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shadowsndaisies · 8 months ago

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athena; the preamble

WC: 3k

synopsis: athena at a glance basically

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: i know I should be working on cnng, but this idea has just fully taken root. the brain rot is real.... please come talk to me about it... please

Having Maverick for a dad is exactly what it sounds like.

He played fast and loose with the rules of the Navy, which made him a highly decorated captain, but at the end of the day, he had two loves in his life, the Navy and his daughter. Despite the risks he took and the chances he played with, you never doubted your dad's love. You did, however, have to learn to speak his language.

That meant early mornings in the hangar, learning how to fix up engines and motors of relics. It meant doing homework on base after school. It meant learning ranks and callsigns as a kid. And so you did. You did it all. You learned poker and swindled more than a few Navy men before you'd even hit puberty. You smiled pretty for every commanding officer your father's managed to piss off. It also meant developing a need for speed.

Having Maverick for a dad meant being on edge every time he got deployed. It meant spending his deployments with Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah and your summers with Aunt Carole and Bradley.

Every deployment that fell during the school year was spent based out of the Kazansky house. You didn't mind too much. Uncle Ice and your dad always had each other's back, a bond forged in loss, that much you knew. Aunt Sarah acted like a mom; she cooked hot meals and taught you how to make some of your favorites. You spent time with their kids and went to school with them, too. It was fun spending time with Ryan and Elizabeth Kazansky. Ryan was about five years younger than you but a ball of energy, and little Lizzie was a planner and was often your partner in crime despite being eight years younger than you.

There were the odd in-betweens when your dad would have someone he trusted enough to watch you. That being said, you'd only ever spent a few deployments with someone not named Bradshaw or Kazansky; the exception was always one woman, Penny Benjamin.

You weren't an idiot.

Having Pete Mitchell for a dad meant wising up quick. Meant quick humor and a reckless streak that you had to work twice as hard to overcorrect and suppress because you both knew he'd never be the one to police you on it. It meant a semi-stable home life but so much love and too many role models. It also meant a fluctuating Penny.

Penny, who met your dad years before you were born. Penny, who you knew your dad loved and who loved your dad, even though they never seemed to get their timing right. Penny, who taught you how to sail, throw a proper punch, and French braid. Who showed you how to open a beer bottle without an opener in several different ways, using a belt buckle, a spoon, and your house keys? Penny, who was.. a mom. As much as you are reluctant to admit it publicly, Penny Benjamin was probably the closest thing you had to a mom because even though Aunt Sarah loved you and cared for you like she did with Elizabeth, she was always Aunt Sarah, never Mom. Even Aunt Carole, who was your godmother, could never truly fill the void of mother even though you know she tried her best to help you with the parts you missed out on. Penny was the only one who came close, at least when she was around she was.

Summers, though, were your favorite. Whether or not your dad was on deployment, you spent every summer in Virginia with the Bradshaws. You had a room that Carole always referred to as "little Miss Mitchell's room" and a best friend who taught you so much more about life.

Bradley.

Bradley, who taught you how to swing a bat and throw a football. Bradley, who gave you your first driving lesson when your dad got deployed before he could. Bradley, who you talked with weekly when you weren't living under the same roof. Bradley, who let you make fun of his name when you needed an easy out, Brad Brad, had been the running joke.

Bradley always had your back; he piggybacked you home when you skinned your knees during your skater girl summer. He took you out of the way to your favorite ice cream place whenever you had cramps and planted himself on the sofa with you to watch Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, and I Dream of Jeanie when you refused to move. Bradley, who ate the things you cooked when you'd test out Aunt Sarah's recipes and forgave you while throwing up when you gave him food poisoning when you were thirteen, who still trusted what you put in front of him even after that (though he had gotten you a meat thermometer and written up a cheat sheet to ensure you knew when it was fully cooked).

And you had his.

When Aunt Carole died, you mourned for months. Navy royalty knocked on your dad's door to share their condolences with the teen for weeks. Bradley had been seventeen at the time, about to start his senior year of high school. He completed that year back in San Diego. He'd had friends and people who cared for him in Virginia, who'd offered their homes for his final year of high school, but when your dad offered, he clung to the familiarity that was Mav. That year, your dad had a few deployments, and all of them were short. Looking back, you wonder if Uncle Ice had pulled strings to ensure that. Either way, when Bradley went to his senior prom, Mav was there. He filmed the awkward getting-ready stage, caught on camera as you helped Bradley tie his tie, and you got a great moment of Mav doing the last inspection before Bradley left to pick up his date.

You spent all your free weekends that spring at every single one of Bradley's baseball games. Aunt Sarah would come to every home game, and little Lizzie and Ryan loved screaming and cheering for Brad's mama. Look at Brad Brad go!

Bradley grieved and cried, and he was so incredibly sad and heartbroken. But he was still Bradley. He was still your best friend. He intimidated any guy who got too close and was the only person outside your father who you could love one second and be planning his murder the next. Bradley was your best friend; he was until he wasn't.

Until papers were pulled and words were exchanged, Bradley stormed out one day and never came back.

You found him; of course you did. He was your best friend. And even though you coaxed him out of his hiding spot, words were said. Phrases hurled at you that targeted the softest of spots that only he knew about. You held together; you had to. You got him at Viper's and left him there. You went to Ice's. You didn't talk to your dad for months, and Bradley never spoke to him again.

He reached out to you during your senior year of high school in an email apologizing for how he lashed out at you. You never responded. A scabbed spot in your heart that used to belong to him, still too raw to touch. He kept emailing, though. Random updates, more apologies, congratulations, and happy birthdays. You read every email, but you never could bring yourself to respond. Then, four years had gone by.

Bradley's bi-weekly email arrived when you were in your second year of university. You read it, reread it, and then read it a third time. Aviation Officer Candidate School. You weren't surprised; you knew Bradley wouldn't abandon his dream. You never thought he would, but being faced with the reality of it weighed heavily. Bradley being selected for AOCS was proof of his dedication. OCS, in general, required sponsors within the Navy and was much more difficult to get into than the Naval Academy; they only took individuals with a bachelor's degree to start with. However, for Bradley to get into AOCS, specifically the aviation program, someone up the ladder had to have helped. The more you sat with it, the harder it became to figure out who. It could have been Viper, who had dealt with an Angry, Confused, and Isolated Bradley for the remainder of his senior year and the summer, probably every summer after that. Or maybe it was Ice, cleaning up the mess your dad had made, just as he always did.

Your dad had cost Bradley four years in the Navy, but this program might help him bridge it, at least to some degree.

For the first time since the day you dropped him at Viper's, you respond.

Congratulations, Bradley, I'm glad you're achieving your dream.

That was it.

You didn't tell your dad. But you heard about it when he found out. Ice, thankfully, had given you a heads-up. You played dumb; you knew better than to admit to the emails. Your dad was strong and stubborn, but you'd seen what his and Bradley's blowout had done to him. The hollowness that followed him, the pain in his eyes at every memento and reminder. The ache in his heart is located between the gaps titled Goose and Carole.

He hadn't told you why he'd pulled Bradley's papers. You'd made (somewhat) peace (begrudgingly) with that when you finally let your dad back into your life nearly two months after the Pulling of the Papers, and only because he almost died in a bird strike and you as his next of kin had been notified upon his hospitalization.

When he heard about AOCS, though, the secret came spilling out. Carole asked me, and she gave me one request. You'd known your dad had a private conversation with Carole Bradshaw on her deathbed. You and Bradley had been asked to stand outside her hospital room while they talked. When you were allowed back in, they both had tears in their eyes. You'd always assumed it had something to do with Goose, and to an extent, you were right. Carole Bradshaw was one of the strongest women you'd ever met, but it seemed even she was afraid of the price you pay to the Navy for the honor of serving your country.

You weren't sure what drove you to it.

It could have been Bradley's transition into AOCS.

The truth your dad had finally shared.

Or because you still felt like you had something to prove.

Maybe even that need for speed that had never been handled properly.

But you enrolled in your university's Navy ROTC program that same week.

The most surprising part of the change was how easily it came. Orders sounded like they did on the bases you grew up on. Your history, lineage, and contacts helped get you started and acted as an excuse for your late decision to join. You found some semblance of peace in ROTC as if the missing parts of the puzzle were starting to become visible.

You weren't sure how you managed to get through ROTC and into your first year as a Naval officer without your dad finding out, but you did. And by then, it was too late for him to do to you what he'd done to Bradley.

Bradley, to his credit, had a mellower response, only because he didn't have your phone number anymore and could only type an email in caps lock to convey his yelling. He did include it on the bottom, though; I wish I'd thought of ROTC. I could've sped the pipeline along more.

You hadn't responded to any emails since his admission into AOCS, and if you watched his college graduation and sent a gift to Ice to pass off to him, that was nobody's business but yours.

Your dad was… displeased.

But he kept calling. He didn't freeze you out, and you didn't have it in you to do it to him again. So you talked, told him how training was, and when he finally asked you why? In such a pained voice, you told him the truth. There was no tangible reason, just that you had to do it, that this was your path. Safe to say, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear.

Becoming an Aviator was difficult. Not only because of the requirements and the toll it takes. Not only because you were a woman. But because you faced accusations of nepotism at every turn. You were, however, your father's daughter, and his lack of movement within the Navy did not diminish his accomplishments. You learned. You learned from the best. From your teachers, from your peers, from your dad, and from the men you considered uncles. And you showed everyone what you were capable of. You were a Naval Aviator within a year of graduating from college and the ROTC program, achieving the rank quicker than almost anyone following the same pipeline. You made a name for yourself using your brain. Where people were quick to assume nepotism, you were quick to show them your dry wit, sharp tongue, and tactical thinking.

That's where the callsign came from. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom and war, daughter of Zeus, and king of the gods. It fit well.

You did two and a half years as a Naval Aviator Officer in training in Norfolk and another two in Japan as a Junior Officer before you got the call.

Top Gun.

Returning to San Diego was… nostalgic. Being on the Miramar base even more so. You faced criticism of nepotism from your peers here as well; never mind that only the top two percent of naval aviators are invited to Top Gun to begin with. But you worked hard and proved your calling had more to do with wisdom and war than whose daughter you were. You came out of it with two friends: a pilot named Brigham Lennox, callsign: Harvard, and his WSO Logan Lee, callsign: Yale. Both of whom were the only two to wise up within the first day and realize you are so much more than your name.

It's also why the three of you were at the top of your class.

Afterward, Yale and Harvard are sent to Oceana, off the East Coast, where you knew Bradley had been based on his emails. And you were kept in state and sent to Lemoore. You preferred that, not that you'd say so. But being in-state meant being able to visit with Ice, even when you knew he wasn't doing so well, and it meant you could continue to avoid Bradley in peace. At Lemoore, you got placed with the VFA-14, the Tophatters, also known as the oldest currently active aircraft squadron in the US Navy. There's a lot of history attached there, a legacy to make proud of, as Ice and Viper would like to remind you when you'd join them for a monthly poker game.

Being stationed with the Tophatters came with two significant perks: Natasha Trace, callsign: Phoenix, and Jake Seresin, callsign: Hangman. Stationed with the VFA-41 (Black Aces) and VFA-151 (Vigilantes) respectively. Despite the fact that the two of them could not stand each other, you formed friendships with them both. In Natasha, you found someone who understood the uphill battle for women in service, but more than that, you found someone who kept it honest, called it like she saw it, and loved you for who you were.

With Jake, it was different. His bravado and charm worked, but not on you. Where other pilots got fed up with his cocky bullshit, you were able to stay leveled and see through. A benefit you shared once after a few beers of being raised by the best of the best. There must have been a sharper edge to your reminisces than you remember because Jake never made a nepo baby joke after that. A casual one here or there, but none at the heart of it, none with genuine malice. Not like he had in the beginning.

Jake allowed you to be. Rough edges and jagged ends. He kept your feet on the ground when you spent most of your day in the skies. You like to think you balanced him out a bit, too. Able to keep him from getting too stuck in the clouds, too sure of himself. You were always happy to knock him down a peg or two; truthfully, sometimes, he needed you to do so.

You found happiness on Commander, Carrier Wing Nine in the Strike Fighter Wing Pacific. You excelled in your squad and gained recognition and honors, ribbons that decorated your lapel. You talked with your dad, mostly about random things, given the confidentiality of both his and your assignments, but you found time. Ice and Sarah checked in, and Viper, too. And every time your feet were on solid ground, they found time for a barbecue or a poker game, or both, usually both.

You still read Bradley's emails. Bi-weekly had turned to monthly, and even then, they didn't come every month, but they did come, always with a reason, just as they had been for the last decade and change. You never could figure out why he kept sending them. You'd thought about replying, now, years after the rage and pain and grief you'd held onto had been let go of, nothing productive ever came from holding on too tight, you'd learned. But Bradley sent the emails, sometimes signing his name as Bradley or Rooster, but on the nostalgic ones, he'd always put Brad Brad, an olive branch, you knew, but you never could get yourself to click send on the drafts you'd write out, dozens of them sitting in the drafts folder as it was.

You'd found your space; it wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

And then you got recalled.

And so did 'Nix.

And Jake.

Then the email came in, and they're calling me back to Top Gun for some detachment. Maybe I could find time to come to Lemoore?

And then your dad hit Mach 10 and was missing in action for over five hours, only to be found in some small-town diner in the middle of nowhere Idaho.

He was sent back to Miramar, too.

And you were left wondering what the fuck was happening now, flying down with Phoenix and Hangman on your wings, and why it seemed to be colliding all the fragments of your world.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

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moirindeclermont · 6 months ago

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@itshappyginger requested on Tumblr a "all Polin first times we didn't see" all about pillow talk and, specifically, Colin being the little spoon. This is one of those time I wish I could draw, because that would be deliciously cute to draw. But, since I can't draw, I hope I can paint a picture with my words instead.

It's after their reconciliation. Both sated, Pen is still on top of Colin, who wants to drag this moment for all eternity, for all he cares. Both are naked, skin against skin, their breath slowly return to normal as they settle. Pen tries to moved but Colin stops her.

"I know we both have at least another round. Stay like this and, when it's time, we can restart again." Pen shivers. The idea of feeling him getting hard inside her is so erotic she barely contains a moan, which makes Colin smile.

"I love getting to know this side of yourself, Pen."

She smiles too. "I didn't know I had this side" she whispers, totally honest with him.

"Then, I love being the one that made you discover this side of you," and she kisses him slowly. They talked briefly like this, their first time, but now it feels like they have all the time in the world.

"So, you don't think I'm too wanton?"

The question arrives unexpected, but as Colin looks at her, he can see that she means it.

"There is no such a thing as too wanton for my taste, Pen. I want you always, in every position, in every room."

They are now both caressing each other, feeling the skin of their back, as they talk. Pen sighs at his answer, almost in relief. "Me too Colin, but before the wedding my mama said my job was to lie down and let you do everything. It made me question a bit, even if it seems stupid to me. I love being like this with you."

Colin cursed a bit - not directly at Portia, for once - but for anger at a society that keeps women so hidden from sex. "It is stupid. I don't want a doll, darling. I want you... And your sounds, and the way you move. Watching you on top of me before was the best experience of my life."

At those words, the image is too much, he starts to become hard inside her and she looks at him in awe. "Let's make love like this," says Colin and she melts in his arms.

They are too tired to do anything beside rocking against each other in their tight embrace. Soft moaning and whining escapes their mouth, as they grind and move their hips together. Pen throws her head back, the sensations too much too handle to stay still. Colin leaves more marks on her bosom, near the nipples, before sucking them in his mouth.

Pen, overstimulated, comes in waves and after the fist one is passed, the second one arrives and the way she clenches her core makes him feral. Colin muster enough energy to push her on the bed, thrusting at a rapid pace while she is still coming and then comes himself.

With wobbly legs he takes the towel they used after the first round to clean themselves. Then, he goes back on the bed and just collapse almost on top of Pen.

They fall asleep minutes after. Pen on her back and Colin using her bosom as a pillow. He wakes up some hours after, noticing his wife is now plastered to his back, hugging him tight from behind. He smiles and sends a small prayer to God, praying to wake up like this for the rest of his life. He does wake up again like this, with Pen exploring his back.

He turns towards her. "Good morning, love" , and Pen is smiling. Yes, this is his life now.

I accept request! Tell me about the first time you want to see and I'll put into words 💓

#polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #polin positivity #polin bridgerton #polin brainrot #polin fanfiction #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton #colin x penelope

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thetxtdevil · 8 months ago

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Hai babes, answer my ask whenever you have motivation!!! Just wanted to know ur thoughts on txt x reader w nipple piercings. Had mine pierced some few months ago and was just wondering on ur take of the boys' reactions! If u don't feel comfortable or have anything to say on the matter pls disregard :) love ur writing , ur doing great, ily

OMG 😳 that’s such a slay, good for you honestly

A different format for this one fyi (nsfw under the line)

---

Yeonjun

I think he’s the most likely to be into them, like he has a bunch of piercings himself probably would consider having his nipples pierced too. Would get you special lingerie that shows them off.

"Babe I got you something" he holds up strings that you could only assume it was a form of lingerie "I don't think I got a good look at your new piercings and I'd thought this would look hot on you." You smile and roll your eyes grabbing the garments you walk into the closet. Boobs out and framed by black lace, you see Yeonjun already half naked on the bed. He turns his head to look at you, you could have sworn there was a bit of drool hanging on his lips.

Soobin

He’s a boob/nipple guy... so he'll like them. I can imagine him being super surprised seeing you with a piercing but then just stares.

You two were making out on his sofa. Things quickly got heated and he stretches your t-shirt off and quickly unclasp your bra. Soobin throws the bra to the side taking a moment to look at you. You always caught him looking at your breasts and he would always blush and deny the act, but this time he just stared. "Wow" Soobin whispers, his big hands massage your mounds still staring at the the shiny metal "you're so hot."

Beomgyu

Probably would use the piercing to his advantage. Would it be weird to say he'd play with them? He'd like to lick them and pull the piercings when doing nipple play.

You two are cuddling on the bed, Gyu spooning you lightly rubbing shapes on your body. His hands drift up your tits and feels something, "Oh, What's this?" With a mischievous grin the man starts flicking your piercings with his thumb. You squirm under his touch crying out by the sensation. Beomgyu pushes you onto your back hovering over and shoving your top up getting a good view of you braless. You see him shiver at the sight of you before he dives his face in your boobs.

Taehyun

He'd find them hot, I can imagine him grouping your boobs just studying how they look and shine with the light.

Terry is observant, so it didn't take him long to notice the bounce of your braless breasts every time you walked by or every time he hugged you, you'd slightly tense up. He knows that you just recently got your nipple pierced and he was determined to see them. One day he begged you to go out for a workout which you complied maybe its best to start getting into the habit. You were sweaty and tired and overall not happy when you see the unbothered man before you. "Let's end it for the day and take a shower, yeah?" you nod trying to get enough energy to get back to your house. You walked into the bathroom, the closing door stopped by Tae. "I was thinking we can take a shower together" he grips your hips closer to his, "I want to see those piercings."

Huening Kai

His cheeks would be on fire 🔥 like Soobin, he'd be surprised, and stare, then get hot...

Changing in-front of the man is always a game of roulette, you never know what his reaction is going to be. He either doesn't notice or at least pretends to not notice, gets flustered, or he's in the mood and takes his chance to drag you into bed. This time it seems that you got a flustered Kai staring at your tits. "Those- those are new.." he gulps on his words. You smirk, undressing yourself and walking towards the man. "You like?" you puff up your chest to have Kai nod, big eyes staring at them, then you grab his hands to hold your breasts "they're still a bit sore but you can touch." Kai instantly moans at the feeling and the fact that your sensitive riles him up to push you into the bed.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt thoughts #soobin smut #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #taehyun smut #hueningkai smut #soobin scenarios #yeonjun scenarios #taehyun scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #hueningkai scenarios

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the-fab-fox · 5 months ago

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Could you possibly do a Drabble with Idia x Reader with the cute pocky game you had going on?

@ Anonymous,

Thank you for the request. Literally no one has been requesting any so I was super excited to get yours. And it's Idia which tickles me. Lol.

I hope you enjoy and sorry about the wait. A lot of stuff came up. (I have gotten a lot more requests since the initial drafting of this. Also, I'll be making a collection of these on AO3 so if you'd like me to gift the fic to you, please drop your AO3 in the notes.)

Original Post

Without further ado—

Idia x f!Reader

[ One-Shot under the cut. ]

Idia was legit not surprised with how the game the Ramshackle Prefect introduced to them all had spread like wildfire throughout the campus.

They were teenagers, after all. Meat suits with raging hormones and maybe a couple handfuls of brain cells shared between the whole of the student body. And several of those brain cells were held in vice-like grips by specific singular students, making the overall pool of available brain cells even smaller for the rest of them.

The Ignihyde Housewarden was just glad that no one with half a brain would ever consider inviting him to play.

As if I'd want to? A game designed for normies who just want an excuse to suck face? No thanks! I'm good. He rolled his eyes. Tch, it's so cringe it hurts.

At least, that's what he continued to tell himself. If he didn't really buy his own words... well, that was his business and no one else's.

The problem wasn't the game itself, he supposed… if he really stopped to think about it. But he didn't want to think about it.

Ugh. Hope some new cringe fad comes out ASAP! This really triggers my rage.

He sighed as he watched his game load bar slowly inch toward completion. Because, of freaking course, the server would be hella saturated today of all days.

Groaning, he CTRL + ALT + DEL’ed out of the game rather than wait for it to load before exiting out.

This thing’s got me not even wanting to play my games. FML! This is the WORST!

He got up and jerkily opened his deskside food cabinet. Pulling out a random noodle cup, he slammed it onto his desk. Luckily, it wasn't hard enough to crush it. Much.

It was still functional, in any case, so whatever.

Smoothing out the cup as well as he could, he opened it and added some hot water from his electric kettle. Setting the lid over it once more, he idly played with the little ingredient packet as he grabbed a spoon from the little plastic drawer set on his desk.

Why can't these idiots think about anything, but making out and shit?

In reality, Idia knew why.

He was one of the idiots, after all. Not that he was going to admit that to anyone. In fact, he tried his very best to ignore it completely.

Admitting that he wanted to make out with someone would mean he'd have to think about the very person he wanted to make out with.

That person?

The one who had set this whole mess into motion.

“Meh,” he muttered, glancing at the little digital numbers at the bottom left hand side of his desktop screen. Meh, meh, meh.

After a few more minutes, Idia couldn't wait any longer. He pulled the top off the noodle cup and tossed it aside, giving it no mind to where it drifted. Ripping open the packet, he poured the ingredients in and used the spoon to stir them. Some of the broth spilled with how aggressively he stirred, which only further fueled his ire.

Damn it. Damn it all to Tartarus.

He began to eat, ignoring the slight crunch to the noodles as well as he could. He had just finished up his impromptu meal, downing both a small energy drink as well as half a bottle of water, when a sound rose in the air that he hadn't expected.

Knocking.

Glaring at his door, he was about to yell at whoever was on the other side to just leave him alone to his misery when he realized that there were only two people who would knock on his door.

The other Ignihyde students would never. If they needed to get ahold of him for any reason, they knew well they would need to contact him via technological means. Ortho-chan would just come right in. None of his peers outside the dorm would come to see him. He had no friends after all. Not really.

Well… maybe…

No. Especially not her. Like yeah, okay. She was like really sweet, and nice, and actually seemed interested in what he had to say when he went full fanboy and otaku mode, but that was just her being nice. Nothing more.

And yet, she was one of the two people who would be on the other side of that door.

The other was Crowley, but considering the fact that he was Crowley, the man would more likely just summon him to his office rather than pay a visit to his dorm.

Which meant it could only be the Ramshackle Prefect.

As if proving him right, another knock came upon the door, followed by the annoyingly cute sound of his crush’s voice.

“Idia? I know you're in there. Can I come in?”

What kind of event did I trigger? Idia sighed heavily. He hated this.

Somewhere along the line, Idia had come to realize that when it came to the otherworlder, he had a very hard—if not impossible—time denying her anything.

He brought his hands up to his face, letting out as quiet and muffled a groan as possible before pulling his hands away once more. Taking a shaky breath, he stood and crossed the space between his desk and the door.

The third year wondered if he should just ignore her. After all, if he didn't answer, she would have to leave at some point right?

“Idia Shroud!”

“Eep!”

“I'm not leaving until you let me in, mister!”

Idia tried and failed not to smile.

He could just picture her. Standing on the other side of the door, hands on her hips, glaring cutely at the door like some romance anime heroine.

For the love of STYX, why was she so freaking cute?

And why was she so determined to see him?

It made no sense.

Except that she likes and cares about you, another voice said. His mind, and the rest of him, silenced the thought as quickly as it came.

His face became a grimace and he decided that now was the time to get this visit over with, so that he could get back to his raging pity party.

Whatever she wanted couldn't take that long, right?

Just rip the bandaid and be done with it.

Spite forced his hand in the end. He unlocked and pulled the door open, his face still a deep scathing frown. The moment his eyes met those deep, warm brown eyes—however—he felt his demeanor and posture go shy.

“Ah, h-hey…” he said by way of greeting, with the smallest smile on his face. Then he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed, and tried to force the grimace once more. He wasn't sure if he managed, but the moment he took in the rest of her, he had to keep himself from laughing.

If he had to hazard a guess, he imagined he looked a lot more like the nauseous emoji rather than a scathing one.

The reason for his sudden urge to laugh was that the Ramshackle Prefect was, no cap, standing with a wide, determined stance with her closed fists on her hips as she looked up at him.

That made him feel off-kilter for a moment. He kept forgetting how short she was compared to him. She could still no doubt kick his ass TKO style, because who couldn't, if he was honest—but she was just so… fun sized and cute.

He longed to hug and cuddle her. He wanted to hold hands with her. Wanted to whisper soft couple things into her hair as he embraced her from behind. He wanted to keep her safe, since she didn't have any magic of her own. And to support her in whatever she wanted to do because, damn, this was a young lady who was going places. He wanted to beg her not to leave if a way was ever found, because who would he talk to then? (Other than Muscle Red, of course. But even then, this was different.)

“There! That's better isn't it? We can definitely talk better this way.”

Idia felt himself start to nod and smile along with her, before shaking his head and frowning.

“What do you want?”

Her brows rose and slowly she began to frown. Then her brows knit together and her stance became even more stern than before.

“You won't talk to me like that, Idia! No, sir. We're friends, remember? Besides, I brought you a gift. Doncha wanna know what it is?”

Idia felt his conviction slip.

A gift? For him? Had he really triggered some kind of event?

He frowned.

If it had been anyone else, he would have thought it was a trap. The problem was, it wasn't anybody else.

It was the girl of his dreams.

“Why?” He heard himself ask. He frowned, but he wasn't sure if it was at the situation itself or himself. “Why would you get me a gift?”

The Prefect sighed, now crossing her arms. Idia called himself several kinds of idiot.

That stance is never a good one in anime and manga.

Now he'd likely ruined everything, and she was going to leave, and he'd be in an even worse funk than before.

“I already told you, Idia. We're friends. Sometimes friends give each other gifts. And I care about you. Gift giving is a great way to support the people you care about.” She then grinned. “Or just chock it up to the fact that I wanna. Okay? Now—” She fell silent and only continued when Idia looked up, into her unfairly gentle and pretty eyes. “Can I please come in?”

Idia said nothing. He just scoffed under his breath and moved aside, ignoring the rush of affection he felt as she quickly moved into his room. That quickly turned to dread as he suddenly realized how much of a pig sty his room truly was.

Shit, shit, shit.

She didn't seem to notice, however. In fact, she didn't even seem to look around. She just turned back to him and the moment he closed the door, she moved in closer and closer.

Was she about to go plot twist villain on him? Well, he supposed there were worse ways to go than being murdered by a ridiculously beautiful girl in a school girl uniform.

“W-What are you—”

She stopped in front of him and rummaged in her book bag before pulling out a rectangular, shiny yellow box. He frowned.

He was a little ashamed to admit it, but he already knew what it was from the sight glimpse.

A box of Pocky.

A box of banana-flavored Pocky.

His favorite.

“What are you—”

She said nothing, only smirking as she opened the box, then the unopened package inside. Pulling one out, she held it up as she held his gaze.

“I'm guessing you've heard about the game?” She asked, though it wasn't really a question. She knew he knew it well. “Wanna play it with me, Idia?”

There was something new there. A sort of hint of something. A variation.

He would never vocalize his guess, but if he wasn't mistaken, it sounded a lot like flirting.

“M-me?”

She groaned and threw up both hands, the Pocky rising with the one that held it.

“You're not as dumb as you like to think, Idia—about people, I mean.”

She held his gaze firmly. He just continued to stare dumbly at the shorter girl. Slowly, it dawned on her that he had absolutely no clue what she was talking about.

“Okaaay… so you don't get it.” She sighed. “Fine. I'll tell you. In a way that even you won't be able to find a single way to deny it.”

Idia just blinked.

“I like you, Idia. A lot. And I want to be more than friends. But you're also really skittish. I only introduced the game in the hopes that I'd be able to play it with you, and the kiss would tell you the rest.”

Idia just stared. And stared some more.

She sighed, moved in closer, and held up the Pocky.

He took it without thinking.

“If me being your girlfriend is something you are on board with, play the game with me…”

Idia didn't think he had ever put anything into his mouth as fast as he did the Pocky.

There it was, just the tip of the flavored part of the cookie stick held between his lips. It was worth it, though. The Prefect smiled so brightly, a light tinge of pink coloring her cheeks.

“So you do like me!”

He sighed. Here it came.

Time for the ridicule to commence in 3, 2, 1—

“I'm glad.”

That's what I thought you'd say, because duh—wait what?

“You're… glad? Why?” It wasn’t easy to talk with a piece of pocky being held by his lips, but through luck or maybe he had a high enough stat, he managed.

She sighed. This time, however, it sounded fond.

“If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you.” She then beamed and Idia felt himself mirroring her without his consent. “But I'll give you a hint.”

She then closed the remaining space between them, took the other end of the Pocky in her mouth, and quickly nibbled through it until she'd reached his end.

Idia was pretty sure he short circuited for a moment. He blinked rapidly until he was finally able to register what was happening.

The Ramshackle Prefect had kissed him. Was kissing him.

Their lips were still touching.

He swallowed the bit of banana Pocky in his mouth and closed his eyes tight. He'd never kissed anyone before, except his mom and his figurines and—though he would take it to his grave—a couple of his character and idol body pillows when he was feeling particularly needy.

Still, he let instinct take over and did his best to match her actions.

Pulling away, he opened his eyes to meet her gaze.

“I knew you liked me back. Thank you for finally telling me.”

Idia blushed. He felt his throat trying to work, but all that came out was something like squealing—but less cute and more strangled.

Apparently, the Ramshackle Prefect had no trouble finding it endearing, if the fond smile on her face was any indication. Then a conspiratorial grin slipped onto her face.

“So what do you think about the game from my world?”

Idia had liked it. He was pretty sure she knew it too. She just wanted to hear him say it.

Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to do that just yet. Instead, he let some of his hair fall forward to obscure his face as he brought his index fingers together, tapping them against each other a few times.

“I don't… um… not really sure.” He cleared his throat, trying to speak up, but mumbling worse instead. “Maybe we should try it again… a few times… just to get a good sample size…”

The smile that radiated off her face in that moment took Idia to a whole other realm. His room no longer felt so gloomy and depressing. It looked brighter somehow.

His attention was immediately snapped back to the short Prefect, who still stood very close. He blushed as he realized how close, before reminding himself that they'd just kissed, which had been a hell of a lot closer. That only caused him to blush more deeply as the realization sunk in.

She had kissed him.

Him!

And he had, technically, kissed back.

His face felt like it was radiating heat.

She giggled and pulled out another Pocky stick, putting the cookie tip in her mouth. She then raised her brows and grinned.

A clear invitation.

It was one of the only invitations Idia had gotten for anything (outside of gaming) that he immediately RSVP’d on.

As they kissed, Idia felt his muscles loosen and his body warm. At some point, long after the cookie was gone, petite arms wrapped around his neck as his hands awkwardly settled upon her waist. He had successfully passed the surprise event and achieved the Best Ending.

Maybe I can convince her we'll need to go through the whole box, just to be absolutely sure I like the game.

He smiled into the kiss at the thought.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x yuu #idia x reader #idia x yuu #f!reader #idia x f!reader #idia pov #twst idia #prompt fill #request fic #the-fab-fox writing

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sadistic-kiss · 4 months ago

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Use Me (Kinktober)

Succubus Reader x VariousJJKMen

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Five.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

Everyone got their shot glasses, filling them up with liquor.

You had crawled to them but Getou flicked his fingers, “You can stand for this one darling.”

You stood with a huff, attitude still very much there and alive. You watch the cups get passed around, but you shake your head, “I can’t drink alcohol, it doesn’t work the same for me.”

“We know.” Sukuna grinned, “Just wait.”

So you waited, with your arms crossed. Some of them tried to talk to you but you gave them the silent treatment. For whatever reason that only made them want to tease you more. Giving you light touches and barely a squeeze.

Choso and Gojo returned about the same time, and that seemed to be what you were waiting for.

“Ah~!” Gojo gasped as if appalled by Choso’s costume, “you picked Viking, why didn’t you pick our team!?”

“Yeaaaah! Viking!” Toji, Sukuna, and Yu cheered, rooting in the air like some rowdy animals, while Nanami, Getou, and Gojo looked disappointed.

Choso shrugged, “This seemed to fit me better.” He spoke through the chaos.

Gojo rolled his eyes, “Whatever loser.”

After the commotion died down, Gojo and Choso were handed their drinks but you still hadn’t received one. You wondered if you were going to just go through the motions.

“Here’s yours…” Toji gestured to Nanami who was grabbing something from the fridge.

When the blonde turned back around he held a cup with a cap. He twisted the blue top off and then set it down in front of you so you could see the white liquid inside.

Your eyes lit up as the smell touched your nose. It smelt like the most delectable treat. Your body moved on its own as you reached for the cup but Getou grabbed your elbow, so you reached for it with the other only for Choso to stop you.

“Not yet pet.”

They all seemed to snicker at your feeble attempt to down your drink.

You let out a little whine, resting your arms back down. They were so much faster than you. When you were this deprived you were as weak as a human. Their movement much too quick, to the point it seems they blink or teleport.

“She’s practically drooling.”

“I know she’s so cute.”

Just wait. Wait until I get enough energy.

You were glaring at your cup, but then you heard chuckling bringing you out of your deep thought. You blinked up to see everyone was staring at you. You didn’t hear a word they said.

Sukuna snorted, “Did you hear us slut?”

Nope .

“Can you repeat… what you said?”

Gojo was the one who repeated the words, “We want you to guess whose cum it is. Get it right and we will let you drink it.”

“Is it one of yours?” you questioned.

“Yup. So you got a one out of seven chance of being right.”

That's all you need, the task will be easy now that you know that they aren't trying to pull a fast one. You lift the cup to get a good smell of it. The aroma made you swallow eagerly. You could see how Getou was eyeing you, ready to snatch the drink from you if you dared to disobey them.

The substance had an overwhelming smell to it, you couldn't quite pin what you were sensing. It was sweet, yet tangy among other things. You furrowed your brows not knowing who the mixture belonged to. You thought this would have been easy for you since you knew what the men taste like. This had to be someone else but they wouldn't lie to you. That wasn't the type of game they liked to play.

“Can I at least taste it?”

The guys looked around contemplating if you should be graced with such a benefit.

Yu was the one to come to your aid, “Just give her a bit.”

“Don't let her drink it she'll down it all.” Sukuna threw open a drawer and dug out a spoon. “Here.” he tossed it across the counter as Choso grabbed it.

“Wait I want to do it!” Gojo came over but Choso shook his head.

“I got it.” he said, making Gojo pout. He dipped the spoon in the cup and then offered it to you.

You slipped the spoon in your mouth humming as the flavour coated your tongue. It was absolutely delicious. As the spoon pulled back you chased after it but Getou grabbed your hair.

“Settle pet.” he chuckled as he released you.

You heard a few of your audience groan and someone whispered they loved how greedy you were.

You ignored all of that as you thought of the many different flavors that you had tried. Licking your lips you looked up with a confident smile, “It’s all of yours.”

They burst into surprised laughter.

Toji whistled, “Damn.”

“She got it.”

“I told you she would, she’s a little cum slut.”

“I knew we shouldn't have given her a taste! That was too easy!”

You felt victorious as everyone held up their cup, ready to commence a toast. The glasses clinked and then you were throwing your drink back like your life depended on it, gulping every last bit down. Your stomach began to burn delightfully with your mark, the ink curling around seductively upon your skin.

“Woah!” Sukuna pointed out angrily, “That is way more than she should have who fed her?!” your tattoo should not have been so drawn out already.

Everyone looked toward Toji.

“I gave her a little bit you should ask him.” The bigger man tried to defend himself by deflecting on Haibara.

“Me?” Yu gasped in shock.

“She was in the bathroom with him and hid her under the sink!”

“I fucking knew it!”

They all began to yell at each other as you made sure you scooped out the last bit of your drink with the forgotten spoon.

The party continued…more people began to fill the house and it got louder. The lights were turned off as colorful ones flickered on.

All the while you were dragged around like an obedient pet. They couldn't wait to introduce you to all their friends. Well, mainly Gojo, Sukuna, and Getou. The others had migrated off as the three treated you like some prize possession that needed to be broadcast to the whole world. Their personal little kitten. They even smacked a pair of cat ears on you. They were having a ball showing you off. Was this their attempt to see how far you would degrade yourself? Or perhaps it was to flaunt their pet in front of a group of people because what kind of normal person would degrade themselves like this?

“This is our pet.” Gojo boasted to a new group of people. Sometimes the people would look at you in shock or even start laughing.

This particular group dressed up as superheroes did both.

“Yo what kind of kinky shit is this?” one of the men chuckled.

You were on your knees with your head leaned against Getou’s leg. He was petting your hair while you zoned out.

“She does anything we want…” Sukuna got down as he reached out his hand. “Shake.” You gave him your hand as everyone began to cheer. “Roll over.” you proceeded to do so and every other trick while your audience clapped. You wondered who had more of a problem within this house. “Good girl.” Sukuna kissed you smack on your lips as he stood up with a shit-eating grin. “See?”

Your lips tingled for more, and you purred as Getou gave you a praise kiss on your forehead. If this was all you had to do for their rewards then this was far too easy.

One of the girls shook their head in bewilderment, “That’s fucking crazy. How much are you paying her?”

“Nothing, she likes it.” Sukuna grabbed your chin, “Don’t you? You like being our pet?”

You knew he was getting off on this ( power-hungry freak ) so you played into that. You were technically allowed to answer questions but you did him one better. You began to lick and nuzzle his hand while purring. Gazing up at him with your best fuck me eyes. You wondered if you should pry at his mind but the last time that happened you failed.

Sukuna bit his lip, releasing a low groan. It would appear this was already doing wonders.

Most people showed disgust but then that was morphed into envy and jealousy. Curiosity even.

Someone stepped forward, “Can I pet her?”

“No.” Gojo snipped rather quickly.

Getou chuckled, “He’s a bit possessive of our kitten, but what can I say we all are. She’s just too precious.”

As the group murmured about you, a more than devious plan came to to you. Why use your power on them when you could use it on the crowd? You shift your eyes to the sea of faces as you tickle their inquisitive minds, feeding them with more ideas. You truly didn't need to push too hard because they were all already on the path of depravity. Their poisonous concoctions made their peanut-sized brains much easier to tamper with. You just needed them to open their mouths to say it.

To sprout this sinful idea and give it life.

And so it began.

The man with glasses cleared his throat, “She wouldn't do everything you guys tell her to do.”

“Yeah…” one of the girls laughed while chewing her lip. They were all feeling hot and bothered by the images you played in their heads. “…like would she…you know.” The girl shrugged looking at everyone else hoping she wasn’t the only one with such dirty thoughts, lucky for her she wasn’t.

Everyone began to laugh as more people joined in and it all snowballed perfectly.

“I bet she wouldn't suck your dick in front of us.”

“I mean did you see the way she was licking his hand?”

“What a slut.”

“She so would.”

“I bet she’s wet now.”

“Yeah getting all this attention, what a whore.”

The provocative comments kept going as the crowd ran with your drop of influence. Sukuna, Gojo, and Getou looked surprised by all of this, but soon their expression turned into realization as they looked at the very person who caused this.

You lean your head and flutter your lashes at them… innocently .

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Six.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

Chef Note: We feast next chapter 🌚🌝

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xnaiel · 1 year ago

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Greetings, everyone. Here is a request from @pardona I received a week ago, I apologize for my tardiness and the quality of my writing if it is not to your liking.

I hope you will enjoy those Kuroo and Bokuto dating Headcanons. ~

Kuroo and you were already acquainted as not only are you both in the same class, but you also happen to be the class president. Although being in different clubs and having different friend groups, you never really interacted with one another. One day however, the both of you ended up being paired together because of your respective duos being absent that day and, quickly enough, you began getting along really well, learning more about every hobbies and interests you share, a thing led to another and now, you both were completely aware of each other. Everything seemed to stop when one of you would enter the room, stares were getting deeper, small touches would get longer and the soft feeling of his fingers against yours would linger on you skin after he gave you your notes back. Suddenly, before you could even realize it, the two of you were now inseparable.

It was only a matter of time before he declared that he was yours and that you would say that you were his back.

Kuroo Boyfriend HCs :

• Whenever no one is looking, Kuroo links your pinkies together as he loves the feeling of your skin on his.

• While Kuroo might try his best to look tough in front of you, Kenma, being his best friend, has to listen to him talk about you all day long, commenting on every little thing you do, calling you his "angel of a boyfriend". (But of course, Kenma has told you that multiple times already. ^^)

• Study dates would be frequent for the two of you. Whether it is at your of Kuroo's house, the library, or even a café, there is nothing that feels more fulfilling than to enjoy your boyfriend's presence, however it may be.

• Kuroo loves to cuddle you, not matter if you are the small or the big spoon, he wraps his limbs around you and when he falls asleep...it is rather difficult to get him to move.

• His kisses are always when you expect it the least where you expect it the least. His favorite thing to do is to kiss you when there are people around you, knowing none of them are looking. He lives for that surprised face and averting gaze.

• After his club activities, both of you always go home together. While you never revealed your relationship to the team, they seem to have guessed that there is something going on between the two of you, especially when their captain starts to give his all when you just happen to pass by the gym or just by the way he looks at you during the rare times you come talk to him about some class related issue. The only people oblivious to your obvious yearning are Lev and Taketora.

You and Bokuto met in class. You were a new student and were seated next to an owl looking individual who looked at you with a big smile, greeting you with energy but being cut short by the teacher. As the bell rang, he made his way towards you asked you multiple questions, which ended up in him suggesting for you to become their team's manager if you had no idea which club to join yet. Since you were formally obliged to join a club and not being particularly interested in doing something active, you decided to partake in his request. The classmate that made you come here was more than happy to see you and made you feel incredibly welcomed and at ease, allowing you to start bonding with the team almost immediately. Bokuto became really attached to you, taking you anywhere he could, wanting to make sure to show you around without leaving out a single detail. You also grew attached to him, and being his opposite made you gravitate towards one another, which led Bokuto to confess profusely his love to you, which you reciprocated.

Bokuto Boyfriend HCs :

• It did not take a long time for the team to figure out what exactly was happening between the two of you as Bokuto wouldn't shut up about how much he loves his boyfriend and how cool he thinks he is. Akashi seems to be the only one who keeps a record of how many times he speaks about you during the day for some reason.

• Bokuto seeks out for you whenever he is sulking, and a compliment from you would be enough to make him want to take over the moon. A kiss ? Now, he would actually be able to steal the moon for you.

• Bokuto and you are quite the...corny couple and unafraid to show affection in front of the team. (More like he shows plenty of affection whenever he can, and you just reciprocate with the best of your abilities, being flustered but the scene he causes.)

• Every time his team wins, you are greeted by a bone crushing and head spinning hug as he lifts you up and turns you around, almost as if unable to mesure his own strength.

• Everything Bokuto does, he does for you. He gets motivated by the thought of you being proud of him and telling him how cool he is. He even tries to study harder in order to show you what he is capable of. (He made very little progress, but to you, it is a lot, and you couldn't be more proud of him for trying his absolute best.)

• Bokuto uses you as his lucky charm before every single one of their matches. A kiss wherever it may be is always enough for him to be sure to grant his team victory. (Although you wouldn't want to kiss him on the lips before a match... He might explode.)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x male reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo x male reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto x male reader #haikyuu headcanons #x male reader #x male y/n #x ftm reader #xnaiel #sfw

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chefkids · 1 year ago

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Spoon Theory

This is arguably the single most important The Bear meta post I will ever make so please bear with me.

The first spoon we see in the entire series is when Carmy takes Sydney's spoon to try her stew. This is right after he cut his hand from not being able to find his sharp knife, and before he has to meet with Natalie to get Mikey's jacket, which was stressing him out. She "gave him a spoon" and a bit of positivity when he needed to calm down and get some energy by knowing at the very least Sydney can cook well.

Needing a spoon is needing help. When he hands over the brigade to Sydney he is waving around spoons the entire episode, when she really needed his help and his "spoons". Later on Sydney is not afraid to just ask him for his help.

With the risotto she gave him a "spoon" that would help the restaurant, that brought in a good review and customers, but he didn't have enough of his own "spoons" to deal with it as he was stressing out over the window that just got shot through and the IRS needing the missing tax returns. Right before trying the risotto Carmy had told Richie he is afraid of something good happening. He is afraid of Sydney and him doing well, because the better it gets the more it will hurt him when something goes wrong. That is why he keeps self sabotaging the restaurant and doubting Sydney.

After Sydney quit, she is still using her spoons for mental energy to make sure Marcus is okay and to try and figure out her next steps career wise. Carmy grabbed a spoon to open the tomato can lid, which he really didn't need because he could've just used the can opener, and then found the money. When he finds the money they both know they would be fine on their own, she could find another job, he could fix up The Beef. But they still need each others emotional spoons to achieve their passions, so he reaches out and she comes back.

In Season 2 she did need his "spoons" to help create the menu and decide on the details for the restaurant, but he barely gave her any because he was still so caught up in his past trauma and the literal and metaphorical forks in his life.

Fixing the table really didn't physically need more than one "spoon"/person. But he needed her there to work through his mental block. With the inspiration food tour, she did it on her own and she didn't physically need him for it, she needed his emotional spoons.

When they are not communicating well with each other and Carmy is trying to reach back and be involved again, he gets as close as he can to her spoon without actually using it.

And now the dark side of spoons.

The originator of spoon theory has lupus and first came up with this theory at a restaurant to explain what it was like living with the condition to a friend. They could've easily said Sydney's mom died of cancer or an accident or anything else. But this is all so intentional, out of all the things it is Lupus. I don't want Sydney to be sick as much as the next person, but Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease that has higher likelihood of developing when you have a family member with it, and can be triggered by environmental factors such as stress. It is an invisible illness and Christine's own handle is butyoudontlooksick, which could really explain Sydney and what she has going on behind her walls that people can't see. She has been a rock to so many people and over exerting herself, but there might come a time soon when Sydney will genuinely need other peoples "spoons", especially Carmy's, because she's all out.

Now that Carmy said he is choosing to give Syd his focus aka his "spoons", will he actually be able to follow through?

Read The Fork Theory next

Read The Knife Theory

#spoon theory #the bear meta #the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #chefs kiss #syd x carmy #platonic and messy #charged and sexy #carmy x sydney #christopher storer #joanna calo

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staytinyville · 1 year ago

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OUTLAW (18)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none.

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). Just know I am reading every single one of your comments and reblogs. And I love them so much. Just to let you know. I might add a special shoutout for all of you who made my day with your comments lol.

As the evening was starting to turn dark, the boys had gone back into their roles of being with one another. You could see how at ease they all felt now that they were all together. The four boys who were staying in the city had always been a bit tense. They were worried about their comrades and thus it created a stale environment full of depression. It was clear they fed off each other’s energies. They needed every single one of them in order to be content.

While they knew they were all together, you had noticed one person missing during dinner. The boys didn’t seem to care enough, at least not until they had all finished and Wooyoung noticed how many plates there were to wash.

The boy was mad, stomping around as he made a bowl for the captain. He was about to scold the man until you spoke up, telling him you would take the meal. The boy grumbled to himself, shoving the food into your hands as he went back to cleaning.

There wasn’t anywhere you could knock so you had just called out that you were going to enter the tent. When you got a response, you moved the tarp to the side and passed through. You knew he wasn’t doing anything, seeing as it was just the main tent where they would gather for meetings.

“I brought you a bowl of soup.” You gestured to the plate. “Wooyoung got mad that you didn't come out.”

Hongjoong had been looking over some papers at a desk, glancing up at you. “He'll live.” He hummed. When you set the plate down in front of him, he gave a nod of his head and moved to begin eating. “Thank you.”

You tried not to be nosey and look over the papers he had, so you opted to look around the table, trying to find other things to occupy yourself with. Hongjoong placed the spoon down into the bowl as he kept his eyes on you.

You look awkward to be standing there next to him. He wondered why it was you hadn’t just walked out after giving him the food; however, he figured you wanted something if you were the one to do the delivery. He decided to make things less suffocating by being the one to start a conversation.

“Are you okay?” His question caught you off guard, looking at him with wide eyes.

You licked your lips as you thought about his question. “At this moment or in the past two weeks?” You asked, looking down.

Sighing, you felt like you knew exactly what it was you wanted to say. You looked up at Hongjoong, meeting his eyes. “I'm relieved.” You breathed out. “That you are all okay and safe for the most part. I wanted to come find you all right away, but the boys told me I had to wait. Time went painstakingly slow. It felt like torture to not know how you all were.”

Hongjoong turned to give you his full attention, one leg lifted over the other as he got comfortable in the chair. “I'm sure you weren't the only one worried.” He told you.

“So you all have said.” You laughed softly. “Thank you.” You suddenly spoke up, looking at him with kind eyes.

“For what?” He frowned, eyebrows pinched together.

“Keeping the others safe.” You smiled. “I know you don't like me much, but I appreciate you.” Hongjoong looked at you like you had grown an extra head.

He had given you no reason to like him. No reason to really even think about him. He hadn’t really spoken to you much, but somehow you appreciate him? He knew that you were different from what the others had said, however now he was just a bit skeptical.

“In fact, after all this time, I think you're an inspiration. What you've done with the boys—how you've kept them together for so long. They speak highly of you.”

Hongjoong hummed as your feelings now made sense. A small smile grew on his face as he thought about his friends. He didn’t realize how much his leadership affected them so much. He knew they spoke about him, they always spoke about each other. But to have them speak about him in such a way that made people see him as an inspiration had him wanting to cry.

After so long, he knew they were much closer than a lot of other gangs. He was glad to have reached that kind of level of friendship. He had tried so hard to keep them all together, it seemed like that paid off. They trusted him so much and he didn’t want to lose it.

Looking over at you, he knew that they were starting to care deeply for you. If he was to ask them to leave you he knew they would, but at the cost of some of their own happiness. He had never seen the boys become so enamored with someone so quickly. Now that he was actually having a conversation with you, he could see why they would be.

“I can't remember a time when we made friends that lasted a long while.” He expressed. “They come and go after finding out what we do. I've tried my best at keeping them together, but sometimes I fail to do that.” He let out a deep sigh, pursing his lips as he had just expressed an insecurity he had.

Your lips slowly pulled up into a smile at his confession. You were excited to get something from him after never speaking more than two words to him. “Everyone has their differences. Even all of you. I'm sure it is tough to do what you do.” You comforted him.

Hongjoong pursed his lips. His jaw clenched as his face suddenly looked at you appalled. Here you were speaking your mind and somehow he confessed something he held deeply to you. It bothered him to know you were able to do that with him. He had hidden so much from others, even his closest friends, but all you had to do was tell him that you understood him and he opened his mouth.

“Why are you like that?” He glared.

“Like what?” You didn’t seem affected by his glare, though you did raise a brow at his change in attitude.

“Like you know what to say to get people on your side.” He clenched his fist. “What more do you want? You already have the others worried. Why speak to me like you understand me? Don't you know? We've killed men. We are criminals. Why associate yourself with people like that?” He stressed.

“I never said I did.” You immediately retorted, face turning stoic. However, he watched as you licked your lips and suddenly looked down.

“When Mingi saved me, I thought it was going to end for me. I had jumped to save that girl but at the cost of my own life.” You had an expression of thoughtfulness as you recalled that day to him. He listened intently to you, knowing that something like that wasn’t a nice experience to relive.

“It made me realize all the regrets I had in life. Instead of feeling scared, I felt so angry with myself for not noticing sooner the life I led wasn't one I would have wanted. I had a mental breakdown after Mingi turned up, but these past few weeks made me realize that the day I found you all was the day I started to see the kind of person I wanted to be.”

“Sure, at first I thought you were all criminals and scumbags, but after getting to know you all things changed. In the eyes of the public, you are criminals and outlaws. But to me, you're the people who saved me and opened my eyes. That's worth more to me than anything.”

He didn’t know your story, just as you didn’t know his. There was a lot that you were in the dark about and Hongjoong wondered why it was that you didn’t ask about it. The boys had explained that you were a very understanding person who trusted her intuition about people. Any sane person would try their hardest to stay away from people like them, but here you were staying with them in their camp.

There would come a day when the boys would want to grow up and find their own ways, but for now Hongjoong wanted to keep them together for as long as possible. If that meant keeping you at arms length, then he was willing to put his group on the line. At least the line that would lead them to you.

“You shouldn't be reckless.” Hongjoong told you. “We won't always be there to save you.”

Your lips pulled over your teeth as you grinned at the man. “Says the outlaw.” You chuckled. You got up to leave the tent, turning back to look at the man. “Besides now we're even from when I didn't tell anyone you were in town all those weeks ago.” You teased.

“You're a menace.” Hongjoong scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “You'll fit right in.” He took a sip of the soup to hide the fact that he had just acknowledged you as part of the group.

A soft look cast over your features as you smiled softly. “Thanks, Captain.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory

#kpop fanfic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #ateez hongjoong #ateez san #ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #fanfiction #hongjoong imagines

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ticklishshenanigansau · 4 months ago

Text

LaughterLand - Chapter 21: Transformation

(story by Mod Secret, art by Mod Kitty)

“Y-You want us to do … WHAT?!” Papyrus stammered nervously, as Dropwart approached with the spoonful of dangerous-looking potion.

“Well, come on now, dearies.” She grinned excitedly, though she was careful not to spill a single drop of the violet liquid. “Which one of you wants a taste? You know how hard I worked to prepare this little mixture. One of you needs to be my official taste-tester!”

"No way!" Papyrus retorted, already tugging at the bonds that held him to the wooden stake. "We helped you make that disgusting thing, you leave us out of the tasting part!"

Dropwart snickered under her breath as she approached Papyrus with the large wooden spoon. "Oh, I don't think I'm giving you much of a choice, my deary!" she said in a teasing tone.

She abruptly shoved the spoonful of violet liquid directly into Papyrus's face. The younger skeleton clamped his jaws down tightly, turning away from the sweet smelling potion.

"Come on now," Dropwart cooed teasingly. "Just a teensy weensy baby taste for little old me?"

She talked to him like a mother who was trying to spoon feed a baby. If Papyrus was able to speak, he would have shouted at her to treat him like the grown skeleton he was. But he didn't dare open his mouth, he didn't want to risk any possibility of her forcing that dangerous potion down his throat.

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

Dropwart continued to patronize him as she danced the spoon around his face, trying to find an opening. Papyrus could only grunt in retaliation and forcibly turn his head away. She wasn't about to give up that easily. Before he could do much of anything else, Dropwart grabbed at his chin, squeezing it tightly in her clammy green hand. She forced him to face her, but still, Papyrus kept his mouth closed.

"Come on, Bonesy. Open wiiiide!"

Her tone was still cheery and playful, despite the forceful way she was holding his face still. Papyrus could feel an ache in his jaw, partially from the pain of her holding him so tight, but also from the pressure he had put on his mouth to remain closed at all costs.

His sockets suddenly shot right open in a comical bug-eyed expression. Something was tickling at his toes again. The hissing sounds coming from just below them was enough to confirm that Dropwart's pet snakes were playing with his feet using their soft feathery tongues. Papyrus groaned and squirmed, the tears were already starting to form in his sockets again. He let the image of the horrific potion be his motivation to keep his jaw shut, but he couldn't twist away from the tickling tongues, and he was starting to become desperate.

Sans, meanwhile, was trapped in a kind of brain fog. The harsh tickle attack on his secret sweet spot had left him so exhausted and out of it, it was hard to register what was even happening. Multiple times he tried to shake his skull back to sanity, just to be left feeling dizzy. Parts of his vision were still blurry and hard to make out. So all he could really concentrate on was his breathing. He took low and steady inhales and exhales, each one bringing a small dose of renewed strength and clarity. Although this was the farthest thing from being an ideal place to slow down and take a breath, for the moment he was no longer being tickled out of his mind, so he took the opportunity to regain at least some of his energy back.

It wasn't until his vision returned to normal that he could finally make out the sound of Papyrus struggling, along with Dropwart's teasing persuasion.

"Come on, deary, just one little swallow and I'll let you go. Don't you want to get down from there?"

Sans weakly looked up to see what was happening with his brother. His expression shifted to one of disbelief when he saw Dropwart trying to force the wooden spoon of potion into Papyrus's mouth. His gaze swiftly cast down to the snakes as he felt one just barely graze against his foot. His poor brother was fighting tooth and nail to not have to swallow that horrible liquid, but from the look of how he was barely holding it together, Sans knew he was rapidly losing strength. Sans knew he had to do something to get her attention away from Papyrus. He could only think of one thing. As much as it terrified him, as badly as he didn't want to go through with it, he would do whatever it took to save Papyrus.

"H-Hey...!"

His voice was soft and ragged from all the intense screaming that had been torn out of him. He reeled back, wincing in pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw that neither of them had noticed him, he must have been too quiet. He took a steady breath in, ready to try again.

"Hey!"

His voice was hoarse, he ended up coughing after speaking up louder, but at least he got their attention. Sans finished coughing and glared daggers at the old witch.

"I'll take it," he said coldly.

"Really?" Dropwart's golden eyes glimmered with excitement as she released Papyrus and pulled the spoon away from his face.

"Sans, no!" Papyrus yelled.

Even the snakes had ceased their attack on his feet to watch their master approach the older skeleton. She gingerly held the large wooden spoon up to Sans’s mouth, a devious grin spread across her face.

“But…. But ONLY if you keep your word,” Sans quickly blurted out, causing Dropwart to momentarily freeze. “You said you’d release whoever was brave enough to taste-test this garbage … right?”

Dropwart’s eyes narrowed, though her toothy grin still held onto its mischievous shape.

“Of course, deary,” she replied coolly. “Just one little taste, and you’ll be on your way!”

From the way she sounded, Sans wasn’t entirely sure if he believed her. But more than anything, he didn’t want Papyrus to be the monster Guinea Pig for whatever that potion was meant to do. Beyond that, even if he was released for a fraction of a second, it would be all the time he needed to attack. He swore to himself right then and there that he would fight through whatever exhaustion his body was facing and do whatever it took to bring this crazy old crone down.

“Fine,” Sans replied bluntly.

But before he could properly prepare himself, he felt Dropwart forcibly shoving the spoon into his mouth. He retaliated with a harsh grunt as the wood clanged against his teeth.

“That’s it, deary … drink every last drop.” Dropwart snickered as she tipped the spoon up to let the liquid travel down the older skeleton’s throat.

Sans obeyed, but nearly gagged immediately as the overwhelming taste engulfed his mouth. It was too sweet for words, the saccharine flavor was almost violent with how overtly saturated it was. Like it was pure liquid sugar, or syrup or sweetener, or a horrible combination of all three. It was enough to churn his nonexistent stomach, but still, he swallowed hard. Feeling every drop of the warm, runny liquid slither down his throat and into his system, it was a truly sickening sensation.

As she finally pulled the empty spoon away, Sans coughed and spat, fighting back the overwhelming urge to gag a second time. As he took in another deep inhalation, gravity abruptly pulled him down to the floor as the ropes around his wrists and ankles suddenly vanished. He fell to the floor with a loud THUD! His bones feeling heavier than stone.

As Sans shakily got to his knees, he saw Dropwart's curly-toed boots step in front of him. He weakly lifted his head to see her looming over him, her piercing golden eyes gleaming with delight.

"Well, deary? How do you like it? Good flavor? Nice consistency? Come on, be brutal."

This was his chance. Though he didn't anticipate just how sore his joints would be from being restrained for so long, he fought against the pain. He readied his knees underneath him, preparing to pounce. His hateful glare burned into the creature who dared to hurt him and his brother.

"Oh, I'll be brutal alright!" he growled deeply.

In a flash, he lunged for Dropwart, ready to tackle her to the ground and land a hearty blow on her protruding green nose. But just as quickly as he took off from the floor, he was aggressively pulled back down by the snakes' tails gripping onto his ankles. He felt the wind burst out of chest as he hit the ground twice. Despite the aching pain surging into his bones, he still gritted his teeth and clawed for Dropwart. Trying in vain to pull himself in her direction, but was held back by the hissing serpents.

"Well now!" Dropwart gave a haughty smile down at the older skeleton still desperately trying to attack her. "I believe I said that I would set you free … but if my precious pets want to play with you still, then who am I to stop them?"

As she unleashed her signature shrieking witch cackle, Sans let out a cry of distress as the snakes forcefully yanked him backwards, once again wrapping him up in their colorful coils.

"Noooo!!" he cried as he fought against them. They tauntingly hissed at him from opposite ends of his skull, threatening him with their feathery tongues. "You…. You evil … vile … wicked old—"

Sans stopped himself as he felt an old familiar tingling sensation deep down in his ribs. He couldn't see what was happening, as the snakes’ slithering bodies had him wrapped up good and tight in a bundle of coils. But he just knew that one of them must have wriggled a tail under his shirt to get after him again.

"Pffftt—Hahahahahaha!! Ahahaha!! Oh nohohohoho!! Noho!! Stahahahap!! Not agahahahain!! Ahahahaha!!"

Sans uselessly kicked and struggled against the snakes as he felt the tickling sensation slowly starting to engulf his ribcage. Dropwart let out an excited giggle upon seeing the laughing skeleton.

"Ohohoho! Goody! I just knew it would work!" She clapped her fingertips together like a giddy child, bouncing on her toes with elation.

"Oh no! Sans!!"

Papyrus pulled against the ropes still securing him to the stake, terrified for his brother's lack of stamina in this situation. He had already been through so much, Papyrus feared for his well-being and sanity as the tickling continued.

"Let him go!!" Papyrus demanded as he tugged. "You said you'd set him free! Tell your pets to stop tickling him, now!!"

Dropwart let out another amused cackle at Papyrus's useless command. She turned to give the younger skeleton a knowing grin.

"Afraid I can't help you there, Bonesy." She smirked. "My pets aren't the ones who are tickling him."

Both skeletons' eyes shot open with a combination of shock and confusion. That's when Sans realized with horror that the tickling sensation was starting to spread closer to his underarms and spine, and it certainly didn't feel like the flicking of a tail going after so much space at once.

With a simple wave of her hand, Dropwart commanded her snakes to release Sans from their clutches. Sure enough, as the skeleton fell back down to the ground with nothing physically touching him, the horrible tickling was still plaguing him.

"Wh-Wh-Whahahahahat?! Hahahahaha!! Wh-What the—AAGH!! Ahahahaha!!! Whahat's going ahahahahan?! Ahahahahaha!!

Sans writhed around on his back, unable to control his laughter as the tingling spread like wildfire up to his underarms and down to the underside of his ribcage. After a moment of frantically clawing at his shirt, Sans noticed a faint glow coming from just underneath as it started to ride up over his spine. Quickly gripping the rim of his shirt, he yanked it up to reveal the entirety of his ribcage was glowing.

He noticed the glow was steadily spreading across his body, it had already consumed his underarms and was now heading for his spine and hips. Everywhere that the glow had consumed was engulfed in the ticklish sensation. It was absolutely unbearable! Even the act of lifting his shirt up, in turn lifted his underarms. Although they were already being tickled Sans couldn't stop himself from curling in on himself after getting a good enough look at the state of his bones.

Papyrus just stood there with his mouth agape once he saw the state of his brother's ribcage. It didn't take long to put together that this mysterious glow was the cause of Sans's ticklish stress. Papyrus could hear Dropwart snickering with delight, immediately he gave her a dangerous glare.

"What did you do to him?!" he harshly scolded, eliciting another amused giggle from the witch.

Then it dawned on the both of them, the strange color of the spreading light. It had matched the phosphorescent violet color of the potion that Sans was forced to swallow. The potion was tickling poor Sans from the inside, and there was nothing he could do to stop it!

"AAAAGH!!! AHAHAHAHA!! PLEAEHEHEASE!! PLEASE NOHOHOHO—AHAHAHAHA!! I-HEEHEEHEE-I CAHAHAAN'T!! I CAHAHAN'T!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! M-MAKE—AAAGGHAHA!! MAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAP!!"

Sans pleaded, hopelessly thrashing on the floor as he watched the violet glow rise up from his sleeves to tickle at his upper arms. His whole body tingled and trembled hopelessly as the tickling sensations got worse and worse with each passing second.

"Heeheehee! There is no stopping it I'm afraid, deary," Dropwart teased as she loomed over the hysterical skeleton. "You'll just have to let it run its course."

Sans looked up at her, tears desperately flooding from the corners of his aching sockets. Laughter pounding out of him as he spasmed on the floor like a fish out of water.

"PLEHEHEHEHEEHEEHEE...!" He trailed off as the glow overtook his forearm and consumed his hips and pelvis. "PLEHEHEHEHEA....PLEHEEHEEHEE...!!"

He didn't have enough air to choke out another plea for mercy. The pupils in his sockets were reduced to tiny pinpricks as frantic desperation washed over his face. He would have given anything to make the tickling stop, and if his expression wasn't making that sentiment clear enough, then he would have outright spat it out if he had the breath to do so. It was all-consuming. Not just his body, but his mind raced horribly with unyielding pleas for mercy.

"Make it stop!" were all his frantic thoughts could scream. "It's too much! Just make it stop!"

He moved his fingers to clench into his hand as a last-ditch effort to feel anything other than ticklishness. But to his horror, his fingers wouldn't move. His skull rolled over to his left side to see what was happening. Nothing was holding him down, and to his dismay he could feel every inch of his body, however hypersensitive it had become. But when he went to close his left hand, it wouldn't move. It laid there lifeless on the wooden floor.

In a panic, he tried his other hand but found the same terrifying result. He couldn't move his fingers, or his hands, he even came to realize that his toes had ceased wiggling. As he looked back up at Dropwart, his neck became stiff and still until he realized he could no longer move his head. His body was completely paralyzed and still being mercilessly tickled beyond his breaking limit. For a moment Sans just laid there, his already hysterical laughter now intermixed with screams of terror and helplessness. It was one thing to be tickled while being restrained and unable to free himself, but being tickled whilst being trapped inside his own body was a manner of hysteria that Sans had never before experienced.

Dropwart stood over him, beaming with delight. She had clearly noticed how he could no longer move and by the look on her face, this had come as no surprise to her.

"Oh, no need to fret, my deary...." She grinned mischievously down at him as he continued to scream. "It'll all be over soon."

Her voice was practically distant as Sans continued breathlessly cachinnating, he could have sworn he could hear it echoing as he felt his mind trying to black out. He was so lost in the madness, that he couldn't even register that his limbs were starting to shrink. Inch by inch his arms, legs, and even his torso were starting to get smaller and shorter.

"SANS!!" Papyrus shrieked when he realized what was happening.

This entire time, Papyrus had been pushing himself past the point of exhaustion to try and break out of the ropes. Using his brother as motivation, he wanted nothing more than to scoop Sans up in his arms and run away from this place as fast as his legs could carry him. While he didn't know what he could do to help him overcome the tickling potion in his system, at least they both would be out of harm's way. But nothing Papyrus tried was getting him out of the restraints, all he could do was just stand there and watch his brother suffer on the floor.

Papyrus rapidly blinked his sockets in utter disbelief as he noticed Sans starting to shrink. He couldn't believe it, surely this must be some kind of a trick, or an aftereffect of being tortured for so long by so many different feats of unfamiliar magic. But it was real. It was happening. Papyrus could tell by every individual reaction of delight coming from Dropwart. Sans was shrinking!

"SANS!!" Papyrus screamed at the top of his nonexistent lungs. "SANS!! WAKE UP!! PLEASE BROTHER, SNAP OUT OF IT!!"

To Sans's relief, he was starting to feel the effects of the potion starting to wear off. At first, it wasn't that noticeable as he was still caught in uncontrollable fits of laughter and screaming. But slowly over a span of minutes he could notice the intensity of the tickling potion starting to decrease. It wasn't slowing down nearly as quickly as Sans needed it to. Every sharp inhale served as a silent plea for the effects to go away faster before choking out another burst of desperate laughter.

But after way too long, the ticklishness finally became bearable, and Sans was able to take in deep, albeit shaky, breaths in between incessant giggling. The skeleton could still feel himself trembling even after the tickling came to a complete stop. He silently prayed that Dropwart would leave him alone long enough to recover at least a little bit, which thankfully she did.

As his breathing returned to a comfortable place, he looked up to see Dropwart's face practically glowing with giddy excitement. He glanced at Papyrus to see an opposite expression of complete horror on his brother's face. But what caused the older skeleton's anxiety to return was when he realized that he still couldn't move. His body was still paralyzed on the floor, and no amount of struggling was making a difference.

"P-Pap...?" Sans fearfully stammered, grateful to at least still be able to speak. "What's going on? Why can't I move?"

At first, Papyrus stood there, still too stunned to speak. But realizing that Dropwart was likely going to blurt out the answer, Papyrus knew it would be better to hear it from him.

"Sans…," he timidly replied. "Y-You're a … doll!"

“I’m a … WHAT?!”

Sans was certain that he didn’t hear Papyrus clearly, it had to be a mistake. It just had too! He attempted to turn his head to look at his arm, but all he could move were his pupils as they strained to look to his left. He could see his arm, but something was clearly off. It looked … softer? It almost looked like it was coated with a gentle layer of fuzz. He still couldn’t move it, and straining his eyes to look the other way yielded the same results. He couldn’t believe it … he was actually a doll!

“A DOLL!!” Dropwart cheered and skipped around the room like a cheerful schoolgirl. The force of her feet landing on the floor scaring the life out of Sans. “I can’t believe it, my very own poppet! No true witch should be without one, you know!”

She picked Sans up by his midsection to hold him with both hands, looking him straight in the eyes. It was the strangest, scariest sensation for Sans to be picked up off the ground with no control of his body to even so much as catch himself. Instinctively, he tried to struggle and fight against her. But his new ragdoll body lay limp, lifeless, and totally helpless to gravity. He could only stare into her face, unable to form an expression of fear, or even to tremble.

“You…. You change him back!” Papyrus yelled boldly. “You turn him back to normal right now!”

The Lilac Snake hissed dangerously at Papyrus as if to try and silence him. But this time, the younger skeleton’s fear was replaced with a defiant anger as he continued to glare at Dropwart demanding to change his brother back.

Dropwart ignored Papyrus’s angry cries as she examined Sans. She gently lifted his arms and admired the stitching across his face, as if he were an actual hand-made doll. Every little detail about her magical handiwork made her beam and giggle with elation. As she switched to just holding him with her left hand, her right hand held up one single finger.

“Now for the true test,” she mused as her finger moved down towards Sans’s midsection.

“W-Wait! Hold on!” Sans stuttered fearfully watching her giant finger move closer to him. “Wait! What are you gonna…?”

He trailed off as he felt the tip of her nail suddenly lifting his shirt up. Before he had a chance to protest further, she wriggled her finger underneath and proceeded to scratch along his new doll ribs.

“AAGH!! Ahahahahahahaha!! Oh-Oh nohohohohoho!! Ahahaha!! Stahahahap!! Stop!! It tihihihihihickles!!”

To his horror, his ticklishness still remained, even while in doll form. In an instant he was thrown right back into the helpless fit of laughter he had been in when he first felt his body become paralyzed. A deathly dread filled his very Soul, he now knew what she was planning to do to him.

“Oh, how utterly PERFECT!” Dropwart practically shrieked in delight. “We’ll brew up another batch for your friend over here, and then you two will be my endless source of ingredients!”

“WHAT?!” Sans screamed, all at once forgetting the ache that was still present in his throat. “NO!! NO YOU CAN’T!!”

Sans didn’t want to believe any of this was happening. This crazy witch turned him into a helpless plush doll and was going to make him and his brother her forever tickle slaves! There was nothing he could do to stop her, this form wasn’t even allowing him to blink! It was worse than being tied down or restrained. At least even in the tightest of bonds Sans could attempt to distract himself with useless struggling. But now, even that luxury was denied him and it was undeniably maddening. Once she repeated the process to drain him of enough laughter to make a new potion for Papyrus, he would suffer the same fate. Sans never felt so doomed in his life.

“LET HIM GO!!” Papyrus growled as he continued to struggle, practically trying to twist his fingers around to claw at the ropes. “Let go of my brother! Y-You horrible old witch!!” He wasn’t as good at coming up with insults as Sans, but Papyrus had finally had enough and was bold enough to at least try.

Again, Dropwart ignored Papyrus and excitedly started gathering empty glass vials from the wooden shelves. Sans let out a series of panicked yelps as he was yanked around in her hand. Realizing that she couldn’t hold him and all seven new glass containers all at once, she passed a good amount of the empty containers to the Magenta Snake.

“Ooh! Bring the paintbrush, deary!” Dropwart excitedly instructed.

The Magenta Snake grabbed the paintbrush and the twisted black wand off of the table with its tail before slithering towards the back of the room. Papyrus couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed it before, but what lay beyond the cauldron and the wooden table in the back of the room was a large red curtain. It covered the rest of the cottage, obstructing it from view. Papyrus watched as the Magenta Snake carried the vials and the wand through the curtain and disappeared behind it.

The snake returned moments later to retrieve the pile of pastel feathers on the floor, clearly with a goal of bringing everything Dropwart had used on the skeletons to the secluded back area of the cottage. As the Snake finished picking up the last of the feathers, it slinked away, returning to the curtain. This time Dropwart followed it, carrying about four empty vials in one hand, and holding onto Sans in the other.

“Hey! Wait! Where are you going?!” Papyrus called after them, not wanting to let Sans out of his sight. “You bring him back here!”

Before following the Magenta Snake behind the curtain, Dropwart turned to give Papyrus a snarky smile.

"Oh, don't worry, deary … this one will keep you company," she said referring to the Lilac Snake, who gave a grumpy-sounding hiss from the corner of the cottage. "And when I come back … you'll never be parted from your brother again."

She let out one final diabolical cackle before closing the curtain and disappearing into the back with Sans. It only took a moment before Papyrus could hear Sans's laughter replacing the silence of the cottage. It was slightly muffled due to the sudden distance between them and the sound coming through the curtain. But Papyrus could still make out Sans's pleas for mercy as well as Dropwart's patronizing tone.

"Oh no, my deary, much too hearty!" Papyrus couldn't tell if she was talking to Sans or the snake. "Remember, we must start off with a light tittering sound! Try flicking your tail around the back of his head!" That answered that question.

Papyrus knew he had to get out of this somehow. Whatever it took, he had to rescue Sans. He strained at his arms and legs, gritting his teeth and pulling against the ropes with everything he had left in him. He stopped abruptly when he heard the harsh hissing sound of the Lilac Snake. Clearly, being left out of the Tickle Party had placed it in a sour mood, and it wasn't about to take its eyes off of Papyrus.

Papyrus knew in an instant that he couldn't mess around as long as the cursed serpent was keeping an eye on him. He wouldn't put it past it to satisfy its own need for hunger by tickling him out of punishment for trying to escape. Papyrus couldn't take that risk. Besides being unbearably unpleasant, another tickle attack would leave him even weaker. Then he'd REALLY be in no condition to help his brother.

"NOO!! NO-AHAHAHAHAHA!! STOP!! STO—AHAHAHAHA!!"

Just as the thought of Sans crossed his mind, Papyrus could hear his brother's helpless wails of laughter and begging. No doubt the experience being even worse for him since he could no longer move. Dropwart must have already collected the softer doses of laughter if she was already making Sans laugh that hard. Papyrus had to think of something fast, he knew there wasn't much time left.

Trying to think like his brother, Papyrus's eyes darted around the room. Looking for something, anything that could possibly help him escape. The only thing that really caught his attention was a lit candle that had been resting just above him on the top of the wooden shelf. He kept thinking if he could just knock it down to his hand, he could use the flame to burn the ropes across his wrist. But there was nothing he could do to knock it over without alerting the Lilac Snake. If only he could use his magic, he would surely be able to defeat it with one of his special attacks.

"OH NO!! PLEASE!! NOHOHOHOHOHO!!"

Another burst of laughter echoed from behind the curtain. The sound of Sans's distressed begging completely interrupted Papyrus's thoughts and he shuddered just thinking what his poor brother was going through.

"Come on … come on! Where was it?" Came Dropwart's voice, obviously searching for something while still mercilessly tickling Sans.

Although Papyrus knew he didn't have much magic to give while being trapped in this world, he knew there had to be something. He managed to pull off one bone construct back when he and Sans were hanging upside down, maybe he could manage to pull it off again. Remembering how sturdy the head of the snake was, the younger skeleton decided it would be best to focus on pulling out a bone construct for the purpose of knocking the candle down. He didn't have much time left, and he didn't know if he had the energy to pull it off. But he had to try … for Sans.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the world around him, which was already proving to be challenging as another anguished howl of laughter tore from Sans, causing him to flinch. As hard as it was, he knew for the moment that he had to completely block his brother out in order to find a spark.

While in the midst of concentrating, Dropwart peeked her head out from the curtain and beckoned for the Lilac Snake to come closer.

"My dear little pet," she cooed, patting it affectionately on the head. "Be a dear and show me where that snorting spot is again, will you?" The serpent hissed happily, following Dropwart back behind the curtain.

Now, thankfully, Papyrus had been left alone, but concentration was still proving to be difficult as Sans's screams of laughter were now intermixed with sharp snorting sounds. Papyrus shook off the noise and focused, surprised to have found one tiny spark almost immediately.

Much like all the others before it, it was small and pathetic. Papyrus knew that it was going to require a lot of mental energy in order to sustain it. But as another bout of sobbing laughter echoed through the curtain, Papyrus was more determined than ever to make it happen. He clenched his teeth, and shut his eyes tightly. He tried to bring the spark to life as fast as possible without letting it slip away. But in his haste, it was almost lost immediately, a clear sign to take his time and be careful. Papyrus tried his best to push the stress of time out of his mind. Tried hard not to think about Sans and the unending torment he was facing, and especially tried not to think about what would happen if he failed. He had no time or mental stamina to fret over anything but his magic.

Little by little he felt it starting to expand. His Soul grew warm with the new presence of magic steadily filling it up. His mind began to ache, the more he manifested the power to keep growing, but if he could just push a little bit more, that would be all he needed. Inhaling deeply, he pulled the last of his mental strength, until at last he felt the spark engulf his Soul. The feeling was warm and pleasant, he hated the idea of letting it go so soon. But his brother needed him, and that was all the motivation he needed.

He snapped his fingers, summoning a single bone construct to form before his eyes. Immediately, he felt the weakening shiver as the magic once again depleted from his Soul, but he ignored it, instead quietly instructing the bone to place itself at the top of the shelf. He could hear Sans starting a new round of screaming as Dropwart hit a particularly bad spot on him. Fearing that she was already going after his grooves, Papyrus worked quickly.

Carefully, he nudged the candlestick closer and closer to the end of the shelf. As it teetered over the edge, Papyrus reached up with his fingertips, ready to catch it. With the gentlest of pushes, the bone construct tipped the candlestick over, sending it tumbling down. It fell much faster than expected. Papyrus's Soul thumped anxiously in his chest as it fell towards his hand. Thankfully, he managed to catch it just in time. Letting out a brief sigh of relief, he got to work.

Sure enough, Dropwart had Sans placed onto his belly on a separate wooden table as she wriggled a feather up his shirt, mercilessly teasing at his sweet spot. The doll laid there in a puddle of his own tears. As surprised as he was that he was still able to cry in doll form, he was grateful to be resting on his chin so he wouldn't accidentally drown in them. Dropwart gleefully collected another vial of "Hysterical Laughter" and pulled the feather out, giving Sans a brief moment to catch his breath.

"So, deary, you ready for the grand finale?" Dropwart teased as she twirled the feather between her fingertips. "Just one more to go and we have our next batch"

"Nohohohoho...!!" Sans miserably sobbed in distress, adding more tears to the puddle. "Pleeheease!! Please no mohohore!! I can't take anymohohohore!!"

Dropwart chuckled in amusement before lifting the back of Sans's shirt once again. "You know, deary, you really should be using this time for breathing instead of crying—"

"HEY!!" Papyrus's sharp yell from the entrance of the curtain froze everyone in startlement. He stood there glaring angrily at the witch and her two snakes, the single bone construct gripped tightly in his fist. "Back away from my brother!!"

Papyrus threw the construct hard, aiming hopefully for Dropwart, but instead smacking the Magenta Snake on the nose. The serpent reeled back in pain, before abruptly lunging for the skeleton in anger. Papyrus fought hard, grabbing vials off the back shelves and shattering them against the snakes' heads. But before he had a chance to grab for either Sans or Dropwart, he was tripped by their long tails. This time they bound him up so tightly, he feared that his bones would crack. Dropwart angrily approached the younger skeleton, waving a long pointed fingernail in his face.

"Now is THAT any way to behave?" She seemed genuinely frustrated with him, but her tone and behavior still reflected that of a mother about to scold and punish a child. "How did you even get out of that?"

At first Papyrus refused to answer, but groaned with pain once he felt the snakes starting to squeeze the life out of him.

"Well?!" Dropwart practically roared in his face.

"The … candlestick...!" Papyrus strained. "By … the way … part … of your shelf … is now on fire!"

Dropwart quickly opened the curtain, sure enough, the wooden shelf that was standing next to the stakes in the ground were now steadily being engulfed by flames. She let out a high-pitched shriek of rage, stomping down hard on of the pieces of her shattered vials, destroying them even further. She angrily pointed a finger at Papyrus's face.

"You are going to CLEAN UP this mess, Mister!" she growled, all sense of childlike giddiness and fun completely gone away. "And then I'm gonna turn you into a doll, then you are going to replace every single form of laughter that I had on that shelf for the next year! Do you hear—"

There was a knock at the door. Everyone inside the cottage froze before slowly turning to stare at the front entrance. The knock happened again, this time louder than before. Nobody quite knew what to do, even if Dropwart was accustomed to visitors, it's not like this was the best time. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, there was a loud bang as the door exploded off of its hinges.

The once clean entryway to the cottage was replaced with a gaping hole in the wall. As Papyrus looked at the faces of the perpetrators, his Soul froze, his nonexistent stomach became ill with terror. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be! But … it was.

The Cheshire Cat slinked his big red body into the cottage. Followed by the lumbering Tickle Monster, who was clearly the one responsible for the door's destruction. As his eyes cast down to the floor, Papyrus could see the shadows of two eerily familiar floating children.

The Cat looked at Papyrus, looked at the Sans doll on the table, and then up to Dropwart with that old familiar devilish grin spread across his face.

"A thousand pardons for the intrusion, Madame," he said politely. "But I do believe you have something of ours."

#Tickletober #Tickletober2024 #Undertale #LaughterLand Story #Sans #Papyrus

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veinsfullofstars · 8 months ago

Note

for your childhood friends au, do the kids have any favorite foods?

Ooooh, okay okay, so this is something I’ve actually given a fair bit of thought to (maybe too much thought given how long this thing got, haha). I love little details like this in character writing - it makes them feel so much more alive and well-rounded, y'know? The kiddos have preferences as varied as their personalities, and I’m just itching to get into it, so… let’s get into it! (Also, just to be clear, I did pull some of my food headcanons for MK and DDD specifically from source material and the wiki, but most of this kinda just comes right off the dome.)

When it comes to food, Para Dee is probably the most milquetoast of the bunch (though that’s hardly a bad thing). Neither a voracious eater like Dedede nor an avoidant one like Meta, he enjoys food about as much as the average Waddle Dee, more than fine with his three square meals a day (maybe a snack if he’s good). His tastes primarily lean towards savory or bitter flavors, anything from a warm bowl of stew to a nice crisp salad depending on his mood (meaning that, of the four of them, he’s the most likely to eat his veggies... and enjoy them). He’s not the biggest fan of sweets (probably due to that fact that his father is a baker and routinely saturates their home with the heavy scents of vanilla and mixed fruit), but he does have a soft spot floral teas and hot chocolate, especially during the colder seasons. He doesn’t mind sour flavors in small amounts (meaning if someone gets pickles with their meal, you know they’re going onto Para’s plate), but spicy foods? Forget about it. His poor little stomach has no tolerance for spice, to the point where even a little too much pepper has him breaking out in a sweat (something Bow teases him about mercilessly).

If you asked him what his absolute favorite food is, he’d have a hard time choosing... but he'd probably say his father’s caramelized onion soup, a much-beloved dish at their dinner table and a favorite at every community potluck. It’s never quite the same when Para makes it (many years into the future with a family of his own), but it still sparks warm memories of holidays and togetherness with each cheese-laden spoonful.

Then, on the opposite side of the spectrum, we have Bow Dee, our tiny terror with a metabolism and appetite to rival those of her bigger buddies. If left alone and unoccupied for too long, she’s been known to sneak into locked pantries or climb high, off-limits shelves looking for any snacks she can get her grubby little mitts on (a habit she probably learned from watching Dedede). That said, she can be rather picky about which foods she’ll scarf down, especially in her youth when she would literally pick through her meals for the bits she liked and ignore the rest (much to her mothers’ chagrin).

If asked about her favorites, she’d say she likes protein-packed foods the most (omelets, jerky, trail mix, whatever will fuel those boundless energy reserves of hers in the saltiest, most flavorful manner possible) but refuses to touch veggies, pickles, and bitter flavors in general (at least in her childhood, growing a little more adventurous about food during their time overstars). She likes sweets as much as the average high-energy kid, partial to citrus fruits and sour candies especially (she likes how it stings a bit when you eat it, almost like it's fighting back). And, beyond all that, Bow loves spicy foods. Full stop. If it ain’t spicy - or spicy enough - she’ll find a way to make it so. Chili flakes, hot sauce, whole peppers, whatever she has on hand - it’s going in there, and Nova help anyone who tries to stop her. A bit ironic given her natural affinity for Water, though maybe that’s what gives her such a high tolerance for capsaicin. Or maybe she’s just that badass (as she likes to brag to her buddies, watching them steam out the ears from a single jalapeño while she’s already chomped down seven). And before you ask, yes, this has landed her in village clinic on more than one occasion. High tolerance or no, she definitely does not have Dedede’s cast-iron stomach… or Meta’s self-restraint. (We don’t talk about the Ghost Pepper Fiasco.)

Speaking of picky eaters, Meta has a… complicated relationship with food. He’s never had much of an appetite, often going (unsettlingly long) stretches of time without feeling the need to eat, only doing so if someone reminds him to (or if he gets too woozy, whichever comes first). He does need to eat, of course… just not nearly as often as everyone else does, it would seem (a byproduct of his peculiar biology, perhaps?). It’s an excuse he’s used often to get away with skipping meals, sometimes substituting in lighter foods like breakfast bars or Energy Drinks to keep his strength up (though this is hardly a long-term solution). He also finds certain textures and tastes difficult to deal with, even turning down entire meals if just one bite feels off. It makes eating with company - already an awkward experience thanks to his introversion - that much more uncomfortable, sitting there with a full plate while everyone else chews and chatters around him, wishing he could disappear as swiftly as his hunger (a habit that still crops up even in adulthood, though he has learned to push through it for the sake of politeness). Honestly, he could write a whole dissertation on how the act of consumption is a burden upon the living and no one should be subjected to it… and then he remembers chocolate exists and takes it all back for a while.

That’s really the one exception to his food trepidation: sweets. Perhaps it comes from living in Dream Land where sugary foods are so plentiful, the forests rich with apples and berries, the scent of pies and pastries wafting from windowsills, even the lands themselves named after foods of all sorts. Or perhaps it stems from his earliest memories, a helping hand and a bar of something indescribably sweet and rich, the first he’d ever tasted… Whatever the case, it’s stuck with him, a livelong love of sweets and sweet-adjacent foods, one that narrows, refines, and changes over time into preferences for chocolate, coffee, and other foods with light but flavorful consistencies. Not that this stops his friends (and later his crewmates) from hounding him into eating more nutritious meals once in a while, too. It's frustrating, but he knows they mean well, and he gets better about listening to their advice with time.

And finally, whipping to the other side of the scale once more, it’s Dedede, the penguin equivalent of a vacuum, willing to eat literally anything you put in front of him (including things you probably should not eat). He wouldn’t say he has many strong preferences - all food is good food in his eyes - though he does appreciate a good bone-in steak or similarly hearty dishes like seafood or pasta, and he could never pass up a nice rich dessert (especially cakes).

More than the taste, though, it’s really the act of eating - a pastime even more beloved than sparring or sleeping - that brings Dedede comfort, whether it’s through cozy communal meals with neighbors, the thrill of food-based competitions with friends (ones that will later inspire Dream Land’s famous Gourmet Races), or just to deal with the boredom (and loneliness) when he’s stuck on his own. It’s possible he gets this behavior from his mama, a little on the heavier side herself and known for her own cast-iron constitution back in her wrestling days (not to mention prone to spoiling her “darlin’ baby bird” and his friends with extra treats all the time). Meanwhile, his papa - a stickler for decency and discipline - is constantly reminding his son to slow down during meal times, wondering if he’s even tasting the food he’s shoving down his gullet (a blunt but well-intentioned criticism given the many, many tummy troubles Dedede suffers in his younger days). He never manages to fully tame his massive appetite (certainly not helped by the more decadent lifestyle he later adopts as a king), but he does at least refine it over time, learning from Para of all people about the joys of savoring meals rather than always inhaling them outright.

Phew, alright, I think that’s about it. Thanks for the question! Hopefully I didn't go too in-depth for such a simple one - I was having fun with it and might've gotten carried away again, haha. Well, at the very least, it'll give you guys some nuggets to chew on in the meantime (pun super not intended).

Sketches started 06/25/24, finished 06/27/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

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friendlyneighorhoodchaosdemon · 2 years ago

Text

Catharsis | Adrian Chase

this fic is race/ hair type/ body type neutral; why does that matter? If you feel I’ve overlooked something in regard to this, no matter how “small”, please let me know!

@stealsteels threatened to BEAT ME UP (real) if I didn't post this so I'm doing it.

(…in all seriousness, thank you for all of your encouragement, it truly means the world ♡)

word count | 5.1k (woof)

warnings/ notes | 18+, fluff/ smut; clit rubbing/ fingering, spanking, vibrators, kink discovery/ exploration, trusting and communicating with your partner (hot), service top Adrian, masochistic reader/ sadistic Adrian if you squint. I don't write piv :)

as noted, this contains spanking. It is of course fully consensual, something reader explicitly asks for and (most importantly) NOT a punishment, but I realize it still isn’t everyone's thing, so please be mindful.

also this is incredibly self indulgent and tbh maybe a little out of character, and turned out a lot fluffier and domestic that I intended.

ao3

minors/ ageless blogs please respect my wishes and do not interact with my work/ blog. I will block you :)

You hear him before you see him. A double shift at Fennel Fields followed by hours of shooting a bunch of appliances in the woods with Chris and he still careens into your apartment with all the intensity and finesse of a hurricane. The endless amount of energy he seemed to have was sometimes baffling, and while it was usually fun to have your own personal Energizer bunny around (especially in bed), sometimes you really envied it.

You especially envy it on days like today when you felt like you could barely drag yourself through a comparatively low stakes and low effort day.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he toes his shoes off (a task that takes significantly longer than it should because he refuses to untie his laces, insisting that it’s faster even though it clearly isn’t) and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he shoots you his signature smile and you instantly feel that warmth you only seem to feel around him.

Shoes successfully removed, he ambles over to where you stand in front of the stove, fanning yourself as you lower the heat of the burner. Strong arms instinctively find their way around your waist and he nuzzles into your side, dropping tiny kisses to your cheek. Said kisses are, of course, mostly a means of distraction so that he can reach around you to grab the spoon you'd been stirring with and stick the entire thing in his mouth, but it’s still cute enough to earn him a few kisses in return.

You return to stirring (with a new spoon), humming your replies as he launches into his recap of the day’s events. The recaps are rarely linear (sometimes they're not even coherent), so by now you’re used to the way he flip flops between how crazy the recoil from Chris' Desert Eagle was (“I mean yeah okay, I shot it without his permission, but holy shit babe that thing is crazy! Maybe I should get one. I mean when you think about it it’s actually kind of weird that we don’t have matching guns. Do you think he would think that was weird? If I got the same gun as him?”), to how he’d broken a guy's kneecaps after he'd caught him pushing his girlfriend into a wall in a dark alley, to how some other guy had actually proposed at Fennel Fields (“but don’t worry babe, when I propose it’ll be somewhere way nicer. Like at least Olive Garden or better.”)

The last bit earns him an eye roll and a nudge to the ribs, but you still can’t help the grin that pulls at your lips.

With dinner done, he finally disentangles himself from you to grab the plates and silverware and plops down in front of the tv. Tonight you’re finishing up the latest season of Barry (a show he finds hilarious, more for the gore than the actual comedy), but the second you take your seat next to him his arms immediately find their way around your middle.

“You know you can’t eat if you’re holding me, right?” you question, arching an eyebrow at him.

Undeterred, he pulls you even tighter, insisting that he “totally can though!”

“I’ve mastered the art. See, look,” He demonstrates said “mastery” by pulling you into his chest and bringing his plate around so that it sits on his open palm in front of you. He grins down at you, hopeful you’ll just ignore the high likelihood of pasta sauce spilling down your front with one wrong move. You pat his cheek and shake your head no, moving to separate your bodies. He pouts, truly pouts at you and once again find yourself unable to hide your smile.

“Okay okay, what about if you lay down on my chest and I put my plate on your back?”

“Then how would I eat?”

He ponders this for a second until you see another lightbulb go off.

“Okay, what about you sit in my lap and hold your plate and I-”

“I swear, if you suggest putting your plate on my head...”

“You didn’t let me finish!”

Another skeptical look before you sigh and motion for him to finish.

“...But yes I was going to say that.”

The way he seems to so desperately want this to work is perhaps a little annoying, but mostly very cute and endearing. Another eye roll makes it clear that his request is out of the question, and he’ll, for the time being, have to settle for eating like a normal person.

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see a guy's brains splatter as he gets shot in the head point blank. Despite the fact that you know about Adrian’s propensity for violence, it still gets to you and you wince. He pulls you tightly into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you settle into his touch, muttering your thanks into his sweatshirt and pressing a grateful peck to his chin. You sigh contentedly and press your face into his side and your eyes drift closed as you inhale his scent.

A bark of laughter jolts you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but sure enough when you look up the credits are rolling. You yawn and stretch, craning your neck to look up at him and he seems to immediately sense your stare. He smiles that smile, the one that’s sweet like his normal one but also not, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s thinking about something not so sweet, and the proof of what he exactly he's thinking is now pressing up against you. You turn to face him fully, taking in his lopsided smile and the slight splotchy blush creeping over his neck and plant a small teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Obviously this isn’t enough for him, and he leans over to gently grab the back of your neck and pulls you to him. The kiss is… kind of a lot, to be honest, but most things with Adrian are. Overeager as always he wastes no time licking along the seam of your mouth, asking for entry. You don't oblige him, not yet, opting to tease him instead as you nip his bottom lip.

You hug him closer, feeling the muscles in his back flex under your touch as he tilts your head to the side to suck at the skin of your neck. You move to straddle him but he's already getting impatient and makes a frustrated sound as he grips your thighs and pulls you the rest of the way into his lap. With you seated fully on top of him, he moves one hand to your hip to hold you solidly in place while the other snakes up under your shirt. Adrian is rarely smooth and tonight is no exception. His hands move over you as if he's unsure where to go or where to stop, touching you like it's the first time. They ghost over your stomach and up between your breasts before finally settling on your ass in a nice firm hold.

He finally frees your neck, laving sloppy kisses over your tender skin before pulling away completely. The momentary loss of contact is enough for you to come back to your senses and you push lightly against his chest.

“Hi.” Hi? You scoff at yourself. Great start.

You have no idea why you’re feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he's looking at you like that.

The way he noticeably focuses when you have something to say, absorbing your every word is endearing but sometimes it also feels so intense. Especially now, when he’s sitting here, half hard underneath you, eyes growing wide and curious under his large frames.

You gather yourself and clear your throat.

“I uh, I actually wanted to talk about something. To ask you something, actually. I mean, we obviously don’t have to do it tonight, or do anything tonight. I mean I know you’ve had a really long day so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it tonight, or at all even, if you don't want to. I don’t even know if it’s something you’d be interested in so, no pressure, obviously.”

You’re way too aware of the fact that you’re rambling, which is typically more of an Adrian thing than a you thing, but despite (or maybe because of) your awareness, you can’t seem to stop. The words just keep tumbling out, and now you’re getting flustered and a little bit annoyed with yourself, in large part because it's Adrian for Christ's sake. He's never judged you for your desires and you know it's not in his nature. Even now he just sits there, ignoring his own arousal, patiently waiting for you to get the words out, tracing comforting (albeit distracting) shapes against the tops of your thighs. In spite of all this you still struggle with simply just saying what you want– what you need. You take another breath.

"I want…"

You had what felt like the most supportive partner in the world, so why did this feel so fucking hard?

He nods, squeezing your sides, encouraging you to continue. “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I'll give it to you.”

"I, uh, I want you to spank me." You hold your breath, gauging his reaction carefully.

He immediately perks up at this and just like that, you’re at ease again. Not even a hint of the hesitation or confusion (or even worse, judgment or disgust) you’d dealt with the few times you’d brought it up with previous partners. Not even the well meaning (but kind of annoying) "I don't want to hurt you" you'd come to expect. Then again, this is Adrian, your Adrian, and now you’re wondering why you were even worried in the first place.

Then again, it wasn't like this was exactly a shocking revelation. Adrian already knew you liked some pain and he’d been more than happy to give you the occasional playful spank before, in and out of the bedroom. Even though what you're asking for now was much different, his reaction is a huge relief.

For his part, he sits there, fucking beaming at you. His eyes drift to your lips again, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans in to nip at you this time. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or move back down to your neck. He goes with the former, pulling you into a searing kiss. You don’t consider yourself the type to get easily flustered, but fuck if he isn’t literally taking your breath away right now. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, payback for earlier, and you gasp. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck again, squeezing just the tiniest bit. You know he's barely using any of his strength and that knowledge makes you shudder.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

You laugh, “I um…” To be honest, you kind of hadn’t really put much thought into logistics and the kiss wasn't making it any easier to think.

You don’t have to flounder for too long though, because now that you’ve put the idea into his head, he’s running with it.

“Want me to bend you over the couch?”

Another thing most people don’t know about Adrian, and you’re thankful for this, is how… focused he can be. Especially when properly motivated.

“Or I could put you over my lap. Get you nice and relaxed and just… help get all the tension out. Would you like that? Hm?” Hia hands have drifted back to your ass and he pinches it now to emphasize his point, making you yelp.

You can tell how excited he’s getting both by the way he continues to ramble and by the way he’s started to absentmindedly rut up against you. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it because he’s still talking, seemingly completely unaware.

“Maybe we should get a paddle. I’d love to see your ass jiggle when I hit it with a paddle. Fuck, do you have one? Should we get one right now? Or a riding crop. Or- what are those things with all the tassels?”

“Adrian, do you really want to buy a flogger right now? Or do you want to take me to bed?"

“Right, right.” Without warning, he stands and you do your best to cling to him as he makes his way to your bedroom. From this position it’s harder to grind against him, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You press your lips against the long column of his throat, moving up from his Adam’s apple to kiss behind his ear. You move back down and up again, repeating the action on the other side. He groans, deep and guttural and filthy, and you think it’s the loveliest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Stopstopstop, you’re distracting me!” He huffs, cutely, like he really has the audacity to be annoyed right now.

You grin into his neck, unable to stop yourself from softly nibbling his ear.

He places you down on the bed, crawling over you to kiss down your neck and you arch into him, hands sliding down his chest, toned muscles apparent despite the thick material of his sweatshirt, before reaching his waistband. You move to tug them down, desperate to feel him in your hands but he quickly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head. He pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now.

You try in vain to tug your wrists free, whining for him to let you go so you can touch him, but the look he fixes you with is enough to shut you up. Slowly, slowly he trails his free hand down your chest and slips it into your shorts, rubbing you over your panties.

You moan, clamping your thighs around his hand and grinding yourself into his touch, growing more and more desperate by the second. When he finally he relents and releases your hands you're panting, but you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands in his curls as he returns to your neck, kisses turning to bites.

He rucks your shirt all the way up and you lift so he can finish tugging it over your arms. You shiver, fully exposed to him now and he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, alternating between gentle bites and sucks while circling the other with his thumb and you sigh dreamily, pushing up into his touch.

Your hand drifts back to the nape of his neck, absently dragging your nails up and down the back of his scalp, dark curls running through your fingers and he groans against your skin. You move for his pants again but he bites your nipple that much harder; a clear warning.

He releases your nipple and you think he's switching to the other one but he instead fixes you with another stern look. His voice is lower this time when he speaks.

“Are you gonna behave, or do I need to tie you up?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you, or the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

As enticing as the offer is, you’re starting to get antsy. You nod your head and mutter your assent and he smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

The look he gives you this time is much softer but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves is sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to him.

Heat rushes up your neck to your cheeks, but you make yourself hold his gaze. His pupils are almost completely blown black now, cheeks ruddy and lips set in a firm line.

"I care about making you feel good.” The sincerity in his voice floods you with warmth.

“Are you gonna let me?”

You whimper, wishing he’d just go back to kissing you, but you know the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Yes, yes, please Adrian just- please”, you pant, stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you again, to do something, but he doesn't relent. He just holds your gaze while you pout and squirm under him.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

You peer up at him, uncertain of what he means. “I told you, I want you-”

“No, tell me exactly what you want. Be specific. Do you… do you want me to punish you?” His voice quiets a bit at the end.

“No! No, I don’t. I don’t want it to be a punishment. I-I don’t know. I just… I do want it to hurt but... I more just want to not think, just for a while. Sorry, that’s not what you asked but-”

“No, no that’s good. That’s good.”

He finally lets go of your wrists and kneads the muscles in your shoulders. The warmth and pressure from his hands soothes your nerves and you sigh and smile up at him.

“Alright, get over my lap then.”

You scramble to obey, already dizzy with anticipation. You feel giddy with it, and despite your nerves you couldn't deny how badly you wanted this– wanted to feel his hands on you, wanted him to make you feel release only the way he could.

You splay yourself over his spread legs, head resting on the pillow you’d grabbed. Now that you’re unable to see what he’s doing, your mind starts to race. Your pulse quickens, and you start to get that familiar floaty feeling you get whenever he takes control and you get to let go.

He puts one hand on the small of your back and with the other he finally, mercifully, tugs at your waistband. You can feel just how hard he's gotten now as he presses into your hip, but he doesn’t move. Adrian isn't much for teasing but he makes no move to touch you, so you wiggle your hips in the hope that it’ll get him to do… something. He presses firmly on your lower back and you huff, but still yourself anyway. He slowly smooths over the muscles in your lower back, pressing deeper and deeper until you relax into his touch.

He moves lower, gripping the meat of your ass, kneading it softly, and you’re not sure if the gentle touches are genuine or if he’s trying to get you to let your guard down before he starts.

He unceremoniously spreads your legs, dipping his hand between your thighs before ghosting his fingers over your lips. He moves to circle your clit over your underwear and you moan into the pillow, bucking your hips back into his hand, searching for more of whatever he’s willing to give you.

You should’ve known better again, because as soon as you do, his hand comes down squarely against your ass. The pain isn’t so bad, but the sound is enough to make you jump.

"Oh." he says quietly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

You're not sure exactly what he means by this but you don't have time to think about it too hard before he brings his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He stops briefly and you move to turn and ask if that's all he intends to do, but you feel another stinging slap before you get the chance.

“You said you wanted it to hurt, right?” You mumble a "yes", high and breathy, into the pillow that’s smushed against your face.

"Then ask me nicely."

Fuck.

"Adrian, please, please, fucking- just - harder please."

The pace he sets now is unrelenting. You pretty quickly become aware of the fact that he's making sure there's no pattern for you to predict and the thought makes you even giddier.

One smack, and then another, the stinging pain hovering just on the edge of too much, dulling all of your other senses. You start to get that familiar hazy feeling, and you relax into it, welcome it, will it to take you over completely.

Left, left, left, right, left again, one sharp, followed by a few open handed ones to your thigh in quick succession. All the while he's rubbing small, tight circles against your clit with his other hand.

His fingers move to tease your entrance, rubbing small circles into you and like the slaps he's doling out they seem to have no predictable rhythm.

"I think… this is really unlocking something in me," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You’d been so focused on what he was doing that you only now realize how embarrassingly loud your moans had been, but his comment draws something out of you. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming but so so good.

Suddenly it’s gone, and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time how quickly your heart is beating.

“Still okay?”

You don’t think you can form words right now, but you groan an affirmative, hoping it gets your message across. Adrian gently tilts your chin so he can look into your eyes and confirm. “Yes?” he questions, and your heart warms at the way he asks, at the way he always wants to be certain. The way he's biting his lip also tells you you’re not the only one who's enjoying this.

You exhale sharply, forcing your brain and mouth to actually form words, making sure your "yes" is clear. He nods once in return and releases your chin, and you sigh as you sink into the pillow again. Once you're comfortable, he starts again.

"Good girl. Keep being good for me.”

The sharp stinging pain and the dull thudding of his open palm are starting to run together, all becoming one sensation. He grips the fat of your ass again with one hand, releases it and brings the other hand down. He repeats this a few more times; squeezing, releasing and then bringing his hand down quickly before the blood has the chance to rush back under your skin, gauging your reactions each time, cataloging every whimper, moan and twitch, every shudder, flinch and squeal and rewarding each in kind.

“You like that? You like it when I hurt you like this? You like my fingers rubbing your pretty little clit like this?”

With this he runs his fingers back through the slick between your legs, teasing a finger against your opening.

"Jesus, fuck, look at you. Is this all for me? Yeah? Answer me." You can’t help but whine at that, telling him "Yes, yes it's all for you, all for you Adrian!" hiccuping and helpless to do anything but feel him.

He continues, “I think I know what you want, but you know you have to use your words,” he chides. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes! Pleasepleaseplease” You’re nearly sobbing now, tears you hadn't even noticed before falling freely now.

“I think I have something you’ll like even better,” he says, and your heart leaps at the thought of what he could possibly have in mind. You move to turn to him, but a firm hand on your back keep you in place.

He draws his hand back and you brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but it doesn't come. You huff, knowing full well he's absolutely got the shittiest grin on his face but you refuse to turn around this time, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your annoyance. So the two of you just sit there, momentarily suspended, at the world’s tensest, horniest impasse. You, over his lap, your panties hanging off of your ankle, and him, with presumably one hand raised in the air and one tracing faint shapes into the skin of your inner thighs.

"You," he starts, taking a deliberate breathe like he's trying to compose himself, trying to stave off the arousal he's thus far been able to keep at bay. He’s still got his pants on, and the combination of that and you writhing and moaning on top of him is starting to become unbearable.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

He sounds dangerous now, voice too measured and now the tension is really starting to get to you.

He’s moving on the bed, doing his best to not jostle you too much but you can still feel his hips and cock shift under you as he reaches over to the drawer on your side of the bed.

You hear him rifling through it, various objects clattering as he tosses them around. You use this time to ground yourself, taking a few deep breaths but they do little to stop the way your blood is still rushing under your skin. You have an idea of what he’s looking for, but you don’t dare turn around to confirm your suspicions.

Finally, the rustling stops and he chuckles triumphantly.

He’s quiet again. Suspiciously, unnervingly quiet. Adrian is so rarely quiet that when he is it's noticeable. He’s still lazily running his fingers between your thighs, purposefully avoiding your clit this time, despite the insistent roll of your hips. Like he’s got all the time in the fucking world.

You hear the telltale buzz of the Magic Wand behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to register it before he pushes the head right up against your clit. You cry out, the sensation immediately far too intense, but despite your struggle he continues to firmly hold you in place. You whine pathetically, the pressure and vibration too much too soon, and he eases up just a little so the vibrations are still strong, but not so overwhelming.

You keep squirming, you can’t help it, and he moves the toy from your clit. This time you chase it, now desperate for stimulation and he chuckles above you and spanks your ass again.

“Fuck!” You cry out, burying your face into the pillow again. You know how you probably look, completely fucked out, tears splilling freely from your eyes now as you sob ugly and way too loud sobs, but you can't think about that right now. You were close, so so close. You just needed that extra little push.

“You’re doing so well baby. Can you take a few more?” and he asks so sweetly you can't even think about saying no.

Adrian returns to rubbing the small of your back, his voice a little softer now. He knows the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, and he always knows how to get you over the edge.

You gasped an “uh-huh”, arching into his touch and this time he allows it and repositions the toy directly against your clit again. Despite his softer tone, his hand comes down again just as hard and unrelenting as before and you’re honestly glad he isn’t going softer now that he knows you’re close.

He turns the vibration up a little more and the extra stimulation is exactly what you need. You feel your body seize momentarily as you clench and shake and for a split second everything feels still before your orgasm crests and breaks over you.

You hold onto that feeling for as long as you can, letting the wave break and settle and feeling your brain go blissfully hazy.

You feel floaty, your body feeling absolutely spent, wrung out completely and everything in that moment feels so perfect.

Adrian slowly ghost gentle touches over your back and down over your ass and thighs. You feel something cool and sigh contentedly as he rubs lotion into your stinging flesh.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his gentle touch and the sweet praises he mumbles.

He knows you sometimes get a little dizzy and fucked out after you cum, (loves it, really) so he waits for you to gather yourself. Once he finishes you roll onto your stomach.

You wouldn't blame him for being self satisfied or even cocky in this moment, but the smile he wears now is anything but. It's just warm and sweet, like him.

He grabs one of the small hand towels you keep in the bedside drawers and gently wipes you down, knowing how much you hate the feeling of sweat on your skin after and helps you pull a fresh pair of underwear and one of his oversized shirts on as you settle into his lap.

“Was it.. was it good for you? Was it too hard?” You hear the little bit of worry start to creep into his voice and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no not at all. It was perfect Adj. You know I would’ve stopped you if something was wrong.”

He visibly relaxes at this, and resumes running his fingers over your tender flesh, humming softly.

It’s quiet, and for a while the only sound you’re aware of is your breathing. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s already in the middle of a thought.

“But seriously. Whatever you need, you know I’m happy to do it for you. And you know how much I love taking care of you. I just always want to make sure I make you feel good, you know?”

You smile at his confession. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. Seriously."

You clear your throat. “It's just nice to have someone who cares, you know?”

He hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your skin gently.

"I know you care about me as a person, and I'm not saying you're the only one who does. I meant more, it's nice to have someone who cares about making me feel good. Not to say that other people were just using me for sex but… with you it's just,” you go quiet again. “It’s just different."

“So thank you. For… this. For not being weirded out by it, I mean. And for doing it, of course.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye now and he pulls you into him fully, arms tight and secure. The last thing you're aware of before you drift off this time is his scent as he kisses your temple.

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