#can someone put him in a microwave please?

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ teaching choso how to use a phone hcs

ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ pure crack with fluff

₊⊹. You finally convinced Choso to get a smartphone because, honestly, the idea of your 150-year-old, half-cursed spirit boyfriend wandering the city without a way to contact you was stressing you out. Unfortunately, the first time he activates Siri, he immediately becomes obsessed. He spends the next hour having a full conversation with her, convinced she’s some omniscient, all-knowing woman trapped inside the device.

“Who is this? How does she know the weather?” he asks, genuinely amazed.

You try to explain AI, but he just frowns. “So she’s… not real?”

You confirm, but he doesn’t believe you. He starts saying “please” and “thank you” to her, thinking it’s the polite thing to do, and when Siri responds with “I live to serve,” he turns to you with wide eyes. “She’s loyal. I respect her.”

Later, you catch him whispering to Siri at 2 AM. “Siri, what is rizz?” She gives him a Wikipedia definition, and he nods solemnly, as if she just revealed the meaning of life.

₊⊹. When Choso first opens the front camera it's purely by accident and he jumps because he thinks someone is staring at him.

It takes you ten minutes to explain that it’s his own face.

He looks at the screen, frowning. “Why do I look like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I looked…better.”

₊⊹. You teach Choso how to properly use the camera app, and he’s instantly hooked. The problem? He has zero concept of angles. Every selfie he sends you looks like it was taken by a dad who just discovered Facebook.

One is a close-up of his forehead. Another is 90% his nose. A few are taken at such an unflattering angle that you physically recoil. You try to guide him, but he insists that “this is my true form.”

The worst part? He never realizes he’s sending them. He just accidentally spams you with the most nightmarish, low-quality images imaginable. One time, he sends you a blurry picture of his eye, and when you ask what it means, he just responds, “I see you.”

You live in fear of opening your notifications.

₊⊹. At first, Choso types like an old man who just discovered the internet. Every message is unnecessarily formal and it takes him fifteen minutes to type a single one. “I hope this message finds you well. I am currently at the grocery store. Do you require anything?” You tell him he doesn’t have to type like he’s drafting a letter in the 1800s, but he doesn’t get it.

₊⊹. You made the grave mistake of teaching Choso how to use Google, and now he types full, grammatically correct sentences into the search bar like it’s a formal letter.

“Dear Google, can you die from drinking too much orange juice? Sincerely, Choso.”

At one point, he panics because he thinks he’s talking to a real person at Google.

“Dear Google, do you sleep? Do you need a break? I worry for you. Sincerely, Choso."

₊⊹. One day, you introduce Choso to the concept of voice messages because he struggles with typing. He loves it. But because his voice is naturally deep and monotone, everything he sends sounds like a mafia boss delivering an ultimatum.

You: “Hey, what do you want to eat?”

Choso: "Stay put. I will find you.”

You: “Do you need anything from the store?”

Choso: “It is already too late.”

He never means it that way. He’s just bad at tone. One time, he accidentally holds down the record button for three minutes, so all you get is the sound of him breathing heavily while a distant microwave beeps.

Another time, he sends you a 15-second voice memo that is just him sighing deeply followed by:

“…I saw a pigeon today.”

Then he sends another:

“…It was looking at me weird.”

Then another:

“…I don’t trust it.”

That’s it. No context. You’re in the middle of work and have to excuse yourself because you’re laughing too hard.

₊⊹. The first time Choso sends an email, he notices the little “Sent from my iPhone” signature at the bottom. You forget to explain that it’s automatic, so he thinks he has to manually type it out every single time, email or text.

It doesn’t matter what the message is.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well? Sent from my iPhone.”

“Do you want McDonald’s? Sent from my iPhone.”

You don’t have the heart to correct him.

₊⊹. He also discovers autocorrect. One time, he meant to text “Good night.” but autocorrect changed it to “God nut.” You have never known fear like receiving a 2 AM message from him that just says "God nut." with no context.

₊⊹. You introduce Choso to the concept of online shopping, thinking it’ll be harmless. It is not. He immediately becomes addicted to buying the weirdest things. He orders a 200-pack of rubber ducks. He doesn’t even like rubber ducks that much. He just thought it was fun.

₊⊹. Choso has zero understanding of what’s a scam. He clicks on everything. Every pop-up, every link, every “Congratulations! You’ve won a free iPad!” ad. He has installed seven viruses in one week. He sends you a link: “Look! This website is selling a brand-new TV for only $5!” You tell him it’s a scam. He doesn’t believe you. “No, see, it says ‘totally real, not a scam’ in the description.”

At one point, he proudly tells you he got a message saying he won $1,000,000, and all he has to do is send them his bank details.

“Choso, no.”

“But they said—”

“Choso, please block them.”

“But what if—”

“Block them.”

He sulks like a kicked puppy and mutters about how it seemed like a good opportunity.

₊⊹. Choso doesn’t trust “the ghost box” (your Bluetooth speaker). The first time you paired it to your own phone, the automated voice said, “Connected.” Choso froze. Looked you dead in the eye.

“Who was that. WHO WAS THAT."

₊⊹. The first time Choso accidentally took a screenshot, he thought he broke the phone.

He ran to you, panicked and waving his phone around.

“I don’t know what I did, but the screen—it remembers.”

You explain that it’s just a screenshot and show him how to do it on purpose. Now, he takes screenshots of everything like an old man who doesn’t trust the internet.

“What if they delete this? I need to keep evidence.” (It’s just a recipe for banana bread.)

₊⊹. One time, he accidentally took a picture of your face mid-sneeze and he decided to set it as his lock screen. Now, every time he unlocks his phone, he sees your cursed sneeze face.

He refuses to change it. He says it’s sentimental.

“It reminds me of your strength.”

₊⊹. Choso does not understand emojis. At all. You try to explain their meanings, but he insists on using them his own way.

Example: He once texted you, “Thinking about you. ❤️🛐🔥🔪🐍🚬”

You immediately call him, asking if this is a threat. He is confused. “What? No. The heart means I like you. The prayer hands mean I respect you. The fire means you’re attractive. The knife means I’d protect you. The snake means you’re clever. The cigarette means you’re cool.”

₊⊹. Despite all of this, Choso is genuinely trying. He wants to learn because he likes talking to you, his brother, and staying connected. He still struggles, but he remembers what you teach him. He still sends weird messages, but they’re sweet and he means well. And when he finally figures out FaceTime, he lights up.

“Now I can see you anytime,” he says softly. “That’s nice.”

That alone makes it all worth it.

[katsu28]

operation mistletoe

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: all it takes is one meddling lando norris and some mistletoe at the mclaren holiday party for oscar and yourself to admit your true feelings for each other. (2.2k)

a/n: day two with osc! enjoy <3

“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him.” 

Lando is currently laying spread eagle on your kitchen floor, tossing a padel ball above his head while you shove a packet of popcorn into the microwave for your movie night. 

His question is out of the blue, but you know what he's talking about. Lando is wondering why you won’t tell a certain Aussie you both work with that you have feelings for him.

He’s been wondering for a while now, bordering on a year since you’d accidentally let it slip to him—almost half the time said Aussie has been part of McLaren. 

You scoff. “Have you sent it into the barriers too many times? That’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“But why?” He presses, sounding exasperated. You can’t see him around the island counter, but you can imagine that squinty eyed, scrunchy nosed look he always gets when he doesn’t understand something. You’ve seen it almost overwhelmingly often in the few years you’ve been friends. 

“First of all, we work together. If I tell Oscar that I like him and he doesn’t like me back, I’d never be able to show my face at MTC ever again,” You reason, searching for a bowl to put the popcorn in once it's done. 

It’s actually something you’ve put quite a bit of thought into when weighing the pros and cons of telling Oscar about your feelings. 

“I’d have to find a new job, but that might take forever, so I’d have to move back in with my parents until I find one—if I find one—and I’m pretty sure my mum turned my bedroom into a yoga space the moment I’d left for uni, so I’d have to move into the basement. And then the job I find might not even be around here, so I’d have to move back out of my parents’ place and find another place to live, and you know how expensive things are in some cities! I’d have to find roommates, and I don’t really fancy living with strangers somewhere I don’t know.” 

Lando has taken a seat at the counter when you turn back around with the bowl in your hands, staring at you with the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen gracing his dumb face. 

“I reckon you’re overthinking things just a smidge,” He says flatly. He thinks you’re being dramatic. You’d call it brainstorming possible worst scenarios. 

You scowl, dumping the freshly popped kernels into said bowl before shoving it towards him. “You don’t know that.” 

He shovels a mouthful of it into his mouth on your way to the couch, sprawling out the length of it with his socked feet in your lap. “I’m pretty sure he fancies you too.” 

“Did he tell you that?” You raise a brow, swatting his feet off you. 

“Well, no, but I’m very perceptive.” 

“I saw you once say excuse me to a mannequin in a race suit at MTC because you weren’t paying attention to where you were going.” 

“Oi, fuck you!” Lando huffs, donkey kicking you lightly in the thigh. “You promised you’d never bring that up again. All I’m saying is that you should just man up and tell him flat out.” 

“I should what?” 

“Shit, I mean—well. Woman up? I guess?” He wonders, squinting one eye shut. “I dunno, really, but still. You never know how he’ll react. Could turn out mint.” 

“Can we not talk about it anymore? Please?” You groan, letting your head tip back against the cushions. “I just feel a little pathetic right now.” You feel Lando pat your head. 

“You’re not pathetic. Love just sucks,” He says sympathetically. “But sure, we don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

-------

True to his word, Lando doesn’t bring it up for weeks. In hindsight, you should’ve taken it as a sign of him planning something, but you’ve been busy with other things. 

Nothing happens until the McLaren holiday party, right after the FIA awards in Rwanda. Someone yells your name from afar as you’re going for a second drink, and when you turn to see who it is, you spot Lando waving wildly at you, gesturing for you to come over. 

Before you can even say anything when you approach, he grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor. He walks and walks and walks, still not saying a word despite your constant badgering. 

Finally, he stops and takes you by the shoulders, maneuvering you a few steps to one side, forward a few steps. Then he nods once, backing up with his hands out in front of him. “Do me a favor, just wait right here for a second.” 

“What? Lando, what’re you—”

“No, no, no, this is important, I promise. Just stay there. Maybe close your eyes too if you could, that’d be mint.” 

Despite your confusion, you oblige, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear his footsteps retreat, but then nothing for a suspiciously long time. Had he just stuck you here and run off like an absolute wanker? 

A shoulder bumps yours before you can jump to any more conclusions, and it startles you. 

“What the hell is going on?” You question, frowning. Nothing but silence. “Lando? Are you there?” 

“Erm, nope. Not Lando.” 

Fuck. You know that voice. That voice makes your heart do a stupid tap dance against your rib cage every time you hear it.

Your eyes fly open to meet an extremely familiar pair of brown ones. Oscar’s eyes. Oscar is standing right in front of you, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“Oscar!” You exclaim, feeling your face flame hot. 

You can’t help the surprise seeping into your voice. To see him there isn’t something you were expecting at all, and it certainly doesn’t help that he looks extremely handsome, almost glowing with happiness fresh off the end of a successful season for the team. The blue suit he has on clings to him in just the right ways, and his cheeks have a pink flush to them.

“Hi,” He says awkwardly. You aren’t quite certain what to do at the moment, or what even is happening right now. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“I don’t, actually. Lando just told me to stay here and that he’d be right back,” You admit.

Oscar lets out a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat. “Yeah, same, he told me it was something important. I’m not sure where he went, though.” 

He brings up a good point. Where had Lando gone?

Your phone buzzes in your hand at that moment, Lando’s name flashing across the screen when you glance at it. “Hang on, he’s just texted me,” You inform Oscar, angling your phone towards him as if whatever the message says will explain everything. 

Lando: Look up. 

Both of you look up at the same time, and what you see makes your heart drop into your ass. 

A sprig of mistletoe dangles from a haphazardly tied piece of string attached to the beam above. 

That fucker. You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill Lando Norris. 

“Is that—that’s not mistletoe, is it?” Oscar squints up at the tiny plant, tilting his head. 

“It is,” You sigh, fighting the urge to go find Lando and strangle him with your bare hands. “I want you to know I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was all your idiot teammate.” 

Oscar laughs a little bit, shoulders shaking. “No, I know it’s all him. He thinks he’s hilarious.” 

“He sure does.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told him he’s not,” He replies. Then he shifts on his feet, reaching up to run a nervous hand through his hair. “You look really nice, by the way. Been meaning to tell you that all night, but there’s so many people here I couldn’t find you. Until now, it seems.” 

All night. Oscar has been looking for you all night, just to tell you that you look nice. He’s making it really hard not to fall for him a little bit more. 

“Thank you, Oscar. You clean up well too.” 

He looks down at himself, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “You think so? I didn’t know if the two shades of blue were too much.” 

“No, they look great. Really.” 

A sudden silence blankets the two of you, and you hate it. You wish you were better at holding conversation, but with Oscar, all your thoughts seem to go right out the window. 

“We should go—” 

“D’you want to—” 

“Sorry, sorry, you first,” You insist, pressing your lips together. 

“Sure, yeah. I was just, uh, asking if you’d maybe want to…y’know.” He glances up at the mistletoe, then back to you, and if you aren’t mistaken, he looks a little hopeful. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I’m not—I wouldn’t force you or anything. I just…yeah, we could, if that’s something you’d be into.” 

“Oh!” You blink at him owlishly, completely caught off guard by his suggestion. Oscar wants to kiss you. Is this real life, or has Lando just played the ultimate cruelest prank on you?

“Tradition-wise, and all. I heard you’re cursed with bad luck for years if you break it,” He adds hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Definitely wouldn’t want that.” 

“Definitely not,” He echoes, bobbing his head. What comes out of his mouth next is entirely out of the blue. “Did you know the word mistletoe comes from two Anglo Saxon words? Mistel, which means dung, and tan, which basically means branch.” 

“No, I did not know that! That’s…very interesting,” You say enthusiastically, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell the laugh threatening to spill out. If it were anyone else, you’d think it was quite weird, but Oscar’s word vomit is strangely endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It’s disgusting, and you didn’t ask. Erm, wow, I’m—” 

“Oscar.” 

“Yeah?” He squeaks, pale cheeks rosy with embarrassment. 

You push forward instead of saying anything else, pressing your lips against his briefly. It’s a split second kiss, but it’s all you can manage without feeling like you’re doing something monumentally stupid. Still, it’s enough to send a zip of something thrilling through your veins. 

When you pull back, Oscar’s eyes are wide, and immediately you think you’ve made a mistake. You open your mouth to blurt an excuse, an apology, anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Will you go out with me?” You falter at the sudden question, totally caught off guard, and it seems to make him panic. “Oh. Oh no. Did I get this completely wrong?” 

“No! No, you didn’t,” You say quickly, reaching out to take his hand. His shoulders slump in relief, fingers already tightening around yours. “I’d love to go out with you, Osc.” 

“Thank god, or this would’ve been really awkward,” He sighs. “Looks like Lando did something right today.” 

“For the first time in his life, probably.” 

“In all fairness, I don’t think I would’ve had the balls to ask you out otherwise,” Oscar admits sheepishly. You hum your agreement. It turns out Lando being a nosy meddler of a friend has its benefits sometimes. “Think we should thank him or something?” 

“Definitely not. His ego would get way too big.” 

Lando looks entirely too smug when the two of you return to the party, eyes immediately zeroing in on your joined hands. “I take it the mistletoe went over well?” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You shrug casually, glancing over at Oscar to see him do the same. 

“Alright, fine. Be like that. You’re welcome, by the way. I expect a mad good Christmas present from both of you this year, I hope you know that.”

Oscar blinks. “But I already got you a set of tea towels.” 

“Ugh, spoiler!” Lando huffs, shoulders slumping. “Also, what are we—fifty? I mean, tea towels! Really, Osc?” 

“You said yours were ugly!” 

You make an offended noise from the back of your throat, furrowing your eyebrows. “I got you those towels for secret santa two years ago, you asshole.” 

“You did? Jesus, you two really are meant for each other,” Lando snorts, shaking his head. 

Oscar just grins over at you, giving a little tilt of his head as if to say great minds think alike. 

“By the way, we’ve got to get onstage soon, so if you’d stop making goo goo eyes at each other so we could get a move on, that’d be great.” 

“Oh. Alright.” Oscar’s smile fades as his gaze flicks back to you, seemingly displeased that he has to leave you so soon. “D’you mind if I…” 

“Go on, bring out the trophy. I’ll be right here,” You assure him, stepping in to drop a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Once they’re onstage little while later, Oscar’s already found you in the crowd, and as they lift the impressive trophy high in the air, he’s only looking at you, beaming so unbelievably bright it might just rival the sun. You smile right back at him, the pride you have both for this team and the two boys onstage just barely contained. 

This night marks the start of new beginnings, both for McLaren and for your relationship with a certain Aussie. And just like the 2025 season, you’re excited to see what next year will hold. 

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[biteyoubiteme]

calendar

seungmin x fem!reader

synopsis: you walk in on your best friend getting off with your name on his lips.

warnings: 🔞!!! slight nipple play, no protection, mentions of masturbation (m!) prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.2k

an: thank you so much for requesting izzy! ilysm for this one I hope I did it justice :))))) also this is not proofread will you bestow mercy on a poor soul like me? please?

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The two of you keep a huge whiteboard calendar on the fridge. A discarded pack of colorful markers was kept in the magnetic cup next to the handle, the sounding rattle synonymous with the closing of the door. Every month the two of you got together to fill out your class schedules, events, holidays, vacations, or just chores. It made both of your lives easier, the two of you knew exactly when the other was going to be late home, fewer arguments over who does what to keep the place clean, and when it was best to just fit in a full series binge on the couch together. 

Or it was supposed to work that way and for the most part, it did. But last week when the two of you hosted a study night with all your friends that devolved into just casual drinks and video games, half the board was erased when someone bumped into the fridge. Neither of you minded, trying the best you could to write in the parts that had been messed up, not giving it much thought at all until you finally hit the week that had been completely erased and rewritten. 

Seungmin missed a paper that was due, both of your laundry days ended up written for the same day, and you were now rushing out the door to make it to your presentation. You hadn't started the day so stressed, not until you rolled out of bed and opened the fridge to pull out something to eat for breakfast. As soon as you closed the door, markers shaking around reminding you to check the calendar, you noticed the messy star you had drawn on the date, and under it project due! Presentation @ 9:30.

It was like a bucket of ice water was thrown over you, no caffeine needed for how away you suddenly felt looking at the clock on the microwave, blinking back that it was already half past eight and it took you 30 minutes to make it to campus. 

Your string of curse words was what woke Seungmin. The rushed sound of the bathroom faucet turning on while you brushed your teeth was the soundtrack to his morning. He was still rubbing at his eyes, hair a sleep-turned mess on top of his head, when he watched you from the doorway. You were frantically rummaging through the dryer for a pair of jeans, only coming away with articles of Seungmin’s clothing. “What is this? Why is all my laundry also your laundry?” 

“I don't know,” he yawns, face scrunching up right along the bridge of his nose, “I think it all got tossed into the dryer together because mine didn't dry right,” 

You huffed, finally tugging out something that was yours to wear, “I'm going to be late,” it was said right on the edge of a whine, “stupid calendar, stupid early class, I'm never taking a course against that starts before I can think properly about school,” you didn't even care that he was right there as you pushed down your sweatpants. Working on putting one leg into your jeans as you kept complaining. 

The two of you had been living together for most of your time at school, the two of you close enough now that nothing phased the other. It wasn't like changing in front of your best friend was uncommon but it still caught Seungmin off guard every time. He turned to give you some sort of privacy but the way the bathroom/laundry was set up only made it so that he turned to look directly into the mirror. And there you were with your jeans getting caught right under your ass, pushing up and only highlighting the way your panties clung to your skin. 

It was momentary, so fast that you were already zipping your zipper and rushing past him to grab your bag. “I won't be back till one!” you call over your shoulder, not trusting the calendar to update him anymore. 

You didn't even realize until halfway to campus when calling your partner to apologize for the delay that your calendar wasn't just messed up with the day's events but the day itself. It wouldn't be until you got home that you saw that the whole week was one day off, so when you turned around feeling slightly better after your little shock, it felt like you had a whole free day. Not even texting Seungmin about the mistake you drove to pick up coffees for the both of you, knowing he would enjoy the pick me up without question. Then you could spend the rest of the day separating your laundry so tomorrow you could wear something less rushed. 

But Seungmin had the same idea, picking through the dryer trying to find anything that was his so that he could get it out of your way. That's when he finds the twin pair of panties to the ones you had on right now. He could see it play out again in his head, the way they hugged your hips, and outlined the shape of you. 

He told himself his crush on you wouldn't become a big deal after you two moved in with each other. He assumed that just having you so close so often would be enough for him to grow out of it faster. He believed it because he would have had less time to daydream about how you would react to him and more time in reality where you would surely put him into his palace without question. Only it didn't seem to work out that well. 

The two of you were constantly on the edge of flirting, sitting so close on the couch you were basically on top of one another, every little brush past each other like a confession. Or it was for him because his crush only got worse with the move; solidifying into something that he knew would never easily dissipate without the hottest of burns. 

It wasn't rare that he let himself get this wrapped up in the idea of being with you, less so the idea of being with you physically. And now you're gone for the next few hours and he has the perfect image of you in his head. 

He doesn't even hear when you get home, didn't even think to close his bedroom door before his hand was down his pants. He could picture you calling out his name, his eyes closed, head leaning back on his pillows, your name on the tip of his tongue as he moaned. 

When you come in and place the coffees down you hear him call you. Your first instinct is to change the calendar until you hear him call you again. He sounds almost in pain, the desperation drawing you down the hall. “Seungmin?” 

When you get to the doorway you're stopped dead in your tracks. His needy little whines echo in his room, adam's apple bobbing, every stroke of his hand on his cock pulling your eyes in. You should be ashamed for enjoying the view, should have backed away, and pretended you never came home. But with him right in front of you, naked and calling out your name it's impossible to not feel yourself get wet. It's embarrassing how easily flushed you feel, but when his hips start to move, effectively thrusting into his waiting fist, stomach flexing, you can't help but rub your thighs together. 

It's the creaking of the floorboards that makes him open his eyes. His hand fell away from his straining cock, his uneven breaths trying to catch up to the beating of his heart. You're not even looking him in the eyes, you're watching the way his cock is twitching, thoroughly edged now that you've walked in, his hips still moving, wishing so badly to be thrusting into you instead. 

“I'm sorry-” the both of you start at the same time, he can't even cover himself knowing a brush of fabric or his hand will make him cum instantly unless he calms down. He can't even think about how ashamed he should be when getting caught, all he can think about is those panties you're wearing under your jeans. 

It's only one second later and you're tugging them down your legs, pants too tight now, the seam pressing right against your clit like it knows you want him whether he touches you or not. He's whimpering at the sight, wet patch visible enough to make his eyes roll back. 

Damn the consequences of your actions you climb into bed with him. 

“What- we shouldn’t- you don’t have to-” he starts but stops when he watches you take off your bra, nipples already pebbled and waiting for his touch. 

“If you don’t want to have sex with me just say so,” even just hearing the words ‘sex’ from your mouth has his dick twitching again. 

“I need to have sex with you,” he reaches out for you, pulling you down to straddle him, your clothed pussy pressed right against his veiny shaft, the both of you moaning out for one another. He sits up, hands sliding up your back as he looks up at you; puppy dog eyes already begging for more. 

You push his hair back from his brow, threading your fingers into the strands, his hazy smile mirroring your own. “Do you usually think about me when you touch yourself or did I just catch you on a good day?” 

“I'm always thinking about you,” he breathes, pulling your lips to his. The kiss turns sloppy almost as soon as it's started, your hips working against him enough to draw every little sound from him. When he starts to kiss down your neck you lift your hips enough to push your panties to the side for him. 

Your hand on his cock guiding his tip to your entrance makes him curse, finally sinking into you, all your wetness making it so easy, the stretch leaving you gasping. Both of you wrapped up in each other's arms as you try to catch your breath from the new sensations. It's intoxicating to feel him this deep, your dragging hips pushing him right against your gummy walls. 

His mouth peppers kisses down your chest, catching one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue, moaning when you squeeze around him. Your knees are digging into the mattress as you try to bounce on him, thighs burning. His hands slide down to cup your ass, helping you move up and down on him. His lashes flutter with each drag in and out of you, better than he could have ever imagined or replicated with his hand. 

Letting go of your nipple he watches your face now adorned in blissful pleasure. He feels his orgasm building but not as fast as he wants. He falls back against the pillows, pulling you with him, one of your hands catching yourself next to his head, he holds you in place as he digs his feet into the sheets, thrusting up in this new position. 

“Oh my god-” you're finding it hard to even speak, now every thrust is pressed against your g-spot, the tip of his cock knocking over and over until you're almost shaking. With your free hand, you reach down between you two, fingers circling your clit as Seungmin twists your panties into his fist trying to find as much leverage as possible to keep his fast pace. 

“Look at me,” he’s begging, needing to know you're right on the cusp with him, the slapping wet sounds ringing out around you two. “Please I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me,” 

The request alone has you falling over the edge, the silent open-mouthed moan caught on your lips pulling him right along with you. He's a mess of whiny cries, sloppy thrusts slowing down as he tries to push his hips as close as he can get them to yours. Not even caring about having finished inside you when he feels this good.

Your arm gives out as you bury your face into his neck, your hot breath fanning over his sweat-sheened skin. The two of you instantly break out into giggles, the absurdity of the situation only just settling in while he's still twitching inside you. 

“Holy shit,” he chuckles, fingers dragging over your bare back like he can't believe you're really here in his post nut clarity. 

“I know, I can't believe you’ve been just across the hall this whole time and I'm just now finding out the dick was this good,” 

“If I'd known you would have helped out I would have left the door open a long time ago. But what are you even doing at home right now?” 

“The calendar was all messed up, no thanks to you, you said you took care of it!” 

“I did! Or I thought I did,”

you roll your eyes even if he can't see, and you leave another kiss right over his pulse, “well it doesn't matter, what does matter is that we should definitely schedule sex on the the calendar next time,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[glassrowboat]

Lights! Camera! Headcanons! Reca.

SFW collection of silly HCs!

- Little Miss Frog is only ever oiled by Reca. He doesn't trust anyone else to be as thorough with her joints as he is.

- Reca has multiple hats for his favorite assistant director, it's just the one we see her wearing all the time is her favorite

- If for some reason you ever needed to switch shoes with Reca, he would gladly do so. After all, what kind of love interest would he be if he couldn't even do that much? The only problem is that he looks better in your heels than you ever have.

- He has a pair of shades with a print of old TV static on the lenses. They are not practical at all but he still uses them.

- This man does not know the meaning of the word subtlety

- You're getting atrocious petnames 24/7, to the point you even begin to think he's forgotten your actual name. It's always love muffin this, honey bear that- and if you ever jokingly refer to yourself as one of them it might as well become a part of Reca’s daily vocabulary.

- He has had multiple people in the past pointing a remote at him to see if they could pause the YouTube play button in his eyes. Now, whenever he sees someone holding one close to him, Reca just snatches it because he's that fed up.

- The button can change, but he's never telling you how it works.

- “The mystery only compels you further to my character, sweetie pie.”

- Please do not trust this man with cooking. He's more of an order in kind of guy and trust that that's preferable over letting him near a stove, oven, or even a microwave on some days. However, he will set the table and clean the dishes for you- it just might take a while because he's busy editing a script.

- Has picked up tons of little facts over the years from all the research he's put behind films. You could ask the most random questions and he'll undoubtedly have an answer- even if it concerns you how he knows how to dispose of a full body.

- On that note, Reca knows a good handful of the meanings behind names, so when someone introduces themselves to him, he usually ends up deciding if that “meaning” fits their character.

- Usually, it doesn't.

- Aka: Crew members

- It's easier that way.

- Those who are a regular part of his filming crew all carry earplugs with them now as a habit after having to listen to Reca's …excited shouting.

- He disapproves of relationships amongst the cast. There's always going to be issues working with people, but he doesn't need the entire film getting pushed aside because one couple had a fight! It’s utterly nonsensical to bring that onto his set. Save that for after everything has wrapped up.

- Anyone listen to Distractible and Markiplier’s entire stunt with lenses? Reca's worse. That's your only warning.

- After your first kiss, when Reca was walking back home, all self accomplished, he jumped up and cracked his feet together- completely unironically. He's not even ashamed about it, either.

- If Reca didn't start on Broadway as part of the crew, then he at least had some experience with it. (He was the theater kid in school). He knows a good couple of songs off the top of his head at this point, and when this one particular song comes on, he always has to stop himself from dancing.

- Owns a gramophone, but it only works half the time. Reca claims it's part of its charm….

- You've watched him mix redbull and coffee together only to drink it all down in a single sitting, then walk away without an explanation. That entire night he was yapping in your ear excitedly only to fall asleep on top of you as soon as it hit 4am.

- Reca tends to repeat the stories he's told you. He just loves them so much that he gets a little ahead of himself and forgets which ones he's shared, that's all. Plus, with his flair for the dramatic and tendency to add in a new line or two, it keeps things fresh.

- Reca affectionately pinches your nose using that baby voice of his. It’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture, in his own way, but it just comes across as annoying.

- Reca will pick you up and spin you around (just like the movies) but at the same time this man will happily let himself flop into your lap with a hand to his forehead so he can lament to you about his woes. Usually, this just means he wants attention.

- He gets busy with filming a lot, to the point you both can go up to a month without really getting anything more in than a one minute call. Usually, Reca is running around during these, or he's so close to passing out after a long day that you're left with the sound of him snoring on the other end of the line.

- Because he's famous, there are actually a good couple of edits and images of Reca made into memes you see when scrolling online.

- His handwriting is comically large. To the point it takes up so much space, Reca might as well be writing a signature instead of scrawling down notes to ensure he doesn't forget a fantastic idea.

- He writes his 7's with that little line crossing it.

- Reca is the type to grab your shoulder while he's laughing. And he does this whether you know him well or not.

[joelscruff]

can i request another boyfriends dad fic where reader can't be quiet because it feels to good so joel puts his hand over her mouth and tells her to be a good girl for daddy 🥵

snack break (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

anon you are so lucky i'm on my period rn. this is the same joel from quickie but both can be read as stand-alone.

summary: joel needs you to be quiet. (reader is of legal age) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: daddy!kink, age difference, unprotected p in v sex, doggy, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, this is filthy word count: about 800

"i'll be back in a second," you'd said, "getting some popcorn."

your boyfriend had given you a small grunt as a response, eyes glued to his gaming setup as he mashed the keys and furiously fingered the mouse better than he'd fingered you in your entire relationship. with an eyeroll you'd left his bedroom and walked across the hall to the kitchen.

the moment you'd shut the popcorn in the microwave and pressed the button, joel had come up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, kissed the back of your neck and told you to bend over the counter.

"be a good girl," he'd murmured, "don't make a sound."

it's hard not to make a sound when he's now fucking into you slow and deep, hips pressing firmly against your ass every time he buries his thick cock inside of you. your hands squeal against the kitchen counter for purchase, body loose and shaky as he takes what belongs to him.

"be quiet, babygirl," he murmurs, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your oversized hoodie - your boyfriend's hoodie.

"i can't," you whimper, biting down hard on your lip when the head of his cock hits that firm and spongey place inside of you, making your legs shake, "it's too much, daddy, i can't."

"it's not too much," he replies softly, "you can take it, baby, i know you can."

you shake your head, feeling a guttural moan building in your throat when he pulls out again and pushes back in, brings one of his big hands down to press flat against your stomach, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"daddy," you groan, frantic and pitiful; it's louder than you'd expected and you both freeze, heads snapping toward the closed door of your boyfriend's bedroom.

after a few seconds you hear your boyfriend curse at someone in-game, still playing, completely unaware of what his father is doing to you across the hall. you both relax a bit, sighing in relief. joel places a tender kiss behind your ear and starts to fuck you again, slow and deep.

you can't help but start whimpering again and clearly joel has had enough of telling you to be quiet. instead he brings his hand up and places it firmly to your mouth, large and strong against your face. you whimper into it and are pleased to discover that the sound is barely audible.

"there you go," he murmurs in your ear, fucking you a bit harder now that he knows you can't make the same noises, "it's okay, babygirl, he can't hear you now."

you moan a bit louder as he picks up speed but your voice continues to stay muffled by the firm placement of his hand. he brings his other hand downward from your belly to rub your clit, eliciting a few more noiseless whimpers that vibrate against his skin. you're so overstimulated and full, a bit worried that when you come his hand won't be enough to mask the sound. but he doesn't seem to care.

"shhh, that's it," he coos in your ear, "such a good girl for daddy"

his words and the sensations are too much to bear; you clamp down tightly on his cock and make pathetic squealing noises into his hand, body trembling as he coaxes your orgasm out of you with soft whispers of praise and gentle kisses to your temple. he keeps rubbing your clit, fucking you hard and making your eyes roll back.

it's only a few seconds later that he finishes with a low groan in your ear, cock twitching within your walls as he paints your insides with his come. you tremble even more, unable to make sounds even if his hand wasn't in the way.

"that's it, that's my good girl," he murmurs in your ear, still emptying himself inside of you, filling you deep with his seed as his hand presses harder against your wet mouth, "just take it, take all of it."

the microwave dings and he pulls out, taking his hand off your mouth and bringing it down to thumb his spend back inside your swollen pussy.

"so messy," he murmurs, pushing as much as he can back inside before pulling your panties back up. you're still shaking, hunched over the kitchen counter as he hikes up your shorts and presses one final kiss to the back of your neck.

the microwave dings again, and you hear your boyfriend's voice call out from the other room, "take it out before it burns!"

you finally pull yourself off the counter, legs shaking like a baby deer as you reach over and pop the door open. the smell of popcorn wafts into the room.

"enjoy your snack." joel says with a smirk, then leaves the room as quickly as he'd entered.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.” 

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.” 

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.” 

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox. 

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff. 

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter. 

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time. 

“God, it’s late,” he says. 

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...” 

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.” 

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--” 

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.” 

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--” 

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?” 

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen. 

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.” 

“What is this about? The date?” He asks. 

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.” 

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view. 

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.” 

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch. 

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut. 

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.” 

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints. 

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.” 

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top. 

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder. 

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?” 

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.” 

“Right, lined up the block, huh?” 

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.” 

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out. 

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet. 

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward. 

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.  

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets. 

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard. 

“Water?” He asks. 

“Sure, fridge,” you point. 

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop. 

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!” 

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash. 

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you. 

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.” 

“I was trying to help,” you say. 

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches. 

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?” 

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears. 

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.” 

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?” 

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.” 

[sturniololuvz]

Can you PRETTY PLEASE make a fic where y/n is like 19 and she gets her wisdom teeth out and like the triplets have to take care of her and record her the whole time and like she says something like crazy funny?

Btw i love you and your sis series SO FUCKING MUCH

THANK YOUUU I LOVE YOU TOo

“Wisdom Teeth Woes”

Y/N had just had her wisdom teeth removed, and although she was still groggy from the anesthesia, the triplets knew they were in for a wild ride. It wasn’t the first time they had dealt with one of them coming out of a procedure, but it was definitely going to be one of the most entertaining. They had the camera rolling the moment they pulled into the driveway, ready to document every hilarious moment of her post-surgery state.

Matt parked the car, looking over at Y/N in the backseat, who was wearing an oversized hoodie and clutching an ice pack to her face. She looked like a tiny, puffy version of herself, eyes half-closed and lips a little too swollen.

“Y/N, you good?” Chris asked, turning to face her. His voice was light, almost teasing.

Y/N blinked slowly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and calmness that only someone who had just been put under anesthesia could have. “I’m… fine. Everything’s fine,” she said, nodding like she had it all figured out.

Nick leaned over, holding up the camera. “We need to get this on record, Y/N. This is gonna be good.”

Y/N’s gaze flicked over to Nick, her face scrunching up in sudden seriousness. “Nick, do you know what the worst part about wisdom teeth surgery is?”

“Uhhh, the pain?” Matt offered, pulling the keys out of the ignition.

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head dramatically. “The worst part is the truth. The truth that I now know everything about you guys.”

The three of them exchanged confused looks. “What do you mean?” Chris asked, his brows furrowing.

Y/N’s eyes went wide with a sense of mystery as she leaned in, clearly prepared to spill something huge. “I know all your secrets,” she said slowly, like she was revealing the most shocking piece of information in the world. “Like, everything. And now… I’m going to tell the world.”

Matt laughed, but it was clear he was nervous. “Y/N, you’re not even making sense right now.”

Y/N’s face suddenly lit up. “I know what Chris eats at 2 AM,” she said, raising her finger as if she was about to drop the biggest bomb ever. “You don’t just eat cereal, you eat leftover spaghetti. And you warm it up in the microwave like a monster.”

Chris’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

Y/N nodded sagely, as if she had just uncovered a deep, dark secret. “And I know what Nick does on his phone when no one’s around.” She paused for dramatic effect, waiting for them to lean in closer. “You watch… ASMR videos. I’m talking, like, weird stuff. People eating and crinkling paper and whispering. It’s so weird.”

Nick’s face went beet red. “I—What?!”

“I’m just saying,” Y/N said with a casual shrug, her words a little slurred. “You can’t hide from me, Nick. I know all your secrets. And I will never let you forget them.”

Chris shook his head, laughing nervously. “You’re insane, Y/N. Are you sure you’re not still a little high?”

Y/N smirked, suddenly getting serious again. “I’m not high. I’m enlightened.” She paused for a moment, then her eyes locked onto Matt. “Oh, and Matt? You sleep with socks on.”

Matt immediately turned to face her, his eyes wide with shock. “What?!”

“Yeah,” she said, “and I don’t just mean when it’s cold. You sleep with socks on, even when it’s warm. It’s honestly disturbing, but I’ll let it slide. Just… don’t ever do it again.”

The boys were cracking up, unable to contain themselves. Matt, trying to regain his composure, turned to Y/N with a teasing smile. “And what about you, huh? Got any deep, dark secrets you want to share?”

Y/N blinked a couple of times, as if contemplating this for a moment. “Oh, I’ve got a ton,” she said, her voice going slightly more serious. “But you wouldn’t be ready for them. They’re like, next-level stuff. You guys are just gonna have to wait and see.”

Nick leaned in closer with the camera. “Okay, Y/N, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Give us the scoop.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “I… I borrowed your hoodie, Nick. The one with the little tear on the sleeve? I never gave it back. It’s in my closet, and it’s never coming out.”

Nick was almost in shock, mouth hanging open. “You took my hoodie? You’ve had it all this time?!”

Y/N simply nodded, completely unbothered. “Yep. And I wear it every night. It’s mine now.”

Chris, who had been silently watching the whole thing unfold, let out a laugh. “I honestly have no words for you right now, Y/N.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up in deep thought, and then she said, “You know what, though? I think the real secret is that you guys are secretly obsessed with me.” She gave them an exaggerated look, like she had cracked the code to their whole existence.

Nick snorted, still holding the camera. “Oh, totally. We’ve been pretending for years, but really, we just can’t get enough of you.”

Y/N nodded gravely, her voice serious, even though her eyes were half-lidded. “I knew it. That’s why you guys follow me around everywhere, huh?”

They all burst into laughter, with Matt shaking his head, clearly entertained. “You’re ridiculous, Y/N. Absolutely ridiculous.”

The triplets helped Y/N inside, still laughing at the absurdity of her rambling, half-delirious confessions. Even though her post-surgery behavior was a little out of it, there was one thing they knew for sure: she’d probably never live this down, and neither would they.

But it was, without a doubt, the most entertaining few hours they’d spent with their little sister in a long time.

[running-with-kn1ves]

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE A PART 2 FOR THE KILLER CLOWN POOKIE :((((

A/N: Long awaited, took me forever to actually finish, but HERE IT IS. I really struggled making an interesting part 2, so I hope you find it mildly interesting anon (-‿-")

Link to 1st part found here!

TW: Murderous killer clown, mentions of past killings, blood, kidnapped reader, forced close proximity, isolation torture

Synopsis: Kidnapped by your killer clown stalker, you navigate being stuck in his toy room and being fed a very personal dinner, all while trying to avoid his loving insanity.

A room full of dolls, no matter their origin or purpose, is never an endearing sight. You swore even if the off-putting, Raggedy Ann and porcelain, dust-ridden dolls were anime figurines and children’s collectibles, you wouldn’t feel any safer in this hellscape. “Your punishment” he called it, and a punishment it was. Like a child made to spend the rest of the day in its bedroom, you were tied snuggly to the recliner chair in birthday string, forced to stare back at the eyes and broken limbs of endless toys. Of his, toys. Was this room part of the abandoned warehouse connected to the shit hole he called his home? Why did this room smell so repugnantly of petrichor and mold, when the rest of the “house” was either doused in bleach or rot that made your nose so dry it bled?

Maybe, if you had ever learned to properly meditate, the hours in here wouldn’t feel so head-splitting. The darkness nearly brought you to insanity, begging for the arrival of your captor to come slinking back in with another microwaved meal. You would’ve welcomed his manic personality and demented point of view, if it meant you could hear anything besides the echo of your own thoughts and the crushing sound of an analog clock's ticking. 

If only you were smarter, stronger, faster. You could’ve gotten out sooner, could’ve kept yourself away from this kidnapping entirely. But it was your stubbornness that led you to be “disciplined”, inside the toy room. Two hours ago on the shelf behind you, an old fire truck (you guessed, from the siren sound and reflecting red) went off, falling to the floor and proceeding to wail for several minutes. Even with your erratic, terror-stricken sobs leading you to beg for freedom from this room, your captor never unbolted the door.

 You hadn’t even heard his footsteps from the other side. Maybe he was out luring another victim, adding to the stockpile of bloody buckets in the closet, or perhaps your replacement-- a relieving sentiment. But you knew, from the hours he droned on about soulmates and how your appreciation of him that night that seemed years ago, you weren’t going anywhere. Atleast, not without provocation. 

Your exhaustion didn’t let you care if there was someone chained in the woodcutting section of the warehouse, if there was another layer of gore on the ground. You just wanted out from here, food in your gnawing stomach. You could even pretend to apologize, to care for him. Okay, maybe not that far, but you could give a convincing act. By now, you were sorry. Sorry you didn’t open your mouth to his prodding questions, didn’t comply when now it feels like it would’ve been so easy. 

You licked at the corner of your mouth, hoping a salty, fallen tear could reach your tongue. Your lips were so cracked, you’d give anything for chapstick, for some water to cover your sawdusted throat. 

So hoarse from screaming and wracking with sobs, you wondered if this was how he was planning to kill you. The day was inevitable, after what you’d seen him do… but, you really thought it’d be more horrific than this, more… agonizing. Maybe you should be grateful. Dehydration really isn’t too bad compared to drawing blood or whatever sick, Saw-type torture he had in mind. 

And like that, when you were near accepting this newfound death, Satan spoke. 

The creak of an industrial metal door respunded in your pounding head, your neck snapping and cracking to look toward it's screech.

“Hm-- I thought I let you out before I left.” His signature, raspy voice rendered muffled under his mask. “How long have you been in here?” 

The swift blade of a hunting knife came to the back of the recliner, letting the tight ribbon binding your hands and body fall to the ground, harmlessly. It looked so small now, so thin and fitting for this uncharacteristically silly, dusted room. 

“I--” You cut yourself off with a blood-spitting cough, the sensation of needles coming up and out of your throat. 

“Oh rats… look at you, covered in dust and all tear-stricken; It was only twelve hours,” He brushed the wet spot on your dusty cheek. “Sweet doll… that’s all it takes to drive you insane?” 

He laughed a short snort, reeking of dried blood and dirt. The diamond-patterned gloves usually adorning his bone-thin fingers were already gone, cold and clean hands pulling your bound wrists forward out of the chair. He drug you up far enough to get you out of the recliner. Legs weak and practically immobile, you did your best to keep your distance; but he was determined to make you lean on him, taking your hands to inspect. 

“Bruises don’t look too bad on you…” He mumbled, watching the dark ring that had formed below your palms. “But it's not right, I need to take better care of you, don’t I?”

He asked, as if your say meant anything. But you knew this; you were getting a hold of the game now. 

Nodding your head, you leaned just a tad against his damp shoulder for support, nearly ready to fall to the ground. From the sound of the metal roof, it had been raining only an hour earlier. You prayed it was rain drops staining into your sleeve. 

“I don’t feel good..” You mumbled, voice cracking under pressure. 

“Of course you don’t. That was the whole point of this little time out session, dollheart; but I bet you want to come out, to talk a little bit now, don’t you?”

He was always too comfortable, acting as if you were more than just an angry hostage. You were his darling, his pet, his everything. It made you sick, listening to the way he talked at you-- feeling like you were watching yourself from outside your body, as if these pet names were for somebody else. 

You forgot the whole purpose of this endeavor was to get you to cooperate; when you didn’t respond immediately, you could feel him tense up. 

Even a nod wasn’t enough, like you expected. What did he want, again? For you to say his name, to listen and to speak? All this time in here, and you barely reflected on the purpose of your discipline. 

He gave you another opportunity, a short kindness, placing his ridden jacket over your shoulders. 

“Are you hungry? Ready to come out and eat without problems?”

You swallowed the little saliva you could muster. 

“Please, yes...Quin.” You were so quiet, a small part of you doing it on purpose, shame in saying your kidnapper’s name so casually like old pals. You kept that anger at the back of your mind, ignoring how speaking rubbed your throat into a deeper raw. 

He led you through the thick steel door away from your prison, rubbing at the back of your neck in an attempt to soothe the state your throat was left in. You hobbled your way out, gaining some strength back in your jello-ified legs. 

“What do you want to eat, chicken or beef?” 

You almost threw up in your mouth remembering the frozen pasta options you had consumed for the past two months. Would you ever get to taste something besides starch and fake meat again? 

“...Chicken. Please.” You added, forgetting you were on thin ice. One wrong move and another needle-full of mystery fluid was stuck into your thigh and you went eye-to-eye with Raggedy Ann again. 

You let the apathetic creature grab hold of your sweating fingers, hand-in-hand as the labored breathing behind his stained, venetian-like mask became unbearable to listen to. It was different from the one you had seen him in the night you were dragged here; most of the time he wore something new, maybe depending on his mood or something as superficial as his outfit, you weren't sure yet. It made you more afraid, only being able to see shadowed green eyes beneath a painted porcelain, often accented with red and gold to accompany the splatters of gore that make way to his face. 

Quin watched you walk barefooted and soulless, taking in the familiar sights of the small inhabitable area of his “home.” What wasn’t inhabited by you most of the time, was reserved for Quin’s… activities. Despite thinking about what he must’ve done today, you were ravenous. 

He wasn’t wearing the usual get-up today-- the circus-like, ridiculous clown-inspired rags he dared to do most of his bidding in. It was… oddly casual, muted colors with dark layers to shield him from the cold. The mask looked out of place, wisps of fiery red hair covering his forehead and ears. The color was fresh, not fading into blonde like the last time you saw him a mere half-day ago. 

Quin pushed your shoulders down, placing you in the wooden chair that had already been pulled out; the way it was left after you had been drug out of it. 

“Sit. How tired are you?”

He pulls out a small keychain flashlight from his pants pocket. 

“Tired.” You respond, huddling into yourself as the cold from the floor crept in. It was freezing outside, late November proving to be no joke compared to the windy October day you last saw the sun.

Quin gave you a dead stare, shinning the light into your eyes. 

“Very funny. Do you feel like passing out at all? Your eyes are bloodshot.” He focused on each eye, temporarily blinding you before turning the flashlight off to put it back in his pocket. “Warm,” He mumbled, smoothing a finger from your chin to your throat. “A little too warm. Maybe got a fever being in that old room.”

“I’m just exhausted, I didn’t sleep… at all.” You didn’t have the energy to be angry, but the resentment and hate burrowing into you was making you more disgusted with him by the minute. Who was he to act worried and interested, after throwing you into a demented toy room for hours? “I couldn’t, being in that godforsaken room.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on the dolls, doll. I thought they’d keep you company.”

Your captor stood up, running his frozen hands along your jaw, smoothening your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Keep me company?” You remembered the firetruck, wanting to scream and cry until your body shook again. “I.. I don’t think I was alone, but there was something more than dolls in there. It moved, things were moved…” Tears rushed to your eyes, willing to fall faster after crying so recently. “ I can’t go back in there.”

You were firm in your words, looking up at him. You wouldn’t go back in there, you’d give yourself a heart attack before he managed to kill you. 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.” Quin bent back down to lay a hand on the wooden chair frame behind you, scanning your eyes. 

You tried to lean back, not too obvious yet not allowing him to get any closer. You could feel the exhale of air through the mask’s nose hitting your forehead. 

“I’d rather you kill me than put me back in there.” His chest was warm, from where you put a shaky hand to stop him. You didn’t have the courage to be firm, to do more than rest your palm there, as if you were feeling his heartbeat. It was gentle, a rhythmic beat that reminded you he was just as human as you were. A monster of a human.

“Really? You’re that scared, baby?” Quin smoothed the hair above your ear, resting his hand on your scalp. “Even after everything I made you see, more that you’re gonna see? You’re scared of some collectibles?”

You looked away, being the first to lose the staring contest he put in order. 

“It’s different.” You murmured through hoarseness, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach after hearing another sappy pet name.

“Fine. Next time I’ll just make you bleed our next guest dry. Its about time you learned the family trade.”

He placed a kiss to your cheek through the mask, doing little to acknowledge the wince you gave when he moved forward so quickly. By now, maybe you should believe him when he says he’s not killing you quite yet... But after witnessing so many of his activities, you can’t help but imagine yourself in his victims’ place, waiting for a knife to drag itself across your stomach.

The thought made bile rise in your throat. You had so little to vomit away, and yet you still felt the desire to rid last night's meal. You couldn’t do it. The dolls were better. You couldn’t hurt someone like that. It was now, that you realized how different watching was compared to actually doing it. You couldn’t stomach watching him work with his gadgets and coroner tools, how could you comprehend actually doing anything with them? 

The microwave began to churn alive after Quin’s button pressing, refrigerator door swinging to a close as the microwaves’ hum filled the damp, grainy room. Peeling wallpaper reminded you of an aging housewife, brown stains on the floor being a more comforting vision than looking up at your captor. 

Even if you kept your eyes down, you had to contribute-- to be more than a lifeless doll here, lest you get thrown back in again to that pit of clown memorabilia. 

“What did you do, while I was here?” 

Your voice cracks dryly, attempting to clean the dirt under your nails as you stare down. 

“Do you really want to know?” You could hear the smile through his words. “you've got such a weak stomach,” He waited for you to protest, continuing when you sat silently. “It wasn’t anything you would deem oh so “horrific,” really. Just some shopping at the hardware store, odds and ends.”

“Oh.” Is all you could muster. You continued to pick at your nails until the ending beep of the microwave resounded. Quin opened its door, grabbing the tips of the cardboard meal plate as it steamed. The smell of chicken and pasta filled the small, round dining room. 

Your stomach churned, hungry and yet sick at the thought of eating another mushy, microwaved meal of little to no nutritional value. 

“...Thanks, Quin.” You were mildly sarcastic, a habit you had forgotten to shove down in fear of punishment-- but you tried to shoot him a crooked, half-smile to cover it up. 

“Nothing but the best for you, doll.” The clown pulled out an unmatching foldable chair with a lengthy screech, a plastic fork with muted ends already sitting in front of him at the table. He was so lean, uncharacteristically gangly at the hips and forearms, but wide in his shoulders and thighs. It tooke everything in you to not scratch at the floor boards to get out, to run away from a man so close that took pleasure in hurting people just like you. 

You were going to comment on the fork, again still not understanding how a plastic utensil could cause enough damage to need to be shaved down, but Quin did something that struck you as even more unsettling. 

“I think, maybe we should go back a few steps. It would do us some good, rebuild our trust.” He stirs around the mixture in the cardboard frozen meal box. Quin looks toward you while he covers the bits of broccoli and chicken in alfredo sauce. “ If I can trust you again to be good to me, there’d be no reason to return to the toy room you’re so afraid of.”

You bit your tongue, trying to choose your words wisely. He overstepped, but you shouldn’t be trying to stomp on his toes either-- save future you some punishment, you told yourself. 

“Thats not necessary, I’ve… you know I just need some time to adjust, I’m kept here all day and--” 

Quin suddenly patted at his lap in interruption, opening his legs and turning himself to face you. 

“Come sit.” 

You look at him incredilously, trying to garner a reaction out of that stoic, masked face. 

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Just sit, you’re hungry, aren’t you.”

Gritting your teeth, you shoved down an insult, wanting to throw fast words on how the hell he knew what you wanted, who he thought he was to tell you what to do!

You sit there in defiance, utter disbelief and anger at how he watched you quietly, patiently stirring the pasta absentmindedly, the other tapping his leg twice again-- like he was calling a dog. 

He puts both hands on his knees and looks as if he’s about to get up. His bottom nearly leaves the chair before you race out of yours, taking an uncomfortably close step to prevent him from moving any further. It would do no help in a fight, but you could at least make it as uncomfortable for him to try and hurt you if he wanted. You knew better now that when you were walking on cracking ice, to work faster than he did-- he was unlikely to carry out his undesired punishment that way.

Quin relaxes, putting his back against the fold-up chair with a squeak. His palms still grasp his knees looking up at you, an expectation in his body language. 

“Well?”

You turn to the side, lining up with his thigh in preparation to sit. The idea of sucker punching his head is mouth-wateringly appealing. You almost consider it, despite the implications of what will come after; yet, the masked murderer is quicker than you, cutting off your plotting thoughts. 

Cold hands grab at your hips, lurching you down and back against his chest, the full weight of your butt on his thigh. Immediately you hold your weight back up, hovering above his leg as you fear the oddly heated sensation of being against someone, close to another living being. It's been a long time since you felt skin on skin contact. 

“Sit down, you're insulting me,” Quin complained with an effort of wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back. “Acting as if I'm the plague. Just eat.”

You'd try and pull up again but his arm would not relent. It felt uncomfortably close with his leg shifting under you, the muffled sound of his breathing and speech under the puckered mask. 

He didn't seem uncomfortable with your weight on his lap-- weirdly… more relaxed, oddly calm. Shoulders slumped, legs open in the usual masculine spreading fashion-- if you didn't know better, you'd say he was enjoying this. 

Staring down at the steaming pasta, you swallow down your dissipating apetite. Quin picked up the small fork, looking away from you. Every millisecond that he took his gaze away, you fought back the urge to escape. He twisted thin noodles around the fork, stabbing a piece of broccoli along the way. 

Letting go of you for just a moment Quin used his free hand to lift up the Venetian mask from his chin, pushing it just barely above his lips. He bent down gently to blow on the fork, flurries of steam pushing away from the utensil. You watched, mildly weirded out at his softness, feeling the heat of the meal container radiate toward you. 

Quin, finished with his motherly theatrics, pushed the fork towards your mouth. You instinctively pulled your head back in a flinch. 

It looked as if he was about to say something, jaw clenched in a grating fashion. 

“...Thank you.”  This sugarsweet, docile behavior you had to pretend to play was even harder than you were hoping. 

You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to take the fork as you opened your mouth. But Quin didn’t let it go, allowing your fingers to rest on his as you tried to take it. The pasta was gently placed against your tongue, filling your mouth as you bit down. 

The killer slowly, --too slowly you might add-- removed the fork from your lips. He was watching, his eyes and gentle, plum lips nearer than they ever had been before. You had never seen him up so close, only mere inches away as you cautiously chewed. 

A thought ran across your mind, wondering if the food had been tampered with-- but at this point, did it matter? It likely wouldn’t be the first time, or the last. 

Quin repeated the process, softly blowing on the food before feeding you with a tenderness that wasn’t mean for a captor and his captive. 

You appreciated the silence, though; no bitingly silly remarks or sadistic smiles, just a softly domestic scene with the humming of the yellowed refridgerator. 

The wrongness of having someone watch you eat, waiting till you’ve swallowed, making sure you’ve taken every bit off of the fork-- it was like being watched by a crowd, not showing immediate judgement and yet just as uncomfortable. 

“You’ve got a little,” Quin hesitated, putting the fork back down in the frozen meal plate. His nimble hand came to hold under your chin, pulling your face closer to his. You could feel his breath now tickling your nose as he parted his lips in concentration. A wintry thumb swiped over the corner of your mouth, taking away stray sauce that hadn’t made it to your mouth. 

“There; what a mess you make. Looks like you're trying to tease me, acting all helpless.”

You were ready to react, but a splotch of something dark resting on the clown’s open chest caught your eye. You thought it was a birthmark at first, one you had never noticed before-- but upon closer inspection, you saw it was uneven dots of blood, dried and smudged. 

Your tongue went dry, breath getting caught in your throat as you recalled his words earlier. Was up to nothing, huh? 

…How many people have died since you’ve been stuck alone in that room? 

The fear of your impending death was rising in your throat in the form of acid, no longer hungry for anything-- merely sick and distraught. What was he saving for you, what were you going to become-- he may be spouting nonsensical “I love you” ‘s and such, but how could you believe it when so many have been killed in your stead? 

Quin ignored the creased lines of horror on your face, the silence of your twitching frown as you kept your gaze on his soiled neck. 

“Alright, now open wide.” Quin brushes your cheek with one hand, the other holding another forkful of pasta and chicken. 

Your lips shake, finding it hard to keep your mouth anything but clamped shut as you remember the foul sights, the smells of the rest of this warehouse-- how could you be so stupid, thinking maybe you’d find one way to get this all to stop, a daydream of freedom from this dank hellhole. 

You’d better start getting used to saying ‘I love you.’ 

[dadsbongos]

for honor. and duty.

3.2k words / warnings - forced breeding, injections, drugging, unhappy end, reader is written as a woman

summary - it's his job to carry on the bloodline, and its your job to love Satoru Gojo; thankless as both gigs are.

kinktober: day nine - breeding, aphrodisiac ~~~

Satoru was disinterested in fathering children. 

While he loved teaching, and teasing Megumi throughout the years was a joy, raising an entire person from scratch? An unnecessary addition to his plate he would rather be without. Besides, he was only scratching at his late 20s, why should he rush into having babies?

His feelings were not hidden, either. Everything about Satoru screamed childfree. Most respected the decision; for the Gojo clan to be written into history with Satoru as the cataclysmic final bang -- the sole pillar maintaining his clan’s status in the big three. It would be an honor and a pleasure, were he humble enough to silently accept both.

But Satoru loves whining.

“Too bad the Six Eyes and Limitless will be totally lost to time when I die…” he pouts every time he says it. Purely to gloat that not only does he have both, but he will be the last one in history, “If only someone could take them off my hands, huh?”

Maybe he should’ve just shut his mouth.

… 

“Why don’t you donate, then?” Shoko snarks one random Wednesday, finally fed up with Satoru’s haughty huffs this particular lunch break, “I’m sure your swimmers wouldn’t be unwelcome if they could make another special grade.”

“Gross, Sho,” you gag, then pointing at the man, “Don’t respond to that.”

Predictably, you’re ignored, “But who would be worthy, Shoko? Huh?” Satoru snickers when you gag even louder, “It’d have to be another sorcerer, you know? Can’t just put a super baby in any ole lady.”

“I’m sure you could find someone for a good price,” Shoko leans onto her palm, “Some high up clan girl. A Zen’in? It’d make her life better by getting out of that place, I bet.”

“Can we not talk about this while I’m eating, please?” you gesture to your lunch, though you hardly have the appetite for it now anyway. 

“You can say you’re jealous,” Satoru teases into your ear, laying his head on your shoulder. There’s no warmth of skin to feel, and if you closed your eyes the weight wouldn’t be reasonable for a human head either -- much lighter. Airier. As if he isn’t there at all.

“I’m not jealous of not being your incubator, Gojo.”

“Harsh!” he dramatically clutches over his heart, sucking in a breath like he’d been stabbed, “What happened to first name privileges?”

“Revoked,” you flick his head knowing it’ll never land. Knowing he’ll never feel you.

Shoko simpers, long nails tapping against the creaky break room table. When you shoot over a quizzical glance, those nails stretch over her lips; covering so you alone can make out what she mouths: ‘jealous’. 

You mimic the motion to mouth back: ‘fuck you’.

“Hey,” Satoru wraps both arms around you (no warmth, no weight), “Secrets among friends is asking for trouble.”

“Donating out soldier serum is asking for trouble,” Shoto snickers.

“You suggested it!” 

You roll your eyes at the pair, hoping this was the last you would hear of Satoru’s semen stumper, “Well, I’d love to stick around, but you two are disgusting.”

“Boo,” Shoko wads up the shrink of her microwave meal and tosses it at your head.

“Boo!” Satoru echoes the sentiments louder, fingers clinging to your uniform until his long arms can stretch no further.

“Yeah, whatever!” you holler back, “As if the higher ups will even let you just donate!”

Those traditional old heads will want a “proper” heir, and there is no way Satoru would get suckered into that.

It’s part of why loving him is so difficult.

Because loving Satoru means having to share him: always. He is overwhelmingly busy between his work as a sorcerer and his passion as a mentor. Your love for him will forever be yours to own, but Satoru himself could never be.

Perhaps that’s what Suguru realized when he tried years ago, when Satoru was always gone and the space between them only grew. Perhaps that’s why he decided to close Satoru out completely.

“You actually gonna donate sperm?” Shoko returns her tired gaze to her friend, quirking a brow when he laughs and shakes out his phone.

“Nah, the geezers just keep pestering me,” he mimics a flapping mouth with his hand, “Blah, blah spreading the genes- blah, blah good of the clan. As if they care about the good of the clan.”

“They might,” she snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to hide a grin.

Both of them know full well otherwise.

“I’m just gonna tell them,” he re-pockets his phone, purposefully ignoring the buzzing call of Gakuganji, “Face to face this time, so they can’t ignore it.”

“Ooh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“What’re you gonna say, big man?”

Satoru smiles bright, all cocky and sure and cool, “‘There is no way that you bags of bones will ever convince me to have kids.’”

. . .

A cold, soaked cotton pad is swiped over the triangle of your inner elbow, disinfecting the area before introducing a syringe.

You once asked Satoru why he bothered remaining a sorcerer under Jujutsu Tech when he obviously hates the higher-ups. His response, of course, was lackluster and chock full of holes (“Nobody else can do what I do,” he rolls his hand laxly, “Also, it's the only thing that doesn’t make me so bored I contemplate blowing my brains out.”).

You remember rolling your eyes with a single word reply, deeply unimpressed with his typical lack of tact (“Inspiring.”). Similarly, you remember thinking that you wanted to stay by his side, despite his annoying insensitivity.

When you got the panicked call from Shoko, you considered it a test. The universe cruelly examining your dedication. Ever the fool, you sped for the address she spat over the phone to prove yourself.

Now, you can’t even have the shame of reconsideration.

The bedroom has a camera in the far right corner, on the wall opposite a large observation mirror. Men in white coats pace back and forth, scribbling notes and judging every exact twinge in Satoru’s muscles. Satoru is positioned on a king bed with white sheets, hands latched behind his back in solid shackles with a radiant lock.

“He’s not hurt, right?”

“No,” the lead man steadies a needle to the sterilized juncture, “We never want to hurt Gojo,” his eyes flick up to the pinch in your face as the needle punctures your skin, “Or you.”

“He looks miserable…”

Three doctors turn to you, glaring. The man administering a blue, gluey serum into your veins sighs loudly, “Yes, well… you will be, too…”

The doctor folding your discarded clothes on the left scoffs, shaking his head.

Sometimes you spend so much time with Satoru that you forget how mean men can be.

“It should begin taking effect in just minutes,” the man steps back, letting one of his many assistants undo your tethers, “Mostly an additive,” he clarifies, “You don’t really need it, your stamina doesn’t matter much to us here. You can head in for him now.”

Your stamina may not matter to them, but you’d personally like to be awake as long as possible for this.

“Did you tell him it was me?”

Your question is ignored. So you step through the men and creep into the other room. Casting a curious glance over your shoulder to confirm the study window only reflects yourself. And Satoru.

Satoru.

Satoru.

The name is saccharine sweet in your mind. His head twists in your direction, blindfold gone and eyes comically wide. His eyes are dimmer than usual, though that isn’t very surprising when you were explicitly told the drug dampened cursed energy.

Your eyes rake over his body -- red and writhing and naked. Satoru’s gaze falls from your face to your chest to between your thighs, eyes widening further. You know he’s had partners before (lots of them, in fact), so the shock is unwarranted. Unless, of course, it’s because it’s you and not the random woman from a high up clan he assumed it’d be.

A stern voice breaks out from the far right corner of the room.

“He is willing.”

You gnaw your bottom lip anxiously, squinting through harsh overhead lights to the two-way mirror over your shoulder. Then, your eyes return to Satoru, knelt on the mattress and bare -sans the stocks cuffed around his wrist.

“Satoru…?” your face boils, gut fairing no better. Veins direct gutters for the goopy blue in your system, and it's pumping fast.

He copies your quiet, uttering your name through the still observation room, “You?”

“Is it…” you crawl onto the bed, convinced that his skin on yours could cure the overwhelming swelter in the room, “Am I okay?”

He nods limply, hair falling into crystalline eyes, “It’s you.”

Bright fluorescents dim to a more bearable, faint glow. Swallowing the last of your reservations with the swell in your throat, you turn your back to Satoru -- both knees firm on the plush mattress. 

Though his chest beats in sporadic, panicked breaths, Satoru’s lean hips are still -- perfect for reaching between your thighs and grasping his stood cock. He clenches his angel eyes shut to your flesh, but the waves and dips of your cursed energy stubbornly persist in his vision. He sees the wavering as your lust grows, he knows his is the same. Worse, even. So swallowed up in his belly by enforced desire that a stable flow is impossible to maintain.

Satoru is easy in your grasp, slipping inside you with whimpered pleas and huffs. You curve him into you, backing onto Satoru until your soft flesh is flush with his. Heat tickles up your spine, chilling at your neck and causing a rabid shiver all down your shoulders. 

Leaning forward onto your elbows, you slip over Satoru’s cock -- sliding along him with manufactured fervor (if you focus hard enough, you can still feel the needle incision stretch in your arm). 

The stocks rattle as Satoru jerks forward with a thick groan, hips now eager to pap, pap pap! onto yours. Bonds creak, splinters wailing in protest of his strength as he claws out to reach you. Satoru throws his head back, every sensitive nerve set ablaze just by the warmth and squeeze of your cunt.

His shortburst thrusts don’t dig far enough even though you’re kissing hips every time -- he feels overstimulated and yet unfulfilled. He needs to have both hands bound on your hips -squeezing the flesh on your bones and flipping and bending and making you keen under his lithe fingers.

He cannot discern if the need is driven by drooly chemical injection or longstanding affection, and he isn’t bothering himself with the question now. 

“Wanna touch,” he mumbles pathetically, red in the face and sweat beading down his forehead, white bangs slick to the skin, “Need it…” he gasps as you arch, stretching one of your legs to curl around his thigh, “Need to touch!"

As if spontaneously occurring to the crew that Satoru is pleading with them, the leading man jingles over with his key. He looks at the sedation team for extra assurance before unlocking Satoru’s stocks. 

Once the bonds clatter to the floor, Satoru is raking his nails across your body -- thighs, stomach, back, anywhere he can reach he’s eagerly clawing. Pulling and pushing before he collapses over you, his chest scorching your back. He stretches his neck to press his cheek to yours, lips loose and babbling,

“So good, so good, love how you feel -- wanna fuck you,” his brain must be falling through his lips because he seems to forget he’s already fucking you, “Wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you,” he lays sloppy kisses over your shoulder, teething at the sensitive bone, “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty girl? Yeah? Gonna make me a daddy, yeah?”

Hanging one arm below, he swirls the soft pads of his fingers over your clit -- soaked with the syrup his cock fucks free. His large hand expands over the pouch of your tummy to snugly press his thumb into your doughy skin; thumping where he’s battering your insides.

“Feel me there, mama? S’wet ‘n’ desperate, you want me bad,” he giggles deliriously, humping at your sex in plasticine frenzy before twitching to completion.

Satoru thinks he could go all day.

Thick arms tied around your waist, keeping your chest bare to his with both knees crimped over Satoru’s shoulders. His overconfidence proves itself as he thrusts up into you, lips pressing wetly onto yours while drooling out affectionate slurs,

“Best girl, pretty and hot and so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you? You love me, sweet girl? I think you do- know you do.”

Satoru stills only when more cum is pumped into your womb, pitiful mewls bobbing the apple of his throat.

You’re nodding with a heavy crown, forehead thumping into his sweaty collarbones and biting cresents in his biceps with your nails, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh - love you, ‘Toru! Love you so much…!”

Nuzzling along your flaming cheek, Satoru wriggles you loose just to flip you around to kneel in the sheets.

“I’m tired,” he muses, fingers dancing in the baby hairs at the base of your neck, “How about you do something, princess?”

You groan and pout, but don’t disobey.

Your knees are tingling and arms shaking as you twist to nestle against Satoru. Stretching back, you splay your palms over his broad chest to balance over his standing cock; then reach between your spread legs to grasp his erection. Skin soft and warm in your palm, he whimpers at the contact and throws his head back into the plush white pillow. Snowy hair tousled against the case, hips twitching up in you.

His cock bumps against your clit in his desperation and the sensation makes you clamp your knees around his waist tighter. You’re all heavy breaths and whines by the time you finally sink base-down. His cock feels hot and thick inside you, you’re not sure if it's all the eyes or whatever they stuck in your arm or the fact you’re with Satoru but your entire body is simmering.

Satoru’s hands unwind from the sheets to cling around your hips, forcefully rocking you down on him: as if to grind both your bones into paste. Cool air catches in the back of his swollen throat, your cunt wet and swallowing him back in as he tries slipping out. He lifts his head -jaw limping open and drool pooling around his raw-bitten lips- just to watch as he lifts and drops you over his cock.

Clumsily, he jerks his knees up and feet flat on the bed as the lava scorching through his veins inspires him to fuck you faster. Sweat beading and swamping all along his hairline and joints, leaving his skin sticky and sucking against yours with every thrust. Satoru’s fingers squeeze harshly around the fat of your hips, marking the skin with plum stains in the shape of his hand. If a baby isn’t enough, then these bruises surely will be bountiful evidence of your tryst.

Suddenly, Satoru sits up fully, lips pressing into your shoulder before he stabs into bone and flesh with his teeth. His arms swiftly move to curl around your waist, flushing your back to his chest as he pumps into you. One of his hands finds your breast, squishing the swells by the handful, and the other hand swooping to toy with your clit. He works slow circles into quicker swishes, thrusts speeding as the heat climbs and climbs from where he’s inside you up to your necks. Suffocating. Enveloping. 

Ragged breaths pull with terrible effort from both you and Satoru. Wet slaps of skin and syrupy squelching echoing in the otherwise still room. Oddly, the sound is far from grotesque, instead spurring another sweetened gush around Satoru. The dirty, primal nature far overshadows the lurking men in white coats around the edges of the room.

You can almost pretend you’re wrapped around Satoru for real pleasure rather than duty.

Again, Satoru sloppily mouths at your skin, from the bend in your shoulder along your neck and unto the softness of your jaw. Arms clenching around your waist until you’re practically immobile in his embrace, bouncing along his cock only because he puppeteers you to do so. 

Satoru moans hotly against the slope of your neck, licking the sweat off your skin just because he can. You lean into the coolness of Satoru’s tongue as your gut swirls and tightens before you’re seizing in the man’s grasp. His gaping mouth is pressed against your collarbone, slobber inking across your tit and down your arm. He hugs you tighter and soaks in full the clench of your orgasm, continuing to lathe his fingers over your clit until you’re jerking and huffing in overstimulation.

You think you hear him muttering (you hope you hear him muttering), “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

The unbearable heat is replaced by normal, merely uncomfortable heat. Satoru cuddles you against him still as he plugs you with his cum.

Soft murmurs float back into your ears, men stretching necks to gaze at the both of you and whisper amongst themselves. Satoru lazily drags the sheets high over your chest and settles back against the steely headboard. 

He yelps, back arching and eyes wide, sitting upright from the board.

“What…?” you groan, exhaustion overtaking you -- limbs numb and strewn out uselessly.

“It’s cold,” he grumbles into your ear, yawning and laying against the metal headboard again (this time prepared for the stinging temperature change), “Be nice to me.”

Weakly, you make a sound of protest from the back of your throat. Brain too fried to form words.

Satoru caresses his fingers gently over your stomach, gaze fluttering to the labcoats stiffly remaining in the room. They put much effort into avoiding his stare, heads kept low and ducking behind their collars. Rolling onto his side, Satoru keeps you caged in his arms while shielding you from the mens’ stares. 

He soothes his nails along the bulb of your cheek, six eyes searing through every layer of skin and muscle down to the beating of your heart. He knows, of course, that it beats for him.

Which makes him feel sick, beneath exasperated euphoria, because he knows why you’re here.

He knows the only way to give it back is with a baby neither of you really want.

[jihyoruri]

ME GIVE US PARANOIA MOMENTS RIGHT NOW PLEASE

as you wish‼️ (I decided to not do moments and do something else but it’s still paranoia crumbs)

the video opens with yn, jaehyun , and wonbin standing stiffly in a line in front of the camera. the atmosphere already feels chaotic as wonbin nudges jay to start the intro. jay stumbles forward dramatically, crashing into yn which causes her to stumble back into the counter.

she cuts her eyes at both boys who who just look straight at the camera avoiding her gaze,“Idiots,” she adds under her breath, while the staff behind the camera stifles their laughter.

“we are going to make cookies.” jay says with a big smile towards the camera, putting both his arms around yn and wonbin’s shoulders.

“you didn’t even introduce our name.” wonbin glares at jay who ignores him.

“they know who we are!” yn huffs, shrugging jay’s arm off aggressively. she then turns to the camera with an exaggerated sweet smile. “anyway, like the angel I am, I came up with this idea to bake cookies for our seniors.”

the camera pans to jay and wonbin who give yn a get real look, she didn’t even want to do it.

“what!?” she exclaims causing both of them to flinch and mumble nothing.

wonbin, trying to salvage the intro, gestures behind the camera. “like yn said, we’re making cookies... from scratch. but, uh, our staff is here to supervise us because apparently—”

“they don’t trust us in the kitchen,” jay whispers conspiratorially, leaning toward the camera like he’s sharing some forbidden secret.

“yeah, probably because someone almost burned down the microwave last week,” yn says, glaring at him.

“that was an accident!”

“making popcorn doesn’t need a microwave tutorial!” yn says rolling her eyes.

“ANYWAY,” Wonbin cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose, “we’re making fudge cookies because they’re dark and what’s paranoia without a dark vibe? let’s get started.”

the clip cuts to the trio mid argument, voices overlapping as they bicker over who should measure the flour.

“you both suck at measurements!” yn snaps, clutching the measuring cups tightly as jay and wonbin try to wrestle them from her. “I should do it!”

“you’re literally the worst at measurements!” jay fires back, grabbing at the cups. “give me the damn measuring cups before you screw it up!”

“no!” yn retorts, pulling back with enough force to almost knock over a bag of sugar.

“yn,” wonbin cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose like a stressed parent about to lose it. “go get the chocolate chips.”

“what? no! I can—”

“go,” wonbin repeats firmly, pointing to the pantry. his expression screams that he’s two seconds away from quitting the video altogether.

yn glares at him, clinging to the cups for a moment longer before shoving them into jay’s hands with a muttered, “fine. but fuck you.”

the editors bleep out the curse with a comically loud censor sound as yn storms off camera to get the chocolate chips.

jay smirks, holding up the measuring cups like a trophy. “see? problem solved. I’m the adult here.”

“jay, if you mess this up, I’m going to lose it,” wonbin warns.

the clip cuts to jay immediately spilling half the flour as wonbin facepalms while yn’s laughs are heard from off camera.

just like the intro of the video the three stand stiffly in front of the camera, jay has some flower on his face, wonbin has some chocolate on his white shift while yn eats a bunch of chocolate chips from the palm of her hand.

“they’re in the oven!” jay cheers extremely loud, “I think that went pretty smoothly.”

“no it didn’t.”

“are you dumb?”

yn and wonbin responded at the same time.

jay opens his mouth to defend himself, but yn cuts him off by grabbing another handful of chocolate chips and popping them into her mouth. “honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if these cookies send them straight to the toilet,” she says casually, chewing as wonbin turns to glare at her.

“yn.”wonbin’s voice is sharp, his gaze locked on her chocolate covered hand.

“what?” she mouths back silently, holding his stare like she did absolutely nothing wrong.

“should we, like… actually be giving these to them if that’s even a possibility?” jay asks, wiping the flour off his face, his tone genuinely concerned.

the three of them fall silent, staring at each other for a long, awkward moment as if they’re contemplating the true consequences of their actions.

finally, in perfect unison, they all shrug and say, “nah.”

the screen freezes on their unapologetic expressions, followed by the text “please do not look at these three as role models.”

“while we wait for the cookies to bake, we should probably clean up—cause, you know, we’re responsible people,” yn says to the camera about to take another handful of chocolate chips but wonbin slapped her hands away.

“we’re pretty good at cleaning, so this should go really fast,” jay chimes in, his voice way too upbeat for the situation.

the clip suddenly cuts to jay, who has just slipped on a patch of flour, falling flat on his back with a loud thud.

the camera holds on jay for a second, and then quickly pans to yn, who’s doubled over with laughter, clutching her stomach like she might pass out. she’s leaning against wonbin for support, but he’s torn—half of him is trying to figure out if jaehyun is okay, while the other half is quietly suppressing a laugh.

“jay?” wonbin asks, his face a mix of concern and disbelief, “you good?”

jaehyun groans from the floor, holding his head, weakly nodding.

yn, now bent over in laughter again, mutters between breaths, “I swear, you’re a walking disaster.”

“I think they look pretty good,” jay says confidently, looking over the batch of cookies as wonbin carefully carries the tray to the counter, like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“but do they taste good?” yn asks skeptically, already reaching for one. she takes a bite, chews, and then immediately passes it to jaehyun. he takes a bite too, then hands it over to wonbin, who finishes off the last piece with a thoughtful look.

they all chew in silence, before looking at each in shock.

“...they actually taste good,” wonbin says slowly, as if trying to process the miracle that’s just occurred.

“woah.” jay says before reaching for another one.

“I’m in shock,” yn says, casually grabbing a couple more and walking off camera to give them to the staff.

she walks back into the camera while the three of them look at the staff with bright smiles while the staffs sounds of delighted hums are heard in the background.

“you hear that?” yn says, raising an eyebrow and grinning at the camera. “that’s the sound of them tasting heaven.”

“I’m excited to give these to our seniors.” jay says grabbing another cookie.

“I’m just shocked that they actually taste good,” wonbin admits, still staring down at the cookies like they’re a rare artifact. “like, no joke. this might be our best achievement yet.

“okay so, apparently red velvet, nct, aespa sunbaenim, are here today.” yn says to the camera as she’s casually perched on Jaehyun’s back, both of them walking into the building.

“they’re gonna get a real good taste of our cookies.” jay exaggerates.

“cookies that I’m still shocked came out so well,” wonbin adds.

the clip cuts to them walking into a room with one of the small boxes that has some of their cookies inside it.

the camera pans to mark and johnny who look at the group confused as they look at the camera.

“what’s going on?” mark asks, laughter lacing his voice. the trio’s antics have him on edge, he knows they’re never up to anything too simple.

“we made you guys cookies,” yn says with a cheeky grin, holding the box out to johnny, who eyes it with suspicion.

“did you guys put rat poison in it?” mark askes causing them to gasp in offence.

jay’s voice cuts in, “they taste good, I swear

“surprisingly good,” wonbin mutters, still looking at the cookies like they might spontaneously combust.

mark and johnny exchange a hesitant glance before each of them takes a cautious bite. the room falls into an expectant silence as they chew then both of them freeze. their eyes widen in shock.

“wait…” mark says, shaking his head in disbelief, trying to process the flavor.

“-that’s actually good.” johnny says going for another bite, “where did you guys buy this from cause no way you made it.”

“wowwwwww.” all three say in offence.

the clip cuts to the trio walking into the room, energetically singing red flavour at the top of their lungs, holding a small box of cookies.

seulgi laughs at the sight, clearly amused by the chaos unfolding in front of her, while the others watch in confusion. yn, still belting out the chorus, passes the box of cookies to yeri with a wink.

wendy eyes the box curiously as she opens it, staring at the cookies before turning her gaze back to the trio, who are still happily singing. "you guys made us cookies?" she asks, skepticism clear in her voice.

"It tastes good, we promise," yn says, trying to hold back her laughter. "even we are shocked." she walks over to seulgi and plops down on her lap, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "trust us."

the three red velvet members take a a cookie from the box and hesitantly take a bite.

there’s silence, before they all look at each other in shock.

"woah,” yeri breaks the silence, her eyes wide in surprise. she grabs another cookie with a grin, clearly impressed.

"that’s really good," wendy says, reaching for another one too. "I didn’t expect it to taste this good."

“we told you.” jay and wonbin say at the same time.

seulgi, still laughing at the unexpected success, raises an eyebrow. "they're actually really good. Who did you guys get to make them for you?" she asks, her voice dripping with playful curiosity.

thw entire room bursts into laughter, and yn, still comfortably in seulgi’s lap, winks mischievously. "we made them," she says with confidence . "from scratch."

the clip cuts to jay running into the room, attempting an impressive (but slightly uncoordinated) cartwheel. he lands with a dramatic stance , nearly knocking over a nearby table, while yn and wonbin follow closely behind, each holding a box of cookies

“special delivery.” jay says in a high pitched voice the room goes silent for a moment before the members burst into laughter, covering their mouths in shock at the chaotic entrance.

“what is going on?” giselle laughs, looking at the trio in disbelief, while yn quickly shoves the box into her hands.

“we made cookies.” wonbin says opening the lid, like it was a box of treasure, “from scratch, impressive right?”

ningning looks at the box warily. “I don’t know if I want to eat that...” she says, making winter giggle and nod in agreement.

karina, still processing the chaos, keeps her gaze fixed on yn, who stares back at her, unfazed. “just try it, it’s really good,” yn says, offering a reassuring smile

the girls exchange skeptical glances but cautiously pick up a cookie, all except karina, who’s still eyeing it suspiciously. yn, with a sigh of mock frustration, grabs the cookie from karina’s hand and pops it into her own mouth, causing the entire room to burst into laughter.

karina’s eyes widen, shocked by yn’s bold move, but her attention quickly shifts back to the cookie as she chews. one by one, the other girls’ expressions change from skepticism to surprise as they start to chew.

“this is really good,” ningning says, reaching for another cookie, her earlier doubts forgotten.

“no way you guys made this,” giselle shakes her head, still in shock, unable to believe it.

“better believe it.” jay said proudly.

karina, finally accepting the cookie’s legitimacy, watches yn and grabs another one. “thank you for shoving that cookie in my mouth,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “this is so good.” the room erupts in laughter, everyone enjoying karina’s playful tone

“no problem dude.” yn says nonchalantly causing karina to shoot her a scolding look.

the clip transitions to a new scene with bold, playful bubble letters reading “yn’s iphone” at the top of the screen. yn is lying on her bed, holding her phone in one hand while wonbin is next to her, both of them looking at the screen

“the cookies definitely tasted good,” yn starts,, “but everyone ate so much of them that, well… it did indeed send us to the toilet.” she glances at wonbin, who nods solemnly in agreement, his expression mock serious.

as if on cue, the sound of a toilet flushing is heard in the background, followed by jay’s voice shouting from the bathroom, “I regret everything!”

yn and wonbin exchange amused glances, trying to stifle their laughter. they burst out giggling, barely able to keep it together.

the video cuts abruptly, with both of them still laughing uncontrollably in the background.

[midnight1nk]

So, the Silence of the Cats movie....

[spoilers below cut]

OMGOMGOMG IT'S TIME!

Y'know I have to put this on the big screen, full HD quality. I got my ramen and bingo cards, I'm SO ready!

3... 2... 1... happy new year oh wait LET'S GOOOO

[the following is my live reaction:]

frame one and I'm already hyped

OH OH are we starting off like we did in the trailer?

it's giving across the spider-verse vibes, ifykyk

OH GOD THAT'S EVEN WORSE. she got hit by a semitruck AND a car?! gurl are you ok?

and she's limping a bit. it was for a second but it counts!

the character of the hour....

*points at screen* THERE HE IS

I'm SO ready to punch his face right about now

ooh the animation tho okay Team

"That's probably not the biggest problem on their plate right now!" WPNZ, what did you do? where are the kids?

bc i swear i'll—

....OH HELL NAH I AIN'T TRUSTING THIS

WHY IS THE PIZZA BLUE?!

oh god did the Team see what I wrote?

YEAH YEAH kids, this is practically a hostage situation so PLEASE for your mom's (and my) sake you get outta here 😨

IKIK but kids, pleaseeeee

WPNZ, YOU ARE NOT PART OF THIS CONVERSATION WE'LL GET A CHANCE TO "TALK" (read: fight)

"Points for effort right?" oh you did NOT just say that to her AND to me. this isn't a "game", it's a family

ARE YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME?! nopenopenope

kids, this is for your safety i promise

Zach omg, I know you're upset but geez

YOU *angry microwave noises*

THANK YOU KAREN, I was about say KICK HIS ASS

for a guy like WPNZ, Karen is pretty good handling him on her own. strong woman/cat, we love to see it

"Cmon! You know that "contract" jobs paid in DROVES-" AAAAA I'm gonna fall off my chair already

HITMAN INC. MENTION

seriously why is he here?!?!?! i wanna rip someone's head off

WHAT?! KATANA?! as in the sword?

OH that makes so much sense. WPNZ, Katana. Karen was a stray after all, she probably didn't give herself a name. or maybe Katana was just the codename given to her by the corporation and she used to refer to herself as that.

YEAH don't deadname her!

*head in hands* no one's letting her move on :(

"there it is, that glare." ew ew ew i HATE that. I'd rather have the fight.

i hope the kids aren't hearing this—

GODDAMMIT NOOO

yes kids, just give a moment to sort out this beef we have, ok?

don't. you. dare.

*slams desk* YOU MF

that's a VERY good question, Zach (please flashback storytime please)

YESSS

oh we're just going to sit on the floor, ok?

it was obvious that partners would grow attached to one other. A bond like this relies on blind trust, knowing that the other would do the job. And eventually, caring for each other's safety, for a job with high risks.

but ofc this turned out terrible for them and Karen did the right choice taking care of her kids without him, not getting her hopes up that he'll be back

And the team pulled off a spyxfamily moment 😌↕️

*angry microwave noises*

i LOATHE the kind of parents who think that financial support is all the kids need

literally him 10 minutes ago: "ahh ahh ahh, language. Wouldn't want the little ones hearing would we?"

oh, so when YOU say it, we're not supposed to judge?

fuckin hypocrite

ALL 👏 KIDS 👏 NEED 👏 SAFETY 👏

wait... was that supposed to be a frozen pizza? so all this "slaving away making dinner" was all for frozen pizza. well I was right about it being the case in my trailer analysis.

...I don't like how his face changed

NOPE *snap fingers* get tf out of here. this is part of a larger con, he's trying to make her feel guilty

huh, it looks like a day has passed (please tell me 4's recovering rn)

good on her getting security devices after what happened

SWAG! you're actually getting a scene and not just an appearance, yay 🎉

hey. hey swag. can you do something for me? could you uh arrest someone for me :) why? well he's a threat

WHY ARE YOU conveniently HERE?

ok WPNZ, you were stalking before but now you're just doing it to piss me off

not even government-level weapons could go against him ah fuck

"becoming weapons"? NOPE NOPE we're outta here

NO MEANS NO.

ew ew ew don't you ever say that, WPNZ

*points at screen* hey look, fnaf! (let's not think about the door, ok? ok)

aw katie 😭

this is going to come back somehow. i can feel it.

just Karen being a cool mom

"Kataanaaaaa :D" PISS. OFF. :)

that's right, let's not provoke him with whatever he's planning

it's not just an arcade game smh

*more angry microwave noises*

YEAH WPNZ what would you know about parenting? huh?

HHHHHH i hate that he makes a good point but I'm going to still keep reminding myself that he has bigger plans in mind

compromise is a big thing in parenting, especially when dealing with younger kids 😌↕️ (this is what KAREN did, not wpnz)

*ahem* uh you mean, HER kid

team istg PLEASE don't redeem him

this is a ploy this is a ploy

EXACTLY some things CAN'T BE FORGIVEN

YEP BYE

NOOOOOOO

ough her kids are her world.....

"AND NO WEAPONS" ah see, she said no WPNZ so bye creep :)

OH HELL NAH WPNZ, YOU DON'T GET TO PULL A SONIC ADVENTURE POSE. NOT ON MY WATCH.

those rocks are shaking, i don't trust that

WHAT DID I JUST SAY?

GO KAREN, SAVE YOUR KIDS

.... I'm sorry wha?

don't tell me that's bc.... *points at WPNZ* ....is it?

IT'S GENETIC?!

i...just. uh. how do i. i think we need to move on.

NONONONO YOU DON'T GET TO HUG THEM

he's winning them over, nooooo

it can't be like this. team please.

And he's teaching them how to become assassins, godammit

oh Karen, it's because they gained new "superpowers", ofc the kids would be happy about it. it's not on you.

"secret mission"?

THAT'S IT. THIS IS WHERE WE DRAW THE LINE. ABSOULTELY NOT. YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT AFTER YOU SAID "I understand that you don't want them to go killing" MF

WE CAN'T TRUST HIM WITH ANYTHING HE SAYS. KAREN, GET HIM

(oh, i didn't expect karen to say "absolutely not" like i did)

ROOTS?! ARE YOU KIDDIN ME

yep, he hasn't changed AT ALL. been telling you that this is just a con somehow

...oh no

....chat i'm this close to snapping.

first off, WPNZ didn't need to steal the "pick your poison" line from me

second, no, don't do this to me team

first with 4 and now. please don't.

I'M ACTUALLY CRYING, CHAT

like I know the movie's not going to end this way. it can't, right?

istg if this is how it ends, you're going to see me on the news

THE SHOWGROUNDS?! OH OH is it happening? what's going on?

4 MY BOYYYYYY 😭😭😭 i'm crying even more now

you're okayyy. i knew you would be but you're okay and that's what matters

AND YOU GOT BANDAGES? y'know what? I'LL TAKE IT

i'm not even mad bc you can justify it as, timeline-wise, it's been a few days after the events of "Enough is Enough" so 4 could've been recovering during that time

↑ yeah I'm going to make a fic about it

and it's SO in-character for him to be walking around while he's recovering

don't think about how the bandages are on (1) covering his logo particularly from his left side, (2) exactly on top of where his lobotomy scar would be, and (3) around his right hard in which was the first limb that broke free of the goo's corruption in IGBP. let's not :) <- I say, y'know like a liar

I'M OUTRIGHT SOBBING RN

4's talk was exactly what Karen needed. Ben lowkey was right, 4 really is the key, to help Karen

And it means so much more, considering how Luke became a content creator and it was Kevin who supported his passion, to be happy. it truly came from the soul of the whole channel, to the Hobo Bros.

this show, man......

AND y'know how I said that 4 to me is basically "that friend who gives a caring and supporting talk while getting a ride home from the airport" kinda vibe. now you see what I mean?

he would really do anything to not lose his friends, even from their own despair

(ok we have to keep going or else I'm going to start crying again)

YEAH KAREN, GO GET YOUR KIDS BACK

yep, WPNZ favors Katie out of her brothers oh no

oh kiddos, it's not a video game :(

WPNZ... they are LITERALLY KIDS. ofc they're going to joke around.

oop, we got some hesitation. please, I hope the kids turn against him

Again. they're kids.

BRUH WHY DID YOU DO THAT?

THEY'RE 👏 KIDSSSS 👏

arcade? this isn't a GAME. They don't wanna do this :((

aw no they're crying. stoooooopppp.

Karen I need you to come in right about now. Karen. KAREN.

LET'S GOOOOO, NEVER MESS WITH A MOM

ZACH'S CRYING? AW NOOOOO 😭😭😭

...WPNZ, I'm going to uno reverse what you said to them: how about you piss off?

HHHHHHHHHH i'm going to snap

yea no, it's not going to happen the same way like last time

i LOVE how different WPNZ and Karen talk to the kids here in taking whose side: WPNZ sees them more as one unit and what could they potentially do if they were stronger, smarter. To meet the standards of a legend. Keeping on referring to them as "weapons" and not kids. For Karen, she kneels down to their level, calls them individually by name, admits her wrongdoings (unlike WPNZ for what happened earlier), and whatever they will or will not be, she will still love them no matter what. They don't have to be legends, just be happy, it's all that matters to her.

and the kids chose their mom 😌↕️ THE POWER OF TRUE FAMILY

oh so you're that type of parent. Karen, get his ass.

I got a feeling who might've animated this fight scene

OMG DID HE JUST DECLAW HER?! 😨 now you gotta go (not die exactly but still)

OH YEAH? AND GUESS WHO THEY CHOSE THE SECOND TIME, WPNZ?

FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS IT! thanks zach

"A." well said, cory. such a beautiful speech right there 💙

it turns out the fight team-up was Karen with her kids all along! well, to be fair, we didn't know the kids's genes are them having weapons for limbs

GO GET HIS ASS THIS IS SO HYPE

"You screwed with the wrong family..." YES YOU DID

now we can curb-stomp him :)

Finally, an actual homemade pizza made by Karen

don't fight for food tho, kiddos

see? compromise 👍

oh. it's not over yet guys. hold on.

*looks at the magenta and cyan lights* .....heterochromia 4?

is the corporation going to come in? perhaps? maybe?

...wha?

NO STOP YOU BETTER NOT

THERE'S ONLY ONE PERSON I KNOW WHO WOULD SAY "DEAR"

NO WAY IT'S HIM AIN'T NO WAY

"A friend." OMG NO WAY I'M WRESTLING WITH MY DECK CHAIR RN STOPPPP

LET'S FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOO

THAT'S HOW YOU BRING HIM BACK AND END A MOVIE

WE ARE SO BACK oh this was fantastic

alright merch time!

KAREN PLUSHIE LOOK AT HER

Luke: "That ending, I wonder what that stinky SMG4 has in store" well, I have a couple theories—

LOOK AT THIS 💳💥 💳💥 💳💥

WHY AM I SO BROKE?

look at the katphish family, dude ueueue

*ahem at the Puzzles figurine*

……….eye of ra *explodes* (i mean, what else do you expect from me? NOT talk about goop!4? *points at blog bio* yea no, I will)

"the pencil case is probably for the younger viewers" DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE? i NEED it............

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Now, you're probably wondering what I think of the movie, and the answer?

This has been one of the best movies I've ever seen. The writing, the voice acting, the animation. Spectacular all around, the Team really cooked on this one. I just. I have no words.

hey, shadow did say we were gonna get surprises, and oh boy we did.

Perhaps some things didn't happen in the movie/we didn't get to see and, honestly, screw it! It surprised us more than we could ever realize and I do hope the hype I brought to you guys made the movie worth watching bc it deserved the praise.

Karen and the kids learning what it means to be a true family. WPNZ, as much as I love to hate on his character and calling him yucky, he was incredibly well-written and I'm glad that the Team didn't give him a full-on redemption path. It feels realistic that he would try but ultimately his personality and desires was what crushed him at the end, if he didn't view the kids as potential weapons/assassins.

AND MY BOY 4 💙 I already said what needed to be said but golly he's such a sweetheart. how can you hate him? (no seriously how? I can never understand it.) personal hc: the Castle lights were set to "low" just to help 4 not get a headache, which conveniently set up the tone for the scene.

So. can we talk about that ending?! OMG MR. PUZZLES IS BACK!!! I can't believe it. Well, sort of. It's not that Mr Puzzles wouldn't be able to contact the outside world from solitary confinement. He absolutely can. See? I told you all he could. I just couldn't have ever imagined that he's starting to collect villains like pokémon. Likely making his own "Crew" to go against our SMG4 Crew. And y'know what it could mean? That's right: PUZZLEVISION+ and that also means, there's goop!4 theory potential 👀 especially with the lighting at the end there (ik the meme, ik but let me have my bliss for a sec).

Funny enough that Mr. Puzzles really said "You look lonely. I can fix that" to WPNZ. So..... hitshow, anyone?

Anyway, let's see what the Team has to say:

"You have no idea how long i've been waiting for this moment. Hope you'all enjoyed the movie the SMG4 team really did a amazing job!" — anaidon

"Glad ya'll liked the latest #SMG4 movie I got to be a part of with the animating styles. As for the ending though... [evil laughter]" — star

"MR PUZZLES YA VIENE CABRONES" [mr puzzle is coming, you bastards] — ben (YESSIR! and you were kinda right ben, 4 was the key all along)

"Hello SMG4 community, hope you all enjoy SMG4: Silence of the Cats Movie. I animated the sad/emotional scene which is kind of scenes I prepared myself to work on since I joined the team. I put so much effort into this scene [the first "pick ya Poison" scene of the kids choosing WPNZ over Karen], ensuring that I create the same emotional impact to you guys just like every other emotional scene in SMG4. I was nervous that I wasn't able to meet everyone's expectations, but seeing your reactions, All the doubts have wasted away. When animating the tension between Karen and Mr. WPNZ, I wanted to strongly emphasize the emotions from the amazing voice acting performed by Elsie Lovelock & Gianni Matragrano who were amazing. Also the crying texture that I used in the end of my scene was made by @/theartistisme43." — braden (you did an amazing job, dude, one of the scenes that made me first cry, bravo. and ay, Cantro got some credit for the textures!!!)

"The cat is figuratively out of the bag, I guess, haha. I animated the climax scene of SMG4: Silence of the Cats. For reals one of the trickiest things I've had to animate outside of the WOTFI raps, but damned if I'm not content with how it all came out. Of course, this was not a solo effort. Everyone else on the SMG4 team should be proud of themselves. Aaron, Braden, Anaidon, James, Paul, Star, ThatMadMoose. AND our newest additions, Clubbins and ShockHat. You two did amazing. Gotta also sing the praises of Gianni. Absolutely killed it as Mr. WPNZ, and was an honor to animate something with his voice. Here's to hearing him voice the armed boi more in the future. — shadow (I KNEW you worked on that badass final fight scene, haha. glad I was able to recognize your work! it was so satisfying to watch.)

Seriously, the Team has done an incredible job, and I always loved sharing their posts about their work to yall. They deserve the credit. And this is just the first arc of the year, my dear fellows. I can't wait to see what comes next, they do be scheming 😊↕️

and it's SO funny that few of the team are reblogging "you look lonely" fanart with Puzzles and WPNZ, or even the ship itself, in a crack ship kinda way. Peeps, you know what to do :)

Well, this is long enough already, so I'm going to cut things here. Again, this movie had me speechless for a whole 10 minutes. I'll also be posting my bingo cards later, which btw thank you to everyone who participated. It's been a blast! I'll see you all next time, and remember: numbers always go first!

...so anyway, heterochromia 4:

[theocddiaries]

[Classic/younger versions of the characters. Tails is a little toddler painting at the dining table. Sonic is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, impatiently bouncing his leg. Someone knocks frantically at the door.] Sonic: Come in! Amy: Sonic! Hi! What did you need me for??? Sonic: Take the milk out of the microwave, please. Amy: … … You mean the microwave that’s three steps away? Sonic: Yes. Amy: Um, hey, not that I'm complaining, but… why don’t you take it out yourself? Sonic: I'm glad you're asking, Miss "Take the kid home, he’s tiny and doesn’t understand." Look at this. [Sonic stands up. Tails stops drawing and tenses, watching him from the corner of his eye. Sonic takes a step toward the kitchen, and Tails immediately starts screaming like a banshee. Sonic, now in a bad mood, sits back down on the couch, and Tails instantly stops, going back to drawing like nothing happened. Sonic looks at Amy with a tense smile and furious eyes.] Amy: Whoa. Well, hey, during rush hour, just put him on your shoulders, and people will step aside thinking it’s a siren, hahaha… By that scowl I'm guessing you don't find it funny. The milk, yeah, I’ll get it. [opens the microwave and hands him the mug] Sonic [puts the mug next to Tails]: Here. Tails [takes a sip, burns himself, and starts crying just as loud] Sonic: Oh, come on, I didn’t even move! Amy: Sonic, you have to blow on it! Sonic: He can blow on it, it’s his milk! Amy: But he’s tiny and doesn’t understand! [leans down to gently pat Tails’ back.] Sonic: That again? Look, this kid only understands what suits him. I can’t wait for the night to be over so I can drop him off at the orpha—and what follows. Amy: Are you seriously still going through with that??? Doesn’t it make you sad to know some stranger will take him in and you'll know nothing more about him?? Sonic: No, that's my dream, actually. And for your information, I'm stranger to that fox too. He’s just like any other kid: whiny, loud, and annoying. Amy: Oh, but-- Sonic: If you’re so against it, be my guest and— [stands up and lifts Tails. Tails stops crying immediately.] Amy: Whoa. Either the kid just lost his voice, or he doesn’t cry with you, Mr. Stranger. [Sonic looks at her doubtfully. He puts Tails back down, and the kid starts crying again. He picks him up, and he stops. He hands him to Amy, and he cries again. He picks him back up, and silence. A small smile appears on his face.] Sonic: Well, well… I knew you were smart when it suited you, huh? Little bastard. Who's a smart little genius, huh? Huh?? Amy: Aaaaw. Sonic: No no, not aww, cut your cheesy stuff. I have not changed my mind. Amy: Yeah… then why are you holding him closer now? Sonic: So he’ll shut up. Because he’s super smart, isn't that right, my little Tails? Oh, look, he laughed! You like that name, huh? You like it when I call you that, little buddy?? Amy: Hm…

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[multiheadcanons]

I TELEPATHICALLY CHANNEL ALL OF MY PERIOD PAINS AND TRANSFER IT TO THE MERCS AND DONT CHANGE THE PRONOUNS.

scout: scout is god’s favorite. he exercises so often that he doesn’t really experience cramps, and though his cycle is heavy it only lasts a few days. serious mood swings too. don’t show him any sad shit because it will profoundly affect him and he will cry. and then he’ll get mad at you because he’s crying. then you have to go make amends. and you better do it right or you’ll piss him off more. tries not to jump as often because he hates the feeling of it when he’s on his period.

soldier: no noticeable change but the cravings go crazy. literally posted in the kitchen at all times, if not cooking something staring intently at the microwave, honestly he’s probably doing both. likes the heat of the oven on his stomach. someone get him a rice sock to put in the microwave— actually maybe don’t. that’s a weapon. you just gave him a weapon. he’ll actually fight you with it if he gets pissed off enough. please don’t get hit by soldier’s rice sock.

pyro: posted in the shower, and it’s like a sauna in there. the heat relaxes their muscles; and they feel a little closer to normal. on the field, they do their best to not let it affect them, but sometimes the blood pooling in the suit makes them want to throw up. can’t handle the smell of it as they literally bake in their suit. they’re in the shower if they’re not on the field. and they’ve never been more grateful for their bed being so soft.

demo: cramping, bleeding, and pissy. will take a page out of scout’s book and switch out his grenade launcher for his sword and run more often to alleviate the cramps. can’t take any medication for any of the pains because he drinks too much, so he doubles the dose when he takes aspirins for the hangovers and calls it a day. also is in bed if he isn’t on the field. and unnecessarily touchy. the pressure of a hug feels good on his back. just starts draping himself across anyone who’s unfortunate enough to sit in the same room as him, and closes his eyes and tries to sleep. the team has learned it’s because he wants some pressure placed on his stomach. they’ll generally oblige for him. it’s not too much to ask for a belly rub here and there.

heavy: the cramps don’t bother him. the mood swings he can handle… mainly. it’s the cravings. the cravings kill him. there is no reason he should want a deep fried pickle encrusted in a fruity pebble beer batter and garnished with cilantro and lime, but dammit does he so bad. that’s when he starts making scooby-doo level sandwiches. and he’s so sentimental. it doesn’t seem so, but the random “i value you as a member of the team” from heavy goes so far for the team’s morale. dont cry about it, because he will tear up and reaffirm that you are loved and he loves you. and don’t let him and scout sync up or they’re both going to watch sad movies and cry on each other’s shoulders. what saps.

engineer: god’s favorite… kinda. generally light cycles, no cramps, but they last like a week and a half and his body in general just aches. back hurts, legs hurt, arms hurt, shoulders hurt, major headaches. he’s pounding ibuprofen like it’s going out of style. he could really use a massage, but he feels awkward complaining. so he grits his teeth and gets to work. more sour than normal, but it’s not mood swings. he is in physical pain. it’s like he can feel every bone in his body, and he’s feeling them age in real time. sometimes, if the doctor catches him eating ibuprofen, engie can get a quick massage out of him. enough to give temporary relief from the aches. obviously not enough to give real relief, but enough that whichever body part isn’t working works… a little more. the first time engie got a massage, the doctor just started firmly knocking on his tibia, and engie’s eyes were opened to what it could potentially feel like to have a bolt screwed into his body. his legs felt like jelly, and he had never felt better for battle!

medic: dead in the infirmary. leave him alone. bad cramps, thick clots in his cycles. luckily they only last about five days but he is in pain pretty much every day of it. it pisses him off. it’s exhausting, he’s exhausted, and he wears way too much white and cream to be bleeding the way he does. takes it out on the field. he’ll fistfight you if you get close enough for his arms to reach. fuck the bonesaw, these hands got guaranteed crits. prefers cold compresses over warm ones, though he knows they’re less effective. warming devices overheat him too quickly to use them often, and he prefers to be cold. the ubers help a lot, but once the charge is over the pain returns. at that point he’s taking the whole uterus out. fuck the dumb shit. normally asleep on the operating table, and if you catch him slipping you’ll see blood on his pants. if you bring it up he’ll kill you.

sniper: dead in the van. leave him alone. not as bad as it could be, in comparison to the other mercs, but the second the bleeding starts he is pissed off at worst and irrevocably annoyed at best. cramps hit him very specifically as he’s sitting. and he sits a lot on the job. but standing hurts his feet. he can’t win any way he slices it, and that pisses him off. he starts feeling some type of way about his job, which pisses him off, he’s just very pissy on his period. ultra mega major shit talker. and he will back it up if he has to, then be pissed he got himself in that position. jarate is shelved for the moment. he might be gross but he’s not a freak. the period cravings go crazy, hide the whole fridge. but if he goes in there and the fridge is empty, guess what? he’s gonna be pissed. he will beg someone to get in that kitchen and cook. he will pay for a hot meal. he’d pay ten times the market price for a bag of chips right now. he’s on the verge of tears from the hunger he’s feeling. then his stomach hurts because he’s eating like garbage. and guess what…. yeah you know, he’s gonna get pissed off.

spy: dead in the smoking room. leave him alone. god’s most hated. body aches, mood swings, migraines, cramps for a week. some of those cramps will drop him to the floor, and he hasn’t quite learned how to not react to the pain, so he stays in the smoking room for as long as he can. he’s on as much pain medication as he can be on without destroying his organs. cigarette consumption doubles. bags under his eyes from uncomfortable sleep. on the verge of tears pretty much at all times, and he never knows why. he’s just more distraught than usual. but if you actually piss him off he’ll just shoot you in the foot.

[nyoomfruits]

For the Valentines trope: roommates to lovers, landoscar, prompt 4

Please Nyoom I’m on my knees begging your writing keeps me alive 🙏

“before you say anything about me being at home tonight, i want to remind you that you are too.”

He runs into Oscar in the hallway. Oscar’s dressed in his usual evening clothes consisting of a pair of loose sweat pant shorts and a well worn t-shirt, glasses perched on his nose and hair standing in every which direction. There’s a mug in his hand, empty, which means he’s probably on his way to the kitchen to refill it.

The kitchen Lando just came from, which is why he’s currently holding a bag of crisps and a can of coke. “Before you say anything,” Lando says, when he sees Oscar’s eyes swoop down to his slightly disheveled state and the snacks in his hands, “about me being home tonight, I want to remind you that you are too.”

“I’m always home,” Oscar says, almost on autopilot. His eyes zero in on the crisps. It’s a bag of Doritos. Nacho cheese, real brand ones, not the knock offs. Lando keeps one in the pantry for emergencies, likes to eat them when he feels down.

Oscar knows this.

“Well, now so am I,” Lando says, goes to shoulder his way past Oscar, but Oscar is too fast, grabs him by the upper arm, bring him to a halt. “What happened?” He says.

And god. Lando so doesn’t want to talk about what happened. Especially not to Oscar, who’s like. Way too sweet about everything always. In an ideal world, he’d be into Oscar instead of all these douchebags that keep breaking his heart. “It’s fine,” he says, but there’s a shake in his voice, and Oscar doesn’t let go, just keeps staring at him.

“Carlos broke up with me,” Lando eventually says, shoulders sagging. “Or well. Apparently there was nothing to break, actually. Apparently it was just a casual thing anyway. Which I wasn’t aware of, so,” he shrugs, and tries not to cry, all at the same time.

“Hm,” Oscar says, considers this for a second. “I don’t think the Doritos are going to cut it,” he eventually says, and then promptly turns and disappears into his bedroom.

Lando is too stunned and confused to really react to that, so he’s still standing in the hallway a few seconds later, when Oscar reappears with a bag of gummy words and a packet of microwave popcorn. “My personal emergency stash,” he says, when Lando just stares at them. “Now, come on,” he adds, nudging Lando in the direction of the living room. “Go pick the worst action movie you can find. I will go make us some horrible cocktails. We need booze for this.”

The cocktails really will be horrible, Lando thinks, as he makes his way into the living room in a slight daze, still clutching the bag of Doritos in his hands. Oscar’s a good cook, in general, does most of the actual cooking in their little household, as long as you can call two people living together because housing prices in the UK are off the charts really a household, but he’s terrible at making drinks.

Lando’s just settles on the newest Ryan Reynolds movie, when Oscar reappears with a tray holding the snacks and two horribly pink drinks. At least he’s stuck umbrellas in them. “What do we have that’s pink?” Lando asks, holding up his drink.

Oscar pulls a face. “You don’t want to know,” he says.

Lando hums and takes a sip. It’s so, so incredibly gross, in a way that weirdly loops back to good. “God, you suck at this,” he says, with a little cough. “It even tastes pink.”

“I did promise you they would be horrible,” Oscar says, takes a sip of his own drink and grimaces. “God, that’s fowl. Alright, what’re we watching?”

They turn on the movie, and Oscar lets Lando talk through almost the entire thing, someone his other friends always find wildly annoying but that Oscar never really seems to mind much, smiling fondly at Lando and quietly chewing on his popcorn.

When the movie is over they put on another one, and then when that ones over, and the room has gone dark, and the snacks have all been finished, Oscar turns towards Lando, tucks his feet under himself, and says, “Okay, you want to talk about it?”

Lando sighs, lets his head fall back against the couch. “Not really,” he says. “I mean, what is there to talk about? Once again I thought I had found the one and once again they only saw me as a casual fling. Tale as old as time. You know, I’m starting to think maybe I’m not meant for love. Maybe I’m just meant to die old and alone.”

“You won’t die old and alone,” Oscar immediately counters. “Come on, no. You’re a catch.”

“Really?” Lando asks, lets his head fall towards the side so he’s facing Lando. “Why is no one catching me, then?”

Oscar bites his lip. “Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong places.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Lando sighs. “Anyway, how’s your love life going. Now we’re on the topic.”

Oscar never talks about his love life much. Lando knows there was a girlfriend, but she left the picture long before Lando entered it, and there hasn’t been anyone since.

“Bad,” is all Oscar says.

“Aw, no, Osc, come on, you gotta give me more than that,” Lando says, poking Oscar in the knee.

Oscar shrugs. “I mean. I’m in love with someone, I guess. But uh, they’re not in love with me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lando says. “Who wouldn’t be in love with you? You’re adorable.”

Oscar smiles a little ruefully, ducks his head. “Yeah, well. They aren’t.”

“Blegh,” Lando says, picks up his third? Fourth? Suspiciously pink drink, holds it up to Oscar in a toast. “Well, here’s to shitty love lives. Let us stick together at least, so we might die old but not alone.”

Oscar’s smiles a little sadly. “To dying old, not alone,” he says, and takes another sip. “God, fucking hell, please never let me make another cocktail ever again.”

[radioisntdead]

Hi can I request alastor x Vox's sister reader? Reader isn't a tech demon like Vox and kinda the opposite of when it comes to technology.

Basically the equivalent of someone who's so bad at cooking they could burn water except with technology. And maybe Vox didn't know they were down in hell and only found out well spying on Alastor and reader accidently does that destroys a tech thing.

You dont have to do it if you'd dint want to and sorry its so long I hope it's not to weird or specific.

Good evening My dear! I may have gone slightly overboard, I had fun with this request!

You know where to find me, I know where to look.

Alastor x female reader, Vox & sister reader

Warnings!!

Vox being a creepy lil tv creeper, implied Radiosilence, Alastor plots to take out the reader at one point, both reader and Alastor are on the Aroace spectrum, Am I projecting a little? Yes

Reader has beef with microwaves, not proof read apologies for any spelling mistakes, Leaning into fanon territory here! Ending a little scrambled because it's 7 am and I am supposed to be up in three hours.

Vox's sister was something he didn't talk about often or at all, maybe a brief whisper of "[Name] would like this"

when he saw something she would like but nothing more, while Vox had managed to live up until the 50's you had died before him, a unspecified illness had taken your life, he suspected it was from you over working yourself but he couldn't prove it, all he knew was that you were more then likely in heaven with the angels, probably doing whatever you please.

He'd like to see his sister again after all the two of you were little troublemakers growing up, sneakily stealing the freshly baked cookies your mother made, spraying the neighbors son with the hose when he shoved Vox onto the ground or throwing rotten eggs at the neighbors other son who tried to pull your pigtails, although you did fight a fair amount, with you chasing him down with a baseball bat after he had broken the head off of your doll one time.

When the war took the life of your father and heartbreak took your mother's years after, when the two of you were in the middle of your teenage years, the two of you only had each other, you had each other's backs, even if you disapproved of your brothers obsession with the up and coming TV technology, it worked in his favor once he landed a job working with it, managing to scramble up the connections to get you a nice job as some guys secretary, it paid well and the guy wasn't stupid enough to mess around with Vox's sister.

To his knowledge you didn't get involved in the field politics like he did, where he trampled over the weak ones, stealing ideas and parading them off as his own when his own ideas were rejected, And the other things he did to get to the top, you were a decent person, a woman far beyond her time one would say.

However unknown to him his sister was causing up trouble in her own right, finding the weak spots of her bosses and exploiting them via blackmail or something amongst those lines, and if they refused to be blackmailed by her? Not even giving her a pretty penny to keep her mouth shut about their affairs? Their deals? Their tax fraud? Well the newspaper would have a field day with the scoop she anonymously dropped off.

Both siblings were doomed to fall below, maybe if they had perished around the same time they wouldn't had been separated, maybe she would've even joined the Vee's!

But they perished separately, years apart.

You met Alastor not long after dying, the deer radio host befriending you rather quickly.

Deer were ironically one of your favorite animals, and you always did prefer the radio as opposed to your brothers television, maybe that's why you foolishly put your trust in a friendship with Alastor, that was repaid with the Radio demon reluctantly falling for your charms, you falling for his,and not with him trying to eat you or making a deal with him and taking your soul.

Vox similarly had met Alastor after he had perished, and they were on friendly terms up until Alastor had, to be blunt rejected Vox's proposal, and then vanished for seven years.

Not once in those years of supposed friendship did Vox learn about you, he didn't even know the radio demon had a spouse, let alone that it was his own sister,

It's not that Alastor was ashamed of you or anything, he simply didn't think Vox was important enough to introduce you too, even when you were considered just a good friend and not his spouse, he considered Vox a supposed, one friend but not to the level of Rosie for example,

Rosie was the first person to know about you

Most types of modern technology would fizzle out or explode in your hands, you learned this the hard way after purchasing a flip phone and it exploded in your hands once you turned it on.

Alastor did NOT let you live that down, saying that it was your fault for trusting in faulty modern technology, eventually after some experimenting with random technology it was discovered that anything from the 2000's forward were practically expensive bombs for you,

Alastor took great joy in snatching up modern electronics and placing them in your hands to be rid of them before taking care of the unfortunate sinner that owned them, either making a snack out of them or taking their soul in a deal.

You didn't mind it much, was it somewhat inconvenient? Yes without a doubt, everyone kept their electronics away from you, you could be talking to Angel and he'd slide his phone far away from you, was that a bit much? Probably but if he pissed you off enough for whatever reason you could just reach over and BOOM no more phone!

Vox being the nosey control freak he was, used his devices to lurk around the hotel, and for plot related reasons managed to sneak into the hotel undetected with a remote control car with a camera the size of a hot wheels, at first he didn't see much, The princess and her girlfriend having a little date, The cat bartender and Angel Dust chatting while drinking, Niffty traumatizing baby bugs, blah blah boring stuff to him,

However he perked up as he spotted the radio demon, in the kitchen for whatever reason, cooking away, coat put to the side, sleeves rolled up, tail exposed, chopping up celery, bell peppers, garlic and onions while humming a tune,

Vox watched in stalkerish excitement as Alastor chopped the vegetables to prep for the meal he was making, it wasn't anything to be excited about but he was anyway,

Vox's expression changed from excitement to displeasure as someone walked into the kitchen, Joyfully calling out for Alastor while holding up a bag of what looked to be groceries,

Alastor turned, tail moving swiftly back and forth at the sight of his beloved spouse you moved forwards, just barely brushing against Vox's little spy car causing it to burst into flames.

Simultaneously causing Vox to break out in a sting of curses while you and Alastor looked at each other in confusion, before your face twisted into one of frustration, assuming you had bumped into some type of kitchen gizmo

"Can I NOT touch kitchen appliances anymore?!"

"Settle down dearest, and put down the produce please."

Vox came back at later date with another hot wheel camera, managing to sneak into the hotel when Angel dust opened the hotel doors to leave, this time Vox was determined to avoid whatever had caused the first device to explode,

There wasn't anything worth wild for him, The princess was scrambling with papers, the king of hell surrounded himself with ducks for some apparent reason?? Alastor was nowhere to be seen, but the person he was with in the kitchen was, sat at the bar listening to Niffty explain fanfiction while the bartender nursed a drink muttering something about being too sober for that.

Vox squinted as he zoomed closer to you, he stared for a few minutes before recognizing you as his sister, you looked different then when you were alive but it was without a doubt you.

Why the fuck were you down here?! And why were you in the hotel?! Did you know he was here?! Probably not considering he had a TV for a head now and went by Vox instead of whatever normal human name he had before.

Vox observed for the next couple of days, catching on that you and most modern technology did NOT mix, you had taken down twenty-five of his hot wheel cameras just by nicking them, you also had weird beef with Microwaves, sometimes they worked for you, and others times they fizzled down and refuses to work for you,

It annoyed you to no end especially when you were trying to eat a microwaved meal behind Alastor's back.

He wondered what would happen if you touched his head at all, would he explode? He didn't want to find out.

You hadn't changed much from when the two of you were alive, maybe more outgoing and confident but you were still the sister he grew up with, he debated on whether he should reach out, what would he say?

'hey sister, it's been a couple of decades I've been watching you? Join the Vees!'

that's not a normal thing to say, Not to mention Alastor more then likely wouldn't let him get near you

He found that you and Alastor were close, too close for his liking, cooking together, the two of you would dance together, Alastor would bite you when the two of you were allegedly alone, and the two of you even shared a room!

Was Vox in denial about the obvious? Yes, yes he was.

On one side there was that sibling protectiveness on the other he was jealous because why didn't Alastor treat him like he did you when they were on good terms?! Why didn't he? Was this why he turned him down on joining the Vee's?

Was it because of you? How long have the two of you known each other? Why didn't Alastor mention you to him? Did Alastor not trust him during their friendship? Of course he didn't, he was a heartless cannibalistic deer with gross deer hooves,

Clearly you were being held hostage or something, maybe you sold your soul to Alastor?

Alastor was clearly using you for his own entertainment like he had with Vox during their friendship, after All Alastor could never love another person, he was incapable of it.

But he wasn't incapable of it, you weren't an exception to Alastor's Alastory-ness, and he wasn't an exception to your you-ness

Neither you or Alastor were big on the whole romance thing,

You, in life didn't care much for it preferring to focus your time and energy on blackmailing folks and saving enough money to do whatever your heart desired and Alastor was similar, only instead of blackmail and money it was his radioshow and murder.

And that didn't change after death, even after you met Alastor.

You honestly couldn't pinpoint when you and Alastor fell for each other, it came slow like a horror movie where a serial killer was coming up behind the victim, no one noticing the killer until it was too late,

It got you first, at first you thought he just got bumped up from a good friend to a close friend, then a best friend and that's why you were so fond of him,

Until you started wishing to do unholy things,

Like holding hands, or petting his ears!

The minute you figured out what the budding feelings that had begun to weave themselves inside you,

you resulted to shoving them down, hopefully hiding them away until they disappeared completely, or until you gaslit yourself enough that they never existed in the first place, that it was just heartburn or something,

but that didn't happen, they just got stronger up until the point where it hurt, until you had to physically distance yourself from Alastor in hopes they subsided.

Alastor on the other hand, had it slightly worse,

For him it didn't hit him in small gaps like it did for you, it hit him all at once,

he legitimately thought he had somehow gotten deathly ill, perhaps he had gotten cursed? Maybe he wasn't as fond of you as he thought and instead hated your guts for whatever reason?

But if that was the case why did he yearn for your presence? Especially after you for some reason distanced yourself from him?

Why did he desire to chat with you? Why did he wish to cook you a meal and have a lovely dinner with just the two of you??

He eventually went to Rosie, his most trusted friend with this problem

his smile was strained when Rosie laughed at his troubles and told him he was, shockingly more then likely in love.

He acted like he was just told he had an incurable disease, like rabies.

Eventually he got to the point where he decided he should just take you out, in a murder way he couldn't afford a weak spot that he couldn't control,

However he couldn't go through with it when you showed up unannounced to his home, a frown present on your lovely face, you acted like a guilty child who had just stolen a batch of freshly baked cookies, you carried two folders and a board, and you asked him to hear you out as he let you inside,

You began to set up what one can only describe as one of those conspiracy theory boards, only instead of a conspiracy it was explaining how you managed to fall for Alastor, that he didn't necessarily have to return those feelings, and why he should let you live after knowing this information.

Thankfully before you could begin setting anything other then the board up and a few skeins of different colored yarn out, Alastor grabbed you by your shoulders and reluctantly told you that he adored you for some forshaken reason.

And that was that, nothing was ever officially labeled until a ring was put onto your finger many many years later, but it was comfortable, you stayed true to each other, you never went further then a light kiss or a cuddle, the two of you would be deemed odd for a couple, sometimes invalidated by folks who didn't know how to mind their own business, but they were usually dealt with quickly.

You adored Alastor, and He adored you in return.

And that was evident as he twirled you around his radio tower, Vox's hotwheel mini camera watching from the corner.

Soft jazz played as you were pulled back into Alastor's arms, a laugh escaping your throat as you smiled at him, taking a quick moment to reach your hand out and hold Alastor's face, planting a soft smooch on him before pulling away.

At that point Vox was disturbed and a peng of jealousy ran through him, one, because no one wants to see their sister doing that to their ARCH NEMESIS, and second of all, Out of everyone in hell, why did he have to choose you?

Yes you were nice, he guessed, but he's seen you be a feral little menace when the two of you were young, Alastor could do better [No he couldn't]

What did you have that Vox DIDN'T? Sure you didn't have a giant tv for a head but you also weren't an overlord like he was, you didn't have the connections he did, you didn't have a whole company that dominated the tech industry, you didn't HAVE what he did.

But you did have what he desperately wanted

You have Alastor's heart,

You get the adoring looks, you get the whispers of pure affection, you get to dance with him, you get Alastor.

No matter what Vox did, Alastor would never look at him the way he did you, he would never give him the look of pure affection, he would never ask him to dance, he would never give him his heart.

And that tore Vox apart.

So If he couldn't have Alastor, Neither could you.

To him, You either needed to get redeemed quickly and go up above or you were going to be joining the Vee's, whether you liked it or not.

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! I know I said Rosie headcanons where supposed to be up next but I ran into some technical difficulties [my writing app crashed and a big chunk of it got deleted so I am not happy about that] anywho, Vox is a funky TV dude and I like the implications that he's lovesick about Alastor,

I need to finish my Vox fic because he's toxic there.

[rebelliousstories]

WHAM!

Relationship: Wade Wilson/ Deadpool x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Innuendos, Brief Adult Content, Mentions of Drug Use

Word Count: 1,013

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: A simple night with some good food and better music.

“Baby, is that the takeout for tonight?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ve got the goods. It’s gonna cost you though.”

Wade rounded the corner and set the bags down on the counter, before spinning his girlfriend around by the hips. They had the apartment all to themselves that evening, thanks to Logan taking Blind Al to his apartment for the night. And the couple was going to make the most of it.

“What’s it going to cost me, Mr. Pool?” She teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. They began to sway gently to invisible music that only drifted in their touch.

“I think a kiss to start,” came his request. Looking to be deep in thought about it, he took it upon himself to surge forward and press his lips against hers. Both of them began to sink into the embrace that took over their bodies. However, the microwave beeped and brought them back into the world.

“Move, mister. Gotta get the popcorn out.” As she did, her boyfriend let out a loud gasp as she dumped the contents of the bag into a bowl.

“Is that the limited edition salt and vinegar popcorn? And are you going to put the caramel on the side so we can enjoy that as a post dinner snack with the movie?” He rattled off, clapping his hands together while watching like a parrot over her shoulder.

“Yes it is. And it will be perfectly cooled down for your preference by the time we’re done eating.” She moved on from the popcorn, and grabbed some forks and spoons for the takeout.

The couple moved to the table in the dining room, and began their meal. A usual takeout night was pizza or wings, but tonight was special. Wade had gotten the favorite pasta from that Italian joint down the road that they always went to. Light conversation flowed through the air as they continued to eat. Even with all of his wrinkly, dimpled, bold headedness, she still loved to look at him. It had been a challenging few years, but they made it work.

“You know what this needs?” Wade suddenly stood, and went over to the boom box that was tucked away into the corner of the room.

“No, no, Wade. Please don’t,” her begging did nothing but encourage him. He stuck a tape in and turned dramatically.

“Oh, yes baby, come on.” His hands grabbed hers, and placed them on top of his shoulders, while his went to her waist. The music flowed through the apartment, and wrapped around them as they not quite danced, but rather swayed together.

“Is that Wham?”

“Gotta say it right. It’s ’WHAM!’,” Wade dropped his voice to a near whisper, “the album gave them their exclamation point.”

“Whatever you say, honey.” She stood on her toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was certainly different than kissing someone without a mutation like his. But there was no one else in the world she would rather kiss. The rough outline of his lips, that were constantly slathered in chapstick to make it more pleasing for her, molded so perfectly with hers. Firm muscles under her hands, and dimpled skin underneath the tips of her fingers. He was the first one to pull away as the song trailed off.

“Movie time?” His voice was excited at the prospect of continuing their night.

“Are you saying that because you want to spend time with me in a horizontal position, or because you want the popcorn?” She teased.

“Oh I always love spending time with you horizontally. But I actually really want to watch the film.” Wade’s flirting was nothing new for her. In fact, it was a welcome part of her day and dialogue with him. She could automatically tell if something was wrong depending on if he did not make an innuendo or adult joke to her.

“Whatever you say big man. I’m bringing my spaghetti though. That stuff is so good.”

They grabbed their respect foods, and made their way to the couch. Plopping down, she watched as her lover set up the film on their brand new blu-ray player that was a gift from the TVA. Wade could have asked for anything, but he was a simple man at heart. He just wanted to be able to watch Golden Girls in perfect imaging for years to come. However, a new film filled the slot as the man made his way to the couch to sit next to his girlfriend.

“Really,” came her deadpan delivery; complete with expression to match.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” However, whether Wade was saying that about his popcorn that was now being dipped in caramel or the movie he had selected, she was not sure.

“It’s a ‘My Little Pony’ film.” All the different characters made themselves right at home on the screen before them while he turned to face her.

“Okay, Grouchy Bear. Just watch it, will you? They really teach you a lot about magic, friendship, and how to recognize red flags in the people in your life.” Wade went on to defend, but she dropped her face into her hands. She laughed lightly while peaking at him through her fingers.

“Alright. Just hit play.”

At her defeat, Wilson happily followed the order and tucked himself in. She put her food to the side after a couple more bites because she would much rather be doing things other than eating. While the food found a place on their coffee table, she found her spot tucked underneath her boyfriend’s arm so that she was snuggled into his side.

“It is a pretty good movie so far.” She whispered, not too sure if he had heard what she said.

“I know.” Wade responded, pressing a kiss to her hair. This was right where the both of them wanted to be. Just them two alone for some quality time. And paying absolutely no attention to the fact that Logan was yelling at Blind Al downstairs for offering to do cocaine with Laura.