out - he had no obligations to you. None at all. Apart from keeping your secret. The tower was abuzz with rumours of the new couple, and so Wanda had insisted you come with her on a stake-out to settle the team's bets on whether they were sleeping together. There were so many bets. And like a fool, you had agreed. “You know they call her the cock-coordinator” Wanda chuckled, assuming her position by your shoulder, peering over the sharp twigs; “because she makes all the guys ha-” “-that’s a terrible name.” you said sharply, hoping your indifferent tone masked the painful twisting of your stomach. Wanda shrugged, before a few seconds passed in blessed silence. “Oh, look...I think she’s playing with him under the table” she quipped, “do you think they’re fucking? I do.” “Wanda will you shut up. I’m trying to concentrate.” you hissed. Was she playing with him under the table? The signs outside were arranged in such a way it made it hard to tell. This had been the worst idea in the world. Meetings with Loki over the past few days had been brief and public, the sultry invitation in his eyes unanswered as you made your excuses to steal yourself away from his clandestine plans. You wanted him desperately, but the idea that he didn’t want you? Not really? That was too much to bear. Your head was a mess, and you only had yourself to blame. “Do you think Loki’s a good lay?” Wanda pondered thoughtfully, “I think he would be but in a... selfish kind of way. Huge cock though, definitely. I mean look at him” she muttered as you closed your eyes, willing death to take you. “Wanda.” you hissed as she conceded, becoming quiet. A minute passed in silence, the buzz of conversation from the line of restaurants twinkling prettily in the night air making your heart break. You were such an idiot. “What do you think though?” Wanda whispered warily, “...big cock?” “Oh definitely.” you murmured, your eyes roaming over Loki’s earnest smile as his date told a story, “Like a tube of cookie dough.” Your eyes flickered to Wanda’s, both snorting forward at the same time into the bushes in an uncontrolled fit of giggles. “Shhhh” she hushed, “the food’s arriving.”

You watched for the next hour as Loki charmed his way through two courses of dinner. Every time you thought you had been numbed; another seductive tactic was thrust in your face. The way he laughed coyly with his chin tilted forward. The way he licked bruschetta from his fingers, sucking just a second too long on his thumb and hollowing those devastating cheekbones. Megan would have been ready to fuck him by the time they’d finished the first drink. Wanda’s phone buzzed, the light shooting upward in the darkness. “Shit...” she mumbled, “Rogers. I gotta go – are you OK to stay for the verdict? Remember...Wilson odds 3/1 they’re fucking so we gotta be sure. There’s a lot of money riding on this.” You nodded, shooing her away as you watched Megan lean forward to twist Loki’s hair behind his ear. Bitch. “I’ll message you…” you muttered, as Wanda patted your arm before scurrying into the darkness. You released a heavy, wavering sigh that had been brewing. Cold air stung your eyes through the raging heat of jealously. It was now or never, and like Wanda said- you had to be sure. Stealthily, you crept along the hedge to the park entrance, crossing the street and hopping a low wall to the back of the restaurant. You could hear glasses clinking, the kitchens bustling with the noise of the weekend rush as chefs busied themselves. “Good evening, Agent.” You jumped, stumbling against the wall as your head whipped around to see Loki leaning smugly against the shadowed brick. “I would say this was an unexpected surprise, but alas...I fear your training has somewhat deserted you tonight.” His gaze glinted mischievously in the low light, lips curling in a knowing smirk. You straightened, pulling yourself up to your full height. “I uh-just wanted to...check, I mean…” You sighed; the energy expended on maintaining your indifference all week wearing your armour thin. You just wanted to know. “Are you fucking Megan?” Loki eyed you suspiciously, one eyebrow raising in the gloom. “Are you asking? Or is this the query of the Scarlett Witch and her band of gossiping birds with wager slips in hand?” You felt your cheeks heat in the darkness as Loki pushed himself from the wall, ambling the short distance with his hands in his pockets. “Well?” he purred, stopping inches from your gaze lined with his chest. “I don’t think you are, but…” your voice wavered, eyes travelling slowly to meet his, “I guess I wondered if you...planned to.” You grimaced, your gaze falling again to the ground. The pathetic sound of your own words made you cringe as Loki’s brow furrowed. “Do you trust me, Agent?” he murmured, running a finger along your jaw. You shivered at the touch, the need to feel his body pressed tightly to yours threatening to overwhelm you, “Loki I-…”

Loki spun on his heels, striding back inside the restaurant as your mind floundered. “Loki!” you yelled, running to the back door and following him through the hallway by the small kitchen. You caught him just as he crossed the boundary to front-of-house, yanking the back of his shirt, “Loki.” you repeated firmly. In a second he spun to face you, sliding one hand around your waist and the other behind your head in a graceful pincer movement. You gasped before he kissed you hungrily, pressing you against the wooden bar as his tongue slid roughly between your lips. You could feel his hardness through his trousers; thick and ready. The hum of the restaurant continued around you; twenty full tables unbothered by the dramatic display of passion in plain sight. Loki’s hands travelled up your thigh, tracing the bare skin at the edges of your loose skirt as he broke your kiss. “Do you trust me?” he growled, his eyes burning with a pleading ferocity you had never seen before. This was no game. “Yes, Loki. I trust you.” you replied, solemnly.

He stooped to cup your ass under the skirt, fingers melting into your warm flesh. A roll of electricity wafted over your body from your toes to your scalp, the return of his attentions making your skin ignite with ravenous need. Your breaths quickened, hands sliding to wind around his neck as he lifted you atop the bar counter. A waiter placed an order check by your hip, absent-mindedly muttering something in Italian to the barman. They couldn’t see you. Loki pressed his chest to yours, melding his body between your widened thighs. His buckle grazed your pussy, the jolt of tingling sensations making you moan. “They can neither see nor hear us, darling; never fear.” he murmured between needy kisses, rubbing his large palms from your knees to the tops of your thighs. “I don’t care” you keened as his lips ravished your neck; biting, sucking. “I don’t care if everyone sees you fuck me.”

Loki chuckled darkly against your skin, “Yes you do, kitten, but that is a conversation for another time.” Your wandering hands moved to his buckle, fumbling with the fastenings as he hissed beneath your roughness. You were starved with desire for him, the last five days a gnawing wound that needed to be washed clean and cleansed by his fire. An itch only his dick could scratch. “Gods, Y/N I’ve missed you…” he murmured, releasing a groan as long fingers pulled your panties to the side, feeling the slick that lay beneath. “Why must I always miss you?”

His cock mounted effortlessly into your tight channel; pretences forgotten. A long sigh from his throat filled the air as the humming barman laid a tray of drinks by your side. Loki’s hand pressed into the small of your back, sliding you towards him as your legs wound around his hips. His wet kisses were frantic as he adjusted your body on top of his length, raising you from the bar and returning you with a soft thump. “You are the most frustrating-uhh, fickle-minded uuhhhhh-insatiable being I have ever known” he panted in your ear, his fingers wrapping around your spread thighs. You devoured the base of his neck with messy kisses, placing bruising sucks against delicate skin as he threw his head back with a moan of your name. The waiter returned, sliding the tray laden with drinks to his palm and turning to weave between the bustling tables.

“And you are the m-most infuriating-ahhh being in the u-universe L-Loki Laufeyson and I h-hate you sometimes, fuckkk-oh-yesss.” The words came from a place deep inside you, raw truth blossoming in the power of Loki’s magic. Something was different. His palms slid over your hips and down to your ass, pulling you tighter against him with a jolt as he bottomed out. “Only sometimes?” he muttered, a tight groan simmering behind his teeth, “you do like me, pet.” You could feel him smile against your cheek, his dark hair falling in waves across your eyes as you tightened the grip of your legs around his waist. Loki buried his face in your neck, low grunts rising higher as he ground into you, the pleasantries of his sexual repertoire cast aside. From over his shoulder, you saw couples on their phones, friends laughing, an old man dining alone...and Megan. Shit, you’d forgotten about Megan. She sat by the window, poised for her date’s return with her legs crossed, back straight, looking straight towards the doorway by your side. What had he told her? Your lips twitched with a smug smile as you relished her confusion, clenching the walls of your pussy around Loki’s length as he let out another strangled moan.

“Say my name, Loki” you groaned loudly as you felt the swell of pride at his desperation, the sight of Megan’s fruitless display renewing your possessive urges as she re-adjusted her cleavage. “Y/N...Y/N, fuck...uhhhhh...gods Y/N, never forsake me again…” he moaned, as your stomach fluttered. You gripped his biceps, feeling them flex beneath his perfectly fitted shirt as he jammed into you, his cock edging deeper into your willing heat than you thought possible. From this angle, there wasn’t a sliver of daylight between you, the tight gyration of his hips ensuring his manhood never left your sacred cunt for long. A woman was heading for the bathroom, her route taking her on course to collide with your entangled display across the bar. She stopped suddenly, a glazed look in her eyes as she re-directed to a ninety-degree angle, avoiding you completely. Clever, you thought. He’s been holding out on me. Your fingers grasped at Loki’s jaw as his lips parted, looking down at you with hooded eyes. He was panting wildly. It had been too long since he'd worked you beneath his body, and he was possessed. Dark grunts escaped his throat as he scooped one of your thighs to rest over his arm, angling his hips upwards as you let out a cry. “I do not pretend to understand your n-need for secrecy, uhhh, darling.fuck,” he snarled, his approaching orgasm tremoring in his voice; “but our c-clandestine activities will remain so for yess...for as long as you wish...” You leant your elbows back against the wood, hearing the bartender polishing glasses obliviously behind you with a sharp squeak. Loki straightened, drawing his thick tip slowly in and out your entrance. You saw his gaze crawling over the sight of his cock dipping inside you. He bit his lip, teeth tugging primally against skin as he drew it out. He loved that view. Loved watching himself take you like an animal. His eyes flashed like a predator about to feast. Maybe he would...and maybe you would let him. “I have one condition” he panted, watching your eyes narrow as your climax hung in the balance. Your mouth fell open as he slowly bottomed out once more. The sight of him effortlessly fucking you in public with that damn shirt caressing his muscles, your leg thrown wantonly over his forearm, his needy cock on display…his 'date' in full view. You were going to come all over him. He was yours. “Anything, Loki. Anything.” you murmured. And you meant it. His stare intensified, jaw flexing as he searched your eyes for understanding.

“My condition is that we have no secrets from each other...” he growled, pressing himself closer between your legs, hitching your thigh in the crook of his arm as you let out a sharp moan. “Yes?” he said, thrusting his hips gently as he rocked you over the precipice. “Yesss, Loki...no secrets” you whispered, kissing him deeply as your walls clenched. You head swam with his scent, the feeling of completeness as you climaxed, shuddering against his grip. Deep moans flew from your throat, primal relief exploding with your forehead pressed to his shoulder. Your tightened pussy dragged against his thick girth, the low thundering groan of his erupting orgasm shaking you against the wooden bar. Loki's tongue slid between your lips, devouring your messy moans of afterglow before tucking his softening manhood inside his trousers. He ran his hands down your bare calves, gently falling to his knees. With one swift movement he pulled your panties aside again, exposing your glistening pussy with a low sigh of approval. He licked from the base to the top of your slit, gathering your combined arousals on his soft tongue, releasing your clit with a gentle suck. “Mine” he whispered darkly against your wet skin. You wondered if he had intended for you to hear it. He rose to his feet, offering his hand as you slid down from the bar. “You may as well go out the front this time” he said teasingly, enjoying the smile playing on your lips. “I’ll see you soon?” you said, running your hands through the god of mischief's curls as he nodded. “If you'll have me, darling." Your heart leapt, Loki's eyebrows raising as he observed excitement light in your features. "But tonight, I must not be impolite" he murmured, seeing your gaze flicker to Megan re-applying her lipstick. A small roll of jealousy clashed with the heavy warmth of sex hanging in your belly as Loki ran a finger across your jaw. "Rest assured, she will not have access to my entire range of entertainments” he said, his lips curling in a knowing smile. “Now run along and tell the others that my reputation for sexual prowess must sadly be...exaggerated” he winked, brushing his thumb across your lips. “I will find another way to sow the seeds of distraction, this particular experiment has too high a price.” Your eyes ran over him as he re-adjusted his shirt, edging towards the narrow hallway from where Megan would expect him to return. A table of men roared with laughter, the room fizzing as alcohol began to flow freely. A familiar buzz of nerves blossomed in your stomach, feeling the words you had fought against rising like a flash flood. You stood on the edge of a confession that had the power to change everything; I love you, Loki. But it was too soon. It was too much. He wasn't that kind of man. He wasn't a man at all. “No secrets, remember?” he said, shooting you a wink as you pulled open the glass door and slid into the cool night air.

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